#just to let you know I had to pause a few time drawing this I got so embarrassed lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rina-cyarika-writing · 2 days

Text

I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

Chapter Eleven of Blast From The Past

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Din spends some time with Dinah, and she gets to know him a little more.

Warnings: ANGST angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Song: I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith

Author's Note: Wow, it’s been a longggggggg time since I’ve posted an update. Life has gotten pretty crazy for me lately, and I’m sure you’ve been waiting for an update to this story for a while! Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned this fic!

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Din’s POV

After his conversation with you, Din was lost and unsure what to do.

He had told you the truth of why he had left.

He had apologized.

And he had shown you his face, yet it was not enough.

Din knew that it would take time for you to come to terms with everything. After all, you had every right to be upset with him. But how long that would last was a different matter entirely.

Start small, he thought to himself. Din resolved to start with little things, gifts to show you that he was serious about staying and winning your affection back.

Maybe find a way to spend some time with her and Dinah.

He scrounged through his brain to remember the little things you liked, and he smiled at one of the first memories he had regarding your interests.

―FLASHBACK―

Din had been off tracking his latest quarry but had no luck that day, and he begrudgingly made the trek back to the Crest. As he lowered the ramp, he spotted you polishing his pulse rifle, and he felt a warmth bubble in his chest. He liked the way you looked at handling his weapon, and he inwardly chuckled at himself at his statement, and he willed his mind to crawl out of the gutter.

“No luck?” you spoke, and he felt your eyes trail after him as he began to climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“No,” he replied, slightly grumpy at the lack of progress with the bounty.

��I’m sure you’ll find them soon,” you reassured him, following him up the ladder. He took a seat in the passenger’s chair, thankful that you knew how to pilot the Crest, as he wanted a few moments to decompress as much as possible, although your presence sometimes made that difficult. He knew he had budding feelings for you but knew he would never act on them, though that did not prevent his mind from wandering. As you took a seat in the pilot’s chair, you looked at him questioningly, and he motioned for you to go to a different location on the planet. You nodded and quickly began to guide the Crest to another part of the sphere, and as the ship flew over a waterfall, Din heard you let out a sigh.

“What is it?” he inquired, curious at your reaction to the sight of the waterfall.

“Nothing,” came your reply, and he saw through your attempt at sounding nonchalant. He hummed in response, waiting for you to continue just like he knew you would.

“I just,” you spoke, pausing to release a sigh, “I used to draw as a child back on Corellia.” Your words caught Din off guard, and he looked at you through his visor, wanting to hear more.

“Whenever I had a chance, I could scribble down the image of a waterfall, sometimes imagining that I was sitting at the edge of a lake and just watching the water ripple over each other.” Din saw the faraway look in your eyes and closed his eyes, picturing the waterfall you had just flown over, a soft smile gracing his lips as he listened to your voice.

She wants to draw waterfalls and probably sunsets.

Interesting.

The sweet melody of your words gently pulled him to sleep, and he was shortly pulled into a light slumber before he could hear the rest of what you were saying.

―END FLASHBACK―

Din’s lip quirked as the memory, recalling how your eyes sparkled every time you would speak of waterfalls or sunsets, shamelessly telling him of your dream to sit on the shore of a lake and capture the beauty of the world around you. The thought of giving you what you had dreamed of came to him, and he instantly knew what his first gift to you would be.

A sketchbook.

Tracking down a vendor that sold sketchbooks was not a simple task, but Din managed to find one. He had taken his time studying the unique designs on each cover until one caught his eye. A leather-bound sketchpad sat on the corner of a table, an elaborate pattern of a forest and flowers on the front cover and a waterfall flowing into a lake on the back.

It’s perfect.

He hastily bought the sketchbook and several other items and made his way back to his ship. Once aboard the vessel, he took a seat in the cargo hold and began to write a list of other gifts to give you before composing a note to include with the sketchpad. Din sat and thought long and hard about what to say, wanting to make it as heartfelt as possible. After a few moments, he finally put pen to paper and began to scribble down his love letter.

That should be enough, he thought, looking down at his handiwork. Din started to assemble the present, gently slipping his note inside the book and placing both into a box with a small sigh.

Now the question is, when do I give it to her?

―THREE DAYS LATER―

Three days came and went when Din finally decided to drop off the first of several gifts to you. Just as the hues of the sun began to peek over the horizon, he found himself awkwardly standing at your doorstep, clad in his armor, box in hand. He could hear you getting Dinah ready for the day, your voice sleepily ringing throughout your home, and a small smile crept onto his face.

It’s now or never.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and made to knock on your door but stopped.

Kriff, should I hand it to her or just leave it here?

No, she would probably throw it at me if I gave it to her.

Din let out a sigh, set the package down, and straightened himself back up. He stared at your door for another moment, contemplating if he was making a huge mistake, but then made up his mind and softly knocked. Not wanting to risk the chance of you opening the door to find him still positioned there, he quickly walked away and posted himself far enough away to see you but hidden from your sight. He watched the entrance slide open and his breath caught in his throat as you appeared and spotted his gift on the ground. Din’s heart loudly beat in his chest at the way your hair swept across your face with the light breeze, and your eyes darted around the street, trying to find the source of the mysterious package outside your home. He patiently waited for you to pick up the box and retreat inside before making his exit, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t throw it into the trash.

That would make tomorrow’s peace offering completely useless.

As Din walked through the town, a vendor stand caught his attention, and he changed course for it. He studied the assortment of objects and, after some deliberation, decided on one in particular. Din bought the new surprise and continued on his way through the village, stopping by now and then to buy supplies and a few more gifts he knew you would appreciate. At least he hoped you would appreciate them.

This next week is going to be a busy one.

He dropped off a brand-new set of colored pencils and charcoal the next day and a bouquet the day after that. However, this time he included a gift for Dinah, a plushie of a porg, with a floral arrangement. His heart warmed as he imagined her reaction to seeing the new toy, and he wanted nothing more than to be there to witness it.

Maybe someday.

The day after the flowers and plushie, he left a bag of apples and oranges, chuckling to himself, knowing there was no way in you would toss your favorite fruits away. The day after that, a package of your favorite sweets. Din always included a note with each gift, and he made sure to mention a memory or the reasoning behind the gift.

Several days after leaving you the candy, he was making his way through the market when he felt a tug on his glove. He gazed down and saw his daughter standing next to him, shyly clutching the tip of his gloved finger.

“Hello, little one,” he greeted, and Dinah grinned.

“Hi, Din!”

“What are you doing out and about?” he asked, crouching down to her level.

“I was looking for you,” she exclaimed but suddenly turned shy. “I wanted to say thank you for the plushie.”

“You’re welcome,” he kindly spoke, his tone laced with a smile.

“Why are you wearing your armor?” she inquired, tilting her head in curiosity.

Blunt and to the point.

As always.

“I have a few jobs to do, and it’s safer if I wear it,” he answered.

“A job? Like catching bad guys?”

“Not quite,” he said with a chuckle. “Just keeping an eye on some people.”

It’s not exactly a lie.

In reality, Din had felt uneasy the last few days, as if someone were watching him, so he had decided to don his armor again, ensuring his helmet sat securely on his head every time he left his ship.

“Oh, okay,” Dinah acknowledged, eyes cast downward. “I was wondering….”

“Yes?”

“Um – would I – um – do you – um – could I spend the day with you?” The little girl shuffled her feet nervously, unsure how the man would respond to such a request. Din was surprised at her question and did not know how to answer it.

Does she know who I am to her?

“Is your mother alright with that?” he finally asked, not wanting to give you yet another reason to hate him.

“Mhm!” Dinah stated, arms now behind her back as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Of course, it was a blatant lie, but Din did not want to cause any more strife between the two of you.

I’ll bring her by in a bit.

“Well then,” he began, “I don’t see why not. What would you like to do?” Din watched in amusement as his daughter twisted her mouth here and there.

“Um – I – I want to know about your adventures!” she finally proclaimed. Din raised his eyebrows beneath the helmet, not expecting that.

“Uh – sure,” he responded as he stood up. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. What do you think?” She nodded and laced her tiny fingers with his, and Din’s throat grew tight.

Was this what things could be like one day?

The two of them navigated through the streets toward his ship, and once they arrived, Dinah’s eyes grew wide with awe.

“Is this yours?!” she excitedly asked, releasing his hand, and running up the now open ramp. He trailed behind her with a chuckle and nodded.

“It sure is.”

“Wow. We have one too, but it doesn’t look like this!” Din leaned against the wall, eyes following her little figure as she walked around and examined every detail of the small cargo hold. It was a sight to behold, one that he committed to memory in case he did not get another opportunity to spend time with his child.

My daughter.

Dinah continued to scurry around the ship, taking everything in as Din took a seat on a box.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, taking a seat beside him. Then, after a moment, she pointed to something in the corner. “What’s that?”

“What?” he asked, looking to where she pointed. “That’s the refresher.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed that it wasn’t anything interesting. As she looked at Din, she noticed the assortment of weapons he carried and stretched out a hand to poke his blaster. Din flinched at the action, unsure how he felt about his daughter touching something so dangerous.

“I don’t think you should be touching that,” he spoke. “It’s dangerous.” Dinah giggled and withdrew her hand.

“Mommy has a big one like this,” she retorted, rolling her eyes, “And I’ve seen her use it.” Din sighed at her statement.

For a six-year-old, she sure is sassy.

“Well, you should still be careful, little one,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay,” she answered, looking around the ship some more. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “So, you do you catch bad guys and send them to jail?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you catch bad guys, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I – uh – I take them to – well, I guess you could say that I take them to a jail of sorts.”

“That’s so cool!” Din awkwardly scratched the back of his neck at her enthusiasm.

“I suppose.”

“What’s that?” Dinah asked, pointing to something else on his waist. He looked down and saw her pointing at the Darksaber.

Of all things to ask about it.

He let out a long breath, composing his thoughts before answering the little girl’s question.

“It’s – um – it’s called a Darksaber,” he responded.

“Like a lightsaber?”

“Of sorts.”

“Why does it look like that? Aren’t lightsabers supposed to be pretty colors?”

“It’s not a regular one.”

“How come?”

“I’m – I’m not quite sure,” Din said.

“How did you get it?” Din’s eyes widened at her question. He was already uncomfortable talking about his weapons, and the painful memories of the Child came to mind with her inquiry.

“Uh – well,” he began, “I had to rescue someone very important to me.”

“Really?! Like an adventure?!” Dinah exclaimed, eyes teeming with excitement.

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but sure,” he replied.

“Will you tell me about it?” the little girl pressed, “Momma always tells me stories before bed, and rescues are always so cool!” Din let out a heavy sigh, a quiet hiss breaking the silence as he removed his helmet and nodded at her plea. Within the confines of the ship, Din felt comfortable enough in its absence, especially when in the company of his daughter, who had already seen his face.

“Well, it started when…,” Din began.

―FLASHBACK―

Din stepped off the ship, blaster raised in preparation for an attack as he scanned the hanger for any threats. He stealthily snuck through the quiet halls of the base when he heard voices and hid in the shadows as two stormtroopers ran by.

“We’re heading to the bridge now.” Once they had passed, Din continued to make his way up the corridor until he reached the entrance to the chamber with the Darktroopers but found that the door was already open.

Dank farrik.

He quickly inserted the cylinder that began to override the door and make it shut, but one Darktrooper managed to catch it and throw him back, his body hitting the wall with a thud. Din fired at the machine as it marched toward him, but it was no use. The droid caught his arm, knocking the blaster out of his hand, and lifted him to his feet as it pulled its arm back and punched his helmet. Din shut his eyes in panic, bracing himself for the possible end at the hands of a droid, but as metal met Beskar, he opened his eyes and saw that his helmet had done its job, stopping the impact and protecting his face.

Unfortunately, the armor did nothing to prevent the machine’s relentless assault from pushing his head into the wall, and he yelped in pain as the pipe behind him burst, sending steam out, blocking part of the droid’s view. Din saw his opening and turned on his flamethrower, but it proved ineffective as the droid turned its head and flung him across the hallway. Din looked up, and his eyes widened, seeing the glass windows of the door that stopped the rest of the Darktroopers beginning to crack under the pounding of their fists. Din attempted to reach the lever that would blow the robots into space but was too slow. The droid grabbed his leg and slid him away from the panel across the floor. He tried to get up but was swiftly kicked in the stomach, sending him flying back, and felt the familiar pings of blaster shots landing on his armor.

The whispering birds!

With a flip of his wrist, Din launched little projectiles at the approaching machine before spinning around, gracefully grabbing his Beskar spear and piercing the Darktrooper through its neck. Sparks flew from the robot as it began to shut down, and with a final twist of the spear, Din pulled its head off, its body falling onto the floor with a metallic thud. He hastily walked up to the panel, glancing at the window as the cracks grew, and finally pulled the lever, sending the red-eyed figures into space. He breathed a sigh of relief as he continued down the hallways searching for the Child.

To his luck, it did not take long as he spotted two stormtroopers standing guard in front of a door.

Bingo.

He silently snuck up to the two, hitting one on the arm with his spear before impaling the other through the stomach in one fluid motion. Wasting no time, he placed the first stormtrooper in a hold, wedging the rod against the man’s neck and began to choke him, the soldier’s feet no longer on the ground as he struggled before a loud snap ended his thrashing. Din dropped the body and placed the pointed weapon on his back before opening the door and drawing his blaster. The sight that greeted him made the man abruptly stop, his blood running cold as he saw Moff Gideon threateningly holding a dark, whirring blade over Grogu’s head.

