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#okay well it's actually noon now

chuluoyi · 6 months

Text

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

6K notes · View notes

luveline · 5 months

Note

hi lovely jade!! I had an idea for a request: reader who’s pretty independent who hurt her back working out and now can’t walk/shower/etc on her own for a few days x any of the marauders (I really do love them all and especially the way you write them. you can also make this poly!marauders if you feel so inclined).

this is definitely self indulgent, so please feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t do the creative trick.

thank you for sharing your lovely writing with us and being lovely overall!

sending so many hugs to you!!

hi honey, thank u for requesting!! hope u get better soon <3

the boys take care of you when you hurt yourself. fem, 1.2k

You wake in Sirius’ bed with James curled over you protectively. This is not unusual. What is strange is that Sirius seems to have already gotten up for the day, his sleep shirt thrown in a crumpled mess at your feet and his phone off the charger. You scrub at your tired eyes and consider going to look for him, figuring he's probably in the den (or office, depending on which boy you ask), but your back gives a twinge, and then a throb, and you remember the night before.

You rub James’ arm and push it off of your chest, preparing mentally for the pain. You've tweaked it a few times in the past, the next day always being worse than the actual time of injury, and yet the pain you're met with is instantaneously disarming.

“Ow,” you can't help but whine, trying to bend forward away from the pain, and finding you can't manage that, either. You gasp as heat races up your spine and across your shoulders, everywhere and nowhere, like the press of a hot hand.

James mumbles, “What's the matter?” with his head still buried in the pillows.

“James, I think I've really hurt myself.” Tears squeeze so quickly out of the corners of your eyes that you don't have time to recognise the heat of them. Other sensations are more pressing.

You don't know if he's looking at you, but you can feel his careful touch working its way up his arm, and hear the ruffle of the sheets as he gets up. “What?” he asks, his voice stretched with the early hour.

“Last night, when we were lifting, I– I pulled my shoulder and I thought it would–” You make a strangled sound. “It's really bad, what do I do?”

“Woah, woah, don't panic!” He leans in, your blurry view suddenly filled with his gentle face.

James soothes it from there, so to speak. He shushes you softly when you start to sob and helps you lay back down, wiping your tears, not a lick of panic about him. “It's okay, it's okay,” he murmurs, “does that feel better?”

It's better flat, but not gone. “I can't sit up.”

“That's okay,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips, where he kisses your fingers.

He waits for you to calm down before grabbing his phone from his room. It's much later in the day than you'd thought, and Sirius will be working his afternoon shift, while Remus could be anywhere. He likes to write in cafes or parks, somewhere away from the hubbub of the house, lest he be distracted, waylaid with kisses, or pestered into helping make dinner or do laundry or whatever needs doing that day.

“Hey,” James says, hushed, “you okay? Mm… can you come home?” A startled question that betrays the first recipient, Remus’ rasp on the line. “Yeah, I'm fine, it's our little gym rat sweetheart, she's strained her back, she's a bit upset… No, not yet. You think she'll let me?”

“I'm not going to the doctor’s,” you call to him. James smiles at you from the door.

“We’ll see,” he shoots back. “Yep yep. Okay. Well, he's in work… Okay. Yeah, okay. Love you, see you in a bit.”

“What can he do?” you ask. “You should've left him.”

“Same thing as me.” He runs his hands through his hair. It's a little too long again, dark and thick, curled at the base of his neck with flicks behind his ears, though it's short compared to Sirius’ mess. When he drops his arms, the noon time sunshine kisses his brown skin with a gorgeous warmth, and emphasises the lines of veins where they run up his arms. “You look like you're in agony,” he says, covering his mouth with a hand. “Is it really that bad?”

You nod miserably.

He sits next to you carefully, but now you've awoken your pain it won't sleep, and each millilitre of the mattress's distension prompts a new layer of aching. “Sorry,” he says, sounding like he could cry for you, “why didn't you tell me last night?”

James wraps his arms around you in a strange way, trying not to jostle you as he leans down to touch his nose to your forehead.

“I didn't think it would be this bad.”

He talks a little about the doctor's while you wait for Remus to come home. It isn't a waste of time, he insists, the GP is there for a reason.

You're surprised when it's Sirius who shouts up the stairs. “You okay?” he calls.

“Sirius?”

James shrugs. “Remus must've told him. We're fine!”

A rush up the stairs. Sirius pauses by the door, frowning at you both in his bed. “What did you do?”

“Well, I didn't mean to,” you say.

“Not you, darling. James, I told you to look after her, all that equipment freaks me out, and Remus agrees.”

James sighs. “He doesn't mean that.”

Sirius goes to sit with you but stops upon noticing your wince, and instead flops down on the floor near the wardrobe with his phone to his ear. “I'll get an emergency appointment.”

“This isn't an emergency,” you say.

“It is for you. You'll need a sick note sorted anyways.”

“But it's not that bad.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius says, smiling at you softly, an uncommon expression on him, though not unseen, “I know when you've had a big cry.”

He gets put on hold, saving you the further ache of the line music while James strokes your temple. You attempt to hide how much your back hurts, but you're hurting bad and the knowledge that it's not about to go away soon is genuinely scary.

Remus understands uncertain pain. He's last to come home but certainly not the least concerned, shoving his laptop case onto Sirius’ dresser, freeing his hands in favour of your face. “Is it bad?” he asks, looking between you and James for an answer.

“Not really,” you say. James’ face must say differently.

“What painkillers have you taken?” he asks quickly, “I have co-codamols, did you take paracetamol? You can't have them at the same time.”

He frowns deeply at your daunted look. “You haven't taken them already, have you? They're very strong by themselves, with paracetamol as well, you'd–”

“I haven't taken anything,” you admit.

Sirius sighs and rubs his nose into his palm. “Jesus.”

“Oh,” Remus says, hands especially tender, even as he laughs, “of course you haven't.”

“I was a bit distracted.”

He sobers, stroking the fat of your cheek and then leaning down for a careful kiss. “Of course. Haven't eaten anything either, I suppose?”

“No, sorry.”

He kisses you again and pulls away. “That's okay. What about you, Jamie, did you eat?”

They take care of you in their different ways, in the same way they take care of one another. “No,” James says, “but I have it. Swap places with me, I'll make dinner while we wait for the GP to answer.”

“You can make supper at the same time,” Sirius jokes.

You laugh and hurt your back. He is very, very sorry.

1K notes · View notes

headkiss · 1 year

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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woewriting · 6 days

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𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗲 (𝗶𝗶) | 𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 & 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her.

tags. mdni! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (cairo receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness. | word count. 4619

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.”

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath.

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back.

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.”

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him.

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together.

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.”

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist.

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you.

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch.

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth.

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him.

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you.

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death.

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house.

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol.

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle.

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you.

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart.

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.”

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn.

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you."

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head.

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol.

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go.

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.”

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs.

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue.

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.”

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow.

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp.

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you.

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth.

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine.

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you.

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh.

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death.

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes.

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse.

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her. Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor.

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you.

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed.

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door.

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms.

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

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wandaslittlelove · 12 days

Text

Destined Part 3

Warnings: smut, fingering (r receiving), enchanted strap (r receiving), breeding, forced pregnancy

Series Masterlist

It had been about a week since Wanda brought me to this cabin. Within the week she had been playing nice. No yelling, no magic use, nothing. Just pure sweetness. I’m not sure what terrified me more. She had been cooking meals for me everyday, leaving small lingering kisses on my cheek, and allowing me to have free roam of the cabin. She even occasionally let me outside.

The small cabin was surrounded by trees that seemed to stretch for miles. On one side of the cabin there was a sheep pin and the other side was a small little Garden that she would tend to everyday around noon. I wasn’t allowed any further than the end of the sheep pin which was something she made very clear on the first day I was here.

Now though as I sat in the living room watching the tv that Wanda had turned on for me before she went back through the portal to her “castle” I could feel a feeling rise up into me that signified something wasn’t right.

I heard the angry footsteps before I saw her. They echoed throughout the house as she got closer. The closer she got the worse the feeling in my stomach become.

Soon I was face to face with a furious Wanda and before I could say anything she was gripping me by the hair and dragging me to the bedroom. I was forced onto the bed and quickly found my arms tied to the bed with her magic. She angrily mumbled something before flicking her wrist causing my clothes to disappear.

“Wanda? Wanda stop!” I begged as she began to remove her clothes as well. Although that only seemed to make her angrier as she gripped my throat tightly.

“Shut up slut. I have not had a good day. Now be good and let me use you”

Bringing one of her hands up she began to pinch and tug at my nipples. I could already feel my body reacting to the familiar touch as I arched up into her and tried to keep from moaning. I hate that my body still wanted her after everything. As she pulled on my nipples the anger on her face slowly started to disappear a little.

As I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax a little I felt something rub up against my cunt. I opened my eyes quickly and looked down panicked only to be shushed by Wanda.

“Hush detka it’s okay. Mommy’s just going to fill you up with her strap okay. Just wanna feel you” I had heard that sentence multiple times. And by the wording I knew she had enchanted it. We had done it many times before with her always pulling out in fear I may actually get pregnant since neither of us really knew what her magic was capable of.

I gasped as I felt two of her fingers enter me before she started to curl and scissor them, stretching me out. Leaning down she kissed me softly before loosening her grip on my neck.

