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wileys-russo · 5 months

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childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

the next few weeks seemed to pass by in a blur and before you knew it you'd blinked and it was the end of the month already.

you and alessia went from only texting when you needed something to texting every day, and then calling most nights if you weren't together, speaking about everything and nothing for hours, stomachs often aching from how hard you'd make one another laugh.

you appreciated the way she seemed genuinely interested in your job, asking questions and listening along intently as you recounted your days.

it surprised you to learn that if she wasn't a footballer she might have pursued teaching, though some of the horror stories you'd spun her about your time at uni and on placement steered her well away from that.

your heart warmed seeing how good she was with the kids when she did the friday football program, well all of the arsenal girls were, and with the program a raging success an agreement had been made between the arsenal academy and the school to offer discounted holiday programs for during the break.

you'd gone to see every single one of her games since the last, alessia's heart bursting to see you sat up with her family every weekend with her jersey on and her last name across your shoulders cheering her on just like old times.

and you were even learning to actually enjoy the game, though thats not to say you still wouldn't groan and complain when alessia would flick on a premier league game to watch after dinner occasionally.

her brothers had relentlessly teased her for it but she brushed them off, trying not to take to heart the jokes that if she didn't lock you down soon someone else might beat her to it.

neither of you had dared to broach that conversation just yet.

her mum was thrilled to see how close the two of you had become again, her parents picking you up most games or taking you out for a drink with them all beforehand, and always inviting you to family dinners afterwards.

and in turn your own mum insisted on both of your families coming together again like old times, and it filled you with joy to see how much time she spent with carol once more.

with the short distance between both of your apartments it seemed to become a routine of sorts that every couple of days one of you would drop by to see the other.

nights were spent taking turns cooking for one another, watching movies or sometimes just talking for hours until you'd both realise the time and need to hurry back home.

alessia had been wanting to ask you to stay the night for a little while now, but not wanting to push things too early on and just enjoying your company in anyway she could she'd hold her tongue every time you'd start to pack your things back up to leave.

but you'd always be sure to walk one another home which inevitably ended in the two of you kissing goodnight, and unbeknownst to alessia every single time you did you had to hold your own tongue not to ask her to stay.

you were yet to put a label on anything, and most of your 'dates' seemed to consist of cosy nights in, nothing super fancy or high maintenance.

you'd not clocked any sort of issue with it either, having known the girl for years it seemed almost silly to even feel the need to go out, much preferring how comfortable the two of you were around one another now you were both clearly trying to get things back on track.

well you didn't see an issue, not until rory opened her mouth one afternoon.

"wait you've not gone out? watching movies together or cooking dinner isn't a date!" your best friend rolled her eyes from where she lounged on your bed, having come over to help you with your quarterly closet clean out.

"anything can be a date if its with the right person!" you argued, holding up a dress to your body as her eyes narrowed and she pointed to the keep pile. "maybe once you're actually dating, but last time i checked the two of you were still dancing around that big question!" you blushed a little at her words and threw a cardigan at her.

"oh this is cute! can i have this?" you chuckled but nodded as she dropped it into the 'rory' pile which you knew was mainly the only reason she'd offered her 'help'.

"but anyway. if its classed as a 'date' it needs to be a bit more than just the two of you lounging about one of your apartments, thats just hanging out and one could argue that would be something strictly platonic!" rory pointed as you sighed at her dramatics.

"we make out, thats not platonic." you shot back with a glare as she ooohed. "and do you braid each others hair and swap secrets too?" the girl cooed as you threw a heel at her head causing her to shriek.

"sorry ro and how many relationships have you been in? oh just one? shut up!" you flipped her off and turned back to your clothes. "okay if anything its because i am in a long term committed happy and healthy relationship i can call this behavior out." rory started, pushing herself to sit up more.

"the two of you are acting like a) just best friends hanging out, or b) an old married couple. neither of which i know you want to be! you're both in your early twenties you should be going out and spending time together doing fun stuff! not curled up watching the same movies you've loved since you were teenagers. at least go to the cinema and see something so you leave the house!" rory tossed a pillow at you which you side stepped.

"so what i should ask her out to do something then?" you asked with a small frown, playing with the sleeves of your hoodie, which was actually alessia's hoodie. "yes! do exactly that. not that i can really blame you for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her but theres loads of stuff you can do to get around that." rory shrugged.

"what do you mean you can't blame me for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her?" you questioned with an air of confusion. "well because she's a fucking celebrity you head case!" rory laughed at you.

that took you off guard as you paused your sorting, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed with a frown. "well shes not really a celebrity, shes not like an actor or anything." you challenged more so for your own sake.

"please! elite athletes can be just as famous as actors or singers or whatever, if anything even more so because they're more relatable to the general public. for god sakes she's won the euros and made the finals of a world cup you idiot!" another pillow smacked you in the side of the head as you shot the girl a glare.

"she also does sponsorships, ads, she's a branded athlete with adidas, she has a management agency, she's on a professional contract with a huge salary no doubt, and she plays on a global stage for fucking england!" rory ticked off on her fingers with a scoff.

"well yeah but-" you fell quiet at that, head ticking over as it dawned on you that rory was right. "come on just look at her instagram! as if you don't notice the thousands of people obsessing over her." rory chuckled pulling out her phone.

"i hardly use it! case in point you have to text me to like your posts." you rolled your eyes as rory moved to lay down shoving her phone in your face.

"see? she's got like nearly a million followers and look at how many people interact with her posts. she probably gets like a hundrd dm's a day of randoms asking her out, maybe even from other celebrities!" rory laughed nudging her shoulder into you.

"see she met david fucking beckham and it looks like he's the fan in the picture!" rory gasped clicking into one of alessia's more recent posts.

you knew rory didn't mean anything bad by all of this but as you scrolled through the hundreds on hundreds of comments on alessia's posts you chest tightened with an uncomfortable anxiety you'd not felt before.

"god and then theres tiktok and twitter and whatever else. i liked one video about less and it took me days to get rid of the edits of her on my feed." rory shook her head with a grin, grabbing back her phone off you and switching apps.

"see?" she searched up alessias name on tiktok and your eyes widened even further as she scrolled through the hundreds of edits. "jesus christ she is a celebrity." you exhaled, pushing rorys phone away and collapsing onto your back, moving so your head rested on your best friends thigh.

"well duh, what did you think? she's that same little ten year old playing for the school team with all the boys?" "no! i hadn't really thought about it is all. to me she's just...well she's just alessia."

"and that is very sweet of you but also very naive. i don't know how i'd cope if jack was getting that many girls in his comments, thank god he's just a measly banker." rory joked but at her teasing words you felt a stabbing sensation at your chest.

"but hey what have you got to worry about? all they can do is wish, you've already got the girl." rory shrugged tapping on your forehead as you simply hummed, caught up in your head.

did you have nothing to worry about?

you looked up from the pan of vegetables you were frying off hearing a knock at your door, lowering the heat and quickly washing your hands.

"hi lessi." you greeted the blonde as you pulled open the door, stepping aside as she hurried in, the weather below zero this week as she shivered.

"hello, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." alessia sighed happily, your lips meeting sweetly as she pulled your body into hers. "mm no one more." the blonde grinned pecking your lips a few more times making you smile.

"dinners almost done. how was training?" you left her to unravel herself from her many layers as you returned to the kitchen, hearing her join you shortly after.

"this morning? yeah it was good! nutmegged leah like ten times, she was fuming." alessia grinned taking a seat at the bench. "thats when you kick it through someones legs right?" you asked, moving the sauce off the heat.

"sure is, look whose learning. maybe we can get you into a sunday league team next!" alessia winked teasingly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "yeah you'd love that wouldn't you." you grabbed her out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"then i had a shoot this afternoon for adidas, that was fun. i just get awkward in front of the camera but the photographer was really nice!" alessia shrugged casually, taking a long swig of water as you hummed, that weird feeling from yesterday returning as you tried to push it away.

"one to ten, how hungry?" you questioned, two bowls in front of you as you grabbed the rice, having made a stir fry.

"mmm like a six? had a late lunch, some meeting with some magazine about some article. luca said we probably won't go forward with it, they've got a reputation for twisting peoples words to create drama that isn't there." alessia recounted as you again only hummed, a slight frown on your face as you dished up.

"thank you gorgeous." the taller girl leaned in to kiss you in appreciation as you handed her the bowl, eyebrows furrowing a little as you turned your head so her lips met your cheek instead.

brushing it off assuming you were probably just tired after a long week she followed after you into the living room. "no!" you warned as she went to sit on the lounge, lowering herself instead to the floor with a roll of her eyes.

"it was one time." the blonde huffed with a pout as you handed her a small handful of napkins, having knocked over a bowl of soup all over your lounge last week. "one time was enough." you smiled taking a seat beside her.

"get a dining table then and we wouldn't have this problem." alessia pinched your cheek as you mocked her and flicked on the tv. "less!" you complained as she plucked the remote from your fingers, flipping channels.

"nooo." you groaned in realization as she put on a mens game, manchester united playing against some other team you didn't know, only recognising the familiar uniform of the russo's childhood team.

"yesss." alessia mocked happily, sighing as she placed a mouthful of stir fry in. "this is really really good, thank you baby." the girl kissed your cheek again as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you ate.

it was during this time that alessia picked up maybe there was something going on with you. normally you'd spend the entire game either making comments, asking questions, complaining about how long halves were or teasing her for 'yelling at the players like they can hear you'.

but long after the two of you had finished eating you were still quiet, eyes not even on the tv as you seemed a little lost in your own world. "hey." you snapped out of it as a warm hand squeezed your knee, looking up into a pair of concerned bright blue orbs.

"you alright?" alessia asked, hand still on your knee as you nodded. "i'm fine babe." you forced a tight lipped smile, gently pushing off her hand and grabbing your empty bowls. alessia watched you go with a frown, now almost certain something was going on for you.

initially she didn't want to force it out of you, but as you both sat up on the sofa now and you subtly shuffled a little further away from her alessia couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"you don't want to finish it? they're up by two!" you frowned at her as she turned the tv off, turning her body to face you. "i know you said you're fine, but i can tell somethings up." alessia started, reaching out for you as you flinched away.

"see! have i done something?" the girl asked as worry flashed across her face and you shook your head. "no no its just-" you struggled to get out your words, groaning and dragging your hands down your face.

"fucking rory." you muttered cursing out your best friend for causing this swirling sea of doubt in your mind. "you're fucking rory?" alessia misunderstood, pulling her hands back with a frown as again you shook your head.

"no! god no, disgusting." you pulled a face of disgust as alessia breathed out in relief. "its not something you've done, well not...directly?" you winced as the frown returned to the strikers face. "i don't understand."

"okay, well can i ask you something?" "of course." "do you consider yourself a celebrity?"

"thats...a loaded question." alessia exhaled as she thought it over. "i don't personally think about myself in that way but i can see why i'd be perceived that way." alessia answered after a moment to contemplate.

"but why do you ask?" alessia asked both concerned and curious as to where this was coming from. "its stupid." you huffed, falling down onto your back as alessia grabbed your ankles, pulling your legs to rest over your lap, relaxing when you made no move to pull away.

"if its bothering you its not stupid, please." the striker requested softly as you sighed. "well rory was talking to me about how its weird we don't ever go out on dates, and then she made some comment about understanding why i wouldn't want to because you're a celebrity." you paused as alessia nodded for you to continue.

"then she showed me your instagram and tiktok and there was just so many comments and i promise i don't dismiss any of your achievements but i guess i never really took a moment to realise just how many other people appreciated them too." you frowned as everything rolled through your mind.

"see! its stupid. of course you're going to get thousands of comments and fans and edits, you're an international football superstar." you threw your hands up, cheeks burning up a little.

"you jealous of all the fangirls love?" alessia teased as insecurity flashed across your face and she quickly realised that was the wrong thing to say.

"hey no i'm sorry, look at me." soft hands grabbed yours and tugged you to sit up. "first of all, its not stupid." alessia promised sincerely, eyes not leaving yours.

"but it is something we have to speak about, and probably should have already spoken about." alessia sighed in realisation, taking your hands into hers again. "social media is...complicated. people think they know me or i owe them something just because im a public figure." alessia started with a frown.

"every little thing i post gets picked apart whether its of me, a holiday, a place, a friend, my family, anything. people find out which cafes i go to for coffee and show up there hoping to see me, follow me to restaurants when i post im out eating with friends, take sneaky videos when im out in public and post them. it can get very invasive and a lot of people have no concept of privacy or boundaries!" alessia warned as you nodded slowly.

"so i guess if we..." alessia gestured between the two of you with a wince as you nodded to show you understood what she was saying. "...then thats something you'll have to know is there. its not going away, if anything the more tournaments i play in, ads i do, sponsors i get, interviews, articles, club trophies, the attention and the fans and the eyes will grow." alessia spoke firmly, still keeping a hold on your hands.

"but i'm not trying to scare you, i just need you to know that its there. i would always do my best to protect you but some things are out of my hands and out of my control, i can't stop what people think, post, say, much as i wish i could." alessia sighed, bringing your hand up to her mouth to kiss your palm.

"please say something." alessia laughed but it was clearly full of nerves, her face falling as you gently pulled your hands out of hers. "its just, this is all very new. i know you're still you, but i guess the thought of having thousands of people all watching everything you do and picking it apart or obsessing over you and wanting you in comments is overwhelming." you admitted, biting your bottom lip as alessia nodded.

"i know. it overwhelms me too but i promise like you said i'm still me, none of this changes that. and if anything ever bothers you like this please just come talk to me about it, i will always listen." alessia promised, relief flooding her body as took her hands again.

"thank you. i'm sorry for being a downer!" you smiled apologetically as the blonde hurriedly shook her head. "never. but you also did raise another very good point!" alessia started as you tilted your head curiously.

"as much as i love our dinners and movies, we've not really been out on a proper date. so can i please take you out on friday night? i'll be at the school for the program anyway so we could go out right after or we could come back and get ready or we could-" you cut her off as you pressed your lips to hers, silencing her worried rambles.

"i'd love to go out on friday lessi."

"someones popular today." you bumped your shoulder into alessias as she broke away from your students who'd been clinging to her all afternoon, leah now running a game as she started to break them up into smaller groups.

"i like kids but i do not know how you deal with all the questions! an angel of patience." alessia sighed bumping you back with a smile. "just an angel in general." you teased, catching the girls eyes quickly flicker down to your lips momentarily.

"excuse me miss russo we are in a professional environment, behave yourself." you warned, kissing her cheek quickly when no one was looking and walking off to calm a small argument which had broken out over team names.

"saw that russo." the smile couldn't even be wiped off alessia's face at katies teasing, the irishwoman standing where you previously had as she poked and prodded at the younger girl.

"so when are you bringing your girlfriend to a team night out then?" katie sung out with a grin. "she's not my girlfriend." alessia sighed, smile dropping as katie frowned. "oh, well no one to blame but yourself there. i see the way she looks at you! smitten." the girl clapped her on the back.

"i want to its just, we've got a complicated history." alessia mumbled with a frown. "ah! who doesn't. all ya can do is not repeat past mistakes. i know none of my exes would turn up to a bar to come pick me up wasted out of nowhere!" katie reminded as alessia winced recalling that night.

"god don't remind me, never again." alessia exhaled with a shake of her head. "well then get your girl russo! you'll never know until ya ask." katie shrugged.

"we're going out tonight, i'm gonna take her to that little darts bar its pretty quiet and i think i freaked her out the other day with the whole thousands of fans thing." alessia then explained the conversation you'd had.

"mm yeah, not something i can offer ya any advice on there less. i've always dated the famous ones!" katie winked jokingly, jogging off as the whistle blew.

"did i hear darts bar tonight? i'll tell the girls!" alessia's head whipped around as beth stood behind her, racing off toward leah before alessia could say another word, the girl throwing her head back with a groan.

"alessia! you're on our team!" she was snapped out of it by small hands gripping at her shorts and shirt, tugging her onto the field as she met your eyes on the other side of the oval, a smile sent her way before you returned to your conversation with your coworker.

it wasn't for another hour that alessia was finally able to track you down alone again, and by this time beth had spread the word and the plan was made, far too late for alessia to say a word as katie gave her a sympathetic look.

"hey! can we talk for a second?" you looked up from speaking with chloe, wishing her a good weekend as she walked off and you nodded, gesturing for her to follow after you back into your classroom.

"did you drive here?" you asked as alessia took a seat on top of one of the desks as you started to pack up yours. "no leah gave me a lift."

"perfect, i'll drop you home and then we can get ready separately. i assume you'll want to drive tonight though?" you smiled teasingly, it being no surprise that alessia preferred to be the driver of the two of you.

"look about tonight-" alessia started, watching as you paused, worry flashing across your face for a moment. "i'm not cancelling." the blonde was quick to assure you as you visibly relaxed a litte.

"we just might need to change the plan? beth kind of overheard me talking to katie about it and then assumed it was a group thing and invited a bunch of the girls and its hardly a date if my entire team is there too and-" alessia started to ramble.

"less!" you cut her off as her face blushed red. "i don't mind if the others are there, really. i know you were excited to show me this place, maybe we could just get dinner somewhere else together and then meet them there later?" you suggested as her face lit up.

"yes! god your mind is brilliant." the striker pushed herself up off the desk, her body suddenly pressing yours against your own desk. "well they don't just pay me for my good looks here." you teased, again catching her eyes flicker down to your lips.