Is that the Darksaber Bo-Katan spoke of?

The Child looked up at Din with a sad coo and slightly lifted his bound hands. Din stepped forward but stopped as Moff Gideon spoke.

“Drop the blaster. Slowly.”

Din narrowed his eyes at the men through his visor as he slowly set it down.

“Now kick it over to me.” Din followed as instructed, the gun sliding across the floor away from him as Moff Gideon watched. “Very nice.”

“Give me the kid,” Din said.

“The kid is just fine where he is,” the Moff responded and waved the blade around Grogu’s head, the foundling turning his head away at the action. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan.”

Din looked on in silence, surprised that the man knew who Bo-Katan was.

“Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Dank farrik, he’s good.

“Where is this going?” Din asked, beginning to grow agitated at the man.

“This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me, or more accurately, this,” Gideon answered, holding up the sword. “But I’m not there. And I imagine that they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are. And now, they’re beginning to panic.”

Din’s gaze drifted to the Child as he cooed and looked down.

“You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne.”

“You keep it. I just want the kid,” Din replied, growing more annoyed with each passing moment.

“Very well,” the Moff said as he pressed a button on the hilt and the blade retracted, “I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This Child is extremely gifted and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy.”

Din glanced down at the Child, knowing his words were true. Grogu was indeed gifted.

“I see your bond with him,” Moff Gideon spoke, his tone slightly changing, as if the man cared, “Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately, and we will go our separate ways.”

Din approached Grogu and began to pick him up, but the sudden sound of the Darksaber powering up and a blow landing on his jetpack threw him slightly off balance as he turned to shield the Child. The Moff came at him, swipe after swipe, the pings of the sword meeting steel filling the air, as Din held his arms up to block the impact of his assailant’s blade. Din backed away with each hit, drawing Gideon into the hallway and away from Grogu, and spun around the man to escape his reach. Din took a moment and then remembered that he had the spear, drawing it from his back, and prepared himself.

The two men lunged at each other, blade and metal meeting with a clang. Moff Gideon continuously swung the sword at Din, but he blocked each attack and managed to land a kick before throwing an attack of his own. They exchanged several more blows before Din launched his cable at the Moff, wrapping him in the wire that was easily cut through by the Darksaber.

Each strike Gideon tried to land was easily blocked, but Din saw a small opening and used his forearm to stop the next attack before thrusting the spear toward Gideon’s chest. The man caught it, but Din pushed him back, kicking him in the leg and knocking him against the wall. Din went for the kill, charging at the man, but he stopped again. However, this time Gideon made the mistake of pushing the tip away from him and toward the wall, placing it in the perfect position for Din to disarm him. The Darksaber flew across the air and landed with a thud, the blade disappearing with a whiz. With the man now disarmed, Din landed a hit to his face and knocked him down, and as he tried to get up, Din pointed the end of his spear at the man’s neck.

“You’re sparing my life?” Gideon asked with a smirk, “Well, this should be interesting.”

“Get up,” Din commanded, pulling the man to his feet and placing cuffs around his wrists. Knowing the man was too tired to try and escape, Din walked into the room and fetched Grogu, gingerly removing the cuffs and tossing them aside before picking him up and cradling him. Upon exiting the room, Din’s eye fell on the discarded weapon on the other end of the hall, and he strode over to pick it up carefully. Pressing the button to reveal the dark blade as it whooshed to life, he curiously waved the blade around, listening to the gentle hum as it cut through the air. A grunt from the Moff cut off his thoughts, and Din, not wanting to waste any time, nudged the man’s side with his foot.

“Let’s go,” Din commanded. Moff Gideon put up no resistance, and the two began to make their way toward the bridge.

After walking down several corridors, they finally arrived at the blast doors that led to the bridge, and with a final shove to Gideon’s back, the door opened, and the man stumbled through. As they walked in, Bo-Katan greeted them, but she did not look pleased.

“What happened?” the woman asked.

“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara answered, greeting the Child tenderly, “And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Moff Gideon cut in, drawing everyone’s attention, “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Not liking what he was implying, Cara pushed the man to the ground, and he grinned as he looked up at Din.

“It’s yours now.”

“What is?” Din questioned.

“The Darksaber. It belongs to you,” came his reply. Bo-Katan’s eyes narrowed at the man’s words, and Din turned the weapon off and approached.

“Now,” he said, holding it out for her to take, “it belongs to her.”

“She can’t take it,” the Moff continued with glee at the predicament the woman was facing, “It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

“I yield,” Din stated, still holding the weapon out to her, “It’s yours.”

“Oh, no,” Gideon chuckled as he stood up to face Din, “It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan finally said, conflict shining in her eyes at the desire to take the Darksaber and reclaim her throne and the defeat knowing that she had not earned it.

“Come on, just take it,” Din pushed. The woman looked down at the blade and back at him, but the shrill tone of the alarms cut them off.

―END FLASHBACK―

“So, you got the Darksaber and rescued Grogu, but then the Jedi took him away?” Dinah asked, legs swinging from the excitement of the story.

“Yeah,” Din answered, “He needed to be with his own people.”

“That’s too bad,” she spoke, “But at least you rescued him!”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rescue me if I was kidnapped?” Her words caught him by surprise.

“Of course, little one,” Din replied, “Your mother and I would come to save you no matter where you were.”

“I’m glad,” his daughter replied with a smile, “Mommy can get scary when she’s mad.”

“Yes, she can be,” Din agreed with a chuckle before realizing how much time had passed, “Well, I think it’s about time we get you home, don’t you think?” Dinah hopped off the crate and nodded.

“Thank you for today,” she said with a smile, and Din sent her one in return.

As they walked back to your home, Din could not remove the smile that graced his face. The afternoon he had spent with his daughter was one that he would cherish, as painful as it was to bring up memories of his foundling. Din had yet to tell her that he was her father and was unsure how to bring that up but knew he would do anything to protect her, just like he had done with Grogu.

Unknown POV

For weeks they had tried to track down the illusive man, having managed to catch his scent when he arrived on Nevarro, but they had lost him again when they landed on Sacorria. They had scoured the planet for the Mandalorian, but his ship was too common looking to find, and so he disappeared from their radar. However, as luck would have it, after a month of searching for him, they spotted his armor in a busy bazaar. To their surprise, they saw him approach a little girl and they were even more stunned to see him remove his helmet.

Unfortunately, they only saw the back of his head from their vantage point, but it was enough to pique their interest and decide to watch the two more closely. They tailed the man for several days, seeing him go to the same house and leave gifts on the doorstep, further increasing their curiosity, but they knew that they could not directly confront him there, so they decided to focus on the little girl. Clearly, she was important to him if he was willing to remove his helmet around her, and as they observed the armored man interact with the little girl, a plan began to formulate in their mind, a sinister smile spreading across their face as pieces began to fall into place.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #blast from the past series #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #mando x reader #mando

28 notes · View notes

siriuslysatorusimping · 2 days

Text

Fight Like You Mean It (Another Level - Installment 7, Part 1)

Summary:

Gojo froze instantly, his entire body tensing. From how his jaw unclenched, she knew his eyes were widening in shock behind his blindfold. “Did you just-?” Nanami cut his own question off, his laughter a genuine sound that had his shoulders shaking as he dropped his head and pushed his glasses up. “Oh,” he cackled, lifting his eyes to stare straight into hers. “That’s more than I wanted to know about either of you.” She wanted the ground to swallow her.

AN: I fell behind on posting these here because I decided to take this as my opportunity to make some revisions/edits. I also struggled with creating these panels that I feel too committed to making to turn back now 🙃

<- Prev, I Say "Sayonara" | Another Level Masterlist | Kiko's Masterlist

Fight Like You Mean It - Part 1 2011

Rinko huffed as her back hit the ground hard, glaring up at Gojo as he grinned down at her smugly.

He still had his blindfold on, which infuriated her more than she’d admit aloud while he easily tossed her around the small clearing they were using to train.

With her solo exam only a few weeks away, she had to be ready for anything. The intense training sessions were pushing her to improve quickly, but they knew it wasn’t enough to match what they knew she’d be facing.

“Fuck,” she rasped, her double straining while it fought. Its view began taking over, and she struggled to stay present in her own body.

“Don’t focus on that,” Gojo ordered, scowling as he watched her lose her grip. He yanked her back to her feet. “Focus on the fight in front of you.”

“Technically, they’re both in front of me–”

He didn’t let her finish her retort, advancing on her swiftly and forcing her to dodge out of the way of his fists. Leaping back, she winced when Nanami slammed her double into a tree. She turned her head in time to see two different views of his wrapped blade slicing the tree in half when her double scrambled out of the way.

“Hey!” Rinko called indignantly, “I thought we said no weapons–”

Her words cut off, the breath leaving her lungs once again as Gojo took advantage of her distraction to haul her off her feet with a kick to her chest.

“Shit,” she gasped, her back hitting the ground hard and her double vanishing. “Timeout!”

“Denied.” Gojo crossed his arms as Nanami straightened and tucked his blade under his arm. “You’re not gonna be able to beat anything with where you’re at right now, forget passing that exam.”

The words stung, but she had no room to argue. She still wasn’t ready for her exam.

“Get up,” Gojo commanded, raising his eyebrows when she didn’t move. “Curse won’t stop attacking just because you’re tired, Kurisaki. Get. Up.”

A groan of pain escaped when she tried to push herself back up, her body refusing to listen to her pleas. She knew she needed to move unless she wanted to be in even more pain. After a few deep breaths, she managed to roll over and force her shaking legs beneath her to stand.

Gojo bore down on her immediately, drawing a startled yelp from her as she arched under his leg.

“Keep. Moving,” he instructed, not pausing his relentless flurry of blows. “You’d already be dead if I weren’t holding back.”

Narrowly blocking a punch with her forearm, the resounding tremor vibrated through her entire body. This was the strongest holding back. His blows contained almost no cursed energy, but he didn’t need it to force her to stay on the defensive and push her to her limits. The knowledge made frustration boil in her veins as she moved, clenching her jaw and ignoring the looming threat of her legs collapsing beneath her.

Without her double active, Nanami joined the fray, ensuring she had absolutely no chance to escape the onslaught of attacks. She ducked beneath his fist, her breath stuttering slightly when she barely managed to avoid his blade, the dotted pattern a blur as it whooshed past her face.

“Where’s your technique?” Gojo pressed, sounding irritated as she dropped to the ground to try and avoid his fist. “You’ve gotta use it if you wanna make this a fair fight.”

Nothing could make this a ‘fair fight.’ Not when she had two incredibly powerful sorcerers leaving no room for her to breathe. Even with her double, she was forced to split her attention between both fights, unable to focus entirely on either one.

Rolling out of the way, Rinko growled in frustration at the sight of Nanami’s blade sticking out of the ground where her head had been just seconds earlier.

“We said no weapons!” she griped, whipping around at the sound of Gojo’s tut behind her.

“I said you couldn’t use weapons,” he countered, landing a blow to her shoulder before she could move. “Nanami can use whatever he wants because he’s not the one who asked for help. You need to learn this technique without relying on your knives.”

He was right. She knew he was right. Still, she couldn’t stop the inhuman sound from escaping in response.

“Where is it?” Gojo demanded again, his leg sweeping underneath hers and knocking her to the ground again. “You’re already breaking the rules, Kurisaki. You’re supposed to have it up throughout this entire fight-”

“It’s fucking hard!” she hissed, her lungs burning as she sucked in labored breaths.

His expression didn’t change, telling her she was on thin ice with his temper when he ignored the chance to make a joke he would normally cackle at. He inclined his head, giving her a moment to activate her technique, but she was on borrowed time.

Focusing as she stood, she squared her shoulders and muttered under her breath, “Cursed Technique, Perfect Double.”

Her energy split, her double appearing behind Nanami to level him with a swift kick to his side. The grunt he released sent a twinge of satisfaction through her, feeling smug that she’d caught him off guard. She chose to ignore the fact that she knew the trick wouldn’t have worked on Gojo, which she’d been reminded of hours earlier when she tried switching things up.

The attack he used to annihilate her double had been filled with so much cursed energy that it glowed bright purple, sending a shockwave through the clearing. He’d looked almost insulted when he turned to face her, sliding his blindfold back into place arrogantly.

“Pathetic,” he’d stated flatly. “You thought that would get me? Really?”

She’d known it wouldn’t, but she had hoped–

“Don’t forget that you aren’t out of this yet,” the said devil-incarnate barked, resuming his attack now that she’d reactivated her technique. “You don’t get to take a break and let it do all the work. If you let yourself drift off like that, you’ll get yourself killed.”

The urge to use her knives grew with each second, and she clenched her jaw while he made a noise that sounded like a hiss.

“Don’t,” he warned, pausing briefly, feigning a break. She knew better than that, though. “You draw your knives, and I quit holding back. Shoko is a good thirty-minute hike away, an even longer drive, and I’m not warping you to her if you really get hurt. So you’d better think before you try to cheat in this fight.”

“The fight is already unfair!” she huffed indignantly, swapping with a duplicate so she could try to surprise him. “Cursed Technique, Shadow Step.” Using her echoes as cover, she continued to complain, “You’ve taken away my strongest–”

“They aren’t your strongest asset,” he cut her off, barely lifting a finger as he dispelled her echoes. “You’re stupid if you think they are.”

