#Hell I had to explain it last time the talk of feelings came up with someone else irl

[quitealotofsodapop]

Know what? Maybe instead of venting to Sandy, Macaque ends up telling the hsi side of the story and why he chose to do the thing she did to Tang. In the actual canon there are only two people he really seemed to open up to when it came to his feelings regarding Wukong before his redemption, and that was MK which is understanable as he's Wukong's apprentice and soemone Macaque can see a bit of himself in, and for some godforsaken reason, Tang during the Lantern City Talent Show when he warns him about what happens to people who get too close to Wukong.

Absolutely anon, you're right.

In the case of Macaque having his own venting time - I could see it partly occuring during;

Briefly when He, Nezha, and Tang are locked up together in the East Sea Palace. Macaque gives Tang an idea of who Wukong had become during the war + what monster had escaped the Furnace, hence the reason they broke up just before the Journey. Nezha backs Macaque up on this - he saw/fought what had exited the Furnace that day.

With PIF. Despite her anger towards him, she'd be sympathetic to his reasoning for not wanting to but Wukong in danger. But she's able to explain more clearly to Mac why Wukong is so upset with him right now - i.e. he secretly feels that Mac sees him as weak/helpless/untrustworthy, and that Mac leaving to investigate LBD was proof of such opinions. Mac is mortified.

Properly gets to vent to Tang when the gang is in Lantern City, trying to find the last Ring (because who puts the *real* Ring of Light in some random Lantern hanging above the city?). HIm and Tang have some hotel cocktails (the lego sets had a cut Lotus Hotel area fro Lantern City that would have hosted the Ring) and bitch about their respective husbands. Here Macaque reveals his true fear of LBD/why she's more dangerous than the book says; spoilers it involved MK's egg and Wukong almost dying.

Macaque going to the moon and having some sibling talk with Chang'e. His big sis is very wise on matters of the heart and worrying about those you love. She might just sit both married monkeys down for some impromtu couple's counselling + mooncake binge.

Macaque also likely vents on accident to Yuebei and Luzhen as he's tending to them - something he genuinely missed in the months he'd been scouring heaven and hell. Only for the up-til-now-silent Luzhen to waddle up to Wukong and babble "bama sad. peas kiss."

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #lmk tang #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk chang'e #pregnancy mention tw #lmk #lego monkie kid

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[gglitch1dd]

Just thinking about dilf Izuku sucking readers tits dry while she’s lactating or he helps her get rid of a clogged boob🥱

I like you, anon. I really like you.

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Warning: SMUT, parenthood, LACTATION kink, underlying breeding kink, squirting, Izuku being damn right shameless. HEAVY Praise and body worship, soft dom Izuku.

You let out a sigh as you finally undid your maternity bra. You rubbed your areola, letting out a hiss at the pain. Today seemed like an off day for you, where everything just felt wrong. Asahi had been crying all day and Toshinori was running a fever and both boys didn't want to eat anything.

This was one day you felt as though whatever could go wrong with your children was happening.

You walked out of the closet noticing your husband walk back into the bedroom. "I managed to put Asahi to bed. Seems like the poor guy had some gas he couldn't release." He explained to you, talking about your youngest out of your two boys.

You nodded with a relieved expression. "Thank you, Izu." You said softly as you moved to sit down on the bed with a frown on your face.

Izuku studied you for a moment. You were quite. He could tell that something was bothering you and after the day you both had, he couldn't blame you. He had to go for three hours to sign an important document this morning but when he came back, it's as if all hell broke loose.

"My love..." Izuku started as he walked over to where you were sitting. His eyebrows were furrowed as he watched you for another moment. He crouched down in front of you, taking your hands in his own. His big scarred hands ran over your knuckles. "Are you okay? Don't worry, Toshinori has already taken medicine and is dead asleep and I'm sure Asahi just had a bad day today. Bad days happen and it will be better tomorrow."

You let out a sigh, but nodded. "I know, honey. I know, but it was so tiresome." You let out as you leaned back closing your eyes. "You know how worried I get when Toshi gets sick. He's only three but he's so stubborn and he doesn't want to eat anything. Last time we had to take him into the emergency because he was dehydrated. And Asahi just won't drink."

Izuku raised an eyebrow at that, confused as to what you meant. "What do you mean?"

You opened your eyes as you looked at him. "I think I'm making too much milk. Toshinori always was hungry but Asahi won't even suckle for more than ten minutes at a time. It's like he gets fed up." You felt tears move to your eyes, your eyes burning as you looked down at your chest. "I feel so pent up. I can only pump so much but it hurts because it feels so heavy and there's so much I have left."

"Hey, hey, hey." Your husband let out softly as he moved to pull you into his arms as tears fell from your eyes. He moved to rub your back as he sat beside you. His large arms wrapped around you securely, putting a kiss to the top of your head. You buried your face in his chest, letting out a stuttered breath at the feeling of his warm embrace. "I'm right here, honey. I'm right here." He spoke so comfortingly that it almost made you want to cry harder. "Why didn't you tell me that you were struggling with feeding him?" He asked you softly.

You sniffed. "I didn't want to disappoint you. I handled Toshinori so well so I thought Asahi would be similar."

Izuku let out a light chuckle as he kissed the top of your head. "Remember that no child is the same, my love." He moved to look down at you, tilting your head up to look at him. He had a gentle smile on his freckled face, his green eyes were warm as he looked at you. "It isn't your fault, Y/N. You've been doing nothing wrong." He assured you.

You tried looking away from him, tears slipping down your face as you tried to control your emotions. However, his affirmation that you were doing alright and you weren't messing up made you only feel more emotional.

"Some kids just eat less than others. He's still a healthy little boy and he isn't sick or underweight. He's just not as hungry. Okay?"

"Okay."

He nodded his head, moving to kiss your lips gently. You let out a stuttered breath at the action but you nodded your head along with him. You were so glad that Izuku took all the time off that he did whenever you gave birth. You weren't sure how you would manage with a three year old and a newborn but you were so glad that he was right there alongside you.

Izuku peered down at you. "Does it hurt?" He asked. You looked up at him with a confused expression. He motioned to his pecs with a broad gesture making you giggle at his roundabout way of asking about the state of your breasts.

You nodded your head. "Yah, it does." You sniffed, nodding your head. "It's just full more than anything."

He nodded his head, understanding what you meant. He took a moment before speaking again. "Can I help?" He asked.

You felt heat go up your neck at the question. It wasn't the first time he had tasted your milk (nor would it be the last) but anytime that you or him asked never ceased to make you flustered. "Are you sure?"

He hummed with a nod of his head, a kind smile despite the lewd intentions he had. "I want to take care of you tonight." He expressed.

Without warning you, Izuku picked you up in his arms making you squeak. He chuckled before carefully moved to put his back against the headboard with you in his lap. You sat there perched on his lap as he carefully moved your shirt over your shoulders. You allowed him to, allowing him full access of your breasts.

Immediately at the sight of them, his eyes dropped away from your face. You couldn't help but chuckle at how for a few seconds, you were sure Izuku had no thoughts going on inside his head.

"Hm?" He asked, his eyes taking a second before they flicked up at you.

You shook your head. "You are such a man, Izuku."

He let out a scoff before a broad smile went to his face. "Honey, I think anyone who catches their eyes on a great set of knockers is going to stop and stare." He explained only making you giggle. "Besides, they look delicious."

"Izuku." You gave him a pointed look but you couldn't help the smile. "Don't get any bright ideas. Remember, this is only happening because of Asahi."

"And Asahi doesn't want it. Less for him, more for me."

"IZUKU!"

He chuckled as his large hands moved to gently grasp your breasts. Immediately you let out a whimper at the feelings of his grip on you. He noticed how sensitive you were, and noted that he should be careful. He gently moved to massage your breasts, gently kneading at them. You let out a breath as you tried your best not to pull back at the slight pain.

"You're right, you are quite full." He let out softly. The only reason Izuku would notice as much as he did, is because at anytime that he caught you breastfeeding he would always try to cope a feel (shameless man).

Carefully, his green emerald eyes flicked up to you. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, lapping his tongue over your nipple. He was gentle as he carefully put your breast in his mouth making you clench on nothing at the intensity of his eyes.

He gently started to suck, making you hiss as you moved to grip onto his shoulders. He didn't relent, knowing that it was going to hurt before it got better. He was gentle, carefully massaging at your breast while sucking. It didn't take longer than a few seconds before the sweet drops of milk touched his tongue.