“Being such a good girl for me. Just gotta stretch you” she mumbled as my stomach began to tighten signaling my orgasm. She brought her thumb to rub my clit in quick circles and began to suck on my neck no doubt leaving hickeys behind. With a loud moan I came all over her fingers and felt her smile against me before pulling away.

As I regained my breath I was given no warning as she began to slowly enter me with the strap. Even being prepared I still struggled against my magical restraints as I felt my walls tighten around her. She let out a chocked moan before slamming into me fully. Her hands were on my hips as she breathed heavily with her eyes closed. Her lips were between her teeth and her grip on my waist tightened before she slowly pulled out only to roughly thrust back in and kept repeating it.

“God, you feel so good around me. So tight and warm. Never gonna get tired of being inside you” her thrusts grew rougher and faster as she felt my arousal leak around her as well as the remnants of my first orgasm. I couldn’t hold back the moans anymore they grew louder the closer I got.

As her thrust began to grow sloppy I could tell she was close. With a weak body I attempted to struggle against my restraints wanting to touch her.

“Mo- mommy please. Wanna touch you” she looks down at me and shakes her head.

“I can’t detka. Can’t- fuck can’t have you trying to push me away when I pump my cum into you. Strange wants to say my kids aren’t real I’ll fucking show him” slowly I became more conscious the closer she got to her orgasm. She was going to come inside of me and there was nothing I could do. I knew nothing I said would stop her and I was to powerless to push her off. And maybe a piece of me wanted this. Wanted to be hers and have a family with her.

Just the thought alone made me get closer and closer to my orgasm. And the tightening of my walls caused her to get closer as well.

“Cum with me princessa. Cum with mommy” with a loud cry of her name I came around her strap soaking it with my juices. Not even seconds later I felt her still and the warmth of her cum filling my womb. With a couple more small thrusts to make the cum go deeper she collapsed on top of me with a sigh.

After a few minutes she begins to pull out causing me to whine and she stops.

“My needy slut. I’ll stay in you for a little but then we have to clean you up and get you some water.” Moving around a bit she finally settled in with me laying on top of her strap still buried inside me and drops of her cum leaking out.

Tag List: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa @idontknow-llol @delulu-bayolet-era @dorabledewdroop @bananasplits-world

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dreamingonfilm · 1 year

Text

✧˖*°࿐ Cramps | D.M

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco takes care of you whilst you’re on your period.

Request: Yes

w/c: 1.1K

You groaned once more as you rolled over in bed, grabbing hold of your covers and bringing them above your head to try and muffle the sound of your roommates talking. On most days, you’d be right there alongside them, complaining about your most recent potions assignment and gossipping about who is taking who to the upcoming Yule ball. But today, all you wanted to do was lay in bed, curl up in a ball, and die; any means of escape necessary to help ease the pain that was going on in your uterus.

It was already noon, and you were still in bed. You had no plans on leaving soon, even if it meant sacrificing your weekend trip to Hogsmeade that you had been planning for the past few weeks. Your friends only giving you looks of sympathy, as they started grabbing hold of all their things, getting ready to leave for the day.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” One of the girls asked you, as the group started heading for the door.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you squeak out, “I don’t think it’s going to get any better any time soon. Can you just tell Draco I’m not going?”

They give you a small nod as they close the door behind them. The room finally silent after a full morning of chatter, at last you could take a nap.

You bury yourself deeper into your sheets as you try and find a more comfortable position. The warmth of the blankets hugging your body as you found yourself drifting further and further into sleep. Nothing could disturb you now.

Nothing except for Draco that is.

The door flung open, a loud bang ricocheting off the walls, as he rushed over to your side. A worried look plastered on his face as he went to put his palm on your forehead. A look of confusion now taking over once he realized you weren’t actually ill.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he asked, going in to give you a kiss on the cheek, “the girls told me that you were sick so I decided to stay behind as well. But you don’t seem ill.”

You didn’t know whether to be angry at him for disturbing you, or appreciative of the fact that he cared about your well-being. You sat yourself up from the bed, a cramp hitting you as you did so, causing you to let out a little yelp in pain and clutch your stomach. Draco gave you a look of sympathy as he realized what was wrong.

“I’m not sick Draco,” you let him know, “just on my period.”

He let out a small hum and gave you a gentle kiss on the nose. It was days like these that you were thankful for the blonde, mean-eyed, Slytherin boy that you were able to call your boyfriend. It was no surprise to you as to why so many people saw Draco as cold, you weren’t a stranger to his rude remarks and cold glances, but thankfully throughout your years at Hogwarts, Draco and you managed to develop a strong and unbreakable bond. One that gave him the confidence to show you this soft side of him, and for this you were grateful.

So, by routine, the boy got up from your side and started heading out the door.

“I’ll be back with your tea and a pumpkin pastry.” He put his hand to the knob and started stepping out.

“Wait!” You interrupted. He turned around and gave you a confused look. It became habitual for him to get you tea and sweets whenever you were sick or during your period, and usually you were okay with him leaving you for just a few minutes.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, just, for the tea,” you hid a shy smile in midst of his concerned gaze, “just remember to add honey and tw–”

“Two sugarcubes, but not the ones from the first cabinet, the ones hidden behind the ugly flower vase near the window.” He finished your sentence. It was such a small and silly thing to be flustered about, especially since it is something that happens so often, but right now, all you could think about was the fact that he was in your room taking care of you and that he remembered how you like your tea.

“I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I didn’t remember. I’ll be back soon, my sweet.” He came back up next to you and gave you a kiss, turning around and then finally exiting the room.

—-

Twenty minutes later your boyfriend finally returned. In his hands your tea, some sweets, and one of his sweaters. He gave you a flashy grin as he came to your side, placing the things down on your bedside table.

“Drink this,” he handed you the tea, “It will make you feel better.”

You grab hold of the small cup and start drinking it. Groaning and trying to resist the urge to curl up into a fetal position every few moments from the constant cramping. “Thank you Dray, but I don’t think the pain is going to go away soon.”

The boy took the now empty cup and set it aside. He pushed a stray strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear as he went to lay down next to you. Peppering your face with kisses as you laughed in between, almost forgetting about the ache. “Is it really that bad?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You let out sweetly, bringing yourself close to him to try and capture some of his warmth. He smelt of mint and mahogany, a scent that you knew all too well. The boy grabbed the sweater from your bedside and handed it to you, watching as you put it over your tank top. He grabbed hold of your hands and started rolling up the sleeves.

“Then,” he finally finished rolling the sleeves and gave you a small kiss, “I guess I will stay with you until you feel better.”

“Even if it’s for the rest of the week?” You asked him, taking notice of how soft his gaze has become.

He closed the small remaining space between you. Both of your bodies glued together as he hummed your favorite song into your ear. Forgetting about your missed Hogsmeade trip, as well as the Pumpkin Pastries that were now going cold on your bedside, he responded,

“Especially if it means the rest of the week.”

And you didn’t doubt his words for a second.

✧˖*°࿐

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist here!

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #draco lucius malfoy #draco #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter #draco fic

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sinkovia · 3 months

Text

Coffee Shop: VII

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

The next morning as Simon lay in bed, he clicked on the link you texted him about the adoption website. Navigating to the section for dogs, he was surprised to find only one listing – the last puppy up for adoption.

It was a male German Shepherd puppy, approximately two months old. Knowing the pup was too young for K-9 training, Simon decided that having a companion at home would be comforting until then. Quickly filling out the online form, within ten minutes, the puppy was officially Simon's.

The shelter informed him that his new furry friend would be ready for pick-up at noon. Simon went about his morning routine, enjoying breakfast and engaging in a rigorous workout until it was time to pick him up.

Leaving the shelter, Simon stared at the small canine now occupying the passenger seat. The puppy looked up at him with big brown eyes, tilting its head to the side. Simon reached over and noticed the collar was blank.

“No name, huh?” he mused, and the puppy yawned in response.

"Like a little ghost," Simon remarked, and the puppy turned its head, seemingly considering the suggestion.

"Should your name be Ghost, hmm? Well, that might be a bit confusing on base." The puppy whined and laid down in the seat.

"Ghost Jr.?" The puppy didn't seem convinced, and Simon nodded, "Yeah, it doesn't have the same ring to it."

Simon reached for his phone and snapped a picture of the puppy, deciding to seek suggestions for a name from the team by sending it to the group chat Johnny had created.

Ghost: Name recs?

Johnny: Bartholomew

Captain: Bloody hell, Soap...

Johnny: What about Ghost Jr.? He has your eyes, L.t.

Gaz: Doesn’t really have a ring to it, mate.

Ghost: Thought so too.

Captain: That little pup does look like a Riley.

Ghost looked at the message and back at the puppy.

“What do you think of the name Riley?” The puppy stood up and started walking over to Simon, nestling himself in his lap before closing his eyes.

“Okay, Riley, I gotta drive, mate; you can't sleep there.” Simon picked him up and placed him back on the passenger seat, but Riley got up and made his way back into his lap.

“Bloody hell. Fine, just don’t move around or I’ll crash.”

Simon picked up a few things for him on the way home and set up a corner of the living room for him. After finishing, he sat down on the couch and took a few different pictures of Riley, sending them to you.