"we're still in a professional environment." alessia stated as if to remind herself more than you. "mm i guess i'm off the clock now, its after four." you grinned, hands falling to clasp either side of her face.

"you know i never thought i'd be kissing a teacher in a classroom." alessia tutted, lips curling into a smile as you let out a laugh. "didn't realise this was something you were into? didn't peg you as someone with a teacher kink." you teased, closing the gap between the two of you.

"only if the teacher is you." alessia mumbled against your lips, hands squeezing your hips as you let out a small laugh, pulling away and hugging her tightly, chin resting on her shoulder.

"i'm gonna miss when this program is over. next term its dancing instead of football!" you groaned quietly, feeling her body vibrate with laughter against yours.

"are you trying to dance with me right now?" you laughed as she started to sway the two of you back and forth. "yeah can't you hear the music? would be rude not to." alessia accused sarcastically, pulling you forward a little and taking your hand.

"i seem to remember you used to be a terrible dancer, two left feet." you grinned as she adjusted your hands, one interlocking with hers as the other rested on your hip, yours on the small of her back.

"hey thats not true!" alessia huffed, eyebrows furrowing in offence. "yes it was, remember when you tried to learn the tango to win a bet and-" you were cut off as her lips pressed against yours again. "we promised never to speak of that again." the girl warned mid kiss, starting to dance with you again.

"oh less!" you winced as suddenly she stepped on your foot, eyes widening as she let go of you and stepped back, but her foot catching on the desk she went flying to the ground.

like a domino effect as her body smacked into one of the desks it toppled over, taking down the entire row as alessia winced each time one hit the ground. a moment of silence passed before your body dropped down to the floor, clutching your stomach as waves of laughter ran through you.

"its not funny!" alessia groaned, though after a moment even she couldn't hold back her laughter, the two of you eventually laid down on the floor unable to stop, wiping away small tears which formed as you tried to calm down.

"oh wow, did your students do that?" alessia gasped as she looked up and saw the galaxy of stars all over the roof once the two of you finally calmed a little.

"no i did, makes it way easier to get them to calm down after lunch sometimes. i turn all the lights off and draw the blinds, then i get them all to pick a star and stand under it, close their eyes count to ten and make a wish for the future. works nearly every time!" you smiled fondly, alessia stealing a glance at you.

"its cool the school lets you decorate like this, i wish our classrooms were this colourful and lively. i might have actually paid attention!" alessia shrugged as you kicked her gently. "you did pay attention, just to my work so you could copy off of it." you poked her with a smirk.

"they give us some freedom just no budget, almost all of this is self funded." you explained as alessia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "wait really?"

"yeah, a lot of the stuff needed to actually run a cohesive program isn't deemed as so. like name tags, the reading books, plants, most of the stationary, the posters, all bought by me. then activities like when we have snacks on movie days, end of term pizza parties, none of thats covered by the department either." you shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"wait so you personally buy all that stuff?" alessia asked in disbelief as you nodded. "well yeah, just because the department doesn't think these kids need this stuff doesn't mean they don't deserve it. a public school education shouldn't set them back on resources and opportunities compared to a private one just because of money, i like to think im doing my bit to mend the gap when i can." you looked back up to the ceiling with a smile.

"what was that for?" you laughed as alessia quickly pecked your lips. "because teachers deserve more money. but i can't help that so i figured a kiss was the next best thing!" alessia grinned cheekily as you grabbed her shirt, pulling her mouth back to meet yours again.

though as she pushed herself up and moved to hover over you, you leapt away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

but both of you sighed in relief as you realised it was only leah who stood with a smirk and a bunch of flowers in her hand. "sorry to interrupt. but less left these in my car and i wouldn't want to steal them from their rightful recipient." leah spoke as the striker hurried to her feet.

a silent conversation seeming to be had between the two blondes through a series of facial expressions alessia accepted the flowers and leah sent you a smile before leaving, closing the door after her.

"for you." alessia blushed bright red as you stood, accepting them with your own cheeks tinted rosy pink. "they're beautiful." you swooned, placing them on your desk and pulling her into a tight hug.

"well beautiful girls deserve beautiful things."

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fourteen

#alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader

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sanemi-whore · 10 months

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Phantasm (Cruel World Final)

You retire from the Demon Slayer Corps and return back home to your father. You'll never forget those you met during your time as a slayer and often send letters to them. One evening you see Genya, stating that he needs you to take care of his brother. @roaringlion @kiki17483 @stuckinthewrongworld @neji85 @nyarffeu @muichirosloveee @plvuii @annie-napier @dependsontheday @crazycatlddy @idiatism @kxthxrinx0310 @summ3rd4yz @iviyna @neji85

Part 1 | Part 2 warning: cursing, everyone hates sanemi lol, heavy ansgt themes, multiple character death, body worship, oral (m/f), creampie, cowgirl, fingering, word count: 10.823

Public Enemy #1 was what Sanemi became. In the eyes of the Hashira - even Obanai who attempted to be neutral even gave him a look of disdain. Uzui often berated him, stating that he didn’t deserve a woman like you - and Sanemi knew as such. Shinobu made it her mission while treating him to make it as painful as possible - seeing as she could be gentle when she desired.

Hell, even Tomioka gave him deeper frowns than normal and that was saying a lot. You set your mark upon the Corps and now that you were going to be leaving soon, everyone despised him for it.

Did anyone know the true meaning? No. They didn’t dare ask Sanemi. They didn’t wish to ask you, either, not wishing to see the sadness grow deeper in your eyes. What they did know was that Sanemi and your relationship had grown sour, you were leaving the Corps and the only logical person to blame was the man in the situation.

Sanemi hisses when a sharp pain swipes at his neck. It’s Hiyori - again - claws digging deep into his neck while her beak bites against his ear. This is the fifth time in the last two days she has attacked him randomly, Sorai no longer wishing to help out of fear of her attack coming to him next.

“Fuck.” Sanemi swipes at the crow to defend himself from her attack. She squeaks, eyes glaring before she flocks away. He couldn’t be upset with Hiyori - she adored you just as much as everyone did. Even Ginko - Muichiro’s sly crow - had come to your defense. Sanemi likes to believe that the crow just desires to berate anyone that isn’t Muichiro and joins in on the torment out of boredom.

“Serves you right.”

Uzui.

Sanemi sighs. Great, another session of the man berating him because of you.

“I don’t have time for you right now.” Sanemi continues his stroll back to his estate. He had tatami mats to slice up to get his mind off of you.

“What’d you do to Y/N?”

Sanemi continues to walk.

“So unflashy.”

“Your lack of hand is unflashy.” Sanemi retorts.

Uzui cackles. “Yet I can keep all three of my wives. I cannot say the same for you, Shinazugawa.” Tengen trails behind the younger man who’s shoulders tense at the remark. “I’m serious now. What did you do to her?”

Sanemi stops in his tracks. He doesn’t turn to face Uzui. Even with one eye, the man knew how to see right through him.

“Did she leave yet?”

You haven’t spoken to Sanemi in a week. His heart hurts and longs to see you, just to see that you’re alright. But he cannot be selfish enough to hold you back from what you want.

“No. She will in another week.” Sanemi exhales at the response. “You make her cry. I can never forgive you for that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi recalls your wet eyes as you were leaving his estate. His throat tightens.

“Y/N saw you as a savior of the sort. She spoke so highly of you - even now. I rarely see her smile and there's always a sadness behind her eyes. It outweighs Tomioka’s.”

Sanemi swallows the lump in his throat. He continues walking and this angers Uzui. “I’m talking to you!” the retired Hashira roars. “What the hell happened-”

“I took advantage of her!” Sanemi roars back, turning to face the taller man. “I took advantage of her and I can’t forgive myself.”

Uzui stops in his tracks, fuschia eyes examine Sanemi’s face. “Are you admitting to…assaulting her?” Uzui is unsure where this conversation was heading. He doesn’t want to believe that Sanemi would intentionally cause you any harm.

“Ye-”

Sanemi falls onto his back and there's a sting in his face. Even retired with one hand and eye, Uzui was just as fast and strong as ever. Sanemi holds his nose and glares at the man, liquid leaking into his palm.

Tengen steps back and admires the sight. “You have changed.” he murmurs more to himself than to Sanemi. “You’re hurting just as much as Y/N. You’re better at hiding it.” Uzui kneels down to reach eye level to Sanemi. “The Shinazugawa I know would’ve never let anyone hit him and get away with it.”

The teasing was back. Uzui was willing to hear what Sanemi had to say. “What really happened?”

Sanemi rips a piece of his haori and plugs his nose. He does speak. He explains the entirety of the mission - the demon art and how he felt, the demon that was a Lower Moon that took your shape and how you managed to defeat it effortlessly. He explained how his body felt - hot, heavy and in excruciating pain; nauseous at the forbidden sight of you. Sanemi even goes as far as to detail the internal dialogue and the flashes of delusion his mind sent as to how badly he desired to have you.

Tengen listens with wide eyes, attempting his hardest now to cackle at Sanemi’s explanation.

“What you explain to me, Shinazugawa, sounds like consensual sex.” Tengan shakes his head. Kids, he thinks, even if you and Sanemi were considered adults. Still, anyone younger than him would be kids in his eyes. “She wanted you. You wanted her. You fucked the life-” Sanemi growls, tips of his ears hot red.

“Look,” Uzui chuckles. “That’s not assault. Did Y/N feel indifferent about it?”

Sanemi glances away with a shrug. He didn’t know how you felt.

“Did you two talk about it?”

Sanemi shakes his head.

“...What did you do?”

“Ignored her.”

Tengen groans. He wants to send another punch to Sanemi’s nose but refrains. “You take her virginity and fuck her all night while declaring to always protect her and,” Tengen raises one hand and does air quotations. “the child you were begging to fuck into her just to ignore her this whole time?”

Sanemi stiffens. When he thinks of it that way, it sounded more fucked up then he intended.

Tengen stands, shaking his head at the dumb Wind Hashira. “Unflashy of you.” he turns and begins to journey back to his own home.

Sanemi stands with a huff. His nose was broken now and the only person who could fix it was unfortunately Kocho. He journeys to the Butterfly Mansion, mind on his conversation with Uzui.

Sanemi didn’t want to leave you the morning he woke. He desired to hold you close to him, inhaling your sweet scent. But he was disgusted with himself more than anything. In his mind, he took advantage of you and your intoxicated state. There were bruises and marks littering your once perfect skin - all made by him and his savage ways. He couldn’t control himself and now you were forever tainted - he didn’t regret his night with you. He regretted how it happened.

Sanemi admitted to himself that morning that he loved you, stating it aloud while you slept soundlessly. His mind also recalls the way you also admitted to loving him during your time together, but that was during your intoxicated state of sex and the demon art. But knowing what love meant to him only meant there was a matter of time until the love he harbored would crush him. Memories of the night prior flood in and he thinks about how deep he was into the demon art that he was paralyzed right beneath a Lower Moon. What if you weren’t capable enough to stop her? It would’ve been his fault why you died - and the thought sent shivers all over his body.

It hurts Sanemi to ignore you, but he wanted you to hate him. He wanted you to eventually be so angered with him that you wouldn’t bother to care for him any longer.

But no, instead you apologized. You thanked him. You left - all because you thought you were a burden to him.

“Sit.” Shinobu is curt with her responses to Sanemi. “Oh my, your nose is broken. Who managed to get to you first?”

Sanemi doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. “Uzui.”

Shinobu giggles with satisfaction. Serves you right, she wants to say.

Shinobu places her hands on Sanemi’s nose and jerks it harshly. Sanemi hisses, eyes snapping shut at the pressure.

“Fixed.” Shinobu sing-songs. “You’re free to go.”

Sanemi doesn’t stand, not even when Shinobu has turned to give him a look of distaste.

“Is Y/N alright?”

Shinbou’s eyebrows knit harshly. “Y/N is none of your concern!” she snaps. “Not after all you’ve done to her.”

Sanemi sighs. “She told you.” he states. “I saw her…coming here a few times. Just-”

“You don’t have the right to act concern now, Shinazugawa.” Shinobu interrupts. Sure, she doesn’t know the full story of you and Sanemi’s relationship, but she knows enough of the outcome of it. “You’ve put her through enough.”

Sanemi stands and makes his leave. Everyone loved you, as they should, but everyone hated him. He wasn’t going to get any answers from Shinobu about you and he cannot be upset about it either way.

Y/N-san. How have you been since retiring? It gets lonely sometimes without you here but I I was told by Genya-kun to be a man. Even so, I can see that even he appears to be saddened by your loss. He doesn’t speak to me much without me talking first, but we eat together often when we can. It feels different without you here to keep the peace. I hope you’re doing good, Y/N-san, and you find the peace you deserve.

-Hoshi Shinra

You read Shinra’s message with a soft smile on your lips. You’re glad that he and Genya could get along with one another. You know just how Genya could be - similar to his brother at times. But he was a good boy, after all.

It’s been only a month since you retired from the Corps. Retired sounds foreign to say. You haven’t been a slayer for long and you even felt ashamed to say that you’ve retired already. Those who were younger than you remained in the corps and fought while you retired; seemingly from a broken heart. You want to laugh at how weak you truly were, but you decided against it.

Returning home wasn’t what you truly wished to do. You haven‘t spoken to your father in close to two years - not even a letter. He hasn’t attempted to find you, either, and possibly assumed you were either dead or a part of someone's brothel.

The look on your fathers face upon your return was one of pure shock. He hadn’t said anything for the first few moments of seeing you. Was he happy? Angered? Relieved to see his only living child?

Your answer came when the man raised his hand to slap you - a hand you caught easily. You pushed the man away and swallow thickly. He was upset. Surely because you had gone rogue and that meant whatever money your husband had paid you for had to be returned. But, your father was never violent towards you before - the smell of alcohol laced in his breath told you that he had taken in the habit even more while you were gone.

Your father didn’t stop, however. He was just as talkative as he once was. He yelled at you, stating that you were the reason he had gone broke. He had to work his ass off to pay off your debt to the man that you were destined to marry - that he even had to sell personal items. You shoved a few wads of cash in his face to shut him up.

You were an adult - always had been. However, you were stronger. You trained alongside Hashira. You beheaded demons - and though you were not on the level of a Hashira, you were damn near close. The Lower Moon was nowhere near what Upper Moon Uzui, Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu fought, but it was a kizuki nonetheless. You would return home and deal with your father, but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect.

Your father noticed the change in you. He doesn’t ask where you’ve gone for nearly two years. He knows that you’ve grown. Hair longer, body toned and strong and face stoic. You appeared to be alert at all times, even with the slightest of sounds. But, that didn’t stop his disdain for you.

“You could’ve been set for life.” your father told you one night at dinner. He ate what you cooked with a side of alcohol - a normal set up for him.

“Could I have? Or would you’ve been set for life without me?’ you retort, taking a bite of the chicken you prepared. Another thing your father had to grow accustomed to - your mouth. You talked back now, an act he didn’t appreciate.

“I gave you to that man to take care of you!” your father yells, banging his hand onto the table. His breath stinks of sake. You contemplate hiding the bottle, but that would only mean he’d tear the home apart looking for it or just go buy another.

“You sold me to him.” you deadpan. You’re unsure what lie your father had told himself to make himself feel better about it, but it wasn’t the truth. He sold you to get money for himself and get rid of you. You’re back now and he hated you for it - oh well. “I paid my due to you already. Eat your food.”

“Where did you get that money?” your father hisses. The only time he’s seen so much cash upfront was from the man - and you didn’t return from him. “You decided to be an Oiran like I said?” your father scoffs with a shake of his head.

Your appetite is lost now. You gather the dishes and begin to wash them, deciding that ignoring your father was for the best. But that didn’t mean your father was done. He continues, carrying on how you cost him a lot of money and you being back was a slap to the face. You pondered if retiring was even worth it if it meant you had to deal with him on the daily. You cooked for him on the daily, made sure the home was clean and even bought whatever was needed for the home - and still, he hated you. It was as though your existence here was causing him such anger.

Genya, I’m glad to hear from you. I’ve heard from Shinra that you’ve been eating together! I’m glad you and he are building a friendship! I hope you’re eating well and staying healthy.

Please, stay safe.

-Y/N

You folded Genya’s letter and placed it inside a small envelope. You had several letters to go through, even some from those you weren’t expecting. You opened an envelope and were surprised to find several leaves, acorns, seeds and even rocks. The next envelope was from Tanjiro who apologized for the mess caused by Inosuke. Apparently the boy wanted to gift you something after Tanjiro explained that he would be writing you a letter - it warmed your heart knowing that even Inosuke was a part of your penpal group.

The next letter was a surprise, signed by several lower-rank slayers. It caused you to laugh upon reading it, catching you completely off guard. It detailed how Sanemi had turned sour once more and that he was utterly murderous. It continued saying that they wish you were there to calm him down with whatever “miracle” tea you made him while in Asakusa. In the end, they wished you the best on retirement, warming your heart even more.

Y/N, I hope you’re well. Sumi, Naho and Kiyo miss you and though she won’t admit it, so does Aoi. It feels different without you here. Shinazugawa still gets attacked randomly by Hiyori and now even Sorai is too frightened to help! I know you wish to not speak of him, but he asks about you constantly. I have not told him anything, do not worry! I’ve attached some medicine to this letter that would help ease the morning sickness - please take it daily. Please keep yourself in good health; not only for you, but for the baby.