He hummed at the taste, sucking a bit harder knowing that now you were flowing. Your breaths were heavy as you sat on his lap, allowing him to drink from you. You couldn't deny that him helping you like this was damn arousing. Your husband had always put in the effort to help you as best as he could, and you were so grateful for him.

Then again, it was the least he could do for you being his wife and the mother to his children.

Izuku moved to massage your other breast, with his right hand while his left hand moved down your body. You couldn't even seem to care where his hands were going, you were just glad that the pressure you felt was finally being lifted and you felt so good at your husband's touch.

Then you jolted with a squeak and wide eyes. Izuku had what you could only identify as a smirk considering that his mouth was full. His hand had found its way down your cotton panties. His fingers moving to fiddle with your clit. Your eyebrows furrowed in faux concentration as you moved to hold onto his shoulders, trying to stabilise yourself.

It felt so good having his hands on you. His fingers always knew just how you liked to be played with and always knew just where to touch and when. The circles he rubbed into your cunt made you relax as you arched your back, pushing your chest further into his grasp.

Izuku gasped, leaving your left breast with a groan. "You taste so good, sweetheart. You have so much to give." He said noticing that the breast he had just left had just started dripping a bit. He noticed that tonight might just get messy.

He grinned at the thought.

He moved to your right breast, finally giving it the attention it was neglected of. You let out a loud moan as you threw your head back and started grinding down on his hand that cupped your cunt. "Yes... Yes, Izu. Just- just suck a bit harder. Just a tiny bi- FUCK~" You moaned as your eyes rolled back, grinding down on his calloused hand.

He chuckled. "You're so wet for me beautiful. You must be really enjoying yourself." He murmured against your breast. He let out a moan at the pleasurable taste, drinking as much milk as he could to put you at ease. You were absolutely dripping on his hand and your breasts were leaking milk past his mouth and on his chest.

Izuku knew that if he died right now, he would have no complaints.

He let go of your right breast with a pup, moving to massage it like he had been doing with your left one. "Come on baby, you're doing so good." He praised you, your small keens and moans filling the air as the only thing you could think of was coming. You were chasing that high, pushing yourself against his hand and basically bouncing on his lap in need. He kept the pace just like you liked it, being careful not to speed up or slow down. Kissed your sternum. "Come for me, my love. Come for me. You're so beautiful, mama. You deserve it. You're almost there."

You let out a whimper, your thighs shaking but not being quite there yet. You let out a frustrated cry as you flicked your teary eyes at him needly. "Help." You whispered.

He chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you, turning the both of you around so that you can lie on your back underneath him. He moved to fingers inside you, easily finding that spot that had you clamping down on his fingers hard. A deep groan left your lips as you arched up against him.

"There we go." He praised, moving his fingers fast and hard, making sure his thumb stimulated your clit. "There you go, such a good girl. You're my good girl. You can do it, my love. You can do it. You're almost there." You couldn't think, you could barely even breathe other than to moan and cry like a whore. You let out a broken sob at the pounding of his fingers in that area. He reached down to careful bite your nip between his teeth just gently and suddenly you saw white.

A broken moan left your mouth as you were in complete ecstasy.

At the amount of slick against his hand Izuku chuckled as he realised you were squirting. "There it is. Good girl. You're so perfect." He praised as his fingers didn't slow down. The dragged out your orgasm long and hard, letting slick gush over his hand and arm as he did so.

You gasped with a sigh fallling back into bed with a whimper, trying to closer your legs. Izuku took that as an indication to stop. Slowly slipping his hand out of your now drenched cotton underwear.

He sat up on his knees, looking at the beautiful masterpiece that was you sprawled out in front of him. You were heaving for air, tired and worn out but covered in slick between your thighs and milk on your chest. Your eyes closed as you floated on cloud nine for a moment.

Izuku looked down at his hand with a chuckle, sticking the two fingers that were inside you in his mouth with a hum. He licked them clean before leaning down to you. "Such a good girl." He praised as he kissed your forehead. You let out a soft whine, and instantly he moved to wrap his arms around you, picking you up in his arms. "My amazing wife. You're so spectacular. That was amazing sweetheart. Do you feel better?" He asked as he carried you to the bathroom.

You nodded your head tiredly in the crook of his neck.

He hummed. "I bet you do. You did so well for me. You did so well. I'm so proud of you." He praised as he walked into the bathroom, keeping the lights off as not to disturb the cloud you were floating on.

He carefully grabbed a cloth, putting it in warm water, all while holding you up with one hand. He knew you wouldn't want to let go of him so he worked around you. He walked back into the bedroom, the lights staying dim as he lay you back down on his side of the bed, wrapping you up in a different blanket. He carefully wiped you clean, praising you softly with whispers.

You weren't even sure what happened by the time your mind was half back. You were in new pyjamas with the bed sheets changed and feeling clean. Your husband had slid into bed with you, petting down your back with a soft hum out of his chest. You fell right to sleep, dead asleep.

Izuku knew that he probably didn't get all the milk out, but that would be dealt with later. As in, midnight.

-Glitch1d

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #izuku midoriya smut #izuku smut #kiribaku smut #bnha smut #izuku midoryia smut #midoriya smut #mha smut #izuku mydoria #izuku midoriya #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #izuku x reader smut #midoriya izuku x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #tw lactation

[thebirdsandthebats]

Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

#WHEW IT TOOK A WHILE TO ORGANIZE THESE PANELS #Hes NOT BORING he is SO FASCINATING TO ME #i think his character is just not being utilized the way it could be #I didnt source every panel so just ask if you want to know where something is from! #bernard dowd #batfamily #dc comics #tim drake #timber #timbern

[headkiss]

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.

༄

hey you! if you enjoyed please consider leaving a reblog, it would mean a lot and helps a ton more than you’d think! help support creators like me <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[pricefieldsuperiority]

Yearning Allegations

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn

Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?

Paige Bueckers was your best friend.

She was also one of the most popular players on the Uconn Huskies.

Although many loved her, none of them knew her like you did. Most certainly, none of them loved her like you did.

You had known her since the first year of high school, where you two hit it off in English class, teasing her about how slowly she read. She had just shot some stupid comment back at you, and from then on, you two were inseparable - which is why you were sitting courtside at this very moment, happily watching her play.

"And that's time, another win for Uconn!!"

The announcer shouted loud as Paige threw the basketball at the last second, arcing perfectly into the net. She beamed wide as she turned around, her cheeks pink with pride, scanning the crowd for you. Her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, or so you thought, upon landing on you.

She grinned in your direction, nodding slightly at you, as she ran past you to congratulate her teammates. They tackled her, nearly knocking her over. The crowd's roar was racious in your ears, their shouts nearly as loud as yours. Uconn had won again. You smiled to yourself, Paige was gonna be absolutely insufferable after this. She always was after games like these.

You waited patiently outside the change rooms, scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, waiting for Paige to finish up. Usually, she stayed a few extra minutes afterward, yapping with the team about whatever, and then would come out with KK, jokingly bickering about some nonsense. You hadn't been waiting more than 5 minutes when Paige came bounding out alone, grinning proudly. You grinned back, amused. She was like a 6 ft tall puppy.

"Yooo y/n, did you see me out there??!" Paige threw her arm around you as you guys started the familiar walk to her dorm. After wins, she'd refuse to let you get any work done so you didn't even bother going back to your dorm at this point.

"Yeah, I saw!!" You say, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. Paige's smile was genuinely infectious.

"Dude, I'm the best hooper at Uconn for reallll hahah." Her laughter echos around the hallway.

You roll your eyes and pat the hand she has draped over your shoulder.

"Ehhhh, I think you're alright"

Paige scoffs at you, eyebrows raised.

"Come on, just alright?? You love me, don't lie. " Her eyes are alight with happiness and you fight the corners of your mouth, looking away.

"That play at the end was eh, I've seen better"

Paige rolls her eyes, scoffing yet again before holding the door open for you, leaning against it.

"You're a terrible liar y/n"

Before you can reply, Paige ruffles your hair, and you bat her hand away, complaining. She grabs your hand, and you bodycheck her, but to no avail, cause she takes off running to her dorm just to annoy you on purpose. But you laugh anyway, cause it's so typical Paige.

---

It's only a few days later when you find yourself at an infamous Uconn house party, and the alcohol in your system is making your cheeks feel warm. Your red solo cup of vodka is half empty, and you peer at it, wondering if you should leave your comfy spot on the kitchen counter.