When Simon's name lit up on your phone, you eagerly grabbed it, swiping it open to reveal his notification. Your mouth dropped at the sight of the adorable puppy.

Y/n: WOW, you actually adopted him!? He’s so cute!! Did you decide on a name?

Simon: Riley.

He sent another picture of Riley, the puppy looking down at the camera, lifting his paw up, and you nearly melted.

Y/n: Riley is such a cute name for him. Have you bought him any clothes or toys?

Simon smiled as his eyes read over the message. So, you think his last name is cute, huh?

Simon: Riley is my last name.

Simon: Clothes? Dogs need clothes?

Y/n: Oh, I didn’t know that. The name suits him. He’s like a mini you :)

Y/n: They don’t need clothes, but it makes them look really cute. He might need little shoes since it’s getting colder.

Both you and Simon found yourselves smiling at your phones as you texted back and forth. The conversation shifted, and you asked him about his day. You even sent him a picture of your cat Missy, to which he replied.

Simon: She looks hateful.

Y/n: No, she doesn’t! She looks cute.

Throughout the day, you and Simon exchanged a few pictures. Simon shared more photos of Riley, curled up next to him while watching a movie. In return, you sent a picture of yourself in your garden, busy planting new flowers.

This led to Simon asking more about your garden, and you gladly shared details about your favorite plants and flowers. You took him on a virtual photo tour of your backyard, showcasing a thriving fruits and vegetables garden.

Simon: What type of stuff you growin?

Y/n: Some onion, garlic, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini, carrots, and some others I can’t remember off the top of my head.

Y/n: I even have a cute little apple tree!

You snapped a picture of Missy sunbathing next to your basket full of produce. Simon smiled at the stretched-out cat, leaning over to show Riley the picture.

“You fond of cats?” Riley started nibbling on the hem of Simon's jacket.

The following day, in the afternoon, you found yourself finishing the batch of apple strudels you had baked, only to realize you had made too much. A sigh escaped you as you surveyed the pan filled with the pastries and glanced at the abundance of produce you had harvested the day before. The realization hit that, being just one person, much of it would go to waste before you could use it all.

You decided to put some of the strudels into a container. Grabbing an extra basket, you carefully arranged half of the vegetables you had picked yesterday.

I'm sure Simon wouldn’t mind a free delivery?

With a small basket and container in hand, you made your way up his driveway and rang the doorbell. Simon peeked through the peephole and cursed when he saw you on the other side.

“Just a second.”

He quickly retreated to his bedroom, donning sweatpants and a hoodie before returning to the door, opening it.

“Hi, sorry to bother you so randomly in the day. I just wanted to drop these off since I had extra.” Simon looked down at the basket in your hands, and then his gaze went to you. He was about to thank you when Riley went between his legs, walking to you. Your eyes grew wide, and you put the basket down on the ground.

“Hi Riley, aw, look at how cute you are.” Simon smiled down at you, loving the way his last name sounded when you said it. Riley was licking your face, and you laughed.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you're busy.”

“Wasn’t doing much before you came.”

Simon had been lying in bed, watching a Gordon Ramsey cooking video in nothing but his briefs.

“Okay,” you smiled up at him, and he reached over, grabbing the basket you brought. You picked up Riley, and both of you walked inside.

Simon's living room bore witness to his minimalistic approach to decor, featuring only a couch, a TV, and a coffee table. As you stood in his living room, the blank walls and empty space caught your attention.

“Sorry love, don’t really know how to decorate.” You laughed, placing Riley down.

“There’s actually a Ross not too far from here. Maybe you could get a lamp… or two. Maybe a painting?” You glanced around, noticing the absence of a dining table or any items on the counters in the kitchen.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this house was for sale.” Simon laughed, placing the basket you brought on the counter.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of a Ross.” You turned to face him, eyes wide, “You're joking, right?”

“Dead serious, love.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the Ross building. “You're telling me you’ve never been inside one of these?”

Simon shook his head again. What was the big deal about this store?

"They have everything in this store! Furniture, clothes, skincare, shoes, purses, home decor, even some spices and snacks, but I wouldn’t trust it. You have to go, Simon! They even have clothes and toys for dogs.” Glancing at the time, Simon looked back at you.

“You have anywhere to be right now?”

“No, I don’t really have things planned on the weekends besides spending time with Missy.”

“You think she’d mind if you were gone for a few hours.” Your smile grew as you caught on to what he was hinting at.

“No.”

Simon placed Riley in the large cage he had bought, and the drive to Ross took only around five minutes. The short trip to the store became a chance for Simon to discover more about your interests and preferences for small talk of course, not that he wanted to know more about you, of course not.

As you walked into Ross, you rambled on about various pieces of furniture and decor, grabbing a cart and leading Simon towards the furniture section. Simon's eyes widened as he checked the price tag for a nightstand.

“Are these things broken or chipped? Why are they so bloody cheap?”

You laughed as Simon added the nightstand to his cart. Navigating through the store, you selected a stylish black lamp, and Simon followed suit, placing it in his cart. Moving on to the decor aisle, you looked at various candles, allowing Simon to sample a few before he settled on one with a pine scent.

You continued adding small decor items for Simon's coffee table – throw pillows, throw blankets, a rug, a bookshelf, minimalist frames, place mats, and even a skull wax warmer with some clean linen scented melts. Your choices filled the cart with a mix of stylish and cozy additions for Simon's home.

In the kitchen aisle, you insisted on essential items – a fruit basket, organizers for his pantry and fridge, additional pots and pans, and more cooking utensils. Simon, who only owned one pan and one of each silverware, recognized the practicality in your suggestions.

In another aisle, he saw you looking at a cat mug before putting it back and wandering into another section. He quickly grabbed the mug and placed it at the bottom of his cart before making his way to you.

“You ready, love?” You hid something behind your back and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll meet you up front. I just need to look at something real quick.”

You found yourself in the doggy section of the pet aisle, examining various toys and outfits for Riley. Noticing he only had one rope chew toy, you felt compelled to get him more. You selected a little squeaky bone chew toy, a tuxedo, a sweater, and some adorable little shoes – perhaps a size too big, but too cute to resist. To complete the ensemble, you even chose a fluffy bed for him to sleep on.

Doubt crept in – was this too much? Should you put something back? Would Simon find it odd? Shaking off the uncertainty, you shrugged and placed everything in your cart. As you made your way to the registers, you spotted a clearance aisle filled with past holiday-themed items. A cute black and white skull mug caught your eye, and you picked it up.

He asked you to draw skulls on his bookmark, and he really liked the skull wax warmer. I’m sure he’d like this.

Placing it in your cart, you walked to the registers. Meeting Simon at the front after both of you finished paying, you helped him carry his bags to the car while he handled the nightstand.

When you returned to Simon's house, you dove into helping him unpack everything in the living room. You organized items, rearranged furniture, and experimented with different placements until the layout felt just right.

While you were busy making his home feel cozier, Simon had taken charge in the kitchen, using the ingredients you brought to prepare a meal. He made oven-roasted vegetables and steak, with guidance from a Gordon Ramsey video. Pulling the newly purchased mug from the Ross bag, he washed it and filled it with ice water.

Unbeknownst to Simon, you had stationed yourself on the floor behind the couch, secretly dressing Riley in a little tuxedo. Just as you finished putting on his tiny pants, Simon walked over with two plates, setting them down on the coffee table. Trying to conceal Riley, you quickly grabbed some black kids' sunglasses from the bag and placed them on Riley before picking him up and showing Simon.

“He looks like the dog from the bookmark! I couldn’t find a toy assault rifle, though.” Simon paused for a few seconds, looking at Riley and you holding him up with a big smile. He laughed and picked Riley up, your hands brushing against each other for a moment.

Simon couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, feeling your hand against his. A foreign sensation of touch, yet Simon found himself yearning for his hand to linger against yours a few seconds longer.

“I have to show the boys this.” Simon laughed, handing Riley back to you so you could hold him up. He took a picture from the side, excluding you, but the moment he sent it, the boys bombarded his phone with questions, asking if those were your hands and if you two were on a date.

“I also got him another outfit, it’s this sweater and some little shoes for when you take him outside when it starts snowing.” Simon smiled as you gestured towards the other outfit laid out on the couch.

“Thank you, love, for spending your money on him. You really didn’t have to.” You smiled and got up, sitting on the couch.

“It’s no problem at all. I wanted to see him dressed up.”

“He’s definitely going to be a ladies' man at the dog park now.” You laughed, finally noticing the two plates on the coffee table.

“Oh! Is this for me?” Simon walked over to the kitchen, bringing your new mug. “No, it’s actually for Riley.” He approached you with a grin and placed the mug down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes grew wide upon seeing it. “Oh my god! I was thinking about getting this mug at Ross!”

“It’s yours, love, and I cooked dinner for us as a thank you for spending your day helping me spruce up my place and for sharing your garden with me.” You smiled, looking at the delicious meal in front of you. Simon had used the potatoes, carrots, and everything you gave him. The aroma filled the air, and you realized how hungry you were. Almost forgetting the mug you had bought him, you dug through the bag and pulled it out.

“I almost forgot. I actually got you a mug.” When you handed it to him, he smiled, looking at the little skulls.

“You know me so well.” You smiled up at him, and the moment lingered for a few seconds before Riley tried to jump on the coffee table to get to the food.