-Kocho Shinobu

Shinobu was sent from heaven, you’re convinced. It was only a few days ago that you spoke of your nausea daily in a letter - even when it stretched far from the morning. It was difficult keeping any food down and water appeared to be the only thing that didn’t mess with your stomach. The medicine she gave appeared to be enough to last a month or two.

You laid a hand on your stomach and sighed. You weren’t far along, only in your fourth month. You thought you appeared bigger than normal, but maybe it was just your head doing things to you,

Your mind flickers to the same day you found out about said pregnancy and how you spoke with shinobu. She had assured that it would be painless - and you believed her. She made you a drink and handed it to you with a warm look in her eyes.

You recall the way you smelt it before attempting to drink. Your hands were trembling and as you brought it to your lips, you felt just how wet your cheeks were.

You couldn’t do it.

Shinobu had consoled you for what appeared to be hours. You apologized profusely to her, stating that you were doing nothing but wasting her time. She assured you that you weren’t, that you were going through something normal. She never onced judged you - and for that you were thankful. She had kept your secret and allowed you to leave the Corps with whatever dignity you had left.

Your father, on the other hand, was another story. Upon returning home with a flat stomach, he was beginning to think he was seeing things when your stomach began to grow. Your kimono couldn’t have been that big and your weight didn’t change elsewhere but your stomach. “That’s why you returned home.” he spat once he realized just what was the issue with you. “Because whatever man that did this to you had left you! It’s what you deserve for leaving.”

It’s what you deserved, his words rang in your ear.

Once all of your letters were written, you pushed yourself away from your desk and stood. You were trying to make it a habit to walk. You didn’t feel different now early on in your pregnancy, but you didn’t want anything to change as you grew closer to when you were expected.

You strolled out of your home, finding the sun to be high in the sky. Your father would be at the pub right about now, not that you cared where he spent his time.

There’s a light breeze, you note, as you walk. It isn’t a warm breeze that causes your skin to crawl with such heat, but a nice one that causes you to sigh in relief.

“I hope it’s a girl!”

You turn to the sound of the sudden voice. You were strolling for about ten minutes, not far from your home. You thought you were alone - a village is not far from here, but usually people didn’t tend to walk down this path often.

Your eyes catch a child - a small girl. Her eyes are large and blue and she’s smiling at you. Her hair is black and tied in a low bun. Her kimono was long and red and her obi was orange.

“Ah, hello.” you offer her your own smile. She’s cute, so small and innocent. “I never thought about gender much.”

You’re unaware she could see your bump through your kimono.

The girl crosses her arms. “I hope it’s a girl.” she repeats. “There’s a lot of boys in my family. I only have one sister.” she has a look of disdain on her face.

You giggle. “Is that so? But don’t you love them?”

The girl seems to ponder on your question before nodding.

“Then it’s alright, isn’t it?” you question.

The girl slowly nods. “I guess so.” she murmurs. “I remember when my baby brother was born!”

“Is that so?” you ask.

The girl begins to walk besides you as she speaks, never focusing on just one topic and instead jumping between a few of them. You listen to what she has to say, unphased to be speaking to a child. You assumed she lived nearby and her brothers were in the village where the majority of the shops were at. She spoke fondly of them and this causes your heart to swell. You missed your own brother at times.

“Would you like something…to drink…?” your eyes scan the surrounding area for the little girl who was just talking your ear off to find her gone. You hum. She must’ve ran off somewhere. You only hope she would find her siblings before the sun set.

“Must you cut yourself so deep?” you sigh, dousing the ointment across his open wound. “Surely any amount of blood could intoxicate the demons.”

The mission was done, leaving Sanemi a bloody mess before you. You learn to pack a small kit for this moment after the first time he cut himself in front of you to distract a demon.

Sanemi snickers. “I get carried away sometimes.”

You knit your brows, glancing into his eyes. He’s already watching you, and noticing your eyes meet, he glances away.

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” Sanemi continues just as you apply the bandage over the wound. “I’ve got enough scars to prove that I’ve been doing this for a while.”

You nod at his words, your eyes scanning the amount of scars littering his skin. It covers his entire torso, back and arms. Some appear to be fresh while others old and forming into new skin on top.

“Do they bother you?”

Sanemi’s question catches you by surprise. You shake your head, hoping he didn’t think you were insulting his appearance. “I think they’re interesting.��

Sanemi hums.

Sanemi’s not entirely convinced.

“Each scar has a story to it.” you say. You lean back to give the man a smile. “It shows just how strong you are.”

You pat a scar on his chest gently and Sanemi feels himself grow hot. He turns his eyes back to you, finding that you weren’t lying. Your eyes show just how sincere you were being with him.

“Children often run from me.” Sanemi tries to joke with you to lighten the mood, but he curses himself mentally at the look in your eyes.

“Maybe you should smile more.” you offer and this causes Sanemi to scoff aloud. “I’m serious! You look terrifying to others when you’re upset.”

“Not to you.” Sanemi states. He didn’t care what other people thought of him. You were different. Your opinion of him mattered.

“Of course not.” you grin. “You’re nice to me.”

Sanemi swallows.

“Let’s try to smile without appearing menacing.” you suggest. Your hands touch his face and Sanemi feels the familiar jolt in his heart. Your hands are soft and you come even closer, your scent surrounds his nostrils.

You’ve grown used to being able to touch him without a care and Sanemi never pushes you away.

Your fingers lift his cheeks up and you begin to giggle at how unnatural he appeared. Sanemi concludes that he likes the way your laughter sounds.

The mysterious little girl had returned countless times over the course of three months - this time however with another girl nearly identical to her. Her black hair is tied in a bow in the back of her hair. Her kimono is a minty green with a lime green obi. Her eyes are just as blue as her sisters and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them.

“What do you wish to have, Y/N-san?” they had asked you. “Have you thought of any names?”

You were unsure yourself. You often think of the baby's gender and what you’d name them in the middle of the night when you’re supposed to be sleeping. You wondered if they would have Sanemi’s hair color and eyes or would they take after you. Maybe a complete half of the both of you? You find yourself wishing that the baby would have something of their father, hair, eyes - anything.

“I have thought of no names yet.” you answer truthfully. “I just want them to be strong and healthy.”

“Like their dad?”

You’re taken aback by the statement Slowly, you nod. “Y-Yes. He was…is a very strong man.” you say to them.

You swallow. You pondered how Sanemi was doing. You have not asked when you write to anyone and they rarely bring him up. You haven’t received any letters so far, but you concluded that they were busy and whenever they were available, they would.

Still, you harbored no bad feelings for Sanemi. In the end, he was the father of your unborn child, nonetheless, and even if things turned sour, you held him in great respect. It would be difficult to explain to a child why they had no father, but you had years to prepare for that conversation.

“Do you miss him, Y/N-san?” two pairs of cerulean eyes are watching you and slowly, you nod your head. “Go see him, Y/N-san! I know he misses you, too!”

You giggle at the two girls. They were young. Life was more complicated than what their young minds could comprehend. “Wait here.” you tell them. Your child was kicking on your bladder and you had to once again, relieve yourself.

But the children were gone by the time you returned, but you’ve grown used to the way they’d disappear randomly just to reappear once more. You would leave little treats and candies for them that they never touched - maybe they didn’t like sweets? You never met a kid who didn’t, but eventually you’d learn what they like.

You closed your eyes and inhaled. You swayed back and forth slightly as you sat upon the hardwood floor of the outside deck. The sun felt nice against your skin.

“Y/N…?”

Your eyes flash open at the familiar voice. Your heart pumps.

“Genya?”

Genya was before you. His eyes appear confused.

“Genya!” you lift yourself from the ground steadily and make your way to the boy standing a few feet away. His eyes are wide as he watches you. “How did you know where to find me? How-”

“You can see me?” Genya asks suddenly and you stop in your tracks. Your smile turns to a frown and now you’re tilting your head.

“Genya, of course I can see you.” you try to laugh, but nothing you’re saying or doing to ease the situation is doing anything. “Genya,” you shake your head. This had to be a dream of the sort.

“Y/N, you’re…” Genya swallows thickly with a shake of his head. “There’s a reason why I’m here. You…you’re pregnant.”

Nothing was making sense to you. What was Genya talking about?

“Brother!”

The familiar voices of the two young girls. They come besides you, one at each side.

“I hope YN-san has a girl! Don’t you think we need more girls in the family?” the one with the red kimono speaks.

“Yes! I hope she looks just like me.” the one with the minty kimono retorts.

Your blood runs cold. Your eyes widen and now you understand just what’s happening.

“Y/N!” Genya calls for you.

You’ve fallen to your knees, the tears flowing down your face. You’re trembling.

“Genya…you…you’re..?”

You don’t want the words to leave your lips.

“Yes.”

You sob a little louder. Your heart is pounding outside your chest.

“Sumi…Teiko…” Genya murmurs.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N-san.” Sumi says.

“What happened, Genya? How have you…?” you’re unable to stop the tears from falling. “W-Who else…?”

Genya doesn’t want you to be in pain. He’s unsure what to do or why he’s here - how you can see and speak to not only him, but Sumi and Teiko.

“Don’t cry, Y/N. W-We won.” Genya attempts to lift your mood, but he knows it's useless. “Muzan…muzan is dead.”

You want to scoff at his words.

Because yes, Muzan was dead by what Genya has said.

But at what cause? How many young, innocent lives had been taken during the process? Genya was just the only life gone that you could see. Has Tanjiro survived along with Zenitsu and Inosuke? Did they manage to turn Nezuko back into a human - the young sweet girl with such kind eyes tugging at your heart strings. Sumire…Roshi…Shinra. Your blood runs cold when your mind wanders to Sanemi.

Genya answers you and you feel as though your heart would give out at any moment. Nearly everyone you have grown to love has sacrificed themselves to stop Muzan. You feel selfish for retiring the way you had. You should’ve fought alongside them. Maybe then-

“Stop blaming yourself, Y/N.” Genya tells you. He can sense the guilt throughout you. “Please don’t think about what could have been.”

“Genya…”

“Think about now.” Genya says, his head motioning to your stomach. “No one blames you for retiring.”

You shake your head.

“Please calm down, Y/N-san.” Teiko murmurs, her eyes sad at the sight of you.

“Please, Y/N.” Genya begins. “I-I don’t know what my Aniki did to you but…” he swallows. He feels selfish for even thinking about this. You deserved to feel whatever you felt towards his brother. “...please…don’t hate him. Can you find it in your heart to forgive him?”

Genya’s eyes are hopeful as he looks into your tearful ones. You swallow thickly. You were never upset with Sanemi - you’d forgiven him long ago.

“I-I…” your cheeks are tear stained as your mind attempts to gather all the information given to you. “I have to go.”

Your legs are trembling as you stand. Teiko and Sumi - finally learning the girls' names - are by your side.

“Y/N, please. You aren’t in the position to go anywhere.” Genya is nervously walking behind you. He is still unsure why he was here. He understands that he had died during the battle, but he recalls reuniting with his younger siblings - then he was here before you.

“I have to see them.” you’re scurrying around in your home. Your father was nowhere in sight and you’re glad that he wasn’t. You would appear to be talking to yourself.

Genya only shakes his head. You were stubborn and he now understands why his brother loved you as much as he did.

“Okay. I’ll accompany you.” It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Moving on into the afterlife appeared to be much more difficult then he ever thought it would be.

Genya watches as you pack a light bag. He finds his eyes wandering to your small bump and he feels warmth - was it possible for him to feel this way while deceased? He’s unsure truly and doesn’t want to question it any longer.

“Are you sure you want to travel now, Y/N?” Genya questions once you are done. Teiko and Sumi are both by your side again, large eyes so soft and caring for the woman that was you. “I don’t want you to be in harm's way.”

You want to reach out for Genya and touch him, but you’re unsure if it is possible. You never thought to try, either, not sure how you’d react if your hand didn’t get to touch him. “Yes.” you nod. “After all, you guys won.”

Your mind is unsure how long Sanemi and you had gone round for round - but you’re certain that you cannot get enough. You’ve never pleasured a man before - not until now. But Sanemi wasn’t just any man - he was the man you’ve grown to love. You accepted it now more than ever.

“Y-You don’t have-” Sanemi throws his head back. He’s sweaty, chest rising and falling as he pants. Your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, warm tongue licking gently on the sensitive tip.

Sanemi hisses even more at the feeling of your tongue. He opens his eyes to glance at you and is positive that one day, you’d be the death of him. Not a demon or anything else - but you.

You looked so beautiful to Sanemi, equally as sweaty with hair sticking to your forehead. Such innocent eyes looking up at him for approval while your mouth sucked him with all the might you could muster.

Your hand wraps around the length of his cock and pumps while you focus on sucking the tip. You weren’t sure if you were doing this right, however Sanemi’s moaning. Nor does he appear to be bored or upset by your actions, so you’ll assume that he was enjoying himself.

“S-Stop!” Sanemi jerks, feeling himself ready to cum - as embarrassing as it was. It hasn’t even been five minutes.

But you don’t, enjoying the flushed look on Sanemi’s cheeks. You go as far as your mouth would allow, feeling the tip of him hit your throat. You begin to gag, feeling your throat clog up, but you don’t stop. Sanemi’s moans edge you on and your legs clench together, enjoying the way you were making him feel.

Your head bobs up and down, suckling. The sounds of your sucking mixed with low curses and grunts from Sanemi echo off the room. The sight is as filthy as it comes, but neither of you cared.

You release Sanemi’s cock from your mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to the tip of it. Sanemi twitches slightly, finally able to calm down - but still, you had other plans. You allowed Sanemi to take control for hours, now it was your turn to pleasure him.

Sanemi’s eyes snap open when you sit upon his lap. You give him a cute smile that melts his heart.

“I’m not really sure how good I’ll be.” you tell him, leaning down to peck his lips.

Sanemi grunts into the kiss. He positions himself at your entrance. “You’ll be amazing,” he responds.

You sit fully onto Sanemi’s cock, hands placing themselves on his bare shoulders. You shudder, the familiar pleasure coming back to you.

Sanemi watches between hooded eyes as you begin to move your hips, his hands placing themselves permanently onto your hips. You’d do amazing, he told you, and amazing you did. You started off stiff, unsure of what to do, but after a few moments you got the hang of it. You lifted your hips and brought them back down at a steady pace.

Sanemi finds it hard to focus on just one thing. Your breasts are bouncing for him to see and for a moment, he’s mesmerized. Then his eyes catch the sight of your pussy - wet and dripping with slick all over him. You’re clenched onto him so tight that he’s sure he wouldn’t last long in this position, either.

Sanemi decides that your face is where he wants to settle his eyes. He could never get tired of calling you beautiful. Your face contorts with pleasure, mouth panting as you pleasured yourself upon him. Your eyes are fluttering, fighting to remain close or to open.

Lilac eyes meet yours when you do open them. You feel hot with humiliation having Sanemi see you lost in the moment. His fingernails dig into the skin of your hips when he notices your back from your high.

“I love you, Nemi.” you murmur, unsure what in the world you were going through that made you confess such words suddenly. It causes Sanemi to stiffen at the confession. But you don’t notice, far too entranced with pleasure to care. You lean down and kiss his lips.

“Say it again.” Sanemi buckles his hips forward, thrusting into you at an alarming speed.

Sanemi pushes himself forward, wrapping his arms around you to bring you even closer to him. He doesn’t want you to leave his arms - not now. He brings you onto your back, hovering above you. “Say it again.” he repeats, thrusting deeply inside of you.

“I love you, Nemi!” you exclaim. The familiar churning in your stomach is coming back, and with the clenching you’re doing on his cock, you’re positive that you were going to cum once more.

“Again.” Sanemi holds you tighter. He never wants this moment to end - the intimacy the two of you shared at this moment is the most alive he’s ever felt.

“I…I…” you’re cumming, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Sanemi doesn’t stop, not until he's assured that he came deep inside of you, your words replaying over and over again in his mind.

I love you, Nemi.

I love you.

Sanemi’s cumming, his eyes fluttering close. He places his head at the nape of your neck and he’s pampering kisses. He doesn’t move, not until he’s cum deep and he finds himself softening slowly - for the time being.

“Tanjiro…” you murmured, feeling relief wash over you upon seeing the boy.

Your eyes scanned the room as you did so, finding Uzui with Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio. You take notice that Rengoku’s father is here along with his younger brother, the resemblance is quite uncanny. Zenitsu appears to be in and out of sleep while Nezuko is seated beside her brother. It tugs at your heartstrings noticing that she no longer appeared like her demon self.

“Y/N-san!” Tanjiro's eyes widen at your sudden appearance. “Hello.”

You feel a mountain of eyes upon you - or more so on your stomach. Genya is beside you, watching as a few gasps are heard. “Act like they have never seen a pregnant woman before.” he grumbles and you can only silently giggle.

“I’m glad you all are safe.” you feel teary eyed at your words. You hadn’t gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to Shinobu or Mitsuri, only your letters. You pondered if they received them before their battle. As you watch Tanjiro lay upon the bed, you’re yet again reminded of the many young lives that suffered…Sumire…Roshi…Muichiro.

“Ah, Y/N!”

Genya is startled by the sudden call of your name behind them. In the doorway is Shinra and he’s panting. He’s covered in bandages from head to toe and even has a limp as he strolls. “Shinra…” he murmurs. “...you did survive.”

“Shinra!” you wanted to engulf him in a hug but stopped yourself. He looked seconds away from dropping. “I’m so glad you’re safe. You must’ve fought hard.”