You're admiring Paige from across the room, watching her talk to some fans.

She looks hot as hell tonight, dressed in a black cropped tank top and low waisted baggy black cargo pants. Her middriff is on display, and a tiny bit of her boxers peak out. For a second you wonder about what'd it feel like to put your hands there but you force yourself to stop thinking about her, nails digging into your palms as you take another sip of your drink.

Your feelings for Paige had only intensified over the years, becoming harder and harder to ignore as you two got older. In high school, you could just explain it all away because she was your best friend, but now? You guys had only become closer since starting at Uconn, and these days resisting the urge to make a move was becoming nearly unbearable, especially with the looming fact that everyone and their mother wanted Paige.

Normally, you'd just go over to her and yap her ear off, but the amount of alcohol you've had tonight makes you feel like being around her might be a bit dangerous.

So instead, you just stare from afar, watching her put her arm around the girl who's exclaiming she's "her biggest fan." You roll your eyes, inner monologue already snarkly thinking that Paige gets told that at least once a day.

You're so engrossed in watching Paige take pictures- she's now laughing with the fan over some stupid joke- that you don't notice KK's slid over to you.

"Damn girl, you really ain't beating the yearning allegations huh"

Her voice shocks you out of your reverie, and you glance over at her.

"Huh!?? What do you mean-"

KK's eyes are knowing, and she just raises one brow as she pours herself a new drink.

"Boo, we all see the way you look at her"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. Although you're pretty sure the whole team already knows how you feel, you still refuse to admit it cause what if that got back to Paige? You want her, but not more than your friendship. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to you two. You resist the urge to do anything about how you feel solely to protect your friendship.. but also because you're scared. What if she doesn't like you like that? It'd probably just make everything awkward anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about- Paige's just my friend." You keep your voice steady, but your expression darkens as you see the girl is STILL talking to Paige, her hand lingering on Paige's waist as she draws back from a hug.

"Uh huh.. whatever you say, " KK says, leaving the kitchen with her refill.

A few minutes later, you're busy answering some texts when Paige comes over.

"Hey, KK told me you're being all edgy and hiding out in the kitchen instead of having fun at the party. You're scaring off the hoes, dude. "

Paige is always more affectionate than normal when she's drunk, and tonight is no different. She places her hand on your thigh, grinning as she peers at your face, and you look at her for a few seconds before you move off the counter to stand.

"I'm not hiding, I was dancing a bit ago I just got tired-" This is technically not a lie, considering you did dance for a few minutes before deciding to become the next Joe Goldberg.

"Rightttt..." Paige towers over you, an annoying fact that hasn't changed since high school.

You're about to reply with some smart ass answer when some girl walks into the kitchen, cup in hand, her jaw dropping open as she spots Paige.

"Oh my God, Paige Bueckers?!?" The girl's voice raises practically 3 octaves, and you feel so annoyed you resist the urge to just sigh at the sight.

"I love you so much! I was watching you the other day - that final score was so good you really clutched the game-" The girl gushes, her hand resting on Paige's arm. Paige is, of course, grinning broadly. She loves the attention - and you can practically feel a headache coming on from the sound of the girl's voice.

"My head hurts real bad, gonna go back to my dorm-" You murmur as you pass Paige to leave.

"Oh, are you okay?" Her attention is momentarily distracted by your leave, and you try to inject some pep into your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

---

Authors note: Hope yall don't mind a slowburn! Thought it'd be cute to make a short series <3

Trilogy: Part 2 here / Part 3 here

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn #Spotify #slow burn #friends to lovers #uconn wbb #fanfic

[flynnriderishot]

hi love! could you write something about chris being mean (in a joking manner) to the reader always, but only because he doesn’t know how to deal with his real feeling of liking her, then one day, when hes being very mean and ignoring her, he angry confesses.

i hope i explained well, ly!

angry confessions - c.s

a/n: hear me out, okay? i read your request once and ran with it and when i came back to read it again i realized that i may have went a little off your original idea. i’m so sorry 😭 i hope you like it !

chris walked from his bedroom, his blue eyes almost immediately landing on your figure.

yours and chris’ relationship was weird. for starters: you didn’t have one.

you were extremely close with his brothers, doing nearly everything together, but you and chris never really had much of a connection.

he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but watching you and matt or even you and nick made his heart clench in jealousy. he knew that your relationship with them was completely platonic, but it rubbed him the wrong way to see you with anyone but him.

of course, he didn’t plan on telling you that. he couldn’t grasp the thought of having feelings for you. it scared him halfway to death.

you were sat on the couch with matt and nick, the three of you playing some random multiplayer game on your phones.

chris made his way to the kitchen to grab a drink, his footsteps alerting everyone of his presence.

“he’s alive.” nick spoke up.

“shut up.” chris scoffed, opening his pepsi before moving to sit with you guys.

just before he sat down, his hand lifts to playfully swat at the back of your head.

“what the fuck?!” you shouted, standing up as your eyes never once left your phone screen.

matt began to shout out in excitement, “oh! oh! i won!”

“bullshit.”

“why’d you do that?” you turn towards chris, frustration clear in your voice.

“sorry.” he shrugged, knowing there wasn’t much he could do about your loss but at least he had your attention.

you weren’t mad. you were used to chris’ odd behavior towards you. you didn’t know why, but you never questioned it.

you just assumed that’s how he treated every girl he knew.

hell, you’ve seen the way he’d jokingly make fun of madi. while he was a little less aggressive towards her, you thought that maybe it was because she was a lot more sensitive than you.

•••

“what the hell are you doing here?”

you perked up at the sound of his voice, “nick and i are hanging out.”

“again? that’s like the fourth time this week.”

he seemed annoyed at the thought you hanging out with his brother again.

“we’re going to a party. you can come with us if you want?” you suggested, not wanting him to feel left out.

chris furrowed his brows, “no, i’m good. last thing i want to do is be around you.”

your face fell. what the hell is his problem?

before you could respond and question his hostility, nick comes running down stairs,

“you ready to go?”

“yeah, let’s go.” you stood up from your seat, quickly exiting the house with an oblivious nick in tow.

as chris watched you and nick leave, he couldn’t help but silently scold himself.

“what the hell is wrong with me?”

“well for starters, you’re talking to yourself. that might be a sign that you have some problems…”

chris slowly turned towards matt, “shut the fuck up.”

•••

being sober had its perks.

the first being that you wouldn’t be drunk off your ass and wake up with the absolute worst headache ever. but it also meant that you wouldn’t accidentally catch yourself doing anything out of your usual character.

like nick, who was currently conversing with two people you could have sworn he despised.

now, you would have stopped him but you were currently caught up in a conversation with one of the few non intoxicated people at this party.

he was cute, he was nice and (so far) it seemed like his intentions were pure.

so why did you feel so weird speaking to him?

luckily and unlucky for you, your question was about to be answered.

•••

“hurry up!”

chris ignored matt’s words, slamming the passenger door shut as he ran towards the front door of the house that held you, his older brother and apparently his competition.

it took less than a minute for him to find nick. the elder triplet stood out regardless of where he was or what he was doing. so once he found him chris immediately pushed through the group of people that surrounded him and demanded that he went to go meet matt back at the car.

nick gave no protests, commenting how everyone there was lame, much to chris’ luck.

finding you was a little harder but thanks to the video of one of his mutual followers, he was able to find the vase from the video in the house he was in.

despite his mood, chris’ eyes softened slightly at the sight of your bright smile until he realized it wasn’t him that you were smiling at.

approaching you, he didn’t dare give a glance at the boy in front of you,

“we’re leaving. let’s go.”

“woah. what?” you turned in confusion, your y/e/c landing on him. “chris, what are you doing here?”

“let’s go.”

he seemed desperate to leave. you didn’t know why he showed up but you couldn’t help but be concerned.

“okay. let me find nick.”

“he’s in the car.” he said, “let’s go.”

“okay! can you relax?”

“yeah, dude. chill.”

chris’ jaw clenched, “don’t fucking talk to me.”

“chris—”

“can we leave?”

“yes, okay. go.” you ushered him away, quickly turning to the guy you were previously speaking to, “i’m so sorry.”

•••

“are you good?” you asked chris the second you exited the loud house.

“no, i’m not. why were you talking to him?”

“i was making a friend, chris.” you chuckled awkwardly.

“a friend? didn’t seem like that to me. i mean, you’re in the back of someone’s instagram story laughing your ass off like he’s the funniest person alive. what’s that about?”

you’ve never been so confused in your life. just a few hours ago, he was telling you how he wanted nothing to do with you. and now he was getting upset because you were talking to someone? it made no sense.