Simon put on a movie, and both of you enjoyed dinner together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and sipping from the cups you had bought for each other. After finishing, you insisted on washing the dishes he used to cook, despite his multiple offers to handle it. You expressed gratitude for his effort in cooking, considering the least you could do was tackle the dishes.

Once done, you both indulged in an apple strudel, using the moment to learn more about Simon—his favorite color, a few favorite foods, little details that brought you closer. As the night grew late, you decided it was time to head back home.

“I should really head back home; it’s late.” Despite spending the day with you, Simon felt a twinge of disappointment at your leaving.

“Let me grab my keys; I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, are you sure? I mean, I only live a few houses down.”

“I insist; it’s dark out. You only live a few houses down anyway; it’s no bother.”

Strapping Riley to a leash, the three of you walked to your house. You pointed out various flowers and plants around your front door, and Simon mentally noted them down, remembering the ones you said you didn't have.

“I had a lot of fun today, and thank you again for cooking and for the mug.” Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket while Riley sniffed around your flowers.

“I should be the one thanking you; my house doesn't look like a prison cell anymore.” You laughed and lightly shook your head. “Maybe next time you could come over, and I could show you how to grow a thing or two. You could meet Missy.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.” You smiled and kneeled down to say goodbye to Riley.

“I’ll talk to you later, goodnight Simon.” You grabbed the keys from your pocket and unlocked your door.

“Goodnight, love.”

When you closed the door behind you, Riley let out a low whine. Simon turned and began walking away.

“I know, Riley. I feel the same way.”

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salfishersface · 3 months

Note

Hey! I saw your fics and I really liked them 😊💖

I was wondering if maybe you could make a part three to baby fever where reader finds out they actually are pregnant?? I think it'd be really fun to see, only if you want to of course!

Have a good day/noon/nights 💗

Baby Fever Part Three || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - You and Sal find out you're finally pregnant.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 1.9k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Part One || Part Two

Waking up nauseous wasn’t unusual for you, especially when you hadn’t eaten since the early evening before. You thought nothing of it, just ate some food and went about your day ignoring the sickness. Even after a few days of feeling nauseous, you put it down to a virus or some bad take-out food. Then other symptoms started: tender breasts, cramping and obscure food cravings. But yet again, you didn’t think anything of it. You just put it down to your period, after all these symptoms weren’t uncommon for your cycle. It wasn’t until you were adding some appointments down on the calendar did you notice that your period was actually three weeks late. Your cycle was usually like clockwork. It started on the same date every month, so for it to be late was out of the ordinary. You and Sal had been trying for a baby for months now, making love whenever you could, sometimes even multiple times a day to increase your chances of getting pregnant but to no avail. You tried your hardest not to get excited when you saw the calendar, not wanting to get your hopes up and mourn a baby that never even existed when your period inevitably came but you couldn’t help it. You ripped the calendar off the apartment wall and rushed into yours and Sal’s shared room, not caring whether you woke Henry and Lisa up.

“Sal! Sal! Wake up!” You shouted, shaking him. Sal groaned, turning over to you as his eyes fluttered open. Even in the mornings when he had ‘morning breath’ and bedhead, he was still the most handsomest man in the world to you. He lifted a hand up to cup your cheek and smiled softly at you.

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“Sal! This is important,” you whined.

“What is it?” Sal asked, finally sitting up in bed. You thrusted the calendar in his face and pointed at the date, but he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him. “What is it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“My period is three weeks late!” You exclaimed, a huge smile on your face.

It took Sal a few moments to comprehend what you were trying to say, but when he did he immediately jumped out of bed. “You’re pregnant?” He asked, voice filled with excitement.

“I don’t know for sure,” you said, voice turning solemn before you perked up again. “But there’s a good chance!”

“Well, have you done a test?”

You shook your head. “No. I wanted to do one with you, but I couldn’t wait until your alarm once I realised.”

Sal nodded and smiled, grabbing his boxers and pyjama pants off the floor and slipping them on. “Well, let's go!” You nodded and grabbed Sal’s hand, practically dragging him to the bathroom. Once you were in, you closed the door behind the two of you as Sal opened the cabinet on the wall that contained all sorts of toiletries: including pregnancy tests. Shakily, he handed one to you. You took the test and watched as Sal took out the box to look for the instructions.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“Looking at the instructions,” he said, eyes scanning the words written on the back of the test box.

“We don’t need instructions Sal,” you said, a slight chuckle in your voice. “They’re pretty straight forward. I pee on the stick and it tells me if I’m pregnant or not.”

“But the lines are confusing,” Sal said, furrowing his eyebrows.

You shook your head, smiling. “No they aren’t. One line for negative, two lines for positive.”

“Okay. One line for negative, two lines for positive,” Sal repeated. He watched with intrigue as you pulled your pants down and sat on the toilet, placing the stick between your legs. After a few moments, Sal spoke up. “Why aren’t you peeing?”

“I’m nervous because you’re watching me!”

“Okay, sorry, sorry. I’ll look away.”

Sal turned around and faced the wall and surely enough, within a few seconds he heard the trinkle of your urine against the toilet bowl. When you were finished you removed the stick from between your legs and placed the cap on it, pulled up your pants and washed your hands. “Now we wait two minutes,” you said, putting a timer on your phone.

“Two minutes?” Sal exclaimed, to which you nodded. You could see through those two minutes how eager Sal was. He kept peeking between you and the test, biting the skin around his fingernails nervously as the timer on your phone ticked away. The second the timer went off, Sal grabbed the test from the side and looked at you. “We look together okay?” He asked, waiting for your nod of confirmation. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”

On the count of three, Sal turned the test around to face the two of you and immediately you were faced with two clear, red lines. “One line for negative, two lines for positive,” Sal repeated, his eyes wide. He looked at you and immediately broke out into tears. The two of you began to hold each other as tears of happiness fell down your cheeks. “We’re having a baby!” Sal gasped as he caught his breath.

“We’re having a baby,” you repeated, biting your lip and moving away slightly to look into Sal’s eyes.

“Oh my God,” Sal exclaimed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Finally!”

“I know,” you said, laughter erupting from your throat. “I thought it would never happen because we wanted it so much.”

Sal kissed the top of your head and smiled down at you. “I knew it would happen. I just knew it.”

“Oh, did you now?” You teased lightly.

“I did,” he remarked with a smirk. “Now come with me,” he said, holding out his hand for you to take.

You took his hand and looked at Sal curiously. “Where are we going?” You asked.

“Well, I was thinking we’d celebrate,” Sal smirked, grabbing your hand and leading you back to your shared bedroom. He closed the door behind you and took the pregnancy test out of your hand and placed it on his nightstand.

“And how are we celebrating?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I think you know,” he grinned, pulling you down with him onto the bed gently. He pressed his lips to yours passionately, immediately poking his tongue into your mouth and fighting for dominance against your own tongue. You let out a soft moan into the kiss and sighed dreamily as Sal began to remove each item of clothing on your body. He did so teasingly, slowly, and passionately. His hands traced your curves, roaming over your stomach that was growing his child and cradling you protectively. “Oh my sweet girl,” Sal groaned as he squeezed your breasts slightly. “The mother of my child.”

You smiled upon hearing those words, and revelled in the way Sal was touching you all over. “Sally, please don’t tease me,” you begged silently.

“Okay, okay. Since you’ve been so good and you’re giving me a baby, I suppose I can reward you,” he said slyly. He removed his pyjama pants and boxers before climbing on top of you, lips attaching to your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin. Sal was already as hard as a rock. The thought of you finally being pregnant with his child had filled him with so much joy and arousal. He slipped his cockhead up your folds and lubricated himself before slowly inching into you. A loud gasp left your lips. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You nodded in agreement, and held onto his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock pushed deep inside of you and he finally bottomed out. A moan left his lips almost immediately. “Jesus Christ, Sal,” you moaned out, biting your bottom lip to stop a louder moan from leaving your lips.

Sal’s pace was slow and sensual, a lot of love was poured into all of this. Your wish of having a baby together was finally coming true and Sal just wanted to show you how thankful he was. His hands roamed over your body, grasping and grabbing at every piece of flesh he could as he moved against you effortlessly. “God I love you so much,” he whispered into your ear.

“I love you too,” you managed to choke out between broken sobs of pleasure. It was all becoming too much and you wanted Sal to move faster. “Please Sally. Move a bit faster.”

He complied with your request, his hips snapping against yours but still keeping the sensual rhythm. You let out a whimper as he continued to thrust into you, heavy balls slapping against you. “You feel so good,” Sal groaned, biting and sucking at you. His hands cupped your breasts and began to play with them gently, noticing how tender they were.

“Sal, I’m gonna cum,” you cried out. Sal nodded and moved a hand down to your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves between your legs until you came undone around his cock. You squirted with ease, making a mess of the bedsheets and Sal’s torso.

“God I’m going to cum too,” he whimpered pathetically. His hips continued to slam against yours, but his movements stuttered as thick ropes of cum spurted from his head and deep inside of you. He moaned your name over and over like a prayer he could never get sick of as he shuddered deeply. When he had finished cumming, he pulled out of you and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. A wide smile laced his lips. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you joked, nuzzling into him.

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly.

“What are you thanking me for?” You asked quizzically.