“A little too hard.” Shinra jokes, chuckling to himself. He then winces, now remembering why he refrained from laughing. Or speaking. Or anything besides breathing.

“Y/N!” Suma is the first of the group to react to you. She runs to you and engulfs you in a tight hug. She’s sobbing as she speaks. “You’re here! You’re pregnant! You have such a lovely glow to you-”

Makio punches Suma in the head, eyes glaring at the girl. “Stop yelling!” she hisses. “You’re going to crush her! Can’t you see she’s fragile?!”

Tengan sighs but he can’t help but smile. It felt whole in a way, almost as if you never left. Suma was right, however. You had the pregnancy glow to you. Your skin appeared to be blemish free and hydrated, your smile reached your eyes and your bump was round and healthy.

“Where is Giyuu-san? I haven’t had the chance to see him.” you say aloud. You want to ask for Sanemi, as well, but you chose not to.

“They should be finishing with the meeting soon.” Tengan strolls towards you. He has a grin on his lips and he gently pats your head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well, Uzui-san.” you say. You place a hand upon your stomach and hum.

“Hey!”

It’s Inosuke. He’s come from behind Shinra, shoving his way in. Shinra hisses as he’s set to the nearest wall by the boy. Inosuke isn’t wearing his boar mask as he looks at you.

“Inosuke. Hello.” you say, glad to see the young boy seemingly well. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. You are King of the Mountains, after all.”

Uzui scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“You’ve been well, too!” Inosuke’s voice is gruff as he speaks. “Since you’ve gotten fat. You must’ve been eating really well!”

“You imbecile!” Shinra wails, eyes glaring at Inosuke.

Tengan sends a fist upon Inosuke’s head. “She’s not fat, you idiot!”

You’re laughing at the sight. “It’s okay.” you assure them, understanding that Inosuke meant no harm. “He’s probably never seen a pregnant person before.”

Inosuke refrains from attacking Uzui like he wants to. “What’s that?” he asks, his head turning to Tanjiro.

Tanjiro chuckles slightly, a red tint on his face. He always has to explain things to Inosuke in more animalistic terms. “Y/N-san has mated with someone. That’s why her stomach has gotten a little bigger.”

Inosuke hums, eyes turning back to you. He tilts his head with a nod, now understanding.

“Stupid idiotic boar.” Genya hisses.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N.” Hinatsuru waves with a kind smile. “Please come visit us before you leave.”

You nod. “I will. I promise.” you assure. “I’m going to go find Giyuu-san.”

Tengan follows you out. He only allows you to go down the hall before he calls for you. “And what about Shinazugawa?”

Genya turns his head, as do you.

“Are you planning on seeing him, as well? I know he’s been…” Tengan trails his words off, hoping that you’d understand where he was going with this.

“I will be seeing Sanemi, as well.” you nod.

Tengan allows himself to watch you as you walk away, turning out of sight. He inhales once more, this time wishing that the former Wind Hashira would admit the way he feels. Not just for your or his sake, but for the sake of the unborn child.

Giyuu is the first one you find. He’s already walking your way when you happen to see him. “You cut your hair, Giyuu-san!” you say, waving his way.

Giyuu appears to be shocked at your presence before him, but he manages to not have his eyes linger on your obvious pregnant belly. He offers a small grin your way with a nod.

“It’s good to see that you’re alive.” you murmur to him, taking in his appearance. You notice that his right arm has seemingly been lost during battle and again, you feel yourself grow with guilt.

“You, as well.” Giyuu responds. “Congratulations.”

You grow hot and nod your thanks. You allow Giyuu to pass you, Genya furrowing his brows at the man. He was never one to speak much and oftentimes you found yourself talking to him, wondering if he was ever telling you to shut up mentally.

“You think Aniki would be at his estate?”

“I’m not sure.” you murmur. You place a hand onto your stomach, the baby is seemingly moving. “You must be excited.” you say, laughing to yourself.

You’re nervous and that part is obvious. You wanted to see Sanemi, yes. Your heart is full knowing that he managed to survive. You don’t know how you’d react when your eyes meet his for the first time in months - you hope you wouldn't cry.

The journey to Sanemi’s home is rather quick. Maybe you were walking fast to get it over with - pay your respect and leave. You found yourself outside the familiar shoji doors, contemplating if sending a letter was more appropriate then coming up unannounced.

“Go.” Genya speaks. “I’ll stay behind so you can have a level of privacy.”

Genya disappears - the first time since you first saw him days ago. You gulp, hands feeling sweaty.

You lightly tap the shoji doors before sliding them open. The home is quiet and appears the same as when you left months prior. You remove your shoes and continue into the home, heart quickening.

You find yourself holding your breath when you see him. He’s seated on the hardwood floor in the sitting area, in his hands the rhinoceros beetle he claimed as a pet. He’s feeding it some fruit you note, watching intently.

“Sanemi.” your voice is low and barely audible, but Sanemi is alert. His head snaps in the direction of your voice and he noticeably gasps.

Sanemi blinks once, then twice - you were here. You weren’t a fragment of his imagination like he initially thought. Through the months his mind could still hear your voice as if you never left. He was sure he’s gone insane sometimes when he’d awake and swear his ears pick up on you cooking, low hums coming from your lips.

You feel uncomfortable under his intense gaze. You’re considering you coming to see Sanemi was a mistake, unsure if he truly wished to see you.

“I-I’m sorry.” you murmur. You blink away, unsure as to why you were truly apologizing for - maybe for coming unannounced after all these months.

Sanemi places the beetle back into the wooden cage and places it beside him. He lifts himself up onto his feet and makes his way to you. He’s quick, placing both calloused hands on your cheek. His left thumb rubs your cheek gently, enjoying the feeling of getting to touch you after so long. Your eyes catch the bandage wrapped around his right hand and you frown deep. “Your hand…” you murmur, your own softer hands wrapping around the bandage. You notice he’s missing his index and middle finger.

Sanemi doesn’t care about his injuries. He’s far too enthralled that you’re in front of him. He takes a step back, eyes going lower to your stomach.

You swallow, breath hitching. You feel uneasy with his gaze. His face was stoic, unable to read just what his thoughts were. You feel a few kicks from the baby and you’re sure they were just as uneasy at this moment.

“Sanemi?”

You break the silence after around 5 minutes of Sanemi’s staring. His head snaps to you. “You’re pregnant.” he states the obvious.

“Yes.” you nod.

Sanemi is silent once more and again, the silence is killing you. You’re unsure of what he’s feeling - if he was feeling anything at all.

Sanemi glances away from you. His heart is jolting once more, but now with sorrow. He’s lost you for good, he thinks, and now he wants nothing more than for the world to swallow him whole.

“You’ve found a husband?” Sanemi asks but he doesn’t truly want to know. The thought of someone else getting to have you causes his heart to feel sad, sorrow erupting through him. He can never blame you for finding love elsewhere, it’s what you deserved.

“Aniki’s an idiot.” Genya groans. You flinch at the sudden sound of Genya who is standing behind his brother. Your brows furrow at the boy who raises his hands. “I’ll take my leave now.” he states and again, disappears once more.

You take another deep breath and shake your head. “No.” you murmur. “The baby is yours.”

Sanemi was sure he’d have whiplash the way his head snaps back to you. His eyes are wide with realization - how big your stomach was, the child growing in you; his child.

You’re shocked when Sanemi suddenly falls to his knees. His hands are on the ground while his head is hung low. He’s trembling, you note, and you’re confused about what's happening.

“S-Sanemi, I-” Did you anger him? You’re unsure what to do - should you leave?

You got your answer on what Sanemi was doing when your ears pick up on low sobs. You kneel down in front of him, eyes noticing droplets on the hardwood floor. You stand straighter and gulp.

Sanemi was crying.

You’ve never seen Sanemi cry. He was always a strong person, showing little emotion. Others once cower at the sight of him, tip-toeing around him to not anger the man. He was always different around you - smiling, often joking and never lashing out at you.

But crying - Sanemi never cried.

“Nemi…?” you place a hand on top of his hand, fingers gently rubbing the white tresses.

Sanemi lifts himself up to look at you, tears staining his cheeks. He moves fast, arms wrapping around you. His head lays upon your bump and wants to cry even harder when he feels soft kicks.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.” Sanemi’s begging now, His tears don’t stop and he doesn’t let you go. He never wants to, afraid that if he does you’ll leave him once more.

“Nemi,” you murmur. Your heart swells at the sight of him and you want to laugh at the situation. “I’m not upset with you.”

“You should hate me.” Sanemi murmurs, lifting his face from your bump to look at you. “I took advantage of you.” He left you to fend for yourself, pregnant and all. He shouldn’t feel as if it was completely his fault - he had no idea you were pregnant and if he had, he would have never allowed you to leave. However, he cannot help how he feels.

“You didn’t take advantage of me, Nemi.” you play your hand - so soft, Sanemi thinks - against his cheek. “I said I loved you, didn’t I?”

Sanemi’s throat tightens and again - as pathetic he’s sure he looks - he feels himself crying. His heart jolts and for the first time in months, he feels happy. Watching Genya die before his eyes while claiming that he always protected him had shot a hole through his heart. It’s a feeling that would never go away, but having you back before him pregnant with his child was the feeling he needed to feel whole again.

“Thank you.” Sanemi murmurs, arms unwrapping just for his hands to place upon your stomach.

“I didn’t do anything.” you giggle.

Sanemi shakes his head. You’ve done a lot. You weren’t upset with him for how he treated you after the two of you were intimate. You decided to come back from your home, pregnant and not far from giving birth he’s sure. You were a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved - you and his child.

“Stand up.” you tell Sanemi and he does what he’s told. “Stop crying, Nemi. It’s okay.” you offer a smile.

Sanemi’s heart jolts again.

You’re as beautiful as you always were and now you’re glowing.

Sanemi wants to cry yet again.

Sanemi can never keep his hands off of your stomach. He always has to hold it - while the both of you sleep. While you both sat and ate. Any reason he could to hold you bump, he would and you couldn’t be upset about it. He even would place his ear against your stomach - mostly as you slept - to hear the heartbeat of his child and yours. It brought him ease, assuring that the both of you were safe.

Sanemi was more fascinated with the sudden kicks. He recalls many years ago when his mother fell pregnant for the first time with Genya and how intrigued he was at her size - and when he noticed her stomach moving at an alarming rate. Then she fell pregnant again, again and again until his youngest brother was born.

Sanemi was nervous about traveling back to your home and leaving his estate for good. Now that the Demon Slayer Corps was disbanded for good, he had no reason to stay - “only if you want”, was Kiriya’s words. And he was until you had come to him. Now, you had made plans on going home and home meant where your father resided. He had never met your father and truly had no plans to, but by what you have told him, he was not a man Sanemi would like. He wouldn't want you or his child to be disrespected by the likes of him.

You were now 8 months and so close to giving birth that Sanemi often walked on egg shells. He never wanted to leave your sight in case it happened suddenly. Not only that, but he missed the majority of your pregnancy that he didn’t wish to not be at your side for whatever you needed - stomach rubs, random cravings in the middle of the day or night. He would massage you - especially your feet that had since swollen up due to your pregnancy. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

You have been spoiled since you returned and couldn’t be more grateful and happier. Tengan has bought a mountain of clothing items for both you and the baby, claiming that it would be the most flamboyant child around - after his own, of course. Suma, Hinatsuru and Makio were always around, dousing you with compliments and gushing over your growing bump.

Inosuke was still curious about your stomach, but understood you weren’t fat. He’d still gift you leaves and other things he could find and become one of your eating buddies, even eating food from your plate. Tanjiro had scolded him but you assure that it was alright.

Shinra was recovering and now could move freely without a mountain of cast and bandages. You were glad the boy survived, truly. He had grown slightly from the frightened little boy of Final Selection. Upon learning that he had no family left to go to, you had offered for him to stay with you - much to Sanemi’s dismay. However, if he didn’t want to admit it, Shinra was much like his own brother. Genya and he were the same age, often having similar outbursts and interests. Plus he couldn’t be upset that you’ve grown an older sibling-like bond to the boy. It was one of the many reasons why he loved you.

“Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?” Sanemi has a look of confusion on his face as he awaits your answer.

Sanemi thought you were beautiful now more than ever. You were carrying his child, after all, putting your body at risk for him and the child you shared. It makes the man angered at himself for having you think that he wouldn’t find you attractive.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t attempted to touch you - which it isn't like he didn’t want to. He finds himself wanting to be inside you all the time but he stops himself from trying and would rather jack it off in the bathroom. You had just returned and he was sure the last thing you wanted to do was be intimate with him, and so he waited for you to initiate it.

However, then you asked him now as the both of you laid in bed, a calloused hand rubbing your stomach if he found you unattractive due to your appearance.

“I’m kinda fat right now and-”

“Did that boar call you fat, again?” Sanemi hisses, eyes glaring. He wanted to castrate Inosuke when he found out he said it the first time but refrained because of you.

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s how I feel.” you tell him. “You don’t attempt to touch me. I don’t think you find me as attractive as before.”

Sanemi sighs. He wants to laugh because damn, you had no idea how he truly desired to have you. He doesn’t want to hurt you is another reason why he stops himself - the fear of leaving your perfect skin with bruises and marks. That, and if anything happened to his child or you during the act, he would never forgive himself.

“You can sit on my face?” Sanemi offers suddenly, far too excited that you’re gasping.

“No!” you exclaim, growing hot at his sudden words.

“Why not?” Sanemi questions, feeling disappointed.

“I-I’m too big to be sitting on you, Nemi!” you roll your eyes but manage to giggle.

“No you aren’t.” Sanemi assures. “Have you forgotten what I was prior? Have I grown soft?” he’s teasing you not, but he peppers kissing onto your cheek, trailing down to your jaw to your neck. His hand slides up to cup your breast and you find yourself moaning at the sensation.

Sanemi didn’t care about himself and his own pleasure. He found pleasure in your own. You were sensitive, far more than ever. Your breast had grown due to the pregnancy and Sanemi was but a man, diving right into them, rubbing and suckling on the sensitive nipple.

You’re a moaning and gasping mess. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed Sanemi’s hands upon you. It was different from your time with him in Shinjuku, of course. He and you weren’t under a demon art - even though you couldn’t completely blame the mark. Now, however, Sanemi was sane and attentive, purely focusing on worshiping you.

You’re unsure when Sanemi had managed to strip you of your underwear but in a matter of seconds you’re bare to him, a humiliating feeling washing over you when you feel his lips upon your thighs.

“Nemi…”

Sanemi grunts a response, kissing until he finds your wet lips. He quickly pecks them before his tongue lapse between your folds. He keeps you in a firm hold as you’re squirming. He doesn’t hold back in pleasuring you, enjoying the sounds of your sweet moans.

Sanemi’s tongue is flat as he bobs his head back and forth, determined to make you cum. Once he realizes you’ve begun to relax in his hold, his left hand add’s two fingers inside of you and pumps.

Your back arches, a slew of moans, grunts and gasps releasing from your lips. Your walls clench around his fingers, thighs trembling at the pleasure. You weren’t aware how much you truly missed Sanemi, even outside of intimacy. You were only intimate with him one time (for hours on end) and even then, waking up alone without his warmth felt lonely. Now you can wake up to him besides you, hand onto your stomach. It felt nice - almost as if you never left to begin with.

Sanemi’s fingers curl inside of you, pumping a little faster. He muffles against your clit when he feels your hands in his hair. His pants were feeling tight, cock twitching.

You begin to grind against his tongue and Sanemi encourages it. He removes his fingers from inside of you to now grip your thighs to give you more access to do so.

“Please, Nemi…” you groan, licking your lips. You were now clenching around nothing. “...I need you.”

Sanemi lifts from between your legs, licking your sweet slick from his lips. He looks at your face to find you already looking at him through hooded eyes.

Sanemi could never deny you - not now especially. He knows what you want and he’s quick to undress himself. He’s hesitant slightly, not wanting to ever harm you. He lays beside you and offers a quick peck onto your cheek before gently pushing you onto your side. He wanted you to be comfortable.

Sanemi lifts your leg, making sure he held it up for you so you didn’t have to. He centers himself at your entrance and shudders, the familiar warmth and wetness brings back the memories of when he first had you.

You’re clamping around Sanemi as he enters you slowly. His breath tickles your neck where he’s kissing lovingly. Sanemi’s slow with his thrusts, but it feels good nonetheless. He never knew sex could be just as amazing when he wasn’t being rough, but he noted that it was better because it was with someone he loved.

“It’s okay to go faster.” you moan. Your hand wraps around his wrist for comfort. “You won’t be hurting me.”

Sanemi grunts. He does what you ask, picking up his pace only slightly. Your juices are coating his cock, pussy clenching so heavenly around him that he catches himself fluttering his eyes closed. He inhales your familiar scent - the same scent that has since plagued his home. His heart no longer feels lonely, yearning for a lost love.

“I love you.” Sanemi murmurs, the confession causing his cheeks to flush red. He hasn’t told you explicitly like this before, only while you slept your exhaustion off in Shinjuku. His hand allows your leg to drop, sliding up your thigh to your stomach. “Thank you.” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

Sanemi was going to come and you know this. You wanted to ask what in the world he was thanking you for, but you had a clue. Random times Sanemi would thank you - “thank you for coming back to me”, “ thank you for carrying my child”, “thank you for loving me”.