Ignoring his comment, she pushed forward, trying to stay on the offense with him while her double did the same with Nanami.

“You don’t get to use them as a crutch,” Gojo asserted, dodging her fists easily. “Your blades are a tool that you should use as such. Not a fucking crutch you get to lean on when things get difficult.”

She hissed at that, feeling her irritation start to rise.

“I don’t–”

“You do,” he cut her off, grasping her arm mid-strike and using her momentum to fling her into a tree. “You’ve got a fucking incredible cursed technique at your disposal, and you choose to rely on your knives instead because they’re easy. Honestly, I expected better of you, Kurisaki. You’re acting weak.”

The impact didn’t hurt as much as she expected, having braced for it just in time. Landing on her knees instead of her back, she growled in frustration.

He was purposefully trying to rile her up, and that made her angrier than the words themselves.

She’d worked hard on her knives, spent the better part of five years charging them with her cursed energy and creating her cursed sheath so she could have them at all times. And she was proud of them.

“They aren’t easy,” she argued, charging him again and splitting with a decoy, letting it speak with her. “They’re helpful–”

“A crutch,” Gojo repeated, his movements speeding up, dodging her kick and kicking her decoy in return. “If you honed your technique well enough, you could have this decoy as a double instead. Think about that, three of you fighting at once.”

She didn’t want to think about that. It sounded like a great way to get her brain to explode from strain. Using her double and a decoy was already enough to drain her energy like a leaking faucet. Her mounting irritation certainly wasn’t helping, either.

Gojo let her stay on the offense, choosing to block with his Infinity just to rub it in. Pushing herself to move faster, she knew what he expected her to do, and focused on her decoy as she moved.

“You’re holding yourself back by whining and complaining about how you think you can’t do it,” Gojo spat, turning to face her as she approached. His fist met her chest, the blow hurling her backward into a nearby tree. “What were you–”

Her decoy landed a hard hit to the back of Gojo’s head, forcing it to snap forward as Nanami dodged her double’s fist, his blade slicing it in half when it stumbled. The double disappeared, her decoy with it, as Rinko slammed into the tree and dropped the ground with a groan.

The world spun as she tried to force herself back to her feet, her limbs shaking violently. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten the decoy to mimic her double instead of her own movement but the amount of concentration it had taken to do it meant she hadn’t blocked Gojo’s punch as much as she should have. Gasping, she clutched her chest with her left hand and tried to focus on taking the deepest breaths she could manage.

“Not bad,” Gojo conceded, humming quietly as he knelt in front of her. “We keep going.”

“I can’t,” she wheezed, her head snapping up to stare at his blindfold. “That was all I–”

“That was just a fraction of what you’re capable of,” he stated, his brow furrowing as his eyes clearly narrowed at her behind the bandages. “If your decoys can mimic your double, then think about how impossible it’ll be for your opponent to keep up.”

“I can’t keep up,” she insisted desperately. Her lungs still refused to accept the air she tried to suck in.

His expression held no sympathy, one eyebrow rising in challenge at her words.

Ignoring her weak protests, he pulled her to her feet and stepped back as she scowled at him.

“Can’t I at least have a short break as a reward for landing a hit on you?” she pressed hopefully, already knowing the answer.

Gojo didn’t even acknowledge the question, crossing his arms when she pouted. Before she could wonder what he was waiting for, Nanami appeared behind her to strike. She flipped over his arm, ducking his second hit, and then smacked into Gojo’s fist when he anticipated her movement.

“Funny,” he deadpanned, not relenting even as she yelped and swapped with a duplicate to avoid his second blow, “this doesn’t look like your double.” His fist glowed with cursed energy, obliterating her duplicate. “Wrong choice, Kurisaki.”

Nanami’s blade slammed into her back as soon as she swapped, a small smirk on his face at Gojo’s statement.

“You’re getting sloppy–”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rinko cried, tucking and rolling away. She clutched her side once she was back on her feet. Her legs shook, threatening to crumble under her weight as she glared at the two smirking sorcerers. “I didn’t sign up to be fucking gang-banged today!”

Nanami guffawed as he pressed forward, his eyes glinting behind his glasses when she jumped back to run directly into Gojo as he clotheslined her. Her limbs felt like they had weights tied to them, and she knew her sluggish movements were going to force her to take some hits that were going to hurt.

“Give me a fucking break,” she begged, somehow rolling out of the way before Gojo could curb-stomp her. “Come on!”

Her legs collapsed when she tried to push herself back up, her entire body trembling from the strain. Her body was officially spent, and the blood dripping from her nose told her that her mind was, too.

Neither of her opponents showed any sign of stopping, and panic rose in her throat as they closed in on her, the word escaping before she could begin to think better of it.

“RED!”

Gojo froze instantly, his entire body tensing. From how his jaw unclenched, she knew his eyes had to be widening in shock behind his blindfold. Nanami stopped as well, albeit slower than Gojo, his face cracking into a giant grin.

“Did you just–?” Nanami cut his own question off, his laughter a genuine sound that had his shoulders shaking as he dropped his head and pushed his glasses up.

“Oh,” he cackled, lifting his eyes to stare straight into hers. “That’s more than I wanted to know about either of you.”

She wanted the ground to swallow her.

Her face burned as she turned away, trying to ignore the sound of Nanami attempting to smother his laughter and failing horribly as he gave in. In the ten months since she’d first started shadowing him, she’d never seen or heard him so giddy.

“I–” he snickered, gasping for breath as he continued, “knew you were both crazy, but–”

“Shut up!” Rinko snapped, refusing to look at him as she heard him cover his mouth to quiet the chuckles. “Fuck off, Kento.”

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she fought the embarrassment that made her entire body feel like it was on fire. She was suddenly full of energy as the undeniable need to be anywhere but near the two of them took over.

“I’m done for the day,” she stated, struggling to keep her voice even. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Or never, she thought as she wiped away the blood that had trickled from her nose.

Her movement seemed to snap Gojo free of his shock because he was right behind her instantly. His hand was gentle on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and darted in the direction of the car.

Faintly, she heard Nanami say something else, and Gojo snap a quick response before she felt him following her.

“Rinko,” he called, catching up with her easily. “Rinko-”

“Nope,” she muttered under her breath.

She wasn’t dealing with him now. She would talk to him when she crawled from her den of self-pity and absolute humiliation. As she walked, she decided she would go to Shoko’s and hide until she inevitably had to face Gojo and Nanami again.

Or she could just hide forever. Fuck being a Grade 1, it wasn’t worth having to face Nanami again after this.

Hell, it wasn’t worth facing either of them again after this.

Reaching the car and yanking the door open, Gojo caught up to her, slamming it shut before she could slide into the driver’s seat.

“Look at me,” he ordered, taking her face in his hands. “Rinko–”

“Don’t!” she snapped, knowing her face had to be red as she tried to pull away. “Just let me–”

“Not until you look at me,” he insisted, his breath hot on her face. “Just let me know you’re okay–”

“I’m fine!” Her voice was strained, still trying to break from his grasp. “Just–”

“Wait.” His voice sounded different, amused. Now she really wanted to disappear, and she fought against him harder. “You’re not mad.”

“Yes, I am,” she argued, clenching her jaw.

“No,” he countered, laughing now. “You’re embarrassed–”

She finally escaped his grasp, turning and opening the car door again, but he pushed it shut easily.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, laughing as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him. “This is new–”

Letting out a growl, Rinko tried to smack his chest, but his arms only tightened until she couldn’t move.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I won’t tease you-”

“Liar,” she grit out when he reached up to grasp her chin and force her to look at him.

His expression was soft, amusement still shining in his now uncovered eyes.

“Rinko,” he whispered, his bright blue eyes positively glowing as they stared into hers. “Gotta admit it’s funny–”

“No, it’s not!” she spat petulantly. “Quit laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he lied, still trying to smother his chuckles. “Baby, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“To you–”

He silenced her by pressing his lips to hers, working his tongue into her mouth immediately.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he murmured when he pulled back, grinning at how dazed she looked. “Really, baby, you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s a sign of a healthy sexual relationship to have boundaries–”

“Stop talking!” she cried, burying her face in his chest. “Just– don’t say anything.”

His chuckles vibrated through his chest as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Baby,” he murmured, leaning down until his lips were at her ear. “Don’t be upset. It could have been worse.”

“No, it couldn’t–”

“Think about it,” he cut her off, a grin in his voice. “Think about any of the other sounds you could have made–”

“Stop talking,” she repeated, recoiling when he laughed even harder. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied smugly as he took her face in his hands again. “The fact that that was the first time you’ve used your safe word says quite a bit about how much you happen to like me. Or at least how much you like what I do to–”

“You’re such a dick,” she clipped, glaring at him. “This isn’t funny.”

His response now was simply to lean down, capturing her lips in a truly filthy kiss. One of his hands tangled in her hair, angling her so he had full control –as if he didn’t already– while his other hand went down to grope her ass. Sucking her tongue between his teeth, he leaned over further to press her against the car, forcing her to arch into him to keep from falling over. His hips ground against hers deliberately, his erection rubbing against her crotch and drawing a breathy moan from her before she could stop it.

The sound of a throat clearing caused her to yelp as she felt her face flood with heat again. Wrenching her lips away from his, she tried to escape his grasp.

Refusing to let her push him away, Gojo simply turned his head to stare at Nanami blankly. His arms tightened when she tried to pull away again, swatting her ass swiftly when she smacked his chest.

“You can take the car, Nanamin,” he drawled, tossing the keys towards the blond, who caught them with ease. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What the fuck?” Rinko squeaked, feeling her now empty pockets. “Stop doing that!”

Gojo finally loosened his grasp as he pulled her away from the car so Nanami could open the door and slip inside.

Meeting the latter’s narrow eyes behind his glasses, she felt the flush creep back up her neck when he gave her a knowing smirk.

“I liked it better when you were boring and uptight,” she snapped, glaring at him as he started the car.

“I think I already have a very good understanding of what you like,” he said drily, his smirk growing into a grin. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

He pulled the door shut before she could say anything else, taking off down the dirt road back toward the city.

“Come on,” Gojo said cheerily, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re not hungry?” she asked, immediately regretting speaking. “Don’t–”

“Oh, baby,” he cut her off. Leaning down to press a kiss to her neck, he swept his tongue across her sweaty skin. “I’m fucking starving.”

Gojo’s fingers stroked mindless patterns against the small of her back softly, pulling quiet sighs from her lips. With each sound, his arm tightened, humming occasionally when she let out a whine if he stopped. Feeling her eyes beginning to grow heavier, she snuggled into his side and burrowed her face further into his chest.

“Rinko,” he murmured, his voice serious as she moaned in protest at being kept awake. He nudged her lightly. “Baby, you need to tell me what made you use it.”

Jolting back awake, she tensed against him now. His left hand grasped her right, pulling it up to press a small kiss against her palm.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice sounding small. “I just– I felt like I was about to collapse. But I knew that you weren’t gonna let me stop, and I– I knew that it would get you to stop, or at least listen.”

“Damn right, it got me to stop,” he agreed, his arm tightening around her. “Got my fuckin’ heart to stop, too. I thought I’d actually hurt you for a minute.”

“Right,” she deadpanned, looking up to meet his eyes. “Because the numerous physical injuries I’ve sustained over the course of knowing you don’t count.”

He pulled her closer so she was essentially on top of him, her chest pressed against his.

“You know what I mean,” he said, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “It’s honestly a bit crazy to me that you haven’t used it before.”

When she shrugged, he raised his eyebrows at her and moved the hand at her back to massage her ass softly.

“I think it’s a good thing,” he continued, smiling when she leaned into his touch. “As long as I know you’ll use it when you need to.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to use it,” she replied, moaning quietly when he dipped his finger lower, slipping inside her easily. “I’ve felt safe enough to not need it.”

“You’re still so wet,” he groaned, stroking her slowly. “Good to know, though, sweetheart.”

“I need to sleep,” she whimpered, her hips rocking into his hand of their own volition. “And I don’t think I can cum again–”

He pressed his lips to hers, moaning when she clenched down.“Almost sounds like a challenge, baby,” he murmured, stroking her tongue in time with his fingers. “I think you’ve got at least one more in you.”

#gojo x original female character #gojo x ofc #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #another level #jjk fanfic #gojo smut

26 notes · View notes

candyheartedchy · 10 months

Note

What would be Tiramisu’s reaction to Baron von Bon Bon if he ever made a reappearance? 😏

(Something tells me you answered this in text form, but not yet visually 🙏)

IM LAUGHING BECAUSE I JUST REWATCHED THAT EPISODE LIKE TWO DAYS AGO AND WAS SO FLUSTERED BY HIS STUPID LITTLE ACCENT THE WHOLE TIME JGHJGHJ

Tiramisu would be a flustered mess because it’ll be the only time Gazpacho would be openly flirty with her without being an flustered mess himself.

#just to let you know I had to pause a few time drawing this I got so embarrassed lol #💌 letters 💌#westiefromtheeast #❤️ coffee fruit ❤️#self ship #🎨 chy creations 🎨

95 notes · View notes

paperultra · 9 months

Text

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”

#one piece #opla #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #slightly suggestive bc of the comment sanji makes at the end haha #sorry for the delay in requests i was in an accident yesterday and life things are happening so !!#i am posting this which has been in my drafts for a little bit

4K notes · View notes

notmyneighbor · 2 months

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 6

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

Early morning. Almost time for Francis’ delivery route to begin.