“chris—“

“i don’t want talking to him anymore.”

“excuse me?”

it seemed as though chris realized how ridiculous his request was but didn’t speak on it.

“where do you get off on telling me what to do? who the hell do you think you are?”

he didn’t say anything.

“you didn’t give a shit about me or what i had going on literally four hours ago and now you suddenly care? why?”

“because—” he stopped himself.

“because? because what, chris? please enlighten me. because gods knows i deserve to understand your reasoning for treating me like shit for the last two years i’ve known you!”

“because i love you!”

you let out a breath, “what?”

“because- because i don’t want to see you with anyone else. because i want to be the person you’re happy with and the person you hate and the person you think about every second of everyday.” he rambled out, “because that’s what you are for me and god, yn, it’s so frustrating having to see you everyday and not have single idea how to tell you how i feel.”

chris was nearly shouting at this point, but he didn’t care. he was finally getting everything off his chest.

“i treated you like shit because having you simply look at me, even if it was in anger or disgust was the highlight of my day. i’ll admit it wasn’t the best idea i’ve ever had but i didn’t care because at least i had your attention.”

“why didn’t you say anything before?“ was the first thing you asked when he finished.

“i didn’t think you’d care.” he scoffed, “i’ve heard your conversations with nick about your celebrity crushes, i know i’m not your type.”

you couldn’t stop the chuckle that fell from you lips, “thats a celebrity crush, chris. i’m never going to meet or see any of those people ever. that means nothing to me.”

he watched you step closer to him.

“a simple ‘i like you’ would have done you wonders. you didn’t have to make matt drive thirty minutes to tell me how you feel.”

he inhaled sharply, his words caught up in his throat as your hand made contact with his cheek.

“if it makes you feel any better…i’m glad you told me how you feel.”

“yeah?”

you nodded, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips, “yeah.”

his eyes darted back and forth between yours, while you focused on his lips.

“can i kiss you, chris?”

“please.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo

[ghouljams]

Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

-

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x oc #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost cod #viking!ghost #viking au #oc: goose #shepherd!goose #Mii I'm in love with your brain #its so big and wonderful and you give me such good morsels to chew on #also “the birds are singing in harmony with the rain. its a cozy melody.” #is such a good line i mean im going to think about it forever #thank you for sharing your thoughts with me

[roosterforme]

It Won't Be Long | Rooster x Reader

Summary: How are you supposed to tell your family that you have to leave? Especially when everything still feels new and flawless and beautiful? Bradley knows it will be rough to break the news to you, but telling Everett will be so much worse.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, adult language

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oh, shit."

Bradley's heart sank as he read the paperwork that Maverick just handed to him. "Fuck," he groaned, fighting the urge to crumple up the pages. The sounds of conversation buzzing around him in the rec room faded to a dull noise that set his teeth on edge as he thought about how he was going to explain this to you. And even worse....how he would tell Everett. 

"Sorry, Rooster," Maverick replied, cuffing him on the shoulder, but Bradley didn't move except to shake his head a fraction of an inch. He should have known this was coming. He should have been prepared for this, but it felt like a slap in the face. You and he had only been married for less than six months, and he still felt like this was very much the honeymoon phase. How the hell was he supposed to spend a single day without you and Everett, let alone one hundred of them?

He'd been planning to take the three of you up to Disneyland for a little overnight trip during spring break. Kind of a precursor to a longer vacation to Disney World in Orlando in the summer. Well, now he'd be missing all of spring break. And he was going to miss opening day at Petco Park, too.

He vaguely registered that Maverick dismissed him early, and he heard Bob calling his name as he headed for the door. He stopped but didn't turn around as he told his future brother-in-law, "I'll call you later." He'd have to tell Bob and Molly soon, because you and Everett would need them if anything happened while Bradley was deployed, but he didn't want to talk about it with anyone until he told you himself. 

When he got home before you, it gave him plenty of time to mope while he got dinner in the oven. He decided to take a long shower, suddenly wanting nothing more than to change out of his fucking uniform. The Valentine's Day card he gave you a few days ago was still propped up on your dresser, and he sighed when he looked at the pretty flowers still blooming beautifully in the vase next to it. When he opened the card and read what he'd written, he wasn't surprised to find that he had it practically memorized after spending hours agonizing about what to say to his wife on a day dedicated to being in love.

Kitten, 

You changed my life and everything in it for the better last spring, and not a minute goes by that I'm not thinking about you. I hope you'll let me love you every Valentine's Day for the rest of my life. I hope you'll love me back for all of them. I'm so happy you're my wife.

Love,

Bradley

P.S.- How do you feel about wearing your collar, leash and your bodysuit tonight?

He set the card down again with a soft groan and stripped out of his uniform. The shower felt amazing, and he treated himself to your expensive body wash before he rinsed himself off. When he put on his sweatpants and started looking for a tee shirt, everything in his drawer seemed to have Top Gun or Navy Waves printed on it. He just wasn't in the mood for any of it since he knew he was about to have two conversations he'd really rather skip, so he pulled on the Phillies shirt that he got for Christmas from you and Everett.

The kitchen timer started going off at the same time he heard your car in the driveway, and Bradley ran back downstairs to get dinner out of the oven. "You're home early!" you said, bursting through the front door with Everett by your side, and for the first time since this morning, everything seemed more colorful and loud in a good way.

"Dad! I aced my math test!" Everett said as he came running into the kitchen, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "A hundred percent!"

Bradley's heart clenched as he picked Everett up in a hug and buried his face against him. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. That's what happens when you stop rushing through your homework."

He held onto his son a little longer than he normally would before kissing his cheek and setting him down. You eyed him closely as you dumped your work stuff on one of the chairs. He must have done something to give himself away, because a second later, you said, "Ev, you promised you'd take ten minutes to clean your room before dinner."

"Fine," he replied, his voice right on the edge of whining. Normally Bradley would remind him not to talk to you that way, but he let it slide right now. Everett headed for the stairs, and once he was out of sight, you were in Bradley's arms. 

"What's wrong, Coach?" you asked, running your fingers along his cheek before pushing them through his damp hair. "What's bothering you?"

When you gently kissed him, he didn't stop you. And when it took him a minute to reply, you didn't rush him. "Baby... I'm being deployed."

Your grip on him grew incrementally tighter as you whispered, "Oh. When?" 

His forehead met yours as he forced out the sentence, "I have to leave mid March, and I'm due back on Ev's birthday."

When you nodded, he could tell you were still letting his words settle in your mind. You took a deep breath and huffed out a little laugh as you whispered, "That's a long time."

Bradley swallowed down his guilt. "It's too damn long. I don't want to go fourteen weeks without you and Ev. I don't even like going a whole day when I can help it. I'm supposed to be here with you."

You nodded, and when you spoke, he could hear the tears in your voice. "We managed without you before, we can do it again. At least you'll get home on his birthday."

He collected you tighter against his body as he groaned. He would rather do almost anything other than miss his son's eighth birthday. "Kitten. Sometimes the dates aren't accurate. Sometimes the carriers run behind schedule. One time I returned a week later than I anticipated." 

You made a soft sound that left him reeling. "Well, if that happens, then I'll explain it to him. And we'll deal with it."

"Fuck," he grunted, slipping out of your grasp and gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands as his anger flared. "I don't want the two of you to have to deal with me missing out on celebrations. I already bought tickets for Ev and I to go to see the Padres on opening day! I was going to let him skip school! If I miss his birthday, I swear I'll be fucking sick, Kitten! And if Molly doesn't have the baby before March fifteenth, then I won't get to meet him until he's three months old!"

"Bradley," you whispered, ducking under his arm so you were right there between him and the counter. "Listen to me," you said, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "This is why we love you so much. Because you love us so much."

You had tears in your eyes that matched his as he muttered, "I still feel like we just got married. Like every day with you is so exciting. And Ev didn't grow up with a military dad. He's not used to my lifestyle. I..." Bradley paused and dipped his head down, staring at your work shoes as he said, "I feel important every day because both of you rely on me for things around here. More than just my income. Ev and I do his homework together, and I like helping you cook meals. And I live for taking him to the park to play baseball. I live for it, Kitten."

With two firm hands under his chin, you shifted him so he was looking at you. "I said we would be able to manage without you because we did it before. We know how to do it. Not that we would enjoy ourselves, Bradley. My heart will hurt with worry every day that you're gone, and Everett will miss you because you're essential to his happiness. But this is part of your career, and you're very good at it."