Sanemi’s confession to loving you, however, was what made you cum and your words repeating his own was what made him.

A rare sight to see truly - Shinazugawa Sanemi was crying. Weeping at the sight of his child, cheeks flushed and puffy. The girls of the butterfly mansion were the first to be dumbfounded by the sight, gasping at the tall, scarred man with bulging muscles. The same man who would slam the door open and demanded to be treated, uncaring if they were busy or not. Now this same man held such a small infant in his arms, so close to his chest afraid to let go.

You were brought into the Butterfly Mansion by Shinra one evening while Sanemi had been out gathering the food you were craving. You were stunned when not ten minutes later your water had broken and Shinra was a nervous wreck, eyes wide and looked as though he was nearly about to cry. He was then instructed to go get Sanemi while Aoi set you up on the birthing futon, the three small girls whose names he had not learned were gathering towels, water and other supplies for the birthing process.

Sanemi was by your side no later than five minutes, having thrown the food in Shinra’s arms and dashed away, a gush of in his trail. It was truly a sight to see - Sanemi so caring and loving, holding onto you while murmuring how amazing you were doing. He allowed you to hold his hand and squeeze the life out of it - whatever it took for you to deliver the child safely.

The first sounds of cries cause a wave of relief over Sanemi, you crashing against him in exhaustion. He recalls kissing your head, the sounds of his child louds wails are an accomplishment of what you brought into this world.

“It’s a boy!” Naho, Sumi and Kiyo say in unison and Aoi only smiles towards the wide-eyed former Hashira. She had placed the baby in your arms, innocent eyes looking around curiously but not focusing on anything.

It wasn’t far when the small room was full, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma low cooing at the sight of the baby. Shinra has a soft smile on his lips, paying his own visit while Tengan is beside Sanemi, who’s eyes had not left his son or you.

“How does it feel?” Tengan asks Sanemi, who blinks but doesn’t take his eyes from you.

“Surreal.” Sanemi responds.

Sanemi felt happy for once. Was it selfish to say this was the happiest he felt in years? He was happy when you came back into his life and brought a new meaning into it. He can even say he felt happy when he learned that they had won the battle against Muzan, even if in the moment he wished he would have died alongside his brother.

However, there was no happiness that could replace the one he felt at the sight of his child; his son. There was like a new light that overcame him as he watched you nurse his child or hold him close with such love. It’s insane to think that you were the reason that he felt happy once more - he was once content on dying knowing that he would possibly never have a family. Now, he cannot imagine his life without the little family you have given him.

“I don’t think Y/N-san can see us anymore.” Teiko says, a little sadness laced into her voice. “Another boy in the family.”

“Yes.” Sumi murmurs. “At least he’s cute!”

Genya places both hands upon his sisters shoulders. He has a soft smile on his lips, eyes watching his elder brother and how content he appeared. He then looks towards you and the baby - his nephew. “Aniki is happy again.” he says, more to himself than his sisters.

Sanemi had kneeled down besides you, his index finger lightly stroking his son's cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Genya says, understanding fully that you could no longer see nor hear him. Teiko and Sumi have now disappeared and he finds himself fading, as well.

#sanemi smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #sanemi x reader #genya shinazugawa #genya x platonic reader #phantasm #sanemi-whore #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #afab reader #cruel world #all night #sanemi angst #sanemi fluff #kny angst #kny fluff #kny smut

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t-tomuras · 30 days

Text

⛏ ─── • 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

Pairing: Gyuutaro Shabana x F!reader

Warnings: Modern AU, established relationship, mention of breeding / desire for pregnancy, breeding, oral ( f receiving )

Wordcount: 3.4k

Notes: This started as a drabble idk how I got here. Pure domestic bliss tbh

Gyuutaro working in someone he can vaguely consider a ‘buddy’s’ shop will never stop feeling foreign to him. He’s never been one for friends and doesn’t think about any of his coworkers whenever he goes home for the day. Why would he when he has you to welcome him at the door? The smell of dinner wafting in that makes the work worth it, makes him willing to earn a living to take care of you through reputable means instead of how he’d always operated.

You’re the only reason he took the job at the mechanic shop your brother of sorts, who looks like he’d lead a similar life of delinquency for a while as well, in the first place. He must’ve straightened out for a woman too, seemed like men like them only ever made drastic lifestyle changes for a woman out of their league in more than just looks.

Women from a different walk of life even if they’d weathered plenty of their own storms but stayed soft when the world threatened to harden them as well.

He could see it in your eyes when he first met you, completely at random on a day you’d decided to break your own routine. When he still worked a dead-end job at a crumbling gas station that was only still in business because of cigarettes and lotto ticket sales. Nothing to his name but a half working shitbox, a dilapidated studio apartment and whatever money he had left between paychecks after paying for his sister’s needs.

You’d stopped in on your way to work because you had to take a different route because of road closures along the way and you just needed ‘a little pick me up. Getting yourself a double shot espresso of canned coffee at five in the morning, looking dead on your feet but you perked when you saw him; and for some reason, Gyuutaro actually couldn’t help but give you a lopsided smile.

A man who was always reprimanded for his piss poor customer service.

From then you came in more often, stopped by for a coffee or one of those expensive bottled ‘pink drinks’ or a tea depending on the week or morning; but, you were consistent enough that Gyuutaro could look at the clock and have your drink ready by the time you came in.

Exchanging numbers before long, meeting up quickly and your relationship from there felt fast tracked into domesticity. The first night Gyuutaro spent at your house felt like the last time he’d ever left besides collecting more things from his apartment to leave littered about your home until he was officially moved in.

Meeting you had already been an improvement to his wretched life, a second blessing aside from the one related to him by blood. You taught him a different sort of unconditional love, a commitment by choice and you showed him in every way you improved his life.

From questioning where his next meal would come from or where he’d lift his needs with sticky fingers to a full belly and warm bed. A new job that he does well to keep that helped him buy a nice bike to take you riding on and a high quality helmet to keep you safe.

He’d never thought he’d have anything like this in his life, at least not without stepping on a few throats and shadier business he didn’t want to fall back into like when he was a teen.

A rabid dog off the leash no more as he comes home to you every day.

Opening the door to your shared bedroom to find you clad in only his sweater that swallows you whole and his favorite pair of lacy panties that decorate the swell of your ass so prettily. You weren’t even trying to entice him, that’s just how you lounge but you make the mistake of lifting your head from your pillow to turn and look at him. Offering him that pretty smile of his and suddenly the weight of his day lifts from his shoulders, back straightening as his head tilts to the side.

A different sort of hunger festering in his gut that the dinner warming on the stove couldn’t satiate.

You turn to look at your bedside clock with a frown as Gyuutaro starts to peel away his clothes. “You’re home later than normal, did Haku—“ voice fading as you quirk your brow in question at his actions.

His work jumper already pooling at his ankles as he kicks them away and begins to pull away his pants and boxers. The mattress dipping under his weight as Gyuutaro hovers over you a moment later, lips to your shoulder while broad palms grasp at your hips.

Sighing at the feel of your skin as he drags them under his oversized sweater you wear and upwards to feel the body he’d missed all day. Gliding along the curve of your waist while you reflexively arch into the mattress, ass pushing into his pelvis to feel his growing erection.

“Don’t mention that banded fucker right now,” voice low and graveled but lacking his usual bite in regard to the overprotective man. Making you giggle when he adds, “gonna make my cock soft,” as if he’d ever had the issue of staying erect in your presence.

He understood, believe him he did, Hakuji saw you as the sibling he never had after all and your boyfriend was grateful you had a strong man in your corner before he came around but you were Gyuutaro’s to protect now.

To love and to care for in the same way’s you’ve done so to him and Gyuutaro has always been good about showing you his appreciation despite his selfish nature. Demonstrating his gratitude in one of his favorite ways that both of you benefit from greatly.

Starting with nipping playfully at your shoulder and kneading at your pillowy breasts while slowly grinding into you. Grinning lazily at how receptive you are to him, humming contentedly as you fall into rhythm with him.

Hugging your pillow and turning your head as his fingers hook into the band of your panties. Lifting your ass to make it easier for him to pull them down your legs and unceremoniously toss them off the side of the bed.

Calloused pads of his fingers digging into your hips before sliding lower, thumbs massaging into the underside of your ass before pulling the skin of your outer lips to see your already glistening cunt.

Eye’s rolling at the sight, saliva gathering on his tongue, “fuck look at ya, pretty pussy for a pretty girl.”

Chuckling at how, even after all this time, you still whimper at his comments. Looking back at him with furrowed brows before he feasts on his favorite meal. Laying flat on his stomach to lick a stripe from your clit to your hole just to pull those heavenly salacious sounds from plush lips.

Humming hungrily as he slurps at your cunt, pawing at your ass with a bruising grip to spread you further for him. Barely parting for breath the louder you get, long tongue dipping into your fluttering hole as his hand comes around to give your neglected bundle of nerves some much needed attention.

Rolling his middle and ring fingers against the swollen nub in insistent methodical circles as his tongue plunges repeatedly into your sopping cunt. Hastening his face as your hips twitch and buck into his fingers, soft sighs and whimpers crescendoing into throaty moans an octave lower than normal. Gyuutaro lives for moments like these, when he can take care of you so thoroughly you can’t help whatever sound he pulls from you.

“Go ahead and cum baby, I want as many as you’ll give,” voice tight as his own hips rut into the mattress for a modicum of relief. The vibrations of his broken groans, the feel of his tongue and the pace of his fingers to your clit working in tandem to send you have the edge. Body tensing as you lift your head from the pillow, releasing a sharp gasp that melts into pitchy keens before your left only able to babble his name cutely.

Panting and whining as you’re at the mercy of his onslaught and you know he’s far from finished with you yet. Pearly tears clumping long lashes until he’s pulling away from your cunt, chin lips and nose glistening with your release as he climbs up your body. Licking what he can away while Gyuutaro grasps his cock to position at your still quivering entrance.

Running his tip through your folds once, twice, three times to properly lubricate his rigid cock before pushing into you in one thrust to still give you that burning stretch you love so much. Groaning at the feel of you as he sinks into your divine heat, cooing at you over the breathless sound you emit as he sets a desperate pace.

He never could last very long when it came to you, not that he had any experience besides his own hand on lonely nights prior to meeting you. Gyuutaro never felt shameful about it and you’ve never given him any reason to either, his perfect sweet girl that you are.

He works himself quickly, mesmerized by the jiggle of your ass as his pelvis slaps against it with resounding claps mingling with the lewd squelch.

Hand on your neck as you grip tightly to your pillow, muffling your moans once again but he won’t stop you this time, satisfied with the screams you’d rewarded him with earlier. Grin broad on his handsome face, gaze lidded as the coil winds tighter in his lower abdomen with the threat of his release.

Finally hissing to himself and filling you full with sticky seed he hopes will take with a final forceful thrust that you meet tiredly, Gyuutaro oh so kindly helping your trembling form by holding your hips to him while his throaty, relieved groan mingles with your sweet sigh of a moan as you cream his cock a final time.

Rolling his hips lazily into yours to ride out both of your highs until you’re both twitching from the stimulation before he collapses next to you. Rolling onto his side and bringing you with him to curve into his body, pressing adoring kisses to your tacky skin. Taking the time to pass his fingers over the freshly healed ink of your matching tattoo in the shape of his teeth along the slope of your shoulder before he pays it affection with has lips as well.

Birthing the usual fit of giggles from the feel, squirming slightly as you turn your head and bring your arm back to cup his head to catch his lips with yours. Kissing slowly and basking in the afterglow of his sudden fervor even though it should be far from a surprise to you any longer, Gyuutaro has always been a little ravenous with you over the course of your relationship.

“You need to eat,” you finally say, wiggling from his hold to slide from the mattress and find your discarded pair of panties. Pulling his sweater you wear a little lower but it does nothing to hide the way his spend already begins to leak from you and drip down your inner thighs.

Already rolling your eyes over his wispy cackle when you find the discarded garment, slipping it on as you cast your gaze in his direction. Corner of your lip quirking upward at his comfortable lounge, resting his cheek in his hand while his elbow props him up.

Smacking at him with heat stinging your tacky skin at his causal remark of, “already ate my favorite meal pretty girl.” Ignoring the boisterous laughter in favor of leaving the room because your stomach still dances in your gut every time he flirts with you.

The night progressing lazily as you fall into your nightly routine together. Dinner, talking about the workday, a little bit of tv, a shower together full of slapping away his venturing hands before settling down to rest for the workday tomorrow.

Snuggling into Gyuutaro’s chest as he checks his sister’s location and shoots her a few texts about getting back to her dorm before the curfew he’s set for her after sending Ume her monthly allowance. Pressing a kiss to your forehead as you scroll through Instagram reels you’d saved throughout the day only to ultimately fall asleep in his arms before you were even finished with them.

But Gyuutaro didn’t mind, he loved how perfectly he could tire you out. Dragged into the undertow of sleep shortly after hooking yours and his phones up to charge before pressing you snuggle into his chest to curl around you easier. Sleeping dreamlessly like he always does after a good fuck even if he misses the vivid images of a family yet to be; of you with a swollen belly his hand caresses lovingly as he presses his ear to your stomach in the hopes to feel a kick.

Unfortunately morning comes quickly for you both, you starting your workday two hours before he does but you always rouse him enough for a parting kiss.

Rousing reluctantly at the sound of his phone going off to your wake up call, staying on the phone with you as he got ready and his entire ride to work until you both had to go. Hoping that today won’t go by too slowly as he puts the lovingly made by you lunch into the break room fridge.

Gyuutaro probably should’ve wished for the slower day, at least then he wouldn’t be too busy to text you back or even call you on his fifteen. The shop’s day was packed with appointment vehicles and walk-ins, working up more than a sweat for the day. He gets 9 cars worked on and pulled from his back before one in the afternoon, dropping a transmission on his own as Tengen and Genya struggle on an engine swap.

He wipes sweat from his brow and grease from his hands as he finishes up his last vehicle, preparing to take his lunch before any more work could pile in. Glancing at the hanging wall clock by the entrance to the lobby’s door as he begins to shed his filthy jumper, tying the sleeves low around his hips in the hopes of feeling a little cooler in the stuffy workspace.

Gyuutaro chugs a bottle of water to half empty in one go when he hears the clang of metal and a frustrated curse from the two men across the way. Snarling his lip as he turns his attention to them both.

Tengen watches Genya use nearly all of his body weight to turn the tool in his hand, the vehicle they’re working on an older model its owner likely doesn’t want to let go of. The younger man with a mohawk had a decent build to him but was fresh out of highschool, maybe just a few years younger than Gyuutaro’s own sister. Your boyfriend could see why he would struggle but as eyes of clear blue skies drift to the bulky moron with starlit locks a rage bubbles in him.

He never did like the oaf, even scrapped with him once in the first few weeks of Gyuutaro’s employment behind the building.

Gyuutaro feels proved correct again that all those muscles he’d sculpted were useless, just decoration; nothing but show.

Genya, being so inexperienced at his age, wasn’t allowed to work on any of the vehicles without supervision as per Hakuji’s orders but Gyuutaro doubted that meant just watching the boy struggle.

And the lanky man doesn’t care, not really, why would he? Genya’s actual brother worked at the shop as well, he had someone to look out for him and Gyuutaro’s made it very clear he doesn’t care about a soul besides two women in his life.

Except for the fact one of those women was dating the man, hearing his younger sister's voice in his head over the youngest Shinazugawa sibling.

Involuntarily recalling the day Ume had broken the news to her older brother, springing the information on him the day you’d invited her over for dinner during her spring break only to have the boy in tow.

He clicks his tongue over the thought, glances at the clock again. Gyuutaro had already missed the window to be able to call you during your lunch hour. Snarling his lip over the fact before the telling sound of snapping metal followed by a string of curses quiets everyone in the shop.

“What fucking moron put this hunk of junk together, they put these fuckin bolts like they didn’t want ya to be able to work on this bitch ever,” monologuing his frustration as Genya returns from his toolbox with yet another tool in the hopes of prying the part free.

Gyuutaro sucks his teeth, cerulean hues flitting between the door and back to the pair before he groans loudly. Annoyed just a bit over how weak he was to his sister’s wishes as well as why did the man of her affections have to fucking work in the same building as him?

Genya was a good kid, he can admit that without issue, he was certainly better than Gyuutaro was at his age. The boy’s only transgression was falling for the girl who’s older brother wasn’t ready to look at her like the adult that she was yet.

Rationalizing that into the reason he crosses the shop floor now to help the poor kid is because he promised Ume he’d be nicer to Genya because she likes him and Gyuutaro had never broken a promise to his sister in his life and he had no intention of letting some punk kid mar his record now.

He’ll give himself a bit more motivation by telling himself it’s also to demonstrate to Tengen that Gyuutaro was always going to be better than him.

Clearing the space from his workstation to Genya’s in six easy strides with long legs, large palm curling lithe digits into the collar of the boy's jumper as if scruffing him like a stray cat. “Move, I got it.”

Ignoring the irritating scoff that sounds behind him from the bulky nuisance despite how he’s been standing and doing nothing for the last ten minutes while Genya struggled.

“Another beanpole ain’t gonna budge—“ mockery silenced the instant Gyuutaro slams his wrench downward and snaps the pesky bolt free with ease. Casting a sideways glance and menacing snarl to the meatheaded man as a smile tugs at Genya’s lips and thanks Gyuutaro for his assistance.