“Good morning.” You look at the doppelgänger. His face is pressed into the living room pillow he’d borrowed from the couch, offering you the solitary one on the bed. A sleepy smile of greeting.

“Good morning, love.” His hand cups your cheek and you trap his fingers, turning your face to kiss the inside of his wrist. “I’m glad you stayed last night.”

“Me too.” Its earlier than you’d normally rise, but you kind of like it. That sense that the rest of the world is slumbering and the two of you have this time reserved just for you.

“Tell me to go get ready. I don’t want to leave this bed.”

“Go get ready. I’ll press your clothes for you while you take a shower. Get coffee going.”

“M’kay.” He sighs, sitting upright. Stretching his arms, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. A dog barks outside and someone hisses for it to be quiet. The replicant freezes, his arms dropping down sharply.

“Francis? What is it?”

“It’s not a dog.” He stands and goes to the window, edging the curtain back. “I don’t recognize them. Not from my squadron.”

“A doppel?”

“Yes.”

You sit up, the languid, cozy feeling evaporating instantly. Bringing you right back to reality. “Does the owner know?”

“No. They’re human.”

“Are they trying to come in?”

“No. But they sense something. That’s why they barked. They’re already halfway down the street. You’re safe.” He lets the curtain drop back into place.

“Didn’t you say no doppels would try to enter the building anymore?”

“Yes.”

You worry your lower lip. “That’s going to look suspicious to the DDD.”

“The DDD.” He says the name of the organization contemptuously. “I wish you’d leave.”

“It’s not just a job. It’s my career. I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to help people. I promised I would.”

“You could do something else and still help people,” he mumbles. “Fine. If it’s going to draw more unwanted attention here, I can make certain some doppels do come in when you’re working.”

So much for the relieved idea that you and the residents would finally be safe and secure. “You can do that?”

“Of course.”

“And not let them harm anyone?”

“That is more than I can promise.”

So you’d still be putting the residents at risk. Encouraging it, even. You’d have to make absolutely certain never to let one inside.

“You’d be condemning your own kind. I’d have to call the cleaners if they threatened violence.”

“I’m aware. I have to keep you safe. If that means risking some other doppels, so be it.”

You leave the bed, walking over to the closet. Francis didn’t have many clothes aside from his work attire. He’d had few personal possessions in general from what you’ve seen so far in the apartment. Living so humbly.

The imposter rests a hand on your spine on the way past you to the bathroom, pausing to kiss your cheek. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes.” You select a shirt and pair of pants, folding the items still on the hangers over your arm. “I’ll be fine. Go get ready.”

The sound of the shower starting fills the background as you collect the folded ironing board from inside the closet and plug in the iron. You pad barefoot into the kitchen to get the coffee pot on, wearing one of Francis’ undershirts and your panties. You’re a little sore from the previous evening’s events. Internally. The times he had pounded into you deeply. The new bite on your shoulder. The swelling and redness seem to have dissipated. The mirror above the dresser doesn’t reveal anything too drastic looking. The puncture marks are almost invisible.

You’ve got the milkman’s pants ready when he emerges naked from the other room, still slightly damp from the shower. The brazenness still makes you blush. You know what he looks like nude by now, of course, but it feels different when it isn’t during intimacy. You watch the imitator rummaging through the dresser drawers to retrieve underwear and socks and a bow tie, secretly admiring the way his muscles shift in the warm yellow glow of the lamp, the curtains still shielding the window. You can smell the coffee brewing in the other room, easily pervading the entirety of the tiny apartment, and you inhale that enticing aroma deeply.

“So you mentioned earlier you’re in a squadron. Like a military sort?”

“Not precisely as you know it, but I suppose there are a few vague similarities.”

“What rank are you?”

“The equivalent of a lieutenant colonel, if you had to label it.”

You inch the work shirt further over the side of the ironing board to continue the pressing, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Where is the rest of your squadron?”

He shrugs. “Around,” he replies vaguely. You think he knows exactly where they are and he’s not willing to give them up. Still somewhat loyal, in spite of what’s happened between you.

“They don’t wonder where you are? Or vice versa? You don’t have some kind of a leader you have to report to?”

He pauses midway through pulling on a sock. “It doesn’t quite work like that. We are…autonomous, I suppose you would say. Working independently, but striving for the same goal.”

You hand him the shirt and he slides it over his shoulders after finishing with the socks. “So why have ranks at all then, if you’re all equals?”

“Because we’re not. Not everyone can do what I did. It’s still rare. There’s no way to instruct how to do it. It just…happens. Or doesn’t.” He finishes buttoning the front of his shirt. You help him with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Why did you choose Francis?”

“Opportunity. Nothing more. Sheer random encounter.” You step back as he pulls each pants leg on and stands, zipping and buttoning the fly. The belt is coiled on the dresser beside the black tie. “The best decision of my existence,” he says softly, his forehead bending to touch yours.

You’re so conflicted. He’d killed the man you’d loved. But in some ways was still the man you loved. Only not. An enemy you’re supposed to be guarding against, except he no longer seems to bear any malice towards your kind. Coexisting peacefully. But the cost of that. Oh, the cost.

“I can’t say I’m grateful for what you did. But I am glad it was you, and not someone else.”

His hand cradles your head and he draws you against him. You can smell soap and shampoo. Aftershave. Your arms tighten around him.

“What did happen? During that random encounter?” You ask against his chest.

“Why do you want to know the details? It won’t change anything.”

You draw back to see his face. “Consider it a weakness of humans. There is a car accident on the interstate. The vehicles wrecked, the passengers gravely injured. We slow down or stop to look, even after emergency services have been called, even though there is nothing left to be done. We can’t look away. We have to face it. Confront our fears head on. Grieve our losses. Knowing the truth of what happened is the only way to do that.”

“If I tell you, you’re admitting he’s gone.”

You chew your lower lip, hesitating. “I suppose that would be true.”

“If that happens, you won’t have any reason to be with me anymore.” He strokes a thumb over one cheek. “Is that really what you want?”

“I…no.” Your heart is beating madly in your chest. It would be like losing Francis twice, somehow. You can’t fathom it. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s best I don’t know. I won’t mention it again.”

After a time the replicant finishes dressing. The black bow knotted neatly. Belt secured. Wallet tucked into his pocket, followed by his keys. You’ve hastily gotten dressed in yesterday’s clothing. You’ll return home and get properly washed and changed before returning for your shift afterwards.

The imposter pours you both a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. Strong. The way you both like it. A little cream and sugar to kill some of the bitterness stirred in.

You’re standing by the front door now. The doppelgänger holds the milkman’s cap in his hands. He doesn’t like wearing it. You can tell. You pull it from his fingers and set it on his head. Tugging the brim down a little. Smoothing some of his hair back underneath. He really did need a trim soon. You’d never seen it get this long.

“Be safe today,” he says.

“You too.”

“Do you think I could get away with coming over tonight? Is your organization going to stalk me?”

“I’m hoping they’ll calm down after a bit. They are still watching you. Me. Us. So maybe wait a couple of days, make it not so obvious.”

“I don’t think I can manage a couple of days.”

“You’ll still see me in the booth.”

“That’s not the same.”

“I know, Francis. If circumstances were different…I’m trying keep you safe.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Alright. A couple of days, then. Surely the weekend as well?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

He smiles. “Things looking up already. Alright, sweetheart.” He bends to kiss your mouth. “I’ll see you later.”

You exit the apartment and he locks the door. Still no one else stirring in the building yet. He ignores the elevator and begins descending the staircase. You follow him. He’s faster than you, his longer limbs making short work of the steps. Already nearly an entire flight down from you.

He pauses on the landing, looking back at you as you halt, fingers curled over the railing.

“Francis.” You rush down the stairs, throwing yourself at him when you reach the bottom, the momentum pushing him back against the wall. Planting kisses along the freshly shaved cheeks and jaw. “I miss you already.”

“Me too, love.” His arms envelop you and you bury your face against his shirt. Suddenly you find yourself wanting to cling to him desperately. So afraid for him. More than you were even for yourself.

It’s a relief when you see him return safely later that day; it’s all you can do not to open the booth and fling yourself back into his arms. But the camera mounted on the wall over your shoulder is a constant reminder. You’re being watched.

You’re not safe at all.

***

Saturday morning finds you standing in what was once an impressive garden beside your house. Now chock full of wildflowers and overgrown with weeds. Francis’ copy is beside you, kneeling down, his fingers raking the earth, pushing impatiently at the intruding vegetation. “The soil is still good. You could plant here again easily.”

“My grandfather would have been happy to see that. It just got to be too much for him to maintain. He had a hard time finding help for the farm. People lured into moving to the city. Better paying jobs. Fancier homes. A variety of exciting new stores to shop in. My parents both had that itch.”

“You’re somewhere in the middle.” He stands, dusting his hands off.

You nod. “I guess I am. I can appreciate the value of being in the city. The benefits. But I recognize the drawbacks, too. I love being here. It always feels right. I wish I could restore things to the way they were.”

“Maybe you could. Not to the extreme of running a business with employees, but to build it back up, little by little.”

“It would be a full time process.”

“You could do it. We could do it,” he adds softly.

“Is that really what you’d want?”

“I want you,” he says, his hands now seated on your waist, drawing you closer. He kisses you and you sigh contentedly.

“When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the world goes away. There is no DDD or invasion. It’s just us.”

“It could really be like that.”

“No one ever leaves the DDD voluntarily. And you’d be labeled a deserter, wouldn’t you? We’d be chased. Hunted down. There’s only one punishment for someone who’s a coconspirator.” It didn’t happen often, but occasionally there were stories of humans accepting bribes. Working together with the doppels. It did not end well for the humans making those bargains; did not end well for the invaders, either.

“We’ll keep running so they can’t catch us. To the ends of the earth.” He tugs on your hand and you allow him to, following him. Navigating through the overgrowth, threading through it to find your path. Moving faster and faster, a full jog now. Still anchored to the doppelgänger’s hand.

He halts abruptly and you collide with him. Both breathing heavily. He descends and you tumble down with him. You’re in a patch of wildflowers, their perfumed scent heavy in the air.

You lie together like that with your head pillowed on his chest, one arm tucked around you. “Did you ever have anything like this before? Was there someone else?”

“Never.”

You burrow a little deeper, satisfied with the answer. Would you have been jealous if he’d said yes? Strange to think that way. But yes, you would be, you realize. The concept of sharing, the idea of affection for someone other than yourself bothers you.

“Do you think you could ever find yourself caring for me? Not for the face I wear. What’s behind it, I mean. My true self.” Your head lifts, your eyes searching his features. “I want you to love me as much as you love the man. More than that.”

“You said…you don’t even have words for human emotions. They don’t exist for your kind.”

“They don’t. They didn’t. A change now. Evolution. Something unanticipated. That’s what the ache is, isn’t it? How terrible this feeling is. How wonderful. Paradox.” He pulls your face towards his, kissing you. “I need you, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”

You kiss him back. You can’t speak with words. It’s too overwhelming. Too confusing trying to separate the man and the invader. You’d been telling yourself all along it was your feelings for the former that had driven all your actions. That had been true enough in the beginning. But now. Now there were doubts creeping in. Wondering it wasn’t the other that you had feelings for. Could you really love a monster?

“Need to feel you, love, please.” The sound of his belt being undone. Dark slacks today now that he wasn’t working. Your fingers join him there, finding his cock already hard, leaking in anticipation. So hungry, so fast. Your body responding in kind, drooling for him.

You straddle his hips, the hem of your skirt bunched around your waist. Struggling to hold the crotch of your panties aside, to guide him inside of you. Gasping when you succeed. You lower yourself down onto him. The sun is warm on your back. You lift up slightly and sit back down. Impaling yourself again. Your hips roll back and forth as you lean down to kiss him. Rocking, sliding that prick in and out of your pussy. He slips completely free and you hurriedly snake a hand between your bodies, realigning him. The drag against your clit sending sparks through you. You keep the hand there, touching yourself, touching him. Feeling the heightened friction of the panties digging against your hand, against your lover’s dick. The nails of your other hand raking his chest through his shirt.

You kiss him, tasting the salt of the perspiration that has begun. It’s so hot. Outside. Inside of you. His fingers touch your cheek, seed your hair, hold your mouth against his as his hips lift to meet you. Driving him deeper inside. You look down at the man whose face you’d seen behind glass for all those months. Those dark, tired eyes on yours. Lick his mouth back open, enjoying the mash of the hand still between your bodies, grinding against the bundle of nerve endings. His lips at your jaw and throat and beside your ear. “I love you,” he whispers, and you shatter around him, your walls spasming, your body jerking through release.

It’s easy to say the phrase back to him when you’re in the height of bliss, just three simple little words that escape above his face, panted between noises of pleasure.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

His hips snap up and you feel the jet of seed inside you. Your forehead drops to his, your arms and legs suddenly shaking. You dismount and drop down beside him, your face burrowing again.

“I meant it,” he says softly. “What I said.”

“I know. So did I.” It’s the truth, you realize. Somehow, the impossible had happened.

You’d fallen in love with a doppelgänger.

***

The weekend flies by.