Bradley knew he was crying now as he said, "I'll miss the beginning of his baseball season. He's the only one from his old team who is going to play real ball again this spring instead of tee ball."

You smiled and kissed his cheek. "All thanks to you. And I'll take a million videos for you to watch. I'll email them so you can scrutinize his technique, and then I'll help him improve. I mean, look how much more I know about baseball since I first met you."

Of course your words made him feel a little better. They always did. You always validated his place in this family when he started to doubt himself. "You've come a long way, Kitten. And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think Ev is going to lose interest in baseball any time soon."

You smiled as your lips skimmed his. "I really hope not since the two of you turned the extra bedroom into a Phillies shrine."

"Why are you both crying?"

Bradley's gaze snapped toward Everett who was halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen with a concerned look on his face. "Ev," he started, unsure how to handle this conversation. Part of him wanted to wait until after the three of you had eaten dinner, but right now, he looked very upset.

"Is Aunt Molly okay?" he asked softly. "She was crying the other day when she said the baby was hurting her back."

When Bradley still hesitated, you said, "Aunt Molly is fine. She texted me a picture of her swollen feet at lunchtime." Then you leaned in closer and whispered, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Bradley replied immediately. "No, I'll do it." But it was harder than he thought it would be to get the words out in a way that would make sense to a seven year old. Why had he convinced himself that he'd be good at this parenting thing? He didn't even know what the hell to say right now. "Grab our gloves," he told his son. "Let's go out back and toss a ball around before we eat dinner."

Everett perked up immediately and ran off, only to return with two well worn baseball gloves and a baseball. "Okay."

Bradley slipped on a pair of shoes. "Okay."

Wordlessly, they threw the ball around for a bit, the quiet space soothing the part of Bradley that was terrified of fucking this up. "Hey, Kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Everett asked as he threw a scorcher to Bradley.

"You remember how we talked about deployments before?"

"Yeah." His voice was softer this time, and his face fell a little bit. "I remember. It's when you have to go way out into the ocean and fly off of an aircraft carrier."

"Yeah," Bradley croaked, squeezing the ball as hard as he could in his right hand. "I'm going to have to leave to do that in a few weeks."

He watched as his son tried to be strong and keep it together, but then Everett's face crumpled as he started crying. "But you said that lasts for months," he said as he looked at the ground, and Bradley rushed toward him. "And I heard Jayden in my class say deployments are really dangerous."

"Ev," he replied, dropping the ball and his glove and kneeling right in front of him. He swiped at the tears with his fingers as he said, "I can't stand it when you cry. It breaks my heart." 

But Everett just cried more. "I don't want you to leave now. You just got here!"

"Kiddo," he whispered, wrapping him up in a hug. "I'll be back soon. It won't be long. Nothing we can't handle."

"But what if something happens to you?" 

Bradley's heart shattered and was immediately put back together. He hated making you and Everett worry about him, but the fact that you both loved him enough to care made him feel whole. He kissed his son's tear streaked cheeks and said, "The only thing that's going to happen is me flying around in my jet for a few weeks before I come right back home. Sounds pretty boring, right?"

He nodded against Bradley's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bradley kissed his forehead and whispered, "I'll be so bored without you. I'm going to need you and Mom to take a bunch of photos and videos and email them to me all day long. And I'll need you to ace all your school assignments and be well behaved for everyone except your Aunt Molly. You think you can do that?"

Everett shrugged, but when his glove slipped off of his hand, he hugged Bradley around the neck. "I'll try, Dad. But I'll miss you."

A tear slipped down Bradley's cheek as he managed to say, "I'll miss you, too."

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

"It's not time yet," you told Everett as he sat on the couch with the iPad on his lap, staring at it longingly. "Ten more minutes. Why don't you finish your math homework while you wait?"

"Because I like doing my math homework with Dad," Everett explained as he looked at you like you were absolutely ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. "I want to solve the problem with him."

Even though it meant you would have less time to talk to your husband about other things, you'd let Everett do math homework with him over FaceTime. It wasn't like Bradley was going to complain. They were two peas in a pod. Everett even had the Phillies current pitching stats printed out and ready to share. 

"You'll have to show him your countdown, too. We're getting closer."

Before Bradley left, he and Everett cut up countless strips of paper and wrote numbers on them so Everett could conduct a countdown until his eighth birthday. Until the day Bradley was supposed to return home. There had been a gigantic paper chain snaking through the house, but now you were down to your final ten loops. Just ten more days without Bradley.

When the iPad rang, Everett nearly dropped it in his excitement, and you ran in from the kitchen. "Dad!" he said as Bradley's handsome face filled the screen.

"Hey, Ev," he said, sounding exhausted and relieved. "I miss you, Kiddo. Where's Mom?" 

"She's right here." 

Your son tilted the screen, and Bradley sighed. "Kitten."

"Bradley! We miss you. Ten more days!"

A crooked smile broke out on his face, and he kept his eyes on you for a beat longer while Everett started telling him all about baseball practice with his new coach and how his baby cousin Charlie threw up yesterday and about how the Phillies won three games in a row. You lost him to your son just like you knew you would as soon as Everett asked him for help with his homework. 

You sat quietly on the couch while Bradley looked at the math sheet and helped him work through the problem. Then Everett showed him the remaining length of the paper chain countdown, and as soon as that was finished, Bradley said, "Great job, Kiddo. Now why don't you go clean your room up before bed while I talk to Mom?"

"Okay. Love you, Dad!"

"I love you, too," he promised. "And I'll see you on your birthday."

Everett handed you the iPad and ran upstairs to his bedroom. "After all that, I only get three minutes alone with my husband this week," you said with a little smirk.

Bradley groaned and shook his head. "I can guarantee when I get home, I'll be on you nonstop. Don't worry about that, Baby. We won't sleep for days."

You bit your lip and laughed as he groaned. "What do you want for your birthday, Coach?"

He glanced around the small room where he was sitting before he said, "You can find that information written in your Valentine's Day card. Maybe throw in some vanilla frosting, and I'll be all set."

"Sounds good," you replied, and his smile grew. "We'll count down to Ev's birthday, and then we'll count down to yours."

"Speaking of which, did you get his present ready? All wrapped up in a box?"

You nodded as your heart fluttered. "Exactly to your specifications," you promised, picturing the package you had stashed in the linen closet.

"Perfect. I need to make it up to him for missing opening day for the Padres. I hated disappointing him."

As you glanced around your living room at the remaining countdown numbers and Everett's completed math homework, you said, "Something tells me you could never truly disappoint him. See you in ten days, my love."

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

"Dad!"

Bradley rushed through the crowd on the dock and headed for his family. You looked beautiful, and somehow Everett looked like he grew six inches in three months, but everything was perfect again once he had an arm wrapped around each of you. He kissed your lips and squeezed you to his side. "I missed you, Kitten," he murmured, knowing you wouldn't be too mad if you weren't his main focus until later tonight. "Happy birthday, Kiddo," he said with a smile as he released you to hug his son. "I missed you, too."

Everett clung to him when Bradley knelt down, and he stood up again with him in his arms. "Last week, my new coach said I have a heck of an arm. And school's already over. Mom took a video of my last day on Friday. You have to watch seventeen new videos from last week. We can watch them together tomorrow before we go out for pizza with baby Charlie and Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob."

Bradley buried his face against Everett's shoulder, excited to hear him talking a mile a minute in person. "Absolutely. But first, let's get home and open your birthday present."

The ride in your car was filled with your voice and Everett's, and Bradley sat back with a smile on his face and his fingers laced with yours. "How was the aircraft carrier?" Everett asked.

"Boring, loud and uncomfortable. And they never showed the Phillies games on TV."

"We can watch the game recaps!"

Bradley was already daydreaming about taking a few days off work, lounging on the couch with Everett until lunchtime, going to the park to play baseball, and then making love to you all night.

"We can definitely watch the game recaps," he promised as you pulled into the driveway next to Bradley's prized Bronco. "But first, I really want you to open your birthday present."

He didn't change out of his uniform. He didn't even remove his boots. He just gave Everett the box wrapped in red and white paper after you handed it to him, and he watched his son tear into the paper while your hands came to rest on his chest. "You are the only birthday present that kid wanted," you whispered.