“For giving the weird kid a chance. For seeing me as more than a freak who sees ghosts. For giving me the life I never thought I deserved.”

A tear rolled down your eyes at his words. “Sal,” you sat up, and looked down at him. “You deserve all the love in the world. More than I can give you. But this child and I, will do the best we can to make sure you feel that love.”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“We love you too,” you replied, pressing your head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“I suppose we have a lot of people to tell the good news too,” Sal said, sitting up.

“I’ll contact the doctor tomorrow. We’ll get a scan before we tell people,” you answer, but nod at the same time. “We can have a little reveal party. Something grand and spectacular.”

“I agree,” Sal nodded, kissing your forehead. “Tomorrow, we’ll think of ideas.” You nod in agreement and smile at him. “Rest now, my love. You’ll need it.”

You let out a soft yawn. “But it’s still morning.”

“Have an early morning nap,” Sal chuckled. “You deserve it.”

“Suppose I could take a nap. I have been up for a while,” you reply. Sal nodded and pulled you even closer to him until you were almost lying on top of his body. He stroked your hair until you fell into a sleep, full of dreams of motherhood and the excitement that was to come in your life.

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 7] First Ultrasound

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

On what you’re assuming is the start of the third month of your pregnancy, you finally manage to make an appointment for your first ultrasound. You debate if you want to tell Toji or not. Would he want to come? You’re not too sure if you’re being honest. He’s told you that he wants to be the best possible father for your child, but you don’t trust him. Given his track record, you can’t exactly trust him.

“I’m just here to drop off your money.” Toji can easily transfer money through the bank monthly, but he chooses to give it to you. Every two weeks he’s at your door with your money. You agreed to quit your second job and take his money; you still have your second job, but the nights that you know he’s coming, you take off. Toji invites himself in even if he’s just handing you an envelope. He never comes just to give you that.

“How’s work?” You ask, closing the door when he enters your apartment. You find it ironic that you talk more now than when you were married. He actually engages in conversation now, and he tries to talk to you as well, asking how you’re doing.

“Exhausting.” He answers. You can tell that he’s been working more lately, or at the very least he’s not getting proper sleep. There’s visible bags under his eyes, and he’s slowly letting himself go, at least he doesn’t give the proper care since he has a bit of a stubble; he’s also due for a haircut. “How about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay… I’ve been dealing with a bit of morning sickness but nothing crazy.” You answer. You leave out any other of your symptoms. How your breasts are sore, you’re extremely tired (which can also be alluded back to your second job), how you’ve suddenly been having the weirdest cravings. Sure, you’re talking, but you don’t want him to know more than necessary. You try to change the topic since you don’t like having the spotlight on you, “How’s Megumi doing?”

“He’s doing fine… He has a baseball game next Thursday, if you want to come.” He informs you and you take a note of it. You’ll try to go since you have a soft spot for Megumi, but you’re not certain that you’ll make it.

“I’ll try. Hope I’m doing better then.” You respond. He slowly nods in response, and he tries to think of something to talk about, but nothing comes to mind so he begins to walk to the door. He won’t try to waste both of your time. Before his hand wraps around the doorknob, you speak up,

“Toji…” He completely stops. Not a single breath comes from him until you speak again, “I know that you’re busy so, I’m just inviting you to be courteous… I have my first ultrasound tomorrow, if you want to join me.”

“What time?” He asks, and you tell him. At noon. He nods, and tells you, “I’ll come pick you up.”

He stands still for a moment, wondering what to do next. Wondering if you’re going to do something else. You stand in completely awkward silence for a minute before Toji realizes that nothing else will happen, so he walks out. He doesn’t say goodbye, although you don’t mind it because he never does.

Toji hasn’t been a man that’s usually punctual, so you’re surprised when he’s early. You might’ve told him that the appointment was earlier than it actually is so you wouldn’t be late, but there’s not much you can do when he’s right in front of you, thirty minutes before your appointment. The place isn’t even a twenty minute drive.

“Hi.” You awkwardly smile at him. You notice how he’s finally shaved the stubble, and you’re curious if he did so last night or this morning. “So… I might’ve– The appointment was pushed back to twelve thirty.”

“Oh– Okay.” He answers. You almost tell him the truth, but it might incite an argument so it’s best if you ignore it and tell a little white lie. He won’t question much, he never does, so you’re safe. “Did you eat something already? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” You respond, and he nods his head. He isn’t going to argue with you that you should eat something regardless, you’re pregnant and you have to keep yourself healthy for the baby– He isn’t your father nor your husband, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. And while Toji wishes he could say he was worried about this pregnancy, he simply isn’t. As fucked up it is to even think about it, he’s more worried about you than the child you carry.

“What do you want to do then? Do you just want to head out and wait?” He asks, and you nod your head in response, if you get lucky, your appointment will start earlier. You disappear out of his sight for a moment to grab your purse, but you’re back quickly. You exit the apartment and you begin to walk to his car.

The car ride is silent, you don’t have much to talk about. You don’t sense him being as excited… Or excited at all about this so you’re quiet. You don’t pay him any mind. You’re over the moon at the thought of looking at your baby for the first time. You’re in disbelief that you’re about to become a mother. Finally.

You get to the place and check in. Waiting feels interminable as you sit next to Toji. He simply looks around, while you begin to play a game on your phone. Toji finds himself bored, and since he doesn’t have anything interesting to do, he chooses to try and talk to you. He clears his throat, and speaks up, “So how far along are you anyway?”

“Hm… I think, maybe three months along? I do have a bit of a bump.” You share, and Toji’s brows raise, he looks over at you, but your shirt is baggy which doesn’t let him really figure anything out. His eyes keep staring, and he finds himself frustrated at the fact he doesn’t know. If you lived with him he’d see your body better, and he’d notice every small change. At least that’s what he thinks.

Your name is called and you stand up, following the woman to the ultrasound room. Toji follows behind, walking much slower, trying to see if he does notice a bit of a bump. The previous night you were wearing a tank top– He didn’t notice anything then. He isn’t all too observant anyway so maybe he missed it.

Toji watches as you lay down, and you begin to talk to the technician. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on between you two. Until you finally lift up your shirt, and he does see a bit of a bump. It’s nothing that’s really noticeable but it’s there when you lift up your shirt, it’s definitely something he would’ve noticed if you lived together.

You squeal as the cold gel is poured on your abdomen, and the transducer is then pressed on your skin. Your eyes then fall on the monitor, and an immediate smile comes to your lips. A little kidney bean. Your eyes well up with tears as the technician points out their little head.

“It’s just one baby, right?” Toji asks, and the technician assures him that it’s just one baby. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He notices you stick out your bottom lip, and he rolls his eyes. You seriously didn’t want twins, did you?

You look over at Toji, trying to see if there’s a bit of excitement behind his eyes when he looks at the ultrasound, and while it’s not clearly written on his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he looks at the monitor. He perks up when he hears the sound of the baby’s heartbeats. It’s in that moment that Toji realizes just how big this is–

He’s a father, he knows the birth of a baby is a big deal. Toji would give up his life for Megumi. But your pregnancy… The beginning of it didn’t excite him the way that his first wife’s did. Maybe it’s because he was set on not being a father again, or maybe it’s because you’re separated. Perhaps it’s because even though he wanted to use your pregnancy as a means for you to stay, you still left. He’s just focused on you and your relationship, not the fact that he’s actually becoming a father again. Doing it all over again.

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to do it all over again; but he feels the excitement slowly grow by looking at his baby and listening to their heartbeat. It’s nothing too crazy though.

When the technician finishes up, you’re handed a napkin to wipe off the gel. You do so, and you’re told to wait for the doctor. You’re smiling foolishly, thinking that you’re becoming a mother even though you had given up on that dream a while ago. Given that dream up for the man that’s waiting next to you.

“You seem really excited.” Toji comments when you’re left alone. He watches your hand go to your lower abdomen as you look up at him.

“I am. I can’t wait to meet my baby.” You answer. Toji chuckles, your excitement radiating and infectious. “Do you want a baby boy or a girl?”

“Hmm… A baby boy since I already know how to deal with boys. I have no idea how I’d raise a girl.” He responds. “How about you? Do you want a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference, I just want a healthy baby. Boy or girl.” You reply, and Toji wonders if that’s how he should’ve responded. Would that have gotten him positive points with you? Did his response fuck everything up a little more?

The doctor walks in, and she tells you what you want to hear. The baby is healthy, and growing the way they should be. You’re around fourteen weeks along– Which means you’ll be due around December, and that you’re further along than what you assumed. Your baby wasn’t conceived the night that you told Toji you’d be leaving him.

You get your ultrasound pictures, and Toji takes two, even though he tries to act like he isn’t excited.

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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strangersteddierthings · 10 months

Text

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven?#just one more part #not fully edited because im at work so apologies for that

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ludibriadormonoteista · 2 months

Text

BEFORE and AFTER II

Part 1 here.

Before:

Jaune: *Yawn* Man. This Vytal Tournament sure got me tired. I hope my Team doesn’t mind me taking a nap this early in the-

*SCHWING*

Jaune: *With a Saber Pointed to his Face* …Noon.

Winter: Mr. Arc, I presume.

Jaune: T-That’d be me! Wait, were you just waiting for me by the dorms?