You are back in the security booth once again the following Monday. Straightening out the desk once more. You really could not understand why your coworkers were so disorganized. You’ve nearly finished the task when you realize through your peripheral vision that someone has entered the apartment building.

Your head lifts to see Izaack Gauss.

Or what looked like him; your instincts kicking in once again. It’s most certainly a doppel.

The face has been perfectly replicated, the second floor resident’s exaggerated features all ones you recognize: the large cleft chin and wide nose, the thick dark eyebrows set above glacier blue eyes, that wide stretch of teeth just a little too large for comfort, becoming almost a rictus grin. One that doesn’t touch the imposter’s eyes.

“Good morning,” he greets you, sliding his ID card and entry request through the stainless steel slot at the bottom of the window.

You look over the identification first. Expiration date checks out, the image and name both correct. Your eyes flick up before you study the other document. On the day’s list. DDD logo present. Occupation of reporter correct. Address verified.

“May I come in? As you can see everything is in order.”

The ID card is still clutched in your hands. You tap it against the desk absently. You know it’s not really him. You just don’t have any evidence to support your suspicion yet.

“Let me just make a quick phone call to your residence.”

You lift the receiver off the hook, dialing the first number.

“I can smell him on you.”

Your hand freezes. “I’m sorry?”

The large nostrils flare and the suited figure inhales deeply. “All over you. Inside of you. He’s been there, hasn’t he? You’ve let him in.” Little burst capillaries spidering across his eyes now. A thin trail of spit glistening on his lower lip. “You could let me inside, too.”

You flip the plastic shielding covering the alarm down and slap the red button, the steel shutters instantly dropping down to cover the glass. Hanging up hurriedly and dialing a new number, the DDD operator answering you in the same calm manor they always adopt, assuring you the cleaners will be on their way shortly.

Time seems to slow to a crawl. You hear the sounds of the disposal team making their way inside. Yelling. Gunfire. Then silence. The alarm stops sounding. The steel shutter retracts. On the other side of the window, you can see a member of the DDD wearing a yellow hazmat suit. “The doppelgänger has been taken care of. You can return to work now.”

You nod, willing your shaking hands to be still.

***

“There was a doppel today.”

The piece of cake you’re chewing tastes like ash. It’s from your favorite bakery, a treat from your replicant beau. Washed down with an ice cold sample of the milk he delivers. You wish you could enjoy it. But your taste buds won’t cooperate. You’re still shaken from what had happened earlier.

“Yes. There were to be several. What’s wrong?”

“He knew about us, Francis.”

He sets his fork down slowly. “Tell me what happened.”

“He looked just like Mr. Gauss. The reporter that lives alone on the second floor. Paperwork checked out. But I could tell something was off right away. And he said he could smell you on me. In me. He knew what we’ve done together.”

You see the copycat milkman’s Adam’s apple move above his shirt collar as he swallows loudly. “And then you called the cleaners?”

“Yes.”

“Did he get a chance to say anything to them?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“And the surveillance cameras?”

“Video feed only, no audio.”

A heavy sigh. “Alright. I’m sorry that happened to you. That was not a member of my squadron, I assure you.”

“You said they wouldn’t come near the building, because of the marks. Other than the ones you sent as decoys to fool the DDD.”

“I didn’t think they would. Honestly, I didn’t. I would never deliberately put you in harm’s way. You know that.” His hand reaches for yours across the tiny kitchen table in the third floor apartment. “Had to just be an anomaly. Had to be,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s trying to reassure himself as well as you.

“What if it’s not?”

He pushes back from the table, kneeling beside you, reaching for one of your hands and pressing his lips to it, holding it against his cheek. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear to you. I love you,” he says, and your heart flutters. The palm of his free hand rests somewhere along your ankle. Sliding up, bringing the hem of your skirt with it. He kisses your knee. The top of the joint. The inside. Stands and pulls you with him. Lifting you and sitting you on the counter, your skirt gathered in messy folds around your hips. His fingers dig into the sides of the underwear clinging to them, dragging them roughly down. He’s impatient, possessive. Scared, you think.

“I want to make a baby with you.”

“Francis…” Your sex throbs at the suggestion. Such a dangerous idea.

“I want them to know you’re mine. Fuck the DDD and fuck the other doppels.” His face moves against your throat, one hand on your hip as he thrusts into you, the other braced on the overhead cabinet behind you.

“I am yours.”

He huffs a moan. “You’re so perfect for me.”

You gasp when he reaches deeper inside of you, clutching the back of his shirt collar, your other hand at his waist, knees digging into his hips as he ruts against you. Your fingers travel to his hair, those cocoa locks that are growing curlier the more they lengthen. You have to cut them for him, or send him to a barber, or…

“Say it. Please, please say it. Do you want me to beg? I’ll do it. Please…”

You know what he wants. What he needs to hear. “I love you.” The wood behind you groans with the tension his hand places on it as he fucks you harder, faster. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” uttered each time he’s sheathed inside you.

Touching his cheek now, watching his mouth fall open, the kind of wonder in those dark eyes, as if he’s discovering you all over again for the first time, coming apart, waiting to be rebuilt. You both shatter and then there is silence save for the ticking of the clock mounted on the kitchen wall and the breaths you trade, a warm exchange of air in the scant space that divides you.

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you

1K notes · View notes

skyscrapergods · 5 months

Note

has being fucking Massive and Immortality changed the alicorns’ perspective on regular ponies? I imagine they’d get more condescending and distant and stuff

You are surrounded by flies. If you pause, and look closely, you realize the flies are iridescent, with deeply colorful eyes, and beautiful wings like stained glass. It cannot see the colorful windows of your world, but you can try to describe them. But know that doing so take up the creature's precious time. Years to them is mere hours to you. In a long conversation about the stars, you and the fly share ideas and perspectives. You come away delighted with a new view on constellations and what they mean to the common folk.

The fly comes away dazzled, haunted, and halfway to the grave. What was to you a wonderful conversation was years of study, communion, and dedication on the part of the small creature. He gave up any other pursuits, he constructed his life around this cause. He lost his friends, family, and home. You lost your lunch break.

You love this creature. You love the small being that you once were. You want to talk to him again. You want to tell him of the stars, of dreams... but to speak with him twice, at least meaningfully, would take from him the rest of his life. Could you demand that from him for the sake of your own curiosity? Years passed for him already. In the time it took you to draw a breath, his childhood ended. Do you summon him again? Or do you let him go to live his life, what's left of it?

It is painful for everyone. It hurts something in your chest, it breaks the heart of a god. It wounds his family to watch him leave them behind for the sake of what? A mere whim? He had ambitions! He had a story! It's all gone now. Rewritten for your musings.

You leave him. He cries for you but he needs not a goddess. He needs to live, to turn from the sky to his fellow bugs.

That's what he is. A fly. A mere insect to you. To hold him down is to pin him through his soft center, and display his corpse as a record of his extinction.

So look away. Forget the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the intelligence that stirred you to pluck him out his world and keep him in yours. There, he would be a wildflower with a cut stem. He would be beautiful, but he is so small, and so quiet. He would be just a decoration on your table; made to dance and sing for your amusement and then tossed out with the rubbish when he breaks.

You miss him. You love him. But he is a crawling worm and you are the rain. There are many others like him, but you must be careful to only speak a few words to each. Or better yet, say nothing at all. Let them fade and mix into a writhing blur without name, stories, or opinions on stars.

You are surrounded by flies.

#ask #shire draws #mlp #my little pony #alicorn #alicorns #eldritch horror #skyscraper gods #shire writes #shire screams #skyscraper gods lore #alicorn lore #cosmic horror #cosmic angst #ssg alicorns #ssg luna #ssg pipsqueak

2K notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 6 months

Note

could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?

something special

<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining

"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.

"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."

about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.

you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.

when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.

"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"

"since always." jack grinned proudly.

"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"

"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.

a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.

"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"

jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."

"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.

"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."

there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.

"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."

"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.

just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.

in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.

it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.

again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.

"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."

aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.

jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"

"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

2K notes · View notes

hotyanderedaddies · 6 months

Text

Yandere Sleep Paralysis Demon Visits You Nightly

[Yandere! Sleep Paralysis Demon x GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You tried so hard to stay awake for as long as you could.

You even tried to look up ways to stay up online, doing tricks such as downing caffeine, jogging late at night, and even refusing to sit anywhere near your bed.

Unfortunately, you're only human and eventually you could feel the sleepiness taking over your body.

Hopefully he won't show tonight...

💤

It's dark out and the only noise that you can pick up is the slight scratching of the tree against the glass on your bedroom window. Your line out sight is directed towards the far corner of your bedroom, which is shrouded in black shadows.

But you can't move.

You can't speak.

You're trapped.

Helpless.

A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead, and your heart begins to race in your chest as you wait for it...

"Hey, Darling," a deep, gravelly voice echoes out in your small bedroom.

The black shadow in the corner of the room darkens, seemingly drawing in the rest of the shadows in the bedroom-- a pair of eerie red eyes appear.

They laser focus on you.

"Darling, I missed you," the voice says again. "I missed you so, so much." An angry growl emanates from the dark corner of the room. "Why? Why are you trying to avoid me?"

The wooden floorboards creak as he approaches the bed. Slowly, you can start to make out a tall, intimidating figure emerging from the shadows. The sleep paralysis demon who's visited you every night for the past few months stalks closer and closer to the bed.

He's angry, you fear. His red eyes are narrowed in your direction, and as he draws nearer, his large mouth is forming a snarl. It shows off the rows of dagger-sharp teeth that could easily slice your flesh if you ever piss him off.

Had you been able to move, you would've shivered at the sight of the terrifying demon.

The demon paused and frowned when he sensed your fear.

"Oh, Darling," he almost pouted, "don't be scared. Daddy won't hurt you."

He moves out of sight, but then you can feel the mattress starting to shift underneath his added weight. His body radiates an intense heat as it crawls over you. He snakes his strong arms around you and holds you closer to him.

"I'm just a little upset that my darling isn't getting enough sleep," the demon huffs, his hot breath wafting over your cheek as he speaks. His lips are pressed against you, and you can feel his facial muscles flex with every word he mutters.

Helpless, you're completely powerless as he cuddles you. He runs admiring fingers through your hair and shoves his nose into the crook of your neck, moaning loudly as he inhales your delicious scent.

"It's the only time we can see each other," he continues. "And I really missed you when you weren't sleeping. Didn't you miss me? Even a little bit?"

Of course you would've refused had you been able to answer.

"Of course you did," the demon smiles. "My darling missed me a lot. I just know it... maybe, just maybe I won't let you wake up. Then we can be together forever."

Your heart speeds up.

"Would you like that, Darling?"

You close your eyes as you try to drift off, desperate to get away from this love obsessed demon.

"I would love that very much. I love you very much, Darling. And I hate that we can't be together during the day."

He tightens his grip on you.

"Which is why it's important for you to get your sleep. If you keep trying to stay up all night, then you'll leave me no choice but to never let you wake up."

The thought is terrifying-- being trapped in your sleep paralysis with this demon cuddling up to you constantly. And all the while, you'd be helpless to do anything at all.

"I love you so much, Darling," the demon coos as he presses a kiss onto your cheek. "Sweet dreams, my love."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere daddy #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #sleep paralysis #sleep paralysis demon #demon #reader x demon #yandere demon #yandere sleep paralysis demon #yandere imagine #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend

3K notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 11 months

Text

The problem is that a part of Steve knows the spider isn’t real.

But it’s the suggestion of it, right? Cobwebs in his hair, movement just out the corner of his eye; it’s all enough to convince him that there’s something crawling on his skin, to let out a panicked whisper to Nancy, there was a spider. It’s a black widow.

He tries to disregard it as a one-off. It’s an old creepy house. Just got him spooked for a bit, that’s all.

But then… diving into Lover’s Lake. Bats biting into his flesh. Overwhelming dizziness.

Nancy wrapping torn strips of clothing tight around—there’s something crawling, crawling underneath his skin, no, there isn’t, no, there—a bike ride through The Upside Down; one hacking cough, pushing through it, pushing through it—

Swallows it all down. Ignores the sweat, the tackiness around his bandage. Shh. Calm, calm.

Drives the RV. Doesn’t know how he’s even moving, is just grateful—grateful that his mind on autopilot seems to still function.

The War Zone. In and out. Parked. Sun in his eyes. Kids outside.

The feeling comes back. Something. Something under his skin. (In his blood, in all of him—)

“S’there something in my hair?” he asks Eddie, who’s mid-step out of the RV.

Eddie turns back with an air of amusement. “Nope,” he says. “Looks perfectly coiffed to me, man.”

“Can you—can you just check?”

Look closer, something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

“Uh, sure,” Eddie says, bemused. He sits next to Steve and tilts his head before lifting a hand uncertainly. “You want me to, uh?”

“Yeah, thanks. Just… there was a spider on me.”

It’s not what Steve wants to say at all, but there’s a sudden, terrifying disconnect between the thoughts in his head and what actually comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you don’t like them, huh?”

Eddie’s not even teasing, just sounds understanding; he lifts up a few sections of hair carefully, taking his time. He’s so kind. Steve abruptly wants to cry.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Eddie continues. “I have the same thing with mice. The way they move. Creepy little feet.” He shudders dramatically.

Steve wants to laugh at that. Can’t.

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair a couple more times, gentle.