Bradley felt the flush rising in his cheeks as you kissed his neck, but Everett had the lid off the box now. "I don't know about that, Kitten. I think he'll like this one," Bradley replied as Everett put the Phillie Phanatic hat on his head and read the paper he found in the box out loud.

"Three tickets for the Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park! On the Fourth of July! Behind the dugout! That's where the Phanatic dances! We can see the Phanatic for real! In Philadelphia!"

"Told you," Bradley whispered against your lips as Everett ran around the living room, already thrilled for his first trip to Philly.

But you were shaking your head and looking up at him with the most sincere expression as you said, "Just wait for it."

And you were right. A few minutes later, after Everett's excitement for his Phillies tickets tapered off a bit, he asked, "Dad, can we build a blanket tent and watch Toy Story and eat popcorn?"

Bradley paused where he was unlacing his boots and smiled. "Under one condition."

Everett smiled back and shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

Bradley tossed his boots aside and said, "We change into our matching baseball pajamas and grab the stuffed Phanatic from your bedroom. And Mom gets to join us, too."

"Deal."

An hour and a half later, Bradley was watching one of his favorite movies with two of his favorite people. You were feeding him popcorn and teasing his hair as you lay with your head on his shoulder in the blanket fort. Everett was sound asleep, draped across Bradley's chest, and it felt so good to be home, he almost started crying. 

"I missed this so much," he whispered, kissing Everett's forehead. "Missed my family."

You hummed softly as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Like I said, going to the Phillies game will be great and all, but having you home today was the only thing he really needed for his birthday."

Bradley grinned and asked, "And does my Kitten need me, too?"

You popped up from his shoulder and whispered, "Why don't you carry Ev up to his bed, and then I'll let you find out."

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

I love emo Coach Bradley, and it was definitely time to check in with the three of them. He never wants to be the reason Everett cries, but that kid loves him so much, it's unavoidable. Let's check back in with them again soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #it won't be long

[just-jordie-things]

the blackest day - fushiguro megumi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: shibuya + light culling game arc spoilers but not very canon compliant lmfao. suggested major character death, heavy themes of depression (not reader) including: not eating, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness + suicidal ideation. mentions of needles, stitches, + blood. heavy angst with a happy ending. summary: megumi tried to tell her not to go to that station. all he can do now is think that he should've tried harder. more info: rivals/friends to lovers, lots of hurt/some comfort, megumi has reached ultimate functioning angst in this ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s not easy for me to talk about // i have heavy heartstrings.  and not simple, it’s trigonometry // it’s hard to express // i can’t explain // ever since my baby went away, it’s been the blackest day ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I don’t care that they assigned me to go with Nanami,” 

Her voice came out in a huff, irritation getting the better of her, and it was starting to become quite noticeable.  Her chest was puffed, her lips were pulled into a snarl that looked completely unnatural on her usually bright features.  The hand that wasn’t holding a short sword was curled into a fist so tight it began to tremble.

“Itadori needs my help more” She finished, sounding sure of this change of plan.

Megumi cursed under his breath, this petty argument being the last thing he was in the mood for.  There was no time for some ridiculous change in team ups.  The pairings had already been decided, and had happened for a reason.  With a veil over Shibuya making communication impossible, a change like this was absurd.

“You don’t get to just pick and choose what you want to do, (y/n),” He snapped back at her, before aggressively pointing in the direction of Nanami’s team, where he and Takuma had just taken off.  

It hadn’t been until too late that Megumi caught (y/n) hovering away from her group, looking lost under a flickering street lamp as she gazed off in the opposite direction of her team, chewing on her lip as she worried about her other classmate headed for the train station.  Had Megumi noticed sooner, he probably wouldn’t be standing here fighting with her right now.  He probably could’ve hollered for Nanami or Takuma to circle back and drag her off if they had to.  But they were too far gone now to yell after, and his phone was useless.

“These teams were drawn up for a reason,” He muttered.  “Now you’ve rendered it useless” 

She rolls her eyes at his drama, turning to head off towards the train station, not caring about winning this argument.  There were more important things to do right now than stand here and bicker with Megumi.  She was getting tired of this repetitive game of his anyways.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He took a large step towards her, making her halt in her tracks before she could get very far.

“I told you,” She snapped back.  “I’m going after Yuuji.  Something’s not right.  I can feel it” 

Megumi’s eyes widened and twitched.

“You can’t be serious” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

Her expression didn’t flinch.  He could tell by the hardness in her eyes that she’d set her mind to this new plan of hers, and no matter how stupid it was, he knew deep down she wasn’t going to waver on it.

“You’re not going off on your own,” Megumi scoffs, hoping he could get her to see that she’d be walking right into a trap if she split off by herself.  “Do you even know your way there?” 

“I think I’m capable of reading street signs, Fushiguro” 

Surname.  Ouch.  He was only succeeding in pissing her off.

“Just- god, just come with me, alright?” He suggests instead, thinking a compromise would sway her.  “Going off by yourself right now is reckless and you know it.  Come on.  If the roles were reversed you wouldn’t let me do this” 

Her eyes narrow, and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not going to stand here and play the ‘what if’ game with you,” She told him.  “You’re wasting time.  If you cross paths with anyone, tell them I went after Yuuji”

“(y/n)-” 

Before he could come up with another argument- or resort to picking her up off the ground and forcing her not to go- she was already turning on her heels and breaking into a full sprint.

Megumi had tried to follow her, but she’d always been faster than him.  He called after her until his throat burned raw.  Eventually he had to go off with his own team, knowing if he strayed too far then he was putting himself at just as great a risk as she’d been.

But fuck, had he made a mistake in not pushing himself to follow her.

Even if they’d both died trying to get to Yuuji, he thinks it would’ve been better than this.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Megumi wakes up that morning looking like he was in just as terrible of a state as he had the day before.  And the day before that.  And every day before that for the last six days.

It had been a week since the incident with Shibuya, and with every day that passed and the more ground they covered, Megumi was starting to feel worse.

Yuuta silently offered up an apple he’d found at the last shop they’d raided.  Megumi barely glanced at it before shaking his head, going right to work rolling up the sleeping bag that was starting to get worn and dirty.  Yuuta frowned, crouching down beside the younger man to talk quietly with him.

“You should eat something,” He suggests calmly.  “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” 

Megumi tries not to appear annoyed.  He knows Yuuta is only trying to look out for him, he’d been trying to look out for everyone.  Unfortunately since the impact of Shibuya, it was hard to keep everyone in check and healthy.

“Ate last night” Megumi replied.

Yuuta frowned.

“You had a bite of a loaf of bread” He replied knowingly.

Megumi paused in his movements, his sleeping bag rolled up part way, and his eyes caught the beginnings of a hole that he hadn’t noticed before.  It must’ve gotten caught on some rubble or debris and torn the nylon.  He frowned at the supposed tear-proof material.  If it worsened it would be a nuisance, and if he was out of a sleeping bag, well, who knew when or if he’d come across another one.

Pushing that worry off for a later time, he glanced at Yuuta over his shoulder.  His face was blank, as it had been for the better part of the last week.

“You don’t need to keep tabs on me,” He said.  “I’m fine” 

Yuuta held his stare for a long moment, hoping that if he let the lie sit there for long enough, Megumi would realize how empty it sounded.  

But he didn’t budge.

So Yuuta sighs, standing and dropping the apple back into a paper bag and rolling it up so it’d tuck neatly in the backpack of supplies they’d been gathering.

“You know eventually, you’ll need to eat something,” He says matter-of-factly.  “If we come across something and you don’t have the energy to fight-” 

“I said I’m fine” 

Despite the harsh words, Megumi’s voice is monotone, and not all that loud.  In fact, he’s almost whispering.  It only sends a chill of worry through Yuuta’s demeanor.  He’d already been stressing over his well being- not to mention Maki’s, and Itadori’s- it was starting to be a weight on his shoulders keeping an eye on everyone.

It wasn’t that he was burdened by his friends or the guilt they bore, but after a certain amount of time, he just didn’t know how to help anymore.

Yuuji was completely unable to separate himself from Sukuna, taking on the destruction of Shibuya and blaming himself for the entire catastrophe.  All the death, the chaos, and where they found themselves now, the boy could barely keep it together.  Yuuta had only known him for a short amount of time, and even he found his behavior to be unsettling.

Maki had slain her entire bloodline.  All but her sister, who had died trying to protect her, trying to make her stronger, so that when she broke free from their twisted clutches, she was able to take down every single one of them.  Yuuta had barely approached the subject.  No one did, really.  Maki had briefly mentioned it when they all grouped together, and since then, it’d been radio silence.