“You were sayin?”

But Tengen is far from fazed, puffing his chest out as his voice raises louder than normal, something Gyuutaro didn’t think possible that astounds him further.

“Oi, oi, mantis boy must’ve gotten laid again last night, he never works this hard when he’s in a dry spell.”

“Three wives n’yer still lazy as fuck, what’s your excuse, pretty boy?”

Tengen wasn’t usually quick to anger, always quick to call being overly hotheaded ‘unflashy’ and often chastised Sanemi over the fact but today must be special for Gyuutaro.

A vein bulges in Tengens throat and forehead, tight lipped smile far from friendly spreading on his glossy lips as he takes a step towards Gyuutaro. Only a few inches taller than the hunching man but still Tengen straightens his spine to talk down his nose at your boyfriend. “What was that, insect?”

Ever unfazed, Gyuutaro has always taken on men larger in size and stature and won. Rolling his neck and squaring his shoulders as he straightens his spine to really look Tengen in the eye.

“Got a hearin problem too or are ya just stupid?” Chuckling to himself as his tilts his chin upwards in challenge, “bet yer wives got tired of bein unsatisfied and figured it’s better jus’ ta fuck each other.”

The fights about to come to a head, Kyoujuro already in the fringes of Uzui’s workstation behind the man when Gyuutaro’s phone chimes in his pocket. He knows it’s you before he even fishes it from his uniform, shoulders slack as he answers and hears your windchime of a voice.

Giving Uzui his back as the man sputters indignantly and a snarl to his lip as Gyuutaro coos at you, “no baby I always got time for ya. I’m not doin anythin important at all.”

#vixen writes #gyutaro smut #gyutaro x reader #gyuutaro x reader #gyutaro x you #kny smut

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velvetures · 5 months

Note

Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon <3 #velvetures answers #anon answered #anon ask

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

part one

———

Lance keeps his word — it doesn’t take long for him to really get the hang of his telepathy thing, and then he really is in Keith’s head more often than he isn’t.

That’s not entirely fair, Keith supposes. He has a pretty good hang of the telepathy thing too, and Lance showed him early on how to put up a pretty thick mental block if he needs some privacy, or even just a break. He knows how to keep his mindscape quiet and personal, if need be.

But the thing is…he rarely bothers.

He likes having Lance in his head, or vice versa. It’s crazy, and he never would have expected it of himself, but having the constant presence of his best friend in the back of his head; talking, humming, or just being, has turned into a massive comfort.

The desperate loneliness he grew up with, although slowly disappearing over the years he’s had Voltron, has faded into almost nothingness. He likes Lance’s noise in his head. It makes communication during battle a lot easier, too.

He’s yet to feel the rest of the team as strongly in his head — he certainly can’t hold conversations with anyone else — but he feels as if the connection that has been constantly present since they formed Voltron for the first time is stronger, maybe. As if he feels a little closer to all his friends.

That’s really mushy, Lance informs him in his mind. You’re a massive softie marshmallow. I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.

Keith sits up, abandoning his fourth set of push-ups to find Lance across the training room, doing some sort of gymnastic routine (blatantly showing off for some of the younger members of the Atlas. He’s not even trying to pretend he isn’t, smirking whenever they point at him and whisper to each other in awe when he does a quadruple in-air backflip or something that serves no actual training purpose).

Keith frowns at him. I am so cool.

Are not. You’re a squishy softie marshmallow that cries during Finding Nemo.

Everyone cries during Nemo! Keith defends huffily. It’s a heart-wrenching movie!

Lance doesn’t say anything back, but Keith can feel the impression of his laughter. It’s a hard thing to conceptualise, because he’s not really laughing, and there’s no sound of laughter even in his mindscape, but Keith feels the teasing joy bleeding from him. The best way he’s come to describe it, after weeks of trying to put words to the feeling as he falls asleep, is the feeling he gets when a joke lands, combined with the kind of raw freedom that comes with running in a dead sprint for no reason other than the pleasure of running. Something concentrated and all-encompassing and heart-turning. That’s what Lance’s laughter feels like.

And Keith won’t stand for it. It’s one thing for Lance to tease him with his words, poking fun at him with his wide, sparkling grin, but to make fun of Keith for the thoughts he’s thinking in his own head?

He will not lie down at the dishonour.

Grinning in anticipation, he scoops up his luxite blade, lining up the shot and throwing with deadly accuracy. The blade spins through the air, so fast it whistles, directly at Lance’s head. If he doesn’t dodge, it will kill him.

But Lance will dodge. He knew Keith was going to throw the blade before he even made the decision to throw it.

Gasps ripple through the training room, several people shouting in alarm as the blade comes closer and closer to killing the Red Paladin of Voltron. Milliseconds before it hits, just as someone opens their mouth to scream a warning, Lance moves, faster than the eye can track, pulling out his bayard and transforming it in the same moment, batting Keith’s blade out of the air with his broadsword like it’s a baseball.

He grins, wide and manic and jumping to the challenge, to the spar.

“That all you got, Mullet?” he calls, swinging his blade like the cocky shithead he is. Keith can hear the impression of his laughter again; he’s dizzy with it, drunk off the heady feeling.

“Not even a little bit,” he says, activating his own bayard. Without needing to say a word, they both charge forward at the same time, arms drawn back and swords heavy with potential energy, meeting in the middle of the training room with a clash of their blades, so hard it sends vibrations up their arms.

The shouts of alarm from the rest of the crew turn into whoops of excitement, as people fan out into a circle to give them space. Keith is relatively certain he sees Pidge and Matt organizing bets out of the corner of his eye.

Ready for a show? Lance’s voice echoes in his head. Distantly, he hears Red’s howling roar, the proud lion wrapping her energy with her paladin, gleefully telling Keith how much she looks forward to seeing her cub wipe the floor with him.

She is a very competitive entity, Red. It sparks something in Black, too, who gets up from her perch in a rare display of headstrong pride and wraps her energy around Keith to match.

You’re going to lose, Keith taunts.

Fat chance, Mullet.

Their strikes are less choreographed, now that a real challenge has been issued, and more than their own pride is at stake. There is no real fight here — whether or not Keith wins, he doesn’t truly care.

(But he’d fuckin’ love having something to hold over Lance’s head for a bit. Better if he could be smug in Lance’s head, where he can’t stomp away with a sulk and a claim that Keith was cheating.)

Swordplay with Lance is difficult. It’s always difficult, because Lance uses a sword in every way except how a sword is meant to be used — Keith has seen him use it as a javelin, a bat, even a vault stick — but it’s only gotten harder since Lance has had access to his mind, because Lance hears and feels his every move, anticipating his every trick. Neither of them have managed to win the upper hand for long, and it won’t be long before the other resorts to dirty tactics.

Keith eyes his forgotten luxite blade. He might be the first, actually.

Forcing himself to think of a flurry of random things, practically throwing a wad of unconnected, unsorted thoughts in Lance’s presence in his head to distract him, he dives to the side, reaching for his blade. Lance realises a split second too late to stop him, and his broadsword comes millimetres away from the skin of Keith’s ribcage as he dodges. He closes his fingers around the softened leather of the blade’s handle, and whips around to face his opponent, bayard in his right hand and luxite blade in his left. By the time he’s ready again to fight, even though he’s only taken mere seconds to grab his weapon, Lance has already flipped several meters back, bayard in his hand transformed to his blaster.

Cheater, the both think at the same time, identical smirks on their faces.

Lance fires six quick shots, aiming at vital places in his body. His shots are all true — Lance doesn’t miss — and Keith barely manages to slide out of the way, one of the laser blasts grazing the side of his neck, burning him.

Lance hasn’t bothered to set his gun to stun. Keith can’t blame him. It’s more fun with the risk.

He rushes at Lance, both swords extended, aiming a slash at the Cuban’s arm with one blade and a stab through his torso with the other — he’ll only be able to dodge one. He’ll either have to yield or take a slice, get a painful hit that will slow him down.

Somehow, though, Lance contorts himself, bending his body in a way that it honestly should not be able to bend and narrowly avoiding both blades, hitting the floor with a heavy slam and aiming a sweeping kick for Keith’s knees to take him down with him. Keith jumps to avoid his powerful legs, somersaulting over his head.

“Oh, boo!” someone, who is most definitely Shiro, calls from the crew. Keith almost forgot they were watching, he’s so caught up in the fight. “Come on, Lance! Get his ass!”

If Keith had the time — that is if Lance let up his assault for even one second, which Keith knows he won’t — he’d roll his eyes. Since he doesn’t, he settles for making a mental note to raid Shiro’s room later and steal the last of the Reese’s he packed from Earth.

Oh, that’s diabolical, Lance thinks at him.

Keith grunts, swiping at the hand holding his blaster. If you help me I’ll give you half.

The offer startles a laugh out of Lance, distracting him for just long enough that Keith gains the split-second advantage, placing the blade of his bayard under Lance’s wrist and twisting until Lance is forced to drop his gun or lose his hand.

“Fuck!” several people yell at the same time. Next comes the unmistakable sound of money changing hands.

“Sucks to suck”, Keith taunts, because he can’t help himself.

But Lance looks undeterred. “It does, doesn’t it.” He aims a heavy kick right for Keith’s sternum, and since Keith is too close to move away and not flexible enough to dodge, it lands square where Lance aims it, the heel of his foot knocking the breath from Keith’s lungs and blurring his vision. He drops his swords when the sudden lack of oxygen makes his hands to weak to grip them.

Lance takes advantage of Keith’s momentary weakness, catapulting forward for an assault. Unfortunately for him, his intentions bleed loud and clear through their bond, and Keith hits the floor with a gasp so Lance can’t wrap his legs around Keith’s neck to choke him out.

Lance curses, falling forward with a flail when his assault doesn’t hit, momentum completely overshot. He barely manages to catch himself before his head smacks into Keith’s, and for half a second he stays there, hovering above where Keith lays flat and tense, ready for the next move.

You come here often? Lance teases, and it’s genuinely such a horrible line that Keith groans out loud. They tussle on the ground for several moments, each trying to gain the upper hand, but it’s literally impossible — neither of them is particularly stronger than the other, so there’s no advantage there, and not only are they completely matched, stroke for stroke, punch for punch, but every move they try is completely anticipated by the other. There’s no way that Keith can win. He can try to spend the next who knows how long exhausting Lance, but they’ve already been training for a while — they’re both tired as all hell. And as much as Keith kind of likes Lance’s hands on him, he can’t forget that there are people watching. He has a reputation.

Truce? he offers.

Yeah, Lance concedes, sighing melodramatically. I suppose I’ll let you call a draw.

Keith rolls his eyes as hard as he can — leave it to Lance to be such a goober about it, even though Keith can literally feel that he wants to call it as much as Keith does.

At the exact same time, they spring apart, setting some space in between them to catch their breaths. Once they’ve had a minute to recover, Lance stands, stepping over to Keith and offering his hand. Keith takes it, pulling himself up.

All the gathered crew groans out loud.

“Another draw?” one of the MFE pilots mutters.

“At least they’re wicked cool to watch,” her friend says.

Keith would be able to feel how much Lance preens at that even if they werent telekinetically bonded.

In minutes most of the crew has dispersed, no longer interested now that there isn’t a fight to watch. Some of them go back to whatever equipment they were training on earlier, but many of them file out of the training room entirely, moving onto other things. Keith and Lance make their way over to the rest of the team, collapsing down to the floor next to them.

“You guys are super duper lame,” Pidge informs them, offering them both a water pouch. Keith takes his gratefully, not bothering with the straw and tearing off the top, chugging them whole thing down in one go. Allura looks at him in mild disgust, which makes Keith grin, because if he’s being entirely, one hundred percent honest, he really only did that to get a rise out of her because he knows she hates it when he does that.

“You’re a liar,” Lance responds, sipping on his juice pouch much slower than Keith does. “We just provided you with what was essentially a full-stakes WWE fight, except Keith and I are both way cooler than any of those losers and there were weapons involved.”

“Weapons, but no drama,” Hunk argues. “You guys barely even spoke to each other. Just fight, fight, fight. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the nuance?”

“I didn’t hear you clown Keith even one time,” Shiro adds, because he’s safely out of range of Keith’s pinching fingers. “Two out of ten Keith and Lance fight. I’m disappointed.”

Keith snorts. “Oh, he clowned me plenty.”

The second the words exit his mouth, he feels Lance go rigid beside him, and a sense of panic comes through their bond.

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Lance tells him desperately.

Keith looks at him strangely, but Lance doesn’t provide any more context, looking at a particular spot on the floor as if it’s endlessly fascinating.

“He did?” Coran asks. He looks at Keith with a mix of intrigue and something he can’t place, something almost knowing. “I heard nothing of the sort.”

“Well, you wouldn’t hear it, per se,” Keith says slowly.

Lance screams unintelligibly in his head. Keith gets a distinctive picture of him in his own mindscape, yelling in anguish, as the Red Lion laughs herself to tears beside him.

What is your problem? Keith tries to ask, but mind-Lance ignores him in favour of his misery.

Pidge narrows her eyes at the two of them. “Clarify yourself immediately.”

“The mind bond?” Keith says, voice turning up at the end of the sentence like it’s a question. “You know, that Lance worked on with Red. So that we could communicate with each other using our existing emotional bonds with Voltron, just a couple steps farther. I know you guys haven’t used it much, but I just figured you weren’t into it.”

Silence.

Heavy, disbelieving silence. Each other member of the team looks at Keith with dropped jaws and wide eyes, like what Keith just said is something out of a science fiction novel rather than something they all should have been able to do for weeks, since that meeting with Iverson.

Keith suddenly gets the very distinct feeling that he has, perhaps, fucked up.

“Yeah, no shit,” Lance says, a little hysterically. His face is so red that he rivals his own lion. Keith can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, and the feeling from the bond is worse — Lance is dripping with mortification. “How am I in your fucking head and you still can’t follow my instructions?!”

“You didn’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret!” Keith defends, rapidly going red himself.

He can scarcely believe what is happening right now. Lance has told him that the point of the bond was to make the whole team get closer, but he’d only ever bothered to build something with Keith.

The whole time, from the very beginning, his goal was to share his deepest thoughts and feelings with Keith, no one else.

Oh, God.

“Oh, God,” Shiro repeats, but his tone is vastly different from the way Keith was thinking it. His expression can only be described as evilly and maniacally delighted, like every horrible hope of his has come true at once. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Oh my God,” Lance says, the third person to say it. His face is buried in his hands, body half-curled up, like if he compresses himself small enough he can disappear into nothing.

“So that’s why it’s like you two share one half a braincell!” Hunk exclaims. “You actually do!”

Pidge and Allura crack up at Hunk’s joke, or maybe it’s Lance they’re laughing at. Either way, Keith feels his head spin.

Lance has literally manipulated the quintessence of Voltron specifically and only so he can talk to Keith in his own brain, communicate the emotions he doesn’t have the words for.

Manipulated. The quintessence of the universe’s greatest and most mysterious weapon. To find more ways to talk to Keith.

Keith is generally kind of a dense person, but he’s sure as shit not that dense.

“Hey,” he says, shifting away from the rest of his team that has rapidly lost their minds and is laughing themselves hoarse, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

I am going to kill you dead, Lance threatens in his mind, too embarrassed to make his mouth work.

No, you’re not, Keith replies, and pulls Lance’s hands away from his face, yanking him close and finally pressing their lips together, no longer waiting for some obscure and future proof that Lance loves him. It’s obvious, with the way he softens, melts into Keith’s hands, and the way something warm and soft and floaty flows through their bond.

Lance changed reality for him.

His love could not be more clear.

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pomefioredove · 29 days

Note

please, PLEASE write a rollo x reader fic where rollo wakes up from a nightmare about his brother and where there to comfort him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

let it be known that the only reason I started playing this game was because they added frollo. rollo is like a cryptid in the HoND fandom

summary: nightmares and comfort type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, established relationship?, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread, rollo vaguely implied to have ptsd because I do and am a scholar in trauma nightmares ^-^

There's a certain point at which bad dreams and reality melt together.

Where the line blurs, and you can't be sure where the nightmare ends and you begin. They so often feel one in the same.

Rollo is familiar with bad dreams.

At one point, he thought there would be a solution. Something to hold them back, to release him from their sticky grasp. He journaled, for a while, but all that brought him was grief.

It happens like clockwork.

Four or five nightmares in one rest, for one to two weeks, at the same time every year. He keeps track of them. How could he not?

They culminate on a certain day, one he dreads in and of itself, and then slowly, painfully die off, leaving him wounded and alone.

It's dreadful.

And it's worse that he knows exactly why they happen.

You had once asked him what keeps him up at night, as a sort of conversation starter when you were first getting to know each other. What a strange question to ask someone, and in such a light-hearted tone.

He told you he sees no use for excess sleep when he can be diligent, instead.

Sloth is a vice, he said. Detestable.

You seemed to accept that as an answer, much to his relief. The truth was far too ugly for someone as pure as you to shoulder. He was only protecting your feelings, after all. And perhaps his.

Rollo hoped, for your sake, that you wouldn't notice. He was still getting used to the idea of sleeping beside another person, and the very last thing he wanted was to burden you with all of what he is.

To put it plainly, he didn't want to scare you off.

The first few nights were easy enough. Nasty imagery wrapped up in otherwise normal dreams, those of which could hardly be considered nightmares.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, and toss and turn until he could manage to fall back asleep, never stirring you.