You don’t have to, Steve thinks. Make it hurt. Get it out. Did you find it? Please say you found it.

“Good news, you’re officially spider-free, Harrington.”

Eddie claps him on the shoulder, stands up.

Steve doesn’t move.

Eddie pauses again, halfway out the door. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Just need some air.”

He goes through the motions of prepping for the fight. Chats with Robin. She talks about a terrible, gnawing feeling, and he wants to scream yes, I know, I know, but he can’t tell her, why can’t he tell her?

Shh. Calm, calm.

Drives the RV. Forest Hills.

He brakes with no warning, sends bottles of alcohol rolling across the floor. He’s mad suddenly that they didn’t smash. He’s so—

Slip away.

Eddie’s trailer. Lets himself in.

Bathroom.

The wound on his stomach pulses. He doubles over the toilet. Throws up.

His skin is crawling.

There, in the back of his mind, a creeping coldness. A thought that is not his own.

I will kill them all. And I will make you watch.

Oh, God. Oh, God, he’s been so stupid.

Eddie finds him first.

He picks up one fallen bottle of alcohol before a gut feeling pulls him out of the RV—because Steve Harrington is a good driver, and he’d only brake like that if he had no choice.

“Steve?”

But Steve’s not waiting for them on the porch, he’s not even by the Gate.

Clattering; a strangled cry.

Eddie’s stomach lurches.

He runs towards the noise, opens the bathroom door and is instantly hit by the acrid smell of vomit.

“Steve! Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s pushed up against the cistern. There’s a damp patch all across his stomach, and his chest is heaving.

“Oh my God, Steve, what’s—”

Eddie reaches for him instinctively, and Steve flinches as if he’s been struck.

“No, don’t!”

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” Eddie whispers, drawing his hand back; Steve’s skin is feverishly hot, slick with sweat. He looks around frantically for a cloth, turns on the cold water. “Gotta get you cooled—”

Something slams into him; he’s pinned against the sink, Steve’s hand clamped around his throat.

“No,” Steve repeats. “Don’t.”

“Okay,” Eddie manages. He chokes on a swallow. “S-Steve, you’re—you’re—”

His hand flails, trying to pry Steve’s fingers off.

Steve’s grip loosens ever so slightly. His eyes are wide, bloodshot. Pleading.

“Eddie,” he says through gritted teeth. “You need to hurt me.”

With the last of his strength, Eddie gets his knee up and jabs—it’s barely anything, but it works enough to break Steve’s hold.

Eddie staggers; his back slams against the door. He’s shaking.

Steve stares at him. He’s gripping onto the sink so tightly that Eddie thinks it’s a miracle that it doesn’t crack.

And then there’s a horrible, guttural noise like Steve’s started to choke too, like he’s at war with himself.

Barely audible, he says, “Get… get Nancy.”

Eddie runs.

He nearly falls into Nancy as he opens the front door. He’s breathless, can’t think of what to say, save from—

“Wheeler, he needs you.”

It happens in an instant: Nancy’s brow pinches, and then she goes very pale, and she’s shouting for Robin and Dustin to stay in the RV, like she can turn on a dime, launched into an unknown crisis.

She pushes past Eddie, and he follows her, back into the bathroom.

The cold water is still running.

Steve’s got his hands in the sink. He looks at Nancy desperately.

“S-stop me.”

Another choking sound is ripped from Steve’s throat; Eddie realises that it’s actually a dry sob.

“Nance,” Steve says. It’s half her name, half a pained whine. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I—I know everything.”

And then he’s suddenly launching towards them—it’s only the fact that he’s so completely freaked out that makes Eddie move in time, saves him from getting strangled again.

He grabs Steve’s wet hands, pins them behind his back and tries to hold him still.

“Jesus! Wheeler, what the fuck is going—”

“Do you have anything that can knock him out?” Nancy says.

“What?”

“Drugs, Eddie!”

“Are you crazy? There’s no way—oh my God, what are you—”

Crack.

Nancy’s grabbed the cistern lid, brought it down upon Steve’s head. Eddie looks at Steve lying eerily still on the floor in abject horror.

There’s blood in his hair.

Eddie feels sick.

But Nancy just watches, as if to confirm that Steve’s not moving. She looks Eddie in the eye.

“Come on. That’s only gonna work for so long.”

Eddie just follows her out, too shocked to even attempt speaking.

It’s chaotic at the RV; Dustin sees them coming, leaps out of the door as Robin yells at him.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Get back inside.”

“Nancy, where the hell is he?”

“We can talk inside.”

“Bullshit, I’m—”

“Dustin, he’s Flayed,” Nancy says, her voice breaking, and all the fight goes out of Dustin at once.

“No, that’s—he can’t—”

Eddie finally finds his voice. “Can someone tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?”

Nancy doesn’t speak, not until they’re in the RV, the door locked behind her.

“I think it’s the—the bites—”

Robin swears, a hand over her mouth.

“Flayed?” Eddie persists.

“The Mind Flayer,” Dustin says numbly. “It’s what we—it’s a part of The Upside Down. It—it used Will to… to spy on…”

“And what, it’s—” Eddie swallows. “It’s inside him?”

“Like a virus. He’s part of the Hive Mind,” Nancy says.

Eddie’s knees feel weak.

“Fuck,” Dustin says. “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“It’s too late to change that,” Nancy says. “We just have to—at least someone needs to stay with him.”

“I will,” Robin says instantly, eyes blazing.

“Me too,” Dustin says.

Nancy glances at him, shakes her head—firm but apologetic. “You can join Erica.” And as Dustin opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, she adds, “I’m sorry, Dustin. It’s just—we might need to… to fight him.”

Dustin doesn’t reply, but looks so utterly devastated that Eddie wishes he’d insisted on diving first, that the bats had torn into him instead.

“Keep him warm,” Nancy tells Robin urgently. “And I don’t mean just—it’s got to be unbearable.”

Robin nods, ashen-faced.

Nancy catches Eddie’s eye. “The one thing that fucker can’t stand is heat.”

She paces up and down the RV, checking for stray bottles. Then she comes to a stop right in front of Robin.

“He—he might beg,” she whispers. “And it won’t—it’ll sound like him. Like he just wants the pain to stop.”

Robin’s eyes look glassy. “Nance, I don’t—don’t know if I can—”

“I’ll do it,” Eddie says.

He feels everyone’s eyes on him, but he just looks at Nancy, at the determined set to her jaw.

He doesn’t know when he made the decision, if he can even pinpoint a conscious moment of thought—but now that the words are out, he feels the vow he’s made, deep in his chest.

Nancy hands him a bottle and cloth.

A lighter.

She fixes Eddie with a piercing look. “It’s going to look like you’re killing him,” she says.

Eddie nods.

He turns, offers Robin his hand.

“C’mon, Buckley. Let’s get that bastard out of him.”

#another concept has ensnared me oops #i can only apologise for the cliffhanger #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve and nancy #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve x eddie #flayed steve harrington #body horror cw

2K notes · View notes

rogueddie · 8 months

Text

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #creaturefeature

2K notes · View notes

gi4hao · 2 months

Text

some vernon x acts of service fluff for you ♡

vernon dyed his hair black this morning. he kind of loves it, and he hopes you will too. obviously the execution isn’t perfect; there are some dark stains on his ears and his forehead and he ruined two t-shirts in the process. but he knows how much you love that color on him.

this afternoon, vernon did some shopping. he needed a new shirt and he remembered the pretty bracelet that had caught your eye last time you were in town. he hopes you’ll be happy when he gifts it to you.

and this evening, vernon cooked dinner. it’s not done yet, but it will be in about thirty minutes. mingyu sent him an easy yet sophisticated recipe which he followed to the letter, and it turned out pretty well, at least on the outside. he hopes you’ll like it.

it’s past 7pm when he hears your key turn in the front door’s lock. the oven is a bit greasy, there’s oregano spilled on the counter, the wrapping of your gift is a little messy, and his ears are red from his attempts to remove the dye from his skin. perhaps from stress too.

and suddenly it hits him. he feels stupid. what if he’s doing too much? it is too much, isn’t it?

“hi handsome” your voice pulls him out of his panic as he exits the kitchen, his hands a little moist. you’re ready to lean in for a kiss, it’s almost muscle memory at this point, but the sight of his hair makes you pause.

“love it. and love the new shirt”, you reply, letting your hand brush against the strands of hair on his forehead before finally going in for the kiss. “what’s that smell? did you cook something?”

his ears turn a new shade of red as he grabs your arm to lead you to his living room. “i did, but you don’t wanna go in there right now”, he warns you, grabbing your arm to lead you to the living room instead.

it’s rather unusual for vernon to look so agitated, especially around you. you look at your surroundings, trying to notice anything different.

“is everything okay?”

he nods, a bit faster than usual, before digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a small gift with a wonky ribbon on top.

“got you a little something today. but you can return it if you don’t like it, or even if you change your mind in a few days. or weeks. or even months, really.”

you’re only now noticing the dye stains on his skin, which draws a chuckle out of you. he looks so frantic it’s almost comical. without a word, you put the gift aside and stand up, pretty sure to know what this is all about.

“i already know i love that gift. i’ll love it forever and i would not trade it for any other. ever. because it comes from you, and that’s all i want.”

completely unfazed by how easily you saw right through him, he looks down at the hand you’re still holding, the one with a brand new silver ring on his fourth finger.

your words were heard and understood, but you can feel him internally tiptoeing around what’s really on his mind. his eyes, however, carry the same sweetness they always do when he looks at you.

“this is gonna sound really dumb but, i just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to love… my gift. or to commit to it. i promise i won’t be mad if you tell me you don’t want it”, he tells you, grabbing your other hand to get a look at your own ring, the exact same as him.

it’s now 7:25pm, meaning that it’s been almost 24 hours since vernon has gotten down on one knee to ask the most nerve-wracking question of his entire life. 24 hours since you were legally allowed to call him your fiancé, a much awaited upgrade from the ‘boyfriend’ status.

last night had been a dream come true. but this morning, an uneasy feeling had started crawling into vernon’s mind, making him feel like maybe that dream of his would never come true after all.

dyeing his hair, making dinner, buying gifts, he had really thought about doing anything in his power to keep you from second-guessing your answer from yesterday.

still, nothing would calm his mind except maybe hearing the words from your mouth.

“i’ll love your gift because i love you. and because i spent the last 24 hours on cloud nine, thinking about how lucky i am that you proposed”, you told him in your calmest voice. “i’ll be honest, i even spent my entire day practicing saying “my husband” instead of “boyfriend”… and it sounds really, really nice.”

and that is the exact moment when the crushing weight of doubt and insecurity is lifted from vernon’s shoulders.

he still feels a bit stupid, but in a way that feels great, warm and almost comforting. for the second night in a row, he’s overwhelmed by the pure yet simple feeling of knowing his love is perfectly reciprocated.

“so… does that mean you still want me to be your husband?” he asks with a relieved smile as you trap him in the tightest hug, one hand running in his freshly dyed locks.

he loves you and you love him, that’s the one thing he doesn’t need to hope for. he knows it, and oh how he loves knowing it.

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #hansol x reader #seventeen vernon

948 notes · View notes

wintabite · 1 month

Text

late nights w/ riki

GENRE! fluff

NOTES! gn!reader, est relationship, reader and riki r still in school, wc: 230+ for all

SYNPOSIS! just things you'd do instead of sleeping with riki!

✭ CONVENIENCE STORE RUNS

half asleep with your head resting on your boyfriend's shoulder, you felt light pokes on your cheek, many of them. the sudden touches startled you a bit, causing you to slowly become more awake.

"ki?" you mumbled, he took his hand back, shutting the laptop which was playing a movie in front of you two.

"we're going somewhere, get up" he informed, which confused you because it was 12:36 at night. an odd time to be leaving the house.

"okay..?" too tired to question where you were headed, you slowly got up, fixing up your hair and stretching as he led you out of the house.

the walk was short, but once you guys arrived, you knew it should've been obvious. of course he was taking you to a convenience store, he always does, especially at the most questionable hours. hand in hand, you two entered the luminescent building, waving to the visibly bored cashier before making your way to your favourite aisle. the chips, of course. there were always so many options, from doritos to a knock-off version of lays; 'slays'.

"i'm gonna get a drink, be right back" you told him after grabbing your go-to brand. riki was still deciding, he was always picky about what he wanted for the mood he was in, but for you, it was easy.

"noo, don't go" he held onto your hand tighter after you tried to slip it away, not letting you leave.

"it'll be a second!" you tried to reason, but riki didn't plan on separating from you for a second. god this boy was so clingy sometimes.

"my hand will get cold and fall off, you have to stay!" he paused, trying to think of the best way to bribe you "i'll buy you those gummies you like. i hid the last pack on purpose!" he smirked, knowing you couldn't deny those sour-filled strawberry gummies with the cute characters on the packaging. you gave in, and literally did not let go of his hand until you two got back home.

✭ STUDYING

riki wasn't much of a scholar, at all, and maybe you weren't a complete nerd, but you did try to get good grades. you two had a history test coming up, and not wanting to fail like the last time, you planned on studying that friday night. though, riki was dying for you to sleep over, so he invited you with the promise that he'd study with you and quiz you. now, he was more focused on doodling and making little comments instead of memorizing important dates and events.