And Megumi… well, Megumi was still beating himself up over (y/n).  It didn’t matter what anyone said.  It didn’t matter that Yuuji held onto some sliver of hope that she’d made it out of Shibuya before shit really hit the fan.  It was as though Megumi had tuned everything out.  They practically watched him dim before them, a burnt out bulb that wouldn’t light again no matter how much they prodded and tried.

For now, Yuuta let him be.  The gang packed up their supplies from the spot they’d crashed the night before, and without much talk at all began moving again.  Here and there they talked about direction, and brainstormed how to get around stealthily, but other than that, it was mostly a quiet journey.

Megumi remained completely silent.  One hand on the strap of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.  Distantly he recognized that his stomach was aching and his mouth was dry, and he was sure he was also in desperate need of a shower, too.  But even as the thoughts crossed his mind, they seemed to float away and fade into nothing.  Just like everything else that tried to fill the time in his head, it was always replaced by the overwhelming gnaw of grief.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to eat.  It wasn’t like there was much food to go around anyways.  Wasn’t everyone else much more deserving of a healthier portion? What had he done in comparison to everyone else in this makeshift group of people who were once peers but now that Jujutsu Society had fallen apart… did they even have anything else in common?

Just as the mental downward spiral began, it was washed away once more by the reminder that it didn’t matter anyways.  Guilt and loss settled at the forefront of his thoughts again, and he kept his head down as he continued walking.

The ironic part about all of this was that if she had been here, she’d laugh at him and smack him upside the head.  Everything matters, dummy, he could almost hear her scolding him, with no bite to her bark, just as always.  She always had something dumb to say like that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Stop being so gloomy, ‘gumi!” She’d hollered, followed by a string of laughter as she skipped up to him, turning her back to Nobara and Yuuji, who happily kept walking along to the next shop on their trip.

“Definitely don’t ever call me that again” He muttered back, crinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes in distaste for the nickname.  She laughed again, stopping just before him on the sidewalk, just as their friends entered a boutique, leaving them behind.

“Oh yeah?” She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at him, and he wonders if she knows that their friends just abandoned them out here.  “Or what?” She asks defiantly.

He’d taken notice that when she was trying to instigate a bickering match, the corner of her lips tilted up in a proud little smirk.  She tended to get ahead of herself, always certain that she’d win whatever it was they were doing.  From petty arguments on the sidewalk to sparring to missions where she always wanted to compete and one up him.  Although after a while he had to admit it could be a little fun to show off on the easier-to-exorcize curses.

“Dork,” He rolls his eyes without a hint of genuine attitude.  When she gapes at him in mock offense he raises his hand to flick her forehead.  “C’mon, our friends dipped” He starts to head towards the shop Nobara and Yuuji had disappeared into, but she stays put outside.

“Yeah… I sort of let them…” She admits, a small, guilty smile stretching across her lips.  Megumi raises his eyebrows at her, smiling back in amusement.  Usually whatever those two were up to, (y/n) was following behind like an eager duckling.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I just don’t want to spend all day looking at things I won’t buy and then carrying all of Nobara’s shit!” She defends herself.

Megumi laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at their corners and his shoulders shaking and everything.  (y/n’s) almost taken aback by the action, surprised that he looked so… joyful.

“Alright, you’ve got a point.  We have an opportunity here, and we should take it while we can” He begins to plot with her, and her smile stretches into a grin as she nods back at him.

“Bookstore and coffee?” She suggests quietly, as if it was more outlandish of an idea than it really was.

Megumi nods affirmatively, tucking his hands in his pockets before turning in the opposite direction, (y/n) following him right away so they could make it there before their friends noticed their departure.

She still pushed his buttons as they made their way to their destination down the street, but he couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth in his chest that for once he was the one getting her to tag alongside him.  He would never admit it, opting to poke back at her the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but it had felt… good.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day that annoying chirping flyhead had announced a culling game, Megumi felt a glimmer of hope spark inside of him that he barely recognized.  It had only been nine or so days since the incident, but it seemed like ages since he’d felt optimistic about something- anything.  

But as the flyhead spouted off the rules to the games, he’d hoped that a lineup would be included.  Surely with so many sorcerers pitted against each other, there must be some condition of having all of the participants and their points on display, right? 

The others recognized a change in him then, an eagerness, an impatience as he barely took in what the flyhead was announcing, only waiting to hear what he wanted.

Announce the players’ names, he silently pleaded with the damn thing.  Say her name, tell me she’s a participant, tell me she’s alive.

But the rules concluded, the flyhead seemingly disappeared, and Megumi felt like a fucking idiot.

Yuuji and Yuuta shared a look, and the pink haired boy turned to give his friend an apologetic expression.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Megumi tightened his hold on the strap of his sleeping bag and kept walking before he could say anything.

He didn’t want to hear any bullshit about maybes or what ifs.  He just wanted to get to the next safe place by nightfall so he could lay awake on his sleeping bag for eight hours, and then repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.

His ever so present grief and his growing hunger was starting to blend into a concoction that made him more stand-offish than usual.  The others had almost cracked, barely acknowledging him at this point, simply not knowing how.  Yuuji still tried, of course.  Forcing a water bottle in his face, or a piece of food that hadn’t gone totally bad.  He’d maybe had a few bites here or there in the last few days, not nearly enough to keep up his energy, but somehow he pushed through anyways.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t finding some hidden source of energy, he wasn’t persevering, and he certainly wasn’t living because he had to.  If he was being honest, he’d been wondering why his body hadn’t given out on him yet.  Nothing felt good anymore.  If it wasn’t numb, it ached, and neither one of those options was more of a relief than the other.

He wasn’t pushing through the unmovable force of his grief.  (y/n)... Nobara… Gojo… Nanami…  He wasn’t staying strong in their memory, and if anything, he wished his body would just give up already so he wasn’t such a burden to those around him.  Megumi spent most of his time in his own head, but he wasn’t completely oblivious.  He saw the way the others talked about him with only their eyes.  Short, worried glances exchanged on his behalf, each of them trying to silently convince the others to do something first, no one wanting to be the one to address it.

Tonight when he rolls out his holey sleeping bag and lays back on it, he stares at the starless sky and pleads with it.  He begs the rolling clouds and inky black night to let him close his eyes, just this once, so that he won’t have to open them again.

He can’t possibly spend another long night wide awake, thinking about his hunger, thinking about her, no matter how hard he tries to shove it all deep, deep down and ignore it.

As exhausted as he is physically, sleep never takes over his body.

A tear rolls out of the corner of his eye, trekking slowly down his cheekbone.  It lingers at his jaw, fat and wobbly as he clenches his teeth together as hard as he can stand it, desperate to make this tear the last.

It falls with a near silent splat against the nylon material he lays on.

The following little splats come in quick succession, seemingly a little louder as they fall one after the other.  Megumi chokes down the sobs to be sure no one else could catch wind of his breakdown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

She momentarily glances up at him when he enters the room, only to scowl and turn away as soon as she recognizes it’s him.  Megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes, sliding the infirmary door shut and tucking his hands into his pockets as he approaches her.

“I’m not talking to you,”

Despite her sharp glare, he laughs at the ironic statement.

“I mean it.  I’m still mad at you,” She spits out, turning back to where she was stitching up the gash in her upper arm.  

It was a nasty thing to look at, and probably worse to patch up on her own, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten back from an assignment too late to request Shoko’s help- and reverse cursed technique.

“Seriously,” There’s more of a bite to her tone when she plunges the needle through the narrow end of the wound.  “Just go”  

She’s hissing and clenching her jaw before pulling the needle through and doing it again, trying to keep her stitches even.  It wasn’t the easiest task with her non-dominant hand, but she didn’t want to show an ounce of struggle.

“You sure talk a lot for not talking to me” Megumi hums, still coming closer, despite her warnings.

He earns himself another glare, but he ignores it, stepping up to where she’s sat on the edge of one of the paper-covered cots.  She flinches as though to lean away from him, and he raises a brow at her.

“You want sloppy stitches?” He asks pointedly, voice hushed and lacking any emotion.  “Fine by me, have it heal weird if that’s what you want” 

He starts to step away, and (y/n) huffs.  Her eyes shut and her shoulders slump, and he takes her nonverbal defeat as his cue to pluck the needle from her hand and get to work.  She wouldn’t say so out loud, but she knew his hand was steadier than hers anyways.