Winter: That’s classified. *Sheats Saber* Winter Schnee. Atlas Specialist. I have come to discuss matters pertinent to you regarding my sister.

Jaune: You’re Weiss’ sister?! Uh-! I mean-! We’re good friends! Yeah! Though I guess you could say we started off on the wrong foot…

Winter: Quite the laughable understatement, Mr. Arc. For you see, Weiss has detailed in her letters many instances where you publicly harassed her with your feeble attempts at courting her.

Jaune: Hey, I wasn’t harassing her-

Winter: In case you were not aware, Weiss is a very prominent figure in Atlas, and as such, receives multiple solicitations from wealthy suitors on a daily basis. Men with far more ambition and talent than you could ever hope to achieve in your life.

Jaune: Now, wait a minute. Just because I’m not rich, that doesn’t mean I’m not up to snuff.

Winter: Is that so? *Raises a Folder* Because this extensive background check I have on you says otherwise.

Jaune: Extensive what now?

Winter: *Reading* Lack of proper education. Zero prior experience in the field. And absolutely no training to speak of. The best I could find were your admission transcripts, which were all filled out using crayons for whatever reason.

Jaune: I had run out of ink, okay?!

Winter: SILENCE! If the circumstances were any different, I would have you placed under arrest and locked up in the remotest cell in all of Solitas! However, doing so now would violate the Vytal Treaty amongst the Kingdoms. So instead, I will advise you to recognize my authority next time you elect to threaten the sanctity of my dear little sister again. Verstehst?!

Jaune: Y-Yeah- I-I versteht(?) that, alright!

Winter: Splendid. I will be watching the tournament for the remaining of its duration. It would do you well to know your place in the meantime. That will be all. *Marches Away*

Jaune: T-Thanks, have a great day! Hahah... *Nearly Faints* Oh dear…

After:

Yang: Alright, VB! You’ve got nowhere to run!

Jaune: Knock it off, Yang! You’ve been chasing after me all morning! Can we please talk about this?!

Yang: Nuh-uh~ Ruby’s biological clock is ticking, and I’ll be damned if I let the Rose Bloodline end here!

Jaune: Don’t you think this is moving things between me and Ruby a little too fast? Can’t we at least settle for a date first?

Yang: Oh, I’ll arrange you a date, alright… WITH HER WOMB-! *Encased in a Block of Ice*

Jaune: …What just happened?

Winter: *Descending with her Maiden Powers* That should hold her for a while. Imagine my surprise it was just you two causing a ruckus around Vacuo. For a moment I thought Salem had arrived.

Jaune: Oh thank goodness! It’s you, Winter. Sorry for all the trouble, Yang and I had a disagreement and-

Winter: Never mind all that. I was actually meaning to talk to you privately about something.

Jaune: Really? Is it a mission?

Winter: In a manner of speaking, yes. Ever since you and your friends came back, I have been worried about Weiss’ sake. To think I once thought to have forever lost my sister to that blasted abyss…

Jaune: …Winter?

Winter: *Harrumphs* Alas. I have been thinking about your actions back at that bridge. You fought tooth and nail to protect Weiss despite your shortcomings. Believe me when I say you have shown yourself worthy of my sister’s hand and affection.

Jaune: Oh… Wow! Thanks, that’s a… That’s a lot to take in. I’ll be sure to think about it.

Winter: What is there to think about?

Jaune: …I’m sorry?

Winter: You misunderstand, Mr. Arc. I am not merely granting you my blessing to date Weiss. My sister deserves the best, and as your commanding officer, I demand that you provide the best for her.

Jaune: Uh…

Winter: FURTHERMORE! You are to, effective immediately, seek to copulate with my sister for the betterment of the Schnee Bloodline!

Jaune: EH?!

Frozen!Yang: !!!

Winter: With your Aura and Semblances combined, your firstborn will become a key component to winning this war, as well as generating the perfect heir to uphold both our families’ legacy! Of course, I do not plan on holding it against you in the events Weiss explicitly decides to have more children-

Jaune: Okay, STOP! Full stop! Demanding that I hook up with Weiss is already one thing! But you cannot in good conscience order me to sleep with her! She’s your sister, for crying out loud!

Winter: Exactly! She is my sister, and I intend on getting her the perfect husband! I was foolish to dismiss you before, but not anymore! Now come with me!

Jaune: H-Hey! Just hear me out for a second! What I’m trying to say is-

Winter: THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH! I will ask you one last time to not make this more difficult than it has any right to be! You can come along willingly, or I can drag you out by force! EITHER WAY, YOU WILL BE IN MY SISTER’S ARMS SOON ENOUGH!

Jaune: Y-You’re not serious, are you?

Winter: *Saber in Hands, Winter Maiden Powers in Full Effect* I WILL NOT BE DENIED OF MY FUTURE NIECES AND NEPHEWS!

Jaune: …I should get back to running.

#rwby #rwby shitpost #jaune arc #winter schnee #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #ruby rose #lancaster #ruby x jaune #jaune x ruby #whiteknight #weiss x jaune #jaune x weiss #yangposting

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

“Hey. You.”

The most beat up pair of purple Chucks he’s ever seen enter his line of sight. Following them up the person they are attached to, he squints, trying to make out a face in the backdrop of the bright midday sun.

“What,” Nico says flatly.

Kayla is unbothered by his attitude. “I need your help.”

Now that is a sentence Nico does not often hear. He waits for a following because someone has died and I need you to handle it, or perhaps a more interesting because there is a ghost terrorizing camp that you need to take care of, but no explanation is forthcoming.

“Because…?” Nico prompts, eyebrows raising. Kayla huffs.

“My dumbass older brother has been working for seventy straight hours. Every time we try to drag him out he just — I dunno, talks around it. He’s fast and disorienting and none of us have managed, but if he doesn’t sleep soon he’s going to collapse. Again.”

Nico blinks. He’d wondered why he’d been having so much peace over the last couple days — there has not been, in hindsight, even one knock on his door at an obnoxious hour, nor has he been bagged about missing breakfast or lunch or dessert or whatever else. He has, for the most part, woken up well past noon and spent his time wandering the woods.

…Huh.

No wonder he’s been so bored.

“Don’t know how I’m supposed to help you with that,” he says shortly. “Knock him unconscious and drag his body back to bed.”

Kayla shakes her head. “Tried that. He has a very thick skull. Just made him mad.”

Nico was kidding, mostly, but the idea of Kayla tiptoeing behind a distracted Will and walloping him upside the head in the name of sisterly love makes him smile despite himself. Just as quickly, he twists it into a scowl, because he does not like the teasing expression that has wormed itself across the daughter of Apollo’s face.

“Well, then, pray, I guess.”

“Just talk to him,” she says, exasperated. “He listens to you.” She turns and strides off before Nico can say no, actually, Solace is a stubborn pain in the ass who delights particularly in ignoring everything I say, not sure where you got that from. And somehow, Nico feels like this is not something that’s just going to go away.

He groans, and curses at the heavens, and stomps towards the infirmary.

———

The infirmary is, when Nico walks in, surprisingly crowded.

It’s never really empty, not at camp, but it’d been a lot quieter the last time Nico had been dragged in (he got a papercut. Well, a sword gash to the artery, but nothing a square of ambrosia couldn’t fix, and definitely nothing worth a forty-straight-minute lecture from Will, that was for certain). Then, maybe a third of the cots had been occupied, and most patients where lucid enough to be complaining. Medics were either actively arguing with difficult campers, or chatting amongst themselves.

Now, not a single cot is free. The infirmary swells with pained groans and sounds of retching. Medics and medics-in-training rush from bed to bed; none of them as hurriedly as Will Solace, who might as well be a blur of movement.

“Woah,” Nico says, darting his arms out to catch the aforementioned blur of movement as he rapidly approaches the ground, having tripped on a supply cart. “Slow down, Solace, or you’re gonna end up on a cot.”

“Sounds good,” he mumbles. His eyes are bloodshot. “Gimme ten, and I’ll come check you out, okay? Unless you’re dying. Are you dying?” He frowns, concentrating. A familiar glow comes from his hands, but it’s — weak, almost. More of a flicker than anything. “No, you’re not dying. Good. Be back soon.”

Despite his parting words, he doesn’t move.

“Did my legs stop working?” he wonders, and promptly goes fully limp. Nico yelps, scrambling to keep from dropping him.

“Um, help?” he yells. “Medic down?”

“Cot!” someone yells back. “Be there soon-ish!”

Nico glances side to side, but, as he expected, everything is occupied, and every medic is busy. Several people, he is now noticing, are covered in the same, pulsating red welts, clutching bowls and buckets to their chests, faces green with nausea. Some kind of outbreak. Austin, Will’s brother, is sprinting from bed to bed, checking fevers, firing off hymns. Kayla ducks in from the back doors, throwing on a scrub shirt, and rushes to help. A few other people Nico recognises as regular volunteers are doing what they can to keep people upright and as comfortable as possible, until one of the healers can get to them.

Will is still unconscious.

Nico ducks into the nearest shadow, and disappears.