This time is different.

He wakes, not quite jolting, but certainly thrashing himself back into the present moment like an animal caught in a trap.

His eyes snap open, and there's nothing but darkness, his breathing, and the uneasy feeling of his stomach. It takes a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings.

You're still asleep. Thankfully.

He liked to keep some distance between the two of you, anyway. Rollo had to ease himself into the idea of being physically close with someone without being utterly repulsed.

The only reason he'd entertained the idea in the first place was because it's you, you, pure and good, who would never do anything to discomfort him, you, who even now, sleeps like an angel in his bed.

There's something unclean about that thought, although it's not your doing.

Rollo gets up, careful not to disturb you, and paces around the room while he tries to get ahold of reality. He reminds himself of the date, the time, his full name, anything that will shake the lingering terror coursing through is body.

He does not cry. He hasn't since...

Well. Never mind, that.

Now is not the time to make a fuss. He's not a child, he's not fragile, he can handle his own nightmares without needing someone to tuck him back in.

The dream was so terrifyingly, disgustingly real, though.

The nightmares which aren't nightmares are the worst sorts of dreams, because he instantly feels silly for scaring himself over something so mundane, even if that looming sense of dread and fear still makes him feel ill.

This one was but a normal conversation, with...

...He didn't want to remember it.

The point was more so that it felt so utterly real that waking up like this, having it fall apart around him like the rotting pages of an old book, was like having his head dunked in freezing cold water repeatedly.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He paces, back and forth, in front of the now-dead fireplace, trying to regain his bearings.

He's quiet; he so often is; and yet, still, roused either by the sound of his footsteps or the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the air, you wake.

The sound of your voice nearly scares him.

Rollo turns to you, eyes wide as you sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. "What?"

"I asked if you're okay," you repeat, turning to the space beside you to check the time. "It's two in the morning."

His answer is immediate, as calm as he can muster, although there's a faint crack in his voice on the last word. "I'm well. I was just thinking,"

"Thinking? Now?"

He nods, and turns back to the mantle. His arms are crossed over his chest, acting as a sort of armor, protecting him.

You tilt your head to the side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He hates how perceptive you can be, sometimes. It takes him a moment to think of a suitable answer- is it worth telling you the truth?

"I have bad dreams all the time," you say. "Like... all the time. Weird ones, too. It's nothing to be embarrassed a-"

"I am not embarrassed," he snaps, whirling around on his heels to face you. His tone softens when he sees the perplexed expression on your face. "I was just trying to tire myself before returning to bed. I didn't want to disturb you."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't have minded if you did. I understand... do you want to talk about it?"

He's silent, looking away again, which is enough of an answer to you.

"Then will you at least come back to bed?"

Rollo supposes he should. He doesn't want to risk worrying you any further. That would only stir up more questions.

He settles himself in bed, lying flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, more cadaver than human. You always found that position so amusing, for whatever reason, and even now you can't contain a laugh.

"Are you cold? You're shaking,"

Damn it. He is. He hadn't even noticed... and though his tremors aren't from the temperature, he agrees with you anyway.

"Yes. It's rather cold tonight,"

You hum a small note of contemplation and inch closer to him. "May I?"

Rollo's face immediately turns red, although he can't help but indulge himself... just this once. For your sake, anyway.

He nods.

You come closer, resting your head on his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist in the most comfortable position you can manage while he's lying like this.

Your body is warm, soft, comforting... all things that would normally repulse him, but it's you...

He pats the back of your hand with one of his in a reassuring, though awkward gesture. As much as he expected to feel his heart pounding even harder at your closeness, there's something quite... safe about the embrace. He can't deny it.

"Good night," you murmur, already half-asleep.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax... just the tiniest bit.

"Good night,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #rollo flamme x reader

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a-not-so-clean-blog · 3 months

Text

Savior

Yan Shigaraki x reader

Warnings: mind break, isolation, sensory deprivation

800 words

He wanted to be perfect for you. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. That's why he agreed to become a guinea pig, to become unstable, a monster. When he becomes a true monster you will sit perfectly in his maw. Not like you knew about any of this. All you knew was that you've spent weeks in near total darkness. Scared, cold, and totally alone.

The room itself was pretty big. A plush king sized bed and soft blankets contrasted by a cold tile floor and gray walls. A table and chair littered with books and papers was the only thing to keep your mind active. The desk barely stood on 3 legs, having been broken after a week of being trapped in this box. There wasn't even a window or door to give false hope of escape.

Black fog oozed out of the wall just like it did every day. At first you would cry and beg for whatever was beyond the void to let you out. Screaming until your throat grew hoarse every day until you ultimately lost your voice. Your throat has healed but you know it's pointless to talk anyway. A hand passed through the darkness and left a bag on the floor and took the bag with yesterday's garbage with it. Clean clothes, some food and water, and a sudoku book. The puzzle was a nice change of pace, something to hold onto so you don't completely lose your mind. The isolation was really getting to you though. Often unable to tell if you said your thoughts out loud or in your head. Sometimes even imagining a voice talking back with you. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this isolation before you truly went insane.

The food always looked good, being a simple but balanced meal. Nothing ever too fancy or too cheap. The clothes were shorts and a t-shirt. Thin but it was fine as long as you stayed on the bed. The single light in the middle of the ceiling was on an automatic timer, and the only thing that sort of what you keep track of how many weeks you've been locked in here. At least that's what you have been using as a daily indicator along with the routine food drop off.

Slowly it felt like more of your will was draining along with your sanity. The craving for another human, for any comfort or companionship was ravenous.

You tried a few more times to talk to the void when it would show up, but all that left was an empty feeling in your heart when you never got a response. Despair, that's what it was. A crushing feeling coupled with the intense feelings of loneliness. All you could do was sit and wait, and wait, and wait…

You were never a religious person but watching the wall crumble to dust made your soul scream. An angel! He had to be an angel! Why else would he come and free you after all those months of soul crushing isolation! Freedom. That's right, he was your freedom. So why couldn't you move?

Your chest started heaving and your hands trembled. You watched your savior through misty eyes as you fell to your knees, your legs no longer able to support your weakened body.

“Hello.” His scratchy voice trilled, filling the silence that's been consuming you for so long. “I've waited so long, so so long to be able to do this..”

He knelt down in front of you and roughly grabbed your arms, the piece of metal attached to his left hand biting into your skin. It was impossible to care about the little details though. Not when his hands felt nice and cool against your hot skin. Not when his voice finally broke your burden of silence. Not when the rough feeling of his lips on your own felt like Nirvana.

You know you recognized him from somewhere. His white fluffy hair and cherry red eyes were distinctive enough, but all of your memories from before the room all felt so far away. If it was important you would remember, right? Well as far as you're concerned your angel is the most important thing in the world right now. He was your world.

He kissed you like a man taking his first drink after a month in the desert. A famished roughness that left you light headed, but you returned the enthusiasm as best you could given your weakened state. It felt like you were being eaten alive. Even if you were though you didn't want to stop him. As long as he kept touching you, as long as he was near you, as long as he stayed with you. You wouldn't care what he did. He was your savior after all.

#yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #x gn reader #a degenerate writes #yandere bnha #🔪

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boymeetswerewolf · 7 months

Text

Sterek Week '23 // Day 4, Whole of the Moon / @sterekweek-2023

when you get caught between the moon and new york city i know it's crazy, but it's true if you get caught between the moon and new york city the best that you can do ... is fall in love - Christopher Cross, "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)"

"The Best Thing You Can Do"

When Derek was little, he asked Talia how anchors worked and how he would find his. She explained that anchors were different for everyone, but for him... for him it would be love. At that age, Derek just scoffed at the idea of his anchor being love. How could something so frivolous like being in love help him control his werewolf transformation?

So Derek went through life never quite fully getting the hang of getting his transformation under control during the full moon. The various places he lived at, he would always make sure to lock himself in during his transformation so that he wouldn't go rampaging through the streets of New York on a full moon.

In the back of his mind, his mother's words stayed with him, even though he'd experimented with a million other things as anchors that never seemed to quite work. It wasn't until he moved into a loft apartment and then met his downstairs neighbour, Stiles Stilinski, that things started to change.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight. In fact Derek found Stiles to be a little annoying and a spoiled college kid at first who was just living off his parents' money. But then, somehow, they began spending more and more time together, and as Derek got to know Stiles more he realised he'd misjudged him. He was pretty insecure at times and tried to mask his social anxiety by - ironically - becoming a party animal. But there was a caring side to Stiles that softened Derek to him. Stiles was often concerned with the welfare of his friends, making sure they had everything they needed and helping them as much as he could. He even managed to drag Derek out of the loft to go and party with other people once in a while.

Though Derek could get annoyed if this didn't fit in with his regimented schedule of being a hermit, he did find himself enjoying his time with Stiles. It was during one night out in a club when Derek realised he'd lost track of time... and the moon. The copious amounts of alcohol might have had something to do with it, but there was another reason too. Stiles had been on his mind all night as they were dancing and having fun, so when he walked outside and saw the full moon, Derek just stopped and stared at it.

He could feel the urge to shift come over him, the fire running through his blood... but for the first time in his life he had control over it. He turned around to see Stiles coming outside to find him, a quizzical expression on his face. "Where did you disappear to?" Stiles asked, glancing up at the moon.

"Oh, nowhere... I was just having an epiphany of sorts," Derek grinned and reached out to take Stiles' hand.

The energy that passed through that single touch was electric, and it surprised Stiles who almost pulled his hand away but then after a moment squeezed Derek's hand tighter.

"Well this is new," Stiles said, sounding a little surprised but definitely pleased.

It was the first time they'd intimately touched like that on purpose, neither having spoken of their attraction to the other before. Derek hadn't even mentioned anything remotely related to werewolves that might give Stiles an inclination that Derek was more than he seemed.

"I don't know what's going on with you tonight, but I like it," Stiles smiled and chuckled, wiping his tired drunken eyes with a smile.

"Yeah, there are a few things I need to tell you," Derek admitted, a glint of joy in his eyes, "But don't worry."

"Well see, that's why I like spending time with you... I never feel like I have to worry when I do," Stiles explained, his voice playful but the message earnest. "You make my anxiety just melt away. I can actually enjoy myself, enjoy life"

Derek smiled to himself, then to Stiles. "It's the same for me," he said softly. He couldn't tell Stiles yet how happy that made him, but it wouldn't be long before he did. Even though Derek hadn't realised he was falling in love, he knew without a doubt he'd found his anchor.

The pair took things slowly after that, carefully navigating the path from platonic to romantic, but every full moon Stiles would come over and they'd hang out, most of the time just watching movies and talking about anything and everything. Just having Stiles around him was enough to help Derek maintain control over his werewolf transformation.

And so he realised his mother was right: the best thing he could do was fall in love, which is exactly what he did.

#sterekweek2023 #sw23theme #sw23moon #eternalsterek #sterek #my sterek #my art #my fic

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apocalypseornaw · 8 months

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Meant to Be (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

You're Sam's best friend. That's the only connection you'll ever have to Dean...isn't it?

Warnings: cursing, mention of death. The usual

@lacilou s idea and I kind of ran with it

Also Bobby's alive past the Canon storyline cause I said so

You'd gotten dragged into hunting at a young age. Your aunt was your legal guardian and a full time hunter meaning you were raised bouncing between motel rooms much the same way Sam and Dean had. That was how you met them, Bobby may never have had his own kids but he had no issue in stepping in to help with both you and the Winchesters. When you were deemed too young to leave alone, too young to hunt you'd end up being dumped off at Bobby's.

You'd met Sam when both of you were ten and had gotten dropped off at Bobby's due to the flu. Your aunt had been mid hunt when she realized you were too sick to keep in a motel and Dean had demanded Sam be taken some where he could actually rest and get meds in him.

A quick friendship formed over the course of the next week while Bobby kept the two of you confinded to the living room. You both slept on the couch, curled up on opposite ends. Bobby would keep a schedule to meds that you both had to take along with feeding you enough soup to feed an army and constantly remind you both to drink more water.

When the week ended and your aunt along with Dean and John came to retrieve the two of you neither of you had wanted to leave each other's side, finally finding a friend that lived a similar life.

Your aunt and John ended up synching schedules on the three of you getting dropped off at Bobby's. Dean needed more training while you and Sam were just starting.

Dean was a smart mouthed fourteen year old, he didn't know why he had to get dropped off "like the little kids" he didn't want to train on the guns or knives with you and Sam, made fun of any movie the two of you watched and just seemed like he couldn't wrap his head around you being trained as a hunter.

You tried to be nice to him because he was your best friend's brother and you thought he was cute with his bright green eyes and splash of freckles.

Over the next few years you and Sam grew closer and Dean even started to accept you as a hunter and a friend of sorts. When Sam graduated high school with honors you were in the stands next to Dean, when you got your ged a couple months later they popped up at Bobby's to take you to dinner as a surprise.

While Sam was at Stanford you and him spoke regularly. You knew about the falling out between him and John when he'd headed for college. You'd encouraged Sam to chase his dreams outside of hunting, he deserved it.

You never told Sam how often Dean would track your most recent number down to check on him. You didn't mind Dean calling but seeing him was an entirely different story, the smart mouthed fourteen year old who was "kind of cute" and didn't quite get females as hunters had turned into a twenty five year old with a smirk that made your knees weak and a swagger that made women throw themselves at him no matter where he was.

--------------

You would never admit under torture to the crush you had on the eldest Winchester brother. You told yourself it would go away and it was easily buried for years after all dealing with loss after loss and an apocalypse or two would push anything to the back burner.

You had assumed the feelings were remnants of the fact that Dean had been your first actual crush. Over the years you'd had a few boyfriends here and there and as most hunters a few hookups under your belt as well. Hell Dean had more than a few hookups under his belt and had taken a year off hunting when he'd thought Sam was dead to be with Lisa. You had gotten over the feelings for Dean or so you'd thought anyways.

-------------

What pushed you back fully into the Winchesters' gravitational pull was when you'd gotten hurt on a hunt. A damn tulpa of all things. The embarrassment of getting rolled by something that only existed because a certain number of people believed in it was horrendous. What was even worse was the fact that while you were recovering at Bobby's he'd given you am ultimatum, find a hunting partner or quit.

"Bobby I've only ever been a hunter. I don't know anything else" you'd argued and he'd come right back with "Yeah and I've done lost too much to lose you. Please, I promised your aunt when you were just a kid I'd look after you. This is me looking after you"

You'd given up after that. Two days later Sam and Dean had rolled through Sioux Falls. Bobby had brought up wanting you to have a hunting partner and before Sam could agree to it Dean had spoke up "Hunt with us Y/N. You'd a damn good hunter I've seen you in action. You're Sam's best friend plus me and you get along"

You tried to ignore the little flip your stomach gave when he'd smiled at you, those green eyes as mesmerizing as always. "We'll do a trial run. I'll hang with you two for a few weeks and see if the dynamic can work full time" he'd grinned at that almost as if he'd taken your words as a challenge "Oh sweetheart. I'm a delight to be around and you know it"

You'd rolled your eyes and told Sam "Your brother is too damn full of himself" Sam had laughed and teased both of you by saying "Gee thanks Bobby for recommending me be with these two all the time"

@lacilou

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #meant to be mini series

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inviisiiblelee · 3 months

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just a little note so I don't forget this about my Overpowered!Vox AU, in which Vox becomes the strongest Overlord entirely on accident and through necessity.

The idea of deaths as a Sinner and regeneration having long term effects. You get sent to maybe purgatory, or some sort of void, and must make your way back to fully return. A sort of maze. It gets easier the more you experience it, but typically it only take a month max for most people. And usually they come back faster.

Vox himself doesn't do well in the dark. His first death, if he ever experienced one, would take twice as long. Three and a half months before he returns to his body, or reforms, whichever is easier.

My interpretations of Vox and Alastor insist they've known one another and have been close since they met, Alastor took him under his wing, so to speak. But when Alastor left for seven years, he left Vox behind, who had always been weaker. He wasn't a fighter; he preferred words.

But he was a mess without Alastor, and they had left on poor terms, and he was vulnerable. When he finally died, being attacked for his vulnerability, people didn't stop trying to kill him, trying to take the credit of killing the Media Overlord, who once was protected but was no longer.

Over and over again. Three deaths, twelve, twenty-five. He only needs a week now. After forty-five deaths, he started getting forgetful. He started losing track of time, forgetting how things happened, and becoming paranoid. After fifty deaths, he upgraded his body to support on hand weaponry, including holy weapons.

After fifty-three deaths, he started attacking first, reacting to every little movement. Carmilla and Zestial deemed him a liability, in spite of his many, many soul contracts making him prime need for Overlord meetings, requesting Valentino or Velvette permanently take his place. He would corner those he attacked, if he could refrain from killing them, demanding their souls in return for mercy. They would usually accept, with angelic steel pressed against their necks.

After fifty-seven deaths, he had a hard time recognizing anyone, and remembering what was reality, and knowing whether people were trying to threaten him or not. People die by his hand often because they look at him wrong. He doesn't fall apart emotionally anymore- he fixed that after death forty-seven. He's almost indestructible, safe from himself, at least.