He works quickly and diligently.  His free hand placed gently around her arm to make sure it stays still as he stitches up the gnarly cut.  She tries not to react to how cold it is to the touch, but her muscles flinch when he first makes contact.

“Sorry” He mumbles without much thought, going for the fourth stitch.

“For what, exactly?” (y/n) mutters back with a furrow in her brow.  “For your freakishly cold hands? Or for letting me take this hit back there?” 

Megumi doesn’t respond right away, opting to keep his focus on his needlework.  This only annoys her further, and he can practically feel it radiating off of her.  He knew it was a matter of seconds before she blew up at him, she was probably just thinking through what she wanted to say when she screamed his head off.  He could tell her to shut up and stop acting so childish, but he doesn’t.

And he’s not totally sure why.  If this was Yuuji or Nobara in her place, he’d be telling them exactly where they’d gone wrong on that assignment, and to top it off walk them through how they needed to shape up before they took another one.  

But it’s not Yuuji or Nobara.  It’s (y/n).  And his mouth stays shut.

Truth was she wasn’t necessarily wrong.  He had technically let her take this hit from a Grade Two curse with a horrific set of claws.  But had he not sent her that way, then she would’ve wanted to tag team the Grade One with him.  And this particular Grade One had a gore streak in the deaths it had caused around Tokyo.  And on that fact alone, he took it on himself, and ordered (y/n) to take on the Grade Two.

“I mean seriously what the fuck was that? You think you get to boss me around just ‘cause you’ve been doing this a little longer?” 

And here she goes.  He braces himself mentally for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“Or is it something else? Hm? You needed the ego boost? Needed to feel like some kind of big strong man, Megumi?” Her eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t cast her a single glance.  His focus remains on the steady movements of stitching her up.  “Did it feel good to play hero? Did you feel good exorcizing that Grade One and laughing when I let a measly little Grade Two take me down-?”

“I wasn’t laughing” 

His voice is quieter than hers, and significantly calmer, but it still manages to shut her up.  For a moment, her expression is blank while she still stares at him, and he still keeps his eyes on his task.  

A lump forms in her throat, suddenly making it very hard to insult him.  It remains silent between them as Megumi finishes up the last stitch, finishing it off perfectly and dropping the bloody needle on the tray beside the cot.  The metallic thunk echos shortly, and then finally, he turns his attention towards her.

To his surprise, her eyes looked wet.  She couldn’t possibly be holding back tears.  Surely the stitches hurt, she wasn’t invincible, but she was strong, and never showed weakness.  Even when that curse had grabbed her by the arm and he feared it was going to rip it clean off her body, she hadn’t cried.  Screamed and swore, sure, but not a tear was shed the whole way back to campus.

“Think what you will,” He tells her, eyes flickering between hers curiously, wondering what it was that would make her tear up now.  “But I’m not so callous that I would take amusement in your pain,” 

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only burns more, and she hopes that he can’t see the emotion on her face, she hopes that she’s expressionless, cold, even.

“In fact, when I sent you after that curse, it was for the opposite reason.  I was trying to do you a favor” 

“A favor?” She repeats, intending to snap the words back at him, but her voice is strained by her burning throat, and instead she almost sounds… lost.  Megumi can’t quite put his finger on it.

He nods his head once in a short motion.

“Sorry you got hurt,” He says, and he means it, but his tone still lacks any sort of emotion.  He plans to keep it that way.  “Just didn’t want to see you get ripped to shreds by a Grade One” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply, or even fully react to that statement.  Instead he turns around and walks right back out of the infirmary, not so much of a nod in parting as he shuts the door behind him and leaves her completely alone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Megumi had found Yuuji after the incident in Shibuya, he’d ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright and hugging him shortly out of the pure relief that someone was there, someone lived.  Even though Yuuji was in rough shape physically and mentally after everything, he was a person that Megumi could see and touch, and relief flooded through him like pure ecstasy.

“Nobara?” He’d asked, unable to finish the rest of the question.  He didn’t have to for Yuuji to understand.

Yuuji didn’t have to answer aloud for Megumi to understand.  His glossy eyes turned away, desperate for something else to catch his attention before he thought too hard about the fate their friend befell.

Megumi frowned, his throat going dry as he swallowed harshly.

He didn’t want to ask anymore questions.  He wanted to relish the lone fact that Yuuji, his best friend, was alive and standing in front of him.  He not only lived through the catastrophe but they’d reunited.  He wished he could hold onto that joy for just a moment longer.  But he couldn’t help himself from asking another burning question in his mind.

“A-and (y/n)?” He stammered out uncharacteristically.  His panic was evident in his wide eyes and tightening grip on Yuuji’s shoulders.  The pink haired boy looked back at him in alarm.  “She- she left Nanami’s team to come find you, did she?” He explained the situation poorly, not wanting to waste time talking if Yuuji had an answer for him. 

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Did she find you?” He asks again, his voice quieter as his features begin to fall.

His heart hammered in his chest in a way he’d never felt before.  A deep rooted fear he can’t recall ever having before, even as a toddler and fearing a monster under the bed didn’t hold up against the icy hot pins forcing their way through his bloodstream now.  His face felt hot as it went pale.  The back of his neck felt sweaty as a cool breeze hit it.  He was sure he was about to have a seizure, the panic was all too much.  The longer Yuuji didn’t give him an outright response, the worse the taste of bile in Megumi’s throat became.

“I did see her,” Yuuji finally mumbles out, dropping his eyes to his hands, which he held palms up and trembling before him.  “After Choso- the people that…” Yuuji coughs, the need to vomit suddenly pushing through his mind and throat.  “She was trying to exorcize them all,” 

He was struggling to explain what he recalled seeing that night.  It was all too brutal, and his mind was trying to push the trauma into a dark corner where he couldn’t think about it if he tried.  But this was important.  Megumi needed to know.

“She… she was crying,” Yuuji looked up at Megumi again, who furrowed his brows and shook his head.  “She knew they were still people deep down, like… Junpei” 

Megumi’s head shaking grew more rapid as he processed this all too slowly for his liking.

“And then?” He asked.  “And then what? Where’d she go? You got split up?” Question after question tumbled out of his mouth so quick his words began to slur together.

Yuuji wanted to cry just seeing him so worried sick, much less actually remember what happened.

“I… I didn’t see,” The pink haired boy admitted quietly, shame bringing his eyes downcast again.  “I’m sorry, Megumi.  W- we got separated.  But there… there were so many of them…” 

Megumi had stepped away, his hands falling from Yuuji’s shoulders, hanging heavy at his sides as he took a larger step back.  

“I tried to find her,” Yuuji’s voice cracked as he hoped to explain himself.  “Really I- I didn’t want to abandon her, I didn’t want to leave her there, not after everything she did to get to me- she- fuck- she probably saved my life showing up when she did!” 

He could register that Yuuji was still speaking, but Megumi could hardly make all of it out.  His vision was clouding over, and his entire body felt weak, as though he could collapse at any point.  He hadn’t even realized he was heaving until Yuuji, Maki, and Yuuta were crowded around him and helping him slowly down to the ground to calm him down.

He’d never had a panic attack before.

Finding out that (y/l/n) (y/n) had likely died along with countless others in Shibuya struck the first of several panic induced attacks.  Most of which he managed to keep hidden from the others, but some hit so hard and so suddenly that it was near impossible to work through it in private.

He’d been replaying Yuuji’s account of that night over and over in his head for days now, trying to find some sort of hope that she could’ve gotten out of that train station before all hell broke loose.  But with a hazy recollection and no other witnesses, it was hard to pretend that she made it out alive.

At first he’d spent time looking for signs of her as they traveled.  Any remains of camps he was sifting through, hoping to find that familiar necklace she always wore, or the shortsword she’d carried that night, something- anything that could point to a sign of her still being out there somewhere.

But now he barely lifted his head as he followed the group blindly, kicking at loose rubble and keeping a tight hold on his unraveling sleeping bag that was almost at the end of it’s lifespan.  There would be no use in holding onto a tattered rag of nylon.  

There wasn’t a chance he’d ever see her again.  His denial was beginning to fade, reality giving him a cold slap to the face to wake him up.  It was harsh.  It left him rough around the edges, literally and figuratively.  His facial features were sharper, and devoid of color.  His muscles were sore, only growing more so the longer he put off eating a proper meal.  If he kept this up he knew there would only be a few more sleepless nights until he didn’t stand back up in the morning.

And still, when he was offered a piece of food, he took a mere few bites before excusing himself to go lay on his