"love, if you draw one more deranged cat i'm going to throw you out the window" you playfully threatened him, staring down at the page of solely doodles which was illuminated by a little desk lamp. what previously had a few minor notes written now had many.. questionable.. looking cats.

"i don't get it. who is the bald guy? what did he even do?" he switched the topic.

"if i tell you the whole story will you actually listen?" you tilted your head, admiring his pretty face at the same time.

"well, i'll try"

"after, i'll ask you questions about it, if you get them right i'll kiss you!" after saying that, riki paid VERY close attention to each and every detail of the story, getting every question you asked right, earning him several kisses. he didn't mind studying if it would be like that.

✭ KISSING

straight up, you two will stay up so long just kissing and taking breaks in between to giggle and talk. whether it be on his couch when his parents aren't home, or in the bathroom while there are guests over, you two love to stay up late just kissing.

"wait, i'm not done my story yet!" you pulled away from a long and loving kiss he gave you, since he interrupted you in the middle of a story you were telling, you wanted to get to the good part before you got too distracted by his pillowy lips. "she essentially just called me a rascal, i guess she was trying to offend me?' you continued.

"oh, wow" he mumbled, trying to make it seem as if he were listening to your story, but he really wasn't. you were tired, he was tired, and you were both sitting at the edge of his bed, unable to look away from eachother.

"old people, they really-" before you could finish, riki leaned in again, pressing his lips onto yours, giving you all of his love in a lazy kiss. you couldn't help but give in, the way he held the side of your face and the way he tucked strands of loose hair behind your ear, it drove you crazy. hearing your voice and watching your lonely lips move drove him crazy too. the night was still young, and he had no plans of going to sleep, he craved the feeling of being so closely connected to you, and couldn't get enough of the sweet lingering taste of lipbalm you had applied earlier.

✭ gaming

just you, him, nintendo switches in hand, and a tv. you two were playing mario kart, your character on the right and his on the left side of the large screen. you two were sitting back on the couch, you leaned against him, and you were very concentrated on the game. riki noticed that, and sacrificed driving off of the road to put his hand over your eyes, blocking your vision.

"riki! stop!" you squealed, hitting his hand with the controller, causing him to move it away from your face. he laughed, but you didn't, because you dropped by two places. "i'm not in 2nd anymore! are you serious!" now he was in second place, and close to catching up to first.

"my bad, a ghost moved my hand" he fake apologized.

"yeah and you'll be sleeping on the couch with that ghost instead of with me" you concealed a smirk, staring ahead at the tv as if you said nothing, but he shot his eyes towards you.

"what! i'm sorry! for real!" his eyes darted from the tv, to you, and so on because he still had to somewhat focus on the game.

"nuh uh"

"i'll give second place back to you, baby" he compromised, which sounded like a good idea to you. he stopped moving so you could catch up, replacing him in second place.

"and you have to change into the matching pajamas.." you added to the deal after you caught up, you were wearing the cute set of hello kitty pajamas, and were dying to see your boyfriend in his matching ones. riki knew he didn't have a choice.

a/n: i love this man saur much sigh

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #niki x reader #nishimura riki #ni ki #riki x reader #riki fluff

682 notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 11 months

Text

alhaitham almost walks right past you in the hall, too engrossed in whatever he’s reading. it takes you gently grasping his wrist for him to look up, expression brightening briefly before diving right back into his papers.

“is everything okay?” you ask when you notice the knot that’s formed between his brows. “i’ve hardly seen you all day.”

“i’m fine,” he tells you, which lets you know that he’s certainly stressed about something. he sighs, returning the correspondence to the envelope tucked underneath his arm. “i just don’t understand why dehya won’t accept the akademiya’s job offer.”

in his capacity as the acting grand sage, he’s been trying to get her in the akademiya’s employ for weeks, but the mercenary’s been as tough to wear down as the wall of samiel itself. “ah. still having trouble recruiting her?”

“i’ve already offered a generous salary, benefits, a signing bonus, even a housing stipend. she’d practically be working side by side with the general mahamatra.”

“well, working with the matra means she’d have to spend a great deal of time in sumeru city,” you point out. “that’s probably something she doesn’t prefer.”

“why not?” he asks (because while your man is smart beyond belief, he can be a little dense sometimes). “we have everything here.”

“that’s true, but we’re also quite far from aaru village,” you say slowly, hoping he picks up on what you’re implying.

“i appreciate the geography lesson, but that doesn’t help me figure out how to hire–”

“i was trying to be obscure,” you press, drawing a breath. “because being in sumeru full-time means that she’ll have to spend time away from candace.”

he stares at you blankly, waiting for you to elaborate.

“haitham–” you say, pressing your hands together and glancing around quickly to confirm no one is within earshot. “dehya and candace are knocking boots.”

he seems taken aback by what you’ve just whispered, pausing in his stride to process it. “wait, what?”

“it’s an old expression from mondstadt that means–”

“i’m familiar with the expression. i’m just asking why you’re so positive that they are having… relations.”

“because i just know. they have crazy chemistry. nilou sees it too.”

“do either of you have evidence?”

you hesitate. “no…”

“then you’re not positive. you’re only speculating.”

“i’m not speculating,” you insist with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “i just know–”

“oh, like you just knew that kaveh was only going to stay with me for less than a month?”

“that’s different,” you argue. so what if kaveh’s been staying at alhaitham’s for more than six months? that was due to various, independent factors that had nothing to do with you. “but the way they are around each other–”

“gossip is an unreliable source of information,” he says flatly. alhaitham, as a rule, did not deign to entertain gossip. it was a premise built upon the unsteady grounds of conjecture, and he could not care less to waste his time surmising about other people’s personal lives.

“but–”

“therefore, your advice is redundant.”

you take the files from under his arm, reaching up and smacking him on the back of the head with them. “my advice is always relevant. you can trust me on this.”

alhaitham adjusts his headphones with a sigh, a pained but contemplative look on his face. He knows you’re right, and he knows that he’s hit a wall with this proposal. “fine. i will utilize your…advice, to adjust my proposal.”

“that’s what i like to hear.”

the two of you continue walking in silence, yours smug and his pensive. then, after a moment,

“you realize you just hit the acting grand sage, right?”

“oh please, you don’t scare me.” you meet his amused stare with open defiance, getting up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, and finally his lips. “and when dehya accepts this job proposal, i can think of a few ways you can repay me.”

_____

“you want to offer me what?”

“you heard me,” alhaitham shrugs, leaning back in his plush desk chair. “the akademiya is willing to offer you compensation of up to ten thousand gold for any and all travel between sumeru city and aaru village.”

alhaitham may be in charge of the entire nation at the moment, but he doesn’t quite feel like it when dehya is in the room. she leans forward, resting her elbows atop the highly important documents on his desk as she stares at him. “why would you do that?”

“so you can stay in contact with your loved ones.”

the mercenary scoffs at that. “alhaitham, come on. i know you’ve done your research. i don’t have any family in aaru village.”

moment of truth.

“i was actually referring to…significant others.”

dehya’s brows raise in surprise.

_____

when he returns that night, the first thing alhaitham does when he joins you in bed is take the patient files from your hands and place them on the nightstand.

you frown, reaching for them. “i wasn’t done with those.”

he doesn’t argue with you, instead climbing on top of you and caging you against the bed, a knee pushed between your legs. he merely chuckles when you push at his chest, cause you’re not really trying.

he simply chases after you, and any fight you had to get back to your work dissipates when he presses his lips to yours.

“oh…” you sigh, quickly looping your arms around him to drag him closer, patting your lips to let him deepen the kiss. you gasp when he moves down to press kisses to your shoulder, slowly trailing more up your neck, your jaw, the shell of your ear.

“dehya must have accepted the offer then,” you breathe, your eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“part time only,” he murmurs. “but she signed on.”

you hook your leg around his waist, grinning “oh, so i was…what’s the word?”

he nips at your ear in reprimand, only making you laugh as he mutters, you were right, under his breath.

“oh, don’t pout, baby,” you tease, hands roaming the well sculpted planes of his chest. “let’s just—"

“if you say ‘knock boots,’ i’m going to leave you here and sleep on the couch.”

#alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #alhaitham x y/n #genshin drabbles

2K notes · View notes

flemingsfreckles · 3 months

Text

Not Just a Teammate

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Jessie takes you home for the holidays to meet her parents, she just left out a few details when telling them you were coming home.

Warnings: a little angsty, some cursing

WC: 4.0k

A/N: I needed a break from trying to write the two other multipart series I have, so I wrote this. I’m probably going to be putting out more short single fic stories to keep from getting writers block on my other work. If you have any suggestions/ requests I’d be happy to hear them, sent them my way :)

“I need to tell you something and you have to promise not to be mad at me.” Your girlfriend of nearly a year whispered into your ear as you stood at the airport waiting for your bags to be unloaded from the plane. You turned around to see her looking at you, a nervous look across her face. She was biting her lower lip, her hand playing with drawstrings of her hoodie.

“You can’t just ask me to not be mad at you before I know what you did.” It wasn’t often that Jessie made you even upset let alone mad, so the fact that she was prefacing what she was about to say had you on edge.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s more what I didn’t do.” She says, looking up at you.

“Quit dragging this out, just tell me.” You were already a little overwhelmed from the long travel day you both had, her beating around the bush was pushing your nerves.

“Remember when you asked me if I had talked to my parents about you coming home with me?”

“Jessie!” You scold her, drawing a couple of looks from the people around you, lowering your voice as you continue “You didn’t tell them I was coming? Seriously?”

“No, no I did, they know you’re coming,” she pauses, you can tell there’s more to that sentence than she’s saying.

“Then what?” Now you were annoyed, you were about to be an unexpected guest at your girlfriend's parents house.

“It’s just, they called you my teammate when I called them to see if you could come home and I never corrected them.” Her sentence comes out rushed. Your eyes fly open, your girlfriend’s parents, who you were expecting to meet in less than an hour, didn’t know you were their daughter’s girlfriend.

“Your parents think I’m just your teammate? Are you fucking kidding me? Jessie Alexandra what the hell?” The volume of your voice raised again, not caring if people around you could hear, Jessie deserved to be scolded for this. Jessie throws her hands up in surrender..

“I know, I know. I was going to tell them, but I just got so nervous every time I couldn’t do it. They don’t even know that I date women, well just one woman now, singular, you.” She points at you. For a split second you forget how upset you are at her, seeing how nervous and shy she got talking about dating you.

“So your parents just think you’re bringing home a teammate for the holidays?” She just shrugs at you.

“Oh my god Jessie.” You move away from her, taking a few steps away. “I’m going to have to lie this whole trip, do you realize how fucked up that is? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve made an excuse not to come.” You were so mad. You had asked Jessie a couple weeks back if she had asked her parents abo it you coming home. She had told you she talked with them, you had assumed that meant she fully told them, that she was bringing home her girlfriend, not just a teammate. Maybe you should’ve been more specific when asking.

“No, no of course not.” She reaches a hand out toward you but you pull back out of her reach. “I’m going to talk to them tonight. I promise.”

She holds out her pinky to you, it may seem childish, the two of you interlocking pinkies in the airport, but it had always been a thing the two of you did, a promise was a promise. You hesitate, so annoyed that she had put you in this situation. She gives you a pleading stare, her big brown eyes a special soft spot for you, you hold your pinky out to hers.

“Until you tell them, don't expect me to act like your girlfriend though.” The words leave your mouth and you see the change in Jessie’s face from guilty to upset. You stand in silence, both of you watching the bag carousel, beginning to think that everyone bag from the plane except your own had come out. You watch as Jessie puts the tip of her thumb between her teeth, biting her nail, a nervous habit of hers. Normally you would pull her hand away, giving it a loving squeeze, or politely telling her to stop. Instead, since you weren't her girlfriend at the moment, you don't, a teammate wouldn't scold her habits.

“Does that mean we’re sleeping in different beds?” The thought of all the tiny aspects that come with being a friend instead of a girlfriend start crossing your mind. You speak up but don’t turn to look at her. As a teammate and a friend, her parents probably weren’t expecting you to share a bed, you'd have to sleep alone until she sorted this out with them.

“I don’t know, they didn’t mention sleeping arrangements to me. I’m sure they’ll have the guest room made up for you. To be fair, they might kick you out of my bedroom once they know we’re together.” Jessie tries to make a joke to you, but not in the mood for her antics, you take it seriously.

“You’re 26, not 16 and we’re both girls, what do they think is going to happen?”

“It’s probably more that they don’t want to hear what might happen. And last time I checked, someone can get a little loud.” when you just look at her, not giving in to her attempt at humor with you a frown comes to her face. “I was joking babe, they have let my sibling’s partners spend the night in their rooms.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me.” You glare at her, you were being overly mean and you knew it, but you couldn’t help it. Jessie had been so excited to invite you home for the holidays and you had been excited to go, but you were excited to go as her girlfriend, not her teammate.

The fact that she hadn't told them was causing a small part of you to be insecure. Maybe she didn't think you were good enough to bring home as a partner, maybe she didn't want to introduce you to her life in Canada. Maybe she was planning on ending your relationship and this would be the perfect start. You had never questioned your relationship with Jessie before, you felt unsettled knowing you were suddenly having these thoughts.

Jessie moves forward to the belt and she grabs off your bag, sliding it toward you before she grabs the one with her own tag on it. You were too lost in your thoughts to see the bags come on the belt. Normally you'd take Jessie’s bag for her, one of many simple chivalrous things you had incorporated into your life with her, but not today, you grabbed your own and turned to find the exit.