His mind is never quiet. His thoughts are too loud. Sometimes he thinks people can hear them. He scares everyone. People run from him, now. It's odd. But he can make them stop. He is so powerful ... a single turn of the spiral in his eyes and none can resist his commands. He is paranoid. Anyone as fragile as he once was gets his protection. He will lose his mind if you tell him no, or give the slightest hint of attitude or what he may deem as odd behavior. Killing is daily. Accustomed to. He may not be very good at fighting, but who needs to be when he can shape up to be roughly the size of Godzilla itself? He would eat Adam whole and spit him back out if he wanted to, and while Adam would be capable of beating him, he'd have to react fast enough.

Vox has turned into the single most powerful and most terrifying Overlord, but also the single most insane being in Hell. He has no sense of self anymore. He lost everything, including his mind, after Alastor left.

When Alastor returns, Vox doesn't recognize him at first. It's only lucky he ran out of holy-tipped bullets that day or he'd have killed him! Haha!

"How long has it been? Twenty years? Oh. Only seven? That's good. It's been too long, still, old friend, let's catch up!"

#my writing #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #headcanon #my headcanons #vox hazbin headcanons #hazbin au #au headcanons #overpowered vox au #radiostatic #staticradio

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Hey! This is Birdie_Castellan from ao3 and I was wondering if, for the requests, you could maybe do a sort of 5+1 trope (you can adjust the numbers as you please though) of like 5 times Gareth or Robin or someone in the party thought Steve and Eddie are acting weird, plus one time they're not or something?

Okay, I'll admit getting started on this was hard. I didn't know what angle I wanted to go with here, but then once I got started, it poured out of me. I love the idea that these idiots really tried to hide their relationship like they aren't so obviously in love. I also love that everyone is so oblivious that it takes them months to figure it out. - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

Robin

Steve was running late to pick Robin up for their shift.

Honestly, she didn’t even really care that much about being late. Even if it was the second time this week.

She cared because he was being weird about why he was running late. For the second time this week.

At least he’d called this time. He hadn’t remembered to on Tuesday, so she just had to sit on her doorstep and hope he showed up eventually.

He was on his way now, so they’d only be a few minutes late, but Keith would surely ream them out for it. Any charms she could use to get Keith on her side before had long evaporated like smoke; he’d caught onto her not actually being interested in him and now she was no better than Steve.

Just when she was getting ready to wait inside, Steve’s car pulled into the driveway.

“Thank god,” she huffed as she stalked over.

She opened the passenger door and was met with-

“Eddie?”

“Hey Robbie,” he said with a wave, fingers fluttering.

“Okay, one: you’re in my seat. Two: why are you in my seat?”

Eddie looked to Steve, then back at Robin before he got out and sat in the back.

Robin got in the seat and shut the door, buckling up.

She turned to Steve, who was pretending to focus on the rear view mirror as he backed out of the driveway.

“Why is Eddie here?”

“Van broke down,” Eddie said.

“We were just hanging out,” Steve said at the same time.

Robin looked at Steve, who gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel harder, and then back at Eddie, who looked like he was going to jump out of the barely moving car.

“Uh huh. And Eddie’s coming to work with us…why?”

“Lost track of time,” Steve sounded like he hadn’t thought about the fact that Robin would ask some questions when they arrived.

And it’s not like she was oblivious to the fact that Eddie and Steve hung out, she just didn’t realize it was often alone.

Unsupervised.

No kids around to interrupt anything.

But no, Steve would’ve told her if they were…doing anything.

Right?

She chose to move on for now, the tension in the car far too uncomfortable for her.

Keith was only a little bit of an asshole, more concerned about leaving than yelling at them.

Robin immediately started helping customers while Steve restocked movies, Eddie trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Robin watched out of the corner of her eye, and when the customers left, she turned and put all her attention on what Steve and Eddie were doing.

Eddie was leaning against the shelf, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke about something while Steve smiled to himself as he put movies away.

Robin couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

From where she stood, which may have been too far to really tell, it looked like Steve Harrington might have a crush.

————————

Jonathan and Argyle

“Wasn’t Eddie supposed to meet us here already?” Jonathan was pacing, wearing a path into the ground as he kicked more leaves out of the way.

“Dude, relax. Time isn’t real,” Argyle responded, eyes closed as he laid back on the picnic table.

“Something might be wrong, though.”

“Sorry I’m late!” Eddie proclaimed from the trees.

But he wasn’t alone.

Jonathan squinted through the dark and saw Steve following close behind him, hair mussed up and dirt stains on his knees.

“Did you guys run into someone or something?”

“Told you everything was fine,” Argyle finally sat up and greeted them. “You know we can meet at Jonathan’s house next time. Ms. Byers totally took a hit off my last roll and loved it so I think she’s comin’ around, man.”

Steve looked flushed, like he’d been running.

Eddie was barely out of breath.

“Steve, you okay?” Jonathan asked, continuing to suspiciously look over a perfectly calm Eddie.

“Yep! Just wasn’t expecting to walk this far.”

“Okay…”

Eddie pulled a bag out of his vest pocket and handed it to Jonathan.

“Threw in some extra when I knew we’d be late. Sorry man.”

“No worries. How much?”

“$20. Or $30 if you want me to roll it for you,” Eddie normally charged $30 for what he was giving Jonathan plus $20 more to roll it, but since it was Jonathan, he was willing to give him a pretty decent discount.

Him and Argyle were his best customers.

They exchanged money and goods, all while Steve leaned against a tree, seeming dazed.

“Okay, seriously, did you get another concussion Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Steve’s just high. We tried out a new strain and it hit him harder than we thought it would,” Eddie supplied quickly.

It sounded like a lie, but it did seem possible.

And it explained why they were late.

“Same time next week?” Eddie asked, making his way back to Steve.

“Yeah, but let’s just meet at your trailer or something.”

“Sure. Wayne will be at work anyway.”

As they went their separate ways, Jonathan watched the way Eddie slipped a hand around Steve’s waist, guiding him back through the trees.

He could hear him mumbling, but couldn’t hear anything except “so good” and “reward.”

“I didn’t know the babysitter and Batman 2.0 were dating,” Argyle said from behind him, making him jump.

“What? They’re not. Steve’s super straight.”

“Uh. I don’t think so.”

Jonathan looked at Argyle, then back at the retreating figures of Eddie and Steve.

“Alright, man. Guess we’ll find out eventually.”

——————————

Hopper

He was bored. And tired. And sick of having to do bullshit coverage shifts.

He was the Chief, dammit.

He’d been through all this shit already.

But he knew the only way anyone would take him seriously was if he still did the occasional patrol shifts.

He’s already done a loop, surprised to find that absolutely no one was on the roads. It was late, but not so late that he hadn’t expected at least a few people to pass by.

On his second loop, he slowed down when he saw a van parked at Lover’s Lake.

Eddie’s van.

Eddie who was supposed to be laying low.

Sure, he’d been officially cleared for months, but the town still had their doubts.

Being out at 11 at night wasn’t exactly laying low.

Hopper sighed as he parked and got out of his patrol car, not wanting to startle him with the lights or sirens.

The kid could just be trying to get out of the house.

But as he got closer, he could hear low moans.

“Dammit, Eddie,” Hopper said to himself before banging on the back door of the van.

The moaning abruptly stopped and he heard some mumbled cursing and watched the van shake for a moment before the back door opened.

Eddie looked disheveled, which was what Hopper had been expecting.

What he wasn’t expecting was an equally disheveled Steve Harrington.

It was pretty rare that he was shocked into silence these days, but when he opened his mouth to give a warning, nothing came out.

It became clear pretty quickly that Steve was hoping he wouldn’t be seen as he pulled a blanket over himself while Eddie got out of the van and closed the door.

“Uh, was that…”

“Nope. Just me.”

Hopper’s eyes squinted suspiciously.

“Just you?”

“Yep. Had to get out of the trailer. Wayne’s been off all week and the walls are thin. Desperate times, ya know?”

Eddie was good, he’d always been good at convincing people what he was saying was true.

He probably convinced himself what he was saying was true.

And Hopper learned long ago to pick his battles, especially with teens and young adults like Eddie.

He wasn’t hurting anybody, no one else was around, he technically couldn’t even prove he was doing anything illegal at all, so he just nodded.

“Right. Well, this is just a warning for you to take you and your hand back home so I don’t have to get you on public indecency. Got it?”

“Sure thing, Chief!” Eddie saluted obnoxiously.

He made his way to the front of his van, hopping in and starting it up quickly.

“I don’t get paid enough,” Hopper said as he walked back to his car.

When Eddie’s van passed by him, he saw Steve sitting in the passenger seat, blanket curled around him and eyes closed like he was asleep.

Whatever.

Hopper didn’t need to know, want to know, or care to know.

————————

Max

Max may be blind, but she wasn’t blind.

It was easy to see what was going on with Steve and Eddie.

They were clingy, but in weird ways. They didn’t hang all over each other, they clearly were trying to hide their relationship from everyone.

What they did was orbit each other.

Max couldn’t see, but she could tell.

Anytime Eddie spoke, Steve spoke from somewhere nearby. Anytime Eddie sat down next to Max, Steve would sit on her other side. When Steve would excuse himself, Eddie wouldn’t be far behind.

She was pretty sure none of the others noticed, or if they did, they didn’t say anything.

But she finally had to when she was sitting on Eddie’s porch one afternoon, trying to feel her way through a G chord. She heard Steve’s car pull up, his feet on the steps.

“Hey, Max, Eds,” Steve said fondly.

She could hear in her voice that he was looking at them like he did when he was overwhelmed with love.

It was gross.

“Hey, swee-Stevie. Off work early?” Eddie asked.

Max heard Steve take a seat on the same step Eddie was sitting on, but didn’t hear anything else.

At least they were smart enough not to kiss or something. She’d hear that for sure.

“Just a little. Keith didn’t want me getting overtime this week. You giving Max a lesson so she can be the next big rockstar?”

Max let out a laugh.

“Well, he’s making sure I’m not useless with a guitar, but I’m far from rockstar material,” Max said as she started strumming again.

It was quiet for a few minutes, but she knew they were still there watching her.

She finally gave up for the day, her frustration level much too high to properly attempt a new chord right now.

“Alright, someone walk me home so I don’t have to interrupt your date or whatever,” she said as she got up.

Steve choked on nothing as Eddie started immediately trying to argue.

“What? This isn’t a date! Steve just had to come by and pick something up.”

“Are you the something he has to pick up?” Max knew she was pushing, but they were just acting so fucking weird lately and she wanted answers.

“No!”

“Whatever. Can someone walk me home?”

She heard Steve shift his weight on the porch step, then footsteps as he got down.

“Sure thing. Need my arm or just wanna walk next to me?”

“Next to you.”

She got off the step, held the guitar out for Eddie to take, and started walking.

When they got to the gravel road, Steve cleared his throat.

“It’s um. Like it’s really. Um.”

“Don’t hurt yourself Steve. It’s fine. Probably good that you found someone, right?”

She didn’t need any vision to know that Steve was probably bright red.

“Uh huh. Yep.”

They got to her house quickly and he helped her up the steps.

“Need anything before I go?” Steve asked, like always.

“Need you to leave me alone,” Max replied, like always.

“You know where I’ll be if that changes,” she could hear the smile in his voice as he walked back down the steps.

She went inside and thought about how long this had been going on.

Months, really, though they may actually not have noticed or been together at first. They were both idiots in their own ways and they seemed like the type to be stupid with feelings.

But whatever was going on now seemed to keep them happy, and if that meant dealing with their weirdness, Max was secretly happy about it.

—————————-

Dustin

Steve was always at Hellfire now.

And, like, it was cool. It was fine. Dustin liked that he showed an interest now, the rest of the party did, too.

But he was a distraction.

Eddie was the best DM besides Will that Dustin had ever seen, but when Steve started coming to watch, it was like ants had started picking pieces of his brain away to build their homes.

Seriously, he got more stupid by the minute.

And Eddie wasn’t stupid, is the thing.

Whether it was D&D or real life shit or even some subjects in school, he was brilliant.

But if Steve was around, his brain left the building.

Tonight was maybe the worst.

They were on their second to last night for this campaign (hopefully) and Steve had shown up about halfway through.

He’d been a little bitchy, even towards Eddie, and had been sitting on the couch drinking water and rubbing his eyes and neck every few minutes.

Eddie kept glancing over at him, stopping mid-sentence and getting completely distracted.

Everyone was getting annoyed and he knew Erica was one more distraction away from calling him out.

As annoyed as Dustin was, he didn’t want that to happen.

Instead, when he saw Eddie’s eyes drifting over to Steve again, he kicked his shin and widened his eyes at him.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What do you mean, what the hell? You just kicked me?” Eddie whispered angrily.

“You keep looking at Steve and getting lost. Erica’s about to lose her shit,” Dustin whispered back.

“No I don’t,” Eddie said, looking back at the papers in front of him.

“Dude.”

Dustin looked over at Steve, watching as he winced and started rubbing his forehead.

Shit. He had a migraine.

Why did he even come here if he had a migraine?

He knows how loud they can be.

He knows Eddie would take them all home.

Unless…

No. No way.

Dustin was oblivious about this stuff sometimes, but he would know if Steve and Eddie were, like, a thing. Right?

Eddie continued on, but his leg started bouncing anxiously when Steve got up to go to the bathroom.

He was gone for three minutes before Eddie called a break and booked it towards the bathroom.

No one paid much attention except for him, so he walked down the hall and stopped outside the bathroom door.

“You should’ve called me, I would’ve come to you,” Eddie’s voice said quietly.

“Just wanted to see you,” Steve replied, his voice raspy and wet, like he’d been crying.

Dustin resisted the urge to open the door, wanted to see what else they would say first.

“Stevie…”

“After Hellfire can you play with my hair?”

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

That…could be friendly…maybe.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

Dustin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as he realized what was going on.

He walked back to the table, his world spinning at the realization that Steve and Eddie were together and probably had been for a while.

———————————

Everyone

Wayne Munson usually spent his birthday working or with Eddie, but not this year.

He’d been adopted into this little family of misfits and freaks, and he was damn pleased about it.

Joyce had insisted on throwing him a party at her house, everyone was bringing something, and he could invite anyone else he wanted there, too.

Wayne didn’t really have friends. Sure, he went fishing with a couple guys from work every month, but that was more for the fishing than the bonding with people.

So he showed up with Eddie, ten minutes late because Eddie had forgotten to wrap his present until they were about to walk out the door.

Hugs were passed around, Hopper even giving him an awkward one-armed side hug.

Steve and his friend Robin showed up a few minutes later, still in their work uniforms and looking a bit tired. He hugged them both and thanked them for coming by.

It was fun, if a little overwhelming being around all these people as they ate and sang him happy birthday.

He was surprised to see that everyone got him presents.

Look, Wayne was a simple man. He had everything he needed, anything else was just extra.

But he felt loved as he opened gift after gift, small tokens of love from these kids and adults who knew him just enough to know what he’d appreciate.

Mostly mugs and hats, one pair of work boots from Hopper, who insisted they were the best brand he’d ever had.

Eddie handed over a small package, and Steve stood next to him, huge smiles on both their faces.

“This is from me and Steve. Hope you like it.”

Wayne ignored the fact that this was a joint gift, already promising himself he wouldn’t bring up whatever weird thing was going on between his nephew and the Harrington boy this morning.

He started to open it and looked up confused when it was just a handwritten note and a ticket.

“What’s this?”

“Read it!” Eddie bounced up and down.

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but smiled at him fondly.

Hm.

So Wayne read.

Wayne,

A couple months ago, you mentioned that you hadn’t been to the mountains in almost 20 years and you missed the fishing there. I know I was a lot of the reason you haven’t been, and I’m not gonna apologize, because you won’t let me, but I will say thank you.

Thank you for putting me first for so long. Thank you for giving me everything I needed and working so hard to make sure I wasn’t like my dad. No amount of thank yous could be enough, but I hope this helps.

Enjoy your trip, old man. Love, Eddie

P.S. Steve did most of the work on this so if it’s terrible, it’s his fault.

Wayne moved the letter out of the way and looked at the ticket.

A train ticket to the Smoky Mountains. Another paper was folded up behind that showing his cabin reservations on a lake.

Wayne felt tears spring to his eyes as he looked up at Eddie, who was holding Steve’s hand.

“You boys did this?”

They nodded.

“C’mere,” Wayne gestured for both of them to come closer, and he quickly pulled them both into a hug.

But it was interrupted by Mike, the Wheeler with an attitude, only a few seconds later.

“Are we not talking about how they got him a gift together and are holding hands?”

The party went quiet and Wayne felt Steve and Eddie go tense in his arms.

“It’s alright, boys. You don’t owe an explanation to no one,” Wayne whispered to them before pulling away.

But they kept holding hands, and when they looked at each other, Wayne knew they weren’t gonna run.

“It’s Wayne’s day, but, I guess we should just go ahead and tell you all,” Eddie started.

“We’ve been dating for a while, and it’s pretty serious, so we planned to tell everyone at the next family dinner,” Steve rushed out.

Eddie must have sensed his nerves, pulled his hand out of Steve’s and wrapped his arm around his waist.

“How long is a while?” Dustin asked.

“About four months.”

Everyone was shocked into silence.

But then, one at a time, people started saying “should’ve known” and “that explains so much” and Wayne couldn’t help the smirk on his face.

He’d walked in on Steve curled up against Eddie’s chest on the couch one night about a month ago, snuck in so he wouldn’t interrupt them. At the time, he’d known there was something going on, but figured it wasn’t that serious.

He’d never been happier to be wrong.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #5+1 things #the party #robin buckley #wayne munson #fluffy

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