———

part two

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peachhcs · 3 months

Text

the soft launch (more like hard launch) → social media post

hughes!sister x will smith au

hi! here’s the first post for my new au :) i figured this is a great way to introduce samy as well as her dynamic with everyone else. i’ll be posting more actual fics soon, but also please comment or send me what else you’d like to see for them!!

ps. all of these photos are from pinterest/instagram

au masterlist

samyhughes semester 1 has my heart <3

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lauren11 BAE I LOVE YOU!!

| samyhughes I LOVE YOU!!!!!

hannahduke HELL YEAH UMICH!

| samyhughes ROLL WOLVES! 🐺

user1 THE YOUNGEST HUGHES IS IN COLLEGE ALREADY???

user2 WAIT WHO IS THIRD PIC??😦

dylanduke25 can’t believe you’re roommates with my little sister i feel like this is so full circle??

| samyhughes LMAOO i feel you dyl

| lhughes_06 ur telling me

edwards.73 casually posting a pic of someone holding a high noon and then proceeds to make caption first semester which means your underage 😐😐

| samyhughes ok mom

markestapa WOOOOOO so glad ur at umich with us!

| samyhughes remember when you cried when luke told u i was coming to michigan?

| markestapa now why would u say that on the internet

colecaufield MICHIGAN MICHIGAN MICHIGAN!

| jackhughes why are you giving this energy to my little sister? 😐

| colecaufield bc i want to??

jackhughes wait a minute the 3rd pic…where is his mouth…

| samyhughes umm..

user3 luke’s michigan friends are literally her second brothers AHHHH

user4 wait who isss the guy in the 3rd pic???? she has a bf???

user5 we lost another one boys 😭

jacob_fowler24 michigan shit 🔛🔝

| samyhughes what does this even mean??

ryan.leno_4 still shoulda come to boston

| samyhughes sorry lean u should of come to michigan 🤷‍♀️

aram_minnetian okay hard launch

| samyhughes what i do best ☺️

_quinnhughes STOP STEALING MY HATS WTF

| samyhughes NO

lhughes_06 this post gets a rating of 2/10 because 1. there’s underage drinking and that’s a no no 2. his mouth is on your boob 3. i just don’t like this post

| samyhughes alright. 🫠

user6 mouth placement??????

user7 istg if that’s will smith i’m losing it

user8 her and will dating makes so much sense omg

graceccsmith so cute samy!!

| samyhughes thanks gracie!! i miss you

_willvote my man made the gram!

| samyhughes ok expose me

gabeperreault44 GET REKTTTTTTTT

| samyhughes gabe i swear 😭

_willsmith2 hi buddy i miss you

| samyhughes hi smitty i miss you too come visit me soon

user9 ^^^^ NAHH it’s so will smith

| user10 THEYRE SO ADORABLE AWWW

| user11 childhood best friends to lovers pipeline is so real

_willsmith2 looking good beantown

view all comments

gabeperreault44 good stuff good stuff

| _willsmith2 thanks gp

ryan.leno_4 everyone’s hard launching i see

| _willsmith2 oops

user1 THIS IS FOR SURE SAMY I KNOW IT

graceccsmith so cute will 🥰

| _willsmith2 thanks g😀

jacob_fowler24 damn it when is will gonna hard launch me???

| _willsmith2 next time i promise 😫

aram_minnetian ok we get it u have a gf

| _willsmith2 😀😀

user2 AHHHHHHHHHHH WILL AND SAMY CONFIRMED????

user3 them being best friends before this makes this so much better too

user4 someone get them on a podcast or some shit so we can get the backstory!!!

user5 they’re very golden retriever and golden retriever energy

_willvote i hope i’m invited to the wedding in like 10 years

| _willsmith2 ur 1 on the list

hannahduke WHEN HE POSTS HER >>>

| ryan.leno_4 she’s so lucky fr

| samyhughes 😙😙

edwards.73 invading the bf comments hi bf

| _willsmith2 hi ethan

| user6 THEY ALREADY KNOW HIM????? SHDJDJ

markestapa i was summoned and now i see why

| user7 LMAOOO i love mark and ethan

user8 mark and ethan are very big brother being protective core while samy’s at umich bc her actual brothers aren’t there

trevorzegras i am here too

| user9 LMAO TREVOR??!

lhughes_06 looking good so far smitty

| _willsmith2 thanks luke 🤝

jackhughes i’m still looking at u bc of that one pic on my sister’s post…suspicious…

| _willsmith2 pls forgive me jack it was an honest mistake

user10 THE BROTHERS ARE SO FUNNY LDJDJDKS

user11 i’m sure will’s scared of all these boys acting like samy’s big brother

elblue06 so cute will!

| _willsmith2 thanks mama hughes!

| user12 HE CALLS HER MOM ALREADY??!!!

| user13 well she is like his 2nd mom bc their families are so close. i think he calls her that regardless of him dating her daughter LMAO

dylanduke25 found out samy has a bf when i saw this post on my little sister’s feed :/

| samyhughes LMAO sorry dylan

_quinnhughes see you during the holidays!

| _willsmith2 can’t wait to come back to michigan!

rutgermcgroarty 😦😦😦 baby hughes has a bf??? and it’s the 4th overall pick from the nhl draft?

| user14 my exact reaction

samyhughes looks like i’ve taught u well🫡

| _willsmith2 i only learn from the best

this is so long my bad but i just love writing the comments for these LOL

#hughes!sister x will smith au #samy hughes #samy x will #will smith x oc #will smith hockey #will smith imagine #boston college hockey #boston college #umich hockey #uofmichigan #umichsoccer #gabe perreault #ryan leonard

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linos-luna · 1 month

Note

Hi gorgeous 💞

I hope you're doing well (I was worried af)

If it's not too much to ask but my birthday is on 14th March so can you write a yandere hyunjin x f reader smut where the reader who is already held hostage is given a gift by hyunjin (just surprise me with your writing girl)?

I would seriously appreciate it from my heart ❤️

Wanna see a manipulative, toxic and delusional hyunjin in love with me 😩

Bye 👋

Sorry it’s late! I’ve been so busy! 😭

Happy late birthday 🎊

———————————————————

Work of Art 🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Reader

Warnings: Yandere!, 18+, slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Slapping, Hair pulling, Emotional manipulation

—————————————— 💞

It’s been two months. Two months since you lost your freedom. Hyunjin was obsessed. He wants you to keep you in his home forever. If he goes out, he handcuffed you to the bed frame. Although lately he hasn’t done that. Probably because now you don’t move. You seemed to have given up on trying.

The days blended together so you didn’t even realize that today was your birthday. You stayed in bed until noon, only waking when some light from the window hit your face. You sat up, only to see Hyunjin standing at the door. Watching.

“Good morning, my love.” He said with a soft smile. “Today is a special day!”

“What….?” You mumbled.

“How could you forget?! It’s your birthday, silly!” He chuckled while going to you and leaning in to kiss you.

You were silent, actually surprised that you forgot your own birthday.

The man stroked your hair as he waited for your kiss although you didn’t budge. This seemed to frustrate him and he pulled your hair so your lips touch his. “Y/n!” He whined.

Reluctantly, you kiss him. He bit your lip and kissed you with lots of passion.

Sure you kissed back but not with as much vigor as him. This only hurts his heart.

“Y/n! I don’t understand…” he whined. “why…? Why won’t you love me like I love you!”

“Hyunjin, you kidnapped me!”

“Because I love you!”

“This isn’t love!!” You interrupted. “This… this is hell!”

“No no no… i-I’m sorry! It shouldn’t be!” Hyunjin frowned and dropped to his knees while holding your hand. “I only wanted to show you love and cherish you. I want to spoil you!”

“Hyunjin—”

“I’m sorry, y/n…” He pouts, giving you sad eyes, “I-i never meant to hurt you…”

“Hyunjin… you—!”

“No no I'm awful!” He interrupted while starting to cry. “I-I just want someone to love… I-I’ve never had someone love and care like you do. You’re so genuine and kind…”

He continued rambling. From his rough upbringing to his desire for love. He’s all alone in this world and it had your heart breaking for him.

“I-I have a gift for you…” he said softly. “Please. I worked so hard on it.”

“O-okay…” you nodded reluctantly.

Joy lit up his face and he quickly left the room. As soon as he left, the tears were gone. It was as if he flipped off the emotion like a light switch. Instead, he smiled to himself.

Hyunjin came back in the bedroom with a canvas. You were a bit confused until he turned it around. It was you. A painted picture of you sleeping. The style made you look angelic.

It was beautiful but also unnerving. When did he paint this? Was he watching you while sleeping? Every minuet detail of your features was there. Every mole and blemish was painted in great detail.

“Wow, Hyunjin… it’s very nice.” You said slowly while studying it. You couldn’t lie, it really was an amazing painting.

“Oh, my love. I’m glad you love it!” He smiled. “I worked so hard to capture your essence! You truly are a work of art!”

You couldn’t help blushing. You’ve never had a compliment like that and it was giving you butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you, Hyunjin… I-I really do love it…”

“Oh good!” He was excited as he leaned in close. “Please, my love. May I kiss you?”

There was a moment of silence before you nod.

———— 💞

Dinner was a bit awkward. You sat in silence as he fed you.

“Do you like it?” He said suddenly.

“I do but… Hyunjin I can feed myself.”

“No darling. Don’t worry about that.” He said while putting more meat on the fork.

“No really—…” you grab the fork from him, about to raise it to your mouth before he suddenly slapped it away.

“Hyunjin—!”

Before you could finish, there was a swift slap to your face.