Standing outside, you waited for Jessie’s parents to pick you both up. Jessie waves in the direction of a car that soon pulls over and Jessie’s mom nearly comes jumping out of the passenger seat while it is still moving, making a b-line for her daughter. She pulls her into a hard hug.

“My baby is home.” You hear her say as she rocks Jessie side to side slightly.

“Hi Mom.” Jessie is laughing at her Mom’s behavior. Jessie’s dad is now standing behind his wife, waiting for his turn to say hello to his daughter. Jessie’s mom picks her head up, her eye catches yours.

“Hi, sorry I didnt mean to ignore you.” She moves out of Jessie’s arms and comes over to you arms open. You give her a quick hug and smile.

“I get it, she’s your daughter.” You wave off her Mom’s apology.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Her parents maybe didn't know they were meeting their daughter's girlfriend but you were still overly aware that this was your first time meeting your girlfriend’s parents. Meeting the parents was a big deal, especially when Jessie was as close with her family as she was.

You hear Jessie start to introduce you to her parents, she says your name and then pauses, “She’s my,” For a second you're relieved, she was going to get the introduction over with now, she was going to correct her mistake.

“um, my, she’s, we play together and she's one of my favorite people.” She smiles in your direction. You shoot her back a smile that to her parents looks normal, they don't know any different. Jessie however, could tell your smile was fake, one that was hiding annoyance.

You all climb in the car, her parents asking questions about your flight, about both of your lives, asking how the season was treating both of you. The ride wasn't too long and you were soon pulling up a long driveway to a beautiful house, hidden back from the roadway, surrounded by huge trees.

Standing in the driveway are both of Jessie’s siblings, they both come to either side of the car, Jessie’s sister to her side, her brother to your side. They greet you and offer to take your bags.

Her brother and mom walk you around the house, giving you the tour as Jessie says hello to her family’s dogs. You see Jessie’s room, you’d seen photos of her bedroom as a child, it was more sophisticated now, less posters on the wall, less toys and clutter, but it still was very much her childhood bedroom. They showed you her siblings rooms, the kitchen, family room, and finally the guest room. Jessie was right, they had made it up for you to stay. You appreciate the fact that they had set up the room for you but you really wanted to spend the night cuddling up with Jessie, not a floor below her in a different bed. Maybe a night apart would be good, maybe it would make Jessie remember how she doesn’t sleep well without you being next to her. Maybe it’ll encourage her to tell the truth.

Jessie’s dad calls down the hall that dinner is ready and you all make your way back into the kitchen.

“Jessie said you weren’t picky, but we made a couple things since she is.” Jessie’s older brother says to you, poking fun at his sister.

“This all looks great, thank you.” You look between all her family members not sure who did the cooking. Everyone makes their plate, you let Jessie and her parents go first, silently distancing yourself from her. They head to the dining room as you start to make your plate.

As you make your way into the dining room followed by Jessie's siblings Jessie is already sitting at the table with her parents, you pick up on the conversation as you enter the room.

“Yeah no, she's great isn't she. Actually we’re um,” you hear her begin to stumble over her words again. “She and I are going to be roommates for the travel season this year.” You're not even sure why you continued to get your hopes up, she clearly was struggling getting out the words that she was your girlfriend and you were hers. Jessie sends you an apologetic look as you sit down across the table from her. You continue dinner, it feels uncomfortable to you and Jessie, but to the rest of the table it was normal, no one knew of the underlying tension between the two of you.

After dinner you all sit down playing card and board games. After a couple rounds of Jessie’s brother winning Uno, you all move to the couches just relaxing. Jessie's mom had grabbed a scrapbook off the shelf and was shamelessly showing you all the baby photos of Jessie, ones of her playing soccer, running, playing in the yard, holding a hockey stick, all the small moments of her childhood. You badly want to gush over the photos as a girlfriend, but you kept it reserved, not mentioning the thoughts of how cute your kids would be some day if they looked like her.

“I’ll be right back, going to let the dog outside.” Jessie says, her voice sounds different, you can't pinpoint why. Once you finish looking through the scrapbook, Jessie’s parents ask if you need anything before they head up to bed. You decline and thank them for the dinner and hospitality.

As Jessie’s parents head upstairs to their bedroom, you realize that you were going to have to wait until tomorrow for Jessie to tell them. She had broken the pinky promise you had made in the airport. Finding it odd that Jessie hadn’t come back in a few minutes, you stand up to look for her. You see her standing outside on the deck off of the kitchen.

You open the glass door, Jessie is standing, forearms resting against the fencing of the deck, head in her hands.

“Just so you know, if you're not planning to keep the pinky promise you made me, that's going to be a problem, and I’ll be happy to sleep in the guest room. I trust you when we do that.” She doesn't say anything back to you, you notice a slight shake to her shoulders as you watch her back. You walk up to her, standing close enough that your shoulder grazed against hers. She pulled her head up from her hands, she had tears trailing down her cheeks. The image of her bringing herself to tears trying to make you happy by telling her parents, immediately took away the built up anger you were harboring toward her.

“Oh Jess.” You let your thumb swipe the tears from her face.

“I’m trying.” She gets out words between gasps for air. “I am, I just, it's like I can't breathe when I go to say it. What if they hate me for it? What if I’m not their daughter anymore?” More tears ran down her face. Your heart felt like it shattered watching her cry, having those thoughts run through her brain.

You couldn't imagine how she had felt. Your parents knew you were going to date women since you were little and came home gushing over other girls, not thinking there was something different about that, they hadn't cared and you didn't need to go through any coming out process with them. Your privilege in that was becoming very clear to you at the moment. You couldn't imagine having to do this at 26.

“Jessie, look at me.” Her eyes meet yours. “I love you. I can’t stand here and tell you I know how you're feeling because honestly I don't, I never came out to my parents. I am here though, I want to help you with this. I want you to feel comfortable telling them.” You wish you could take away her fears, give them to yourself, let her have the easy experience.

“I’m really sorry I’ve been pretty shitty to you since I found out they didn’t know. That wasn't fair of me to do. I got nervous thinking you maybe didn’t want them to meet me as your partner, that maybe you were ashamed of me or something, I got in my own head and got upset. I shouldn’t have been pushing you to come out to anyone.”

“It's okay, it wasn't fair of me to not tell them. I really do want them to know how much I love you.” She shivers against your body. The sun's disappearance had made it much colder outside. You take the jacket you had on off, draping it over her shoulders.

“I’ll be inside if you want to talk or anything, I’m not mad anymore, I was, but it wasn’t right for me to be angry. I hope you know that.” You turn back to the house, leaving her to continue thinking, you knew she needed the space to sort herself out, you couldn’t stay there hovering, it wouldn't help her.

You open the door and look back at Jessie one more time. Her shoulders are not shaking anymore, you can see her breath in the cold air. You step inside and close the door behind you.

“You're not just teammates are you?” You are startled by the voice of Jessie’s sister, she's standing in the kitchen, glass of water in her hand.

“What?” you heard her but not sure what to respond, thats the only word that comes out of your mouth.

“You and Jess. You’re together, right?” She glances in the direction of where her older sister still stood outside.

“I mean, I’ve seen Jessie around plenty of her teammates, she doesn't look at any of them the way she looks at you. She’s also never brought one home for the holidays before. Not to mention, she never shuts up about you when I call her. She finds every opportunity to talk about you. She talks about you like you are the sun. I think you are the sun to her.”

“She’s the sun to me, she's everything.” Accidentally giving her sister the answer. “I probably should have waited and let her tell you.”

“She already came out to me, I just didn’t know about you. I think she's been indirectly trying to tell me for months, she just gets nervous, she gets in her own head about stuff like that and ends up working herself up and then panics.”

“I know.” A silence falls between the two of you, just the sound of the clock ticking in the background.

“Is she okay? I didn’t mean to be watching you two but I came down for water and I saw you out there wiping her tears.”

“She’s just having a hard time telling your parents about all of it. I was under the impression they knew and I had gotten upset with her for not telling them. She only told me this morning that they didn’t know I was her girlfriend.” You pull out a barstool along the kitchen island and sit down putting your hands in your head.

“Oh.”

“Yeah and I’ve been an ass to her about it, which was really a terrible thing for me to do to her.”

“They probably already know, the same way I already knew.” She took a sip from her glass and placed it back on the counter. “I know it probably doesn’t make it easier but It’s not like she had ever been boy crazy. Soccer was always the excuse but I think-”

She’s cut off as the sound of the door opening behind you has you both turning your head to where Jessie was coming through the door. She doesn’t even look at either of you, she speeds right past and you hear her go up the stairs.

You look back at her sister who just gives you a shrug. You’re about to stand up off the stool and follow her when you hear footsteps coming back down the stairs. Except this time it’s more than just the sound of Jessie’s feet. Her own steps are accompanied by the sound of other feet and the questions of Jessie’s parents.

“Jessie what are you doing? We were about to be in bed.” You hear her dad say as Jessie walks into the kitchen, both of her hands behind her, physically dragging her parents with her. They both look confused. Jessie marches them in your direction and stops right in front of you, letting go of her parent’s hands and moving next to you, leaving the four of you to be staring at each other. You see Jessie’s older brother pop his head around the corner, he must have heard the commotion and decided to come see what was happening.

“Mom. Dad.” She looks between them and then at you. “I didn't introduce you all properly before. Yes we play together, and yes she’s my favorite person, but she’s also my girlfriend.” She grabs your hand as she lets the word finally leave her lips. Her hand is clammy with a slight shake to it.

When no one says anything for a minute you start to get nervous. If this was about to go bad and you had pushed Jessie to tell them you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. If you pushed her and all her fears came true, you couldn’t imagine how you’d begin to handle it. Jessie’s nose sniffles and you look up at her to see her eyes watering again.

Jessie’s dad moved forward to give her a hug. “Don’t cry kiddo, it’s okay.” His hand rubs her back.

“You’re not mad?” Jessie’s voice is so soft. Muffled into her dads shirt.

“Jessie don’t be silly! No, of course we’re not mad. A little surprised maybe, but mad? No.” Her mom joins in the conversation. “We’re always going to love you.” Jessie moves from her Dad’s arms into her Mom’s. Her hand is still tightly gripping yours. Jessie’s mom releases her hold on her daughter and turns her attention to you.

“It’s nice to properly meet you.” You stand up from the barstool and hug her. The hug is tighter than the one at the airport. When she pulls back from you she takes your hand that isn’t being held by Jessie and holds it between both of hers. “Anyone Jessie deems good enough for herself, is welcome in my house. We all know too well how picky she can be.”

“Mom.”

“I’m joking.” She looks at her daughter before turning back to you. “Seriously, welcome to our family.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you having me.”

Jessie’s mom drops your hand from between hers and steps back making room for Jessie’s dad to move in front of you. For some reason meeting him for the second time feels way more intimidating. You extend your hand, feeling that now it was appropriate to provide a handshake.

“Oh please, Canadians are huggers.” He laughs at your extended hand and opens his arms. You give him a hug as well and you feel the nerves that had been building since Jessie let out the secret start to subside.

“Jess, the guest room is made up, but obviously if you want to share your bed instead that’s fine, you’ll just need to grab the bath towels and extra pillows we laid out from the guest bedroom. Now I’m going back to bed, if anyone else has any news they’d like to share either speak now or wait until the morning.” Her mom looks around between you and Jessie and then back at her two other children.

Her parents leave the kitchen and return to bed. Her siblings also retreat back to wherever they had been before. You stand up and turn to Jessie pulling her into a hug. You feel her relax into your arms, putting her weight into your body.

“I’m proud of you.” You whisper into her ear. You let her go from your grasp and hold her out from you by the shoulders to look at her face. “Ready for bed?” She gives you nod and then leads you out of the kitchen and to her bedroom.

You patiently wait in Jessie’s bed for her to finish up in the bathroom. She comes out, turning off the light and climbs under the sheets. “I love you.” She says, you're able to barely make out her face in the dark of the room. You feel her roll over, pushing her back and butt up against you. It was common that you were the big spoon, but especially after the day you both hand you wanted to hold her tonight. You move yourself further into her, wrapping your body around hers. Gently draping your arm across her waist and holding her, you both let out a sigh.

“I love you.” You respond back, placing a gentle kiss to her shoulder and soon after falling asleep to the sound of Jessie’s breathing.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #canwnt #woso imagine #woso x reader

422 notes · View notes

luveline · 4 months

Note

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?”

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.”

“How big?” Steve whispers back.

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.”

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks.

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.”

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.”

“Oh.”

“What’s the lightning for?”

“The cloud.”

“You want me to draw some puddles?”

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles.

“What else should we get for Beth?”

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually.

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.”

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered.

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.”

“Looking at you makes me happy.”

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.”

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.”

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise.

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back.

“I love you too,” he’s saying.

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.”

“It’s a big feeling.”

“Love is the biggest feeling.”

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that.

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.”

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out.

“Hey, I mean it,” you say.

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.”

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat.

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden.

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?”

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.”

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most.

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously.

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“You’re very emotionally mature.”

“Wouldn’t say that.”

“Me neither.”

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.”

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.”

“I doubt it.”

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already.

“Love you,” he says.

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say.

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.”

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.”

“What?”

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him.

635 notes · View notes