“No! Only I can feed you!” Hyunjin yelled suddenly.

You held your cheek in shock, too stunned to speak.

“Oh I’m so sorry!! My love, I'm sorry!!” He suddenly switched up and got to his knees, dropping the bowl of food to the ground, but he didn’t seem to care.

“No! Don’t cry! Don’t be mad!” He begged while grabbing into each side of your hair and pulling you close. “Please forgive me! I love you!”

“A-agh! Hyunjin!” You whimpered as he tugged harder.

“My darling. My sweet girl, please!”

He pulled harder, making you drop from your seat to the floor.

“J-Jinnie! You’re hurting me!!”

“W-what?!” He paused, still holding onto your hair. “No! No im not!!”

“Jinnie stop!”

“No you stop!” He yelled. “I love you! I’m just trying to love you!!” His voice broke as tears formed and it made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hyunjin…”

“No! You don’t love me!” He sobbed. “I-I thought I finally found my soulmate… one that will love me as much as I love her!” Hyunjin wiped some tears while looking at you. “I-I’ve never had that kind of love. My M-mother left! A-And father would beat me! I-I only wish you give the love I never received!”

Whether this story was true or not -it’s not-, you wouldn’t be able to tell. But his vulnerability and tears tugged at your heartstrings.

“Hyunjin….”

“No! Just go!” He cried. “Just leave me! Leave me all alone! I’m used to it!” He pulled some keys from his pocket and threw them in front of you.

You were frozen in place. You felt awful. Pure guilt. How could you hurt him like this?? All he wanted was love. You felt like a monster.

Without much thinking, you hugged him tight. “I-I’m sorry, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin leaned into your hug, making himself look as small and vulnerable as possible while continuing to weep.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” you whispered while rubbing his back.

“C-can I… can I give you a bath?” He asked softly. “I-I wanted to spoil you with a little… at home spa…”

You pulled away and looked at him. Here he was crying and expressing his deepest emotions and traumas, and yet he was still thinking of you. He was still wanting to spoil and shower you with love.

You only nodded and Hyunjin smiles before kissing your forehead and leaving to the restroom, getting some of the soaps and candles ready.

It made you feel guilty. Perhaps you have this all wrong. He really does have a good heart. Perhaps you’ve never experienced real love. Maybe… this is what true love is.

Hyunjin had no more tears. This face had cleared up so fast as soon as he entered the restroom. In fact he had a smile. A satisfied one, like a spoiled child that got his way. It was just too easy.

Hyunjin walked to the bedroom, grabbing a robe for you, stopping by the painting. He took a deep breath while running his fingers along your painted nude body.

He turned back to the restroom, mustering up some tears red cheeks before calling out to you.

"Come on, my love! The bath is ready!'

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids yandere #yandere stray kids #yandere hyunjin x reader #yandere hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x poc reader #skz yandere #kpop yandere

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 month

Text

I Will Always Protect You

𖤐Pairing: Step dad! Gaz x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, angst, deadbeat ex-husband, language, married couple, children, arguing, fighting,

𖤐Summary: Your ex-husband tries to 'come back' into your kids lives but your children show that they don't want to go with him, so what happens when their step father Gaz steps in to put this deadbeat in his place

————

8:00AM

Y/n's day started out like everyday, waking her children up for school, Skye was getting her school clothes on and Kai was coming downstairs to come eat breakfast.

Gaz was coming downstairs as well, sitting next to Kai as he ate breakfast.

"Skye! Baby, come on!" Y/n calls from the kitchen and she could hear her daughter running downstairs.

"Sorry, mama," she says, sitting next to Gaz.

Gaz has joined the family when Skye was 2 and Kai was 5, a young age for the both of them. Gaz loved Kai and Skye, and the kids treated him more like their father than their actual father.

Their actual father was a fucking deadbeat. He started dealing drugs when Skye was only a baby and Y/n didn't know till a strange man came to her door asking for him and wanting 56k from her deadbeat husband.

Scared the shit out of her, as it should. So, she filed for divorce and he's been bumming off his 19-year-old girlfriend and her parents at the ripe age of 35.

"Come on, let's go catch the bus," Y/n says as the kids got off their chairs and Gaz grabs his coffee following his wife and the two kids to the bus stop.

"Mama, can we go to the store later?"

"Why, baby?" She asked her daughter.

"Because I'm out of mouthwash-"

"OH SAME HERE!" Kai interrupts Skye.

"We'll see okay," she kisses her kids foreheads and sent them off to school.

---------

1:40PM

It was around noon now. Y/n usually stayed home on these days to do some chores around the house and also catch up on some work from home.

As Y/n was cleaning the dishes from this morning, there was a loud knock on the door, it rattled the front door and she could hear the glass door in front of it also rattling.

She wipes her hands and looks out through the tall window next to the front door, she sees a man in a hood.

"Fuck no," she says to herself before backing from the door and going to the kitchen to grab a knife just in case. She hides it behind her back and goes back to the front.

She opens the heavy door first and looks through the glass window, seeing this person lift his head and showing a bruised face, a cut lip, and some teeth missing.

"Mark!? What the fuck are you doing here?" Y/n asked, behind the glass door as her barrier to keep this deadbeat away from her.

"Y/n, I am so, so, so fucking sorry for what I have done to you. I am truly sorry-"

"Why the fuck are you here Mark? I will call the police if you don't leave my property," Y/n threatens. She wishes Gaz was here, Mark was terrified of Gaz.

"Please, listen to me first...I just wanna see my kids, and I want to see how, my girl is doing."

"I am NOT your girl, definitely not anymore, you don't have the right to see your kids anymore, you lost custody and you only get supervised visits by the local police, you are not welcome to or in my house now get off my property, Mark," Y/n shuts the door and slides down the door hot tears filling her eyes.

Y/n and Mark were a very happy couple, but when she gave birth to Skye, the drug dealing happened, along with cheating and drinking.

---------

2:20PM

"I'm home!" Gaz yells. Y/n comes out of her home office and looks at Gaz.

"Hi, honey, how was work?"

"Same-old-same-old," Gaz says with a soft smile on his face before pulling Y/n into a hug and kissing her lips.

"MAMA!" Y/n and Gaz turned hearing Kai's voice, it was cracked like he was crying. Soon Skye came in and hid behind Y/n and Gaz as Y/n bent down to her children's level as Gaz looked at the front door.

"My babies, what is wrong?"

"I can give you a guess," Gaz says as Mark stood in the doorway.

"I'm calling the fucking police," Y/n says. "I told you if you didn't leave."

"I just want to see my children, Y/n. Why are you holding them from me!?" Mark pleads.

"Because they don't want to see you!" Gaz steps in, blocking his step children's view of Mark.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Kyle!"

"WHAT!?" Gaz marches to Mark.

Y/n moves her children out of the living room to the stairs. "Go upstairs, okay. I'll come and get you when it's over."

Her children run upstairs to not want to see or be involve what might happen. Gaz takes Mark to the ground, Gaz on top of him and he was just cussing and yelling at him, not swinging any punches at Mark or anything.

Gaz was holding back a lot of his strength of wanting to put Mark in the hospital-no that's too generous, not wanting to put Mark 6 feet under right now.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING COME AROUND MY FAMILY AGAIN! MY KIDS DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU! YOU ARE A FUCKING DEADBEAT, SAD, SORRY EXCUSE OF A FATHER, HUSBAND AND A MAN! YOU ARE A FUCKING COWARD AS WELL!!" Gaz gets off Mark and grabs him again basically tossing Marks dirty ass out the door.

"Gaz?" Y/n watches him slam the door shut. Y/n walks towards Gaz placing her hand on his arm as he was trying his best to calm down and not lash out even more.

"Mama? Gaz?" Kai and Skye peak around the corner seeing their mother and step father.

"Is he gone?" Skye asked.

"Yes, baby," Y/n scoops Skye into her arms and ruffled Kai's hair. Kai looks at Gaz and runs up to him, Gaz bends down picking Kai up and hugging him.

"Thank you, Gaz," Kai says into Gaz's neck. Gaz felt his heart swell and wanting to burst in his chest.

"Of course, kiddo...I will always protect you kids," he says, kissing Kai's temple.

----------

9:10PM

It was getting pretty close to the kids' bedtime. Skye was brushing her teeth as Gaz was telling Kai some stories about his time being in the Military.

Skye walks into her older brothers' bedroom and sat next to Gaz wanting to hear his stories as well. Both children soon fell asleep, Gaz gently picks up Skye and takes her to her bedroom.

Pulling back her covers and gently placing her down, Gaz was about to turn off her little lamp on her nightstand, but she stirs in her sleep making Gaz stop.

"I love you...daddy..." Skye says. Gaz's heart shatters now.

Skye and Kai have never called Gaz daddy, dad, father, or anything other names just Gaz or Kyle. It first started out as them just saying Kyle and when they got use to him then Gaz. It felt like an honor being called 'daddy' now.

"Are they asleep?" Y/n asks.

"Yep..." Y/n could see the biggest smile on Gaz's face.

"What? What's that face?" Y/n asked, getting close to Gaz to examine his face.

"Skye called me daddy, along with an I love you as well."

Y/n was happy for him. "I'm glad they're warming up to you, Gaz," she kisses him before they both headed to bed.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #gaz x y/n #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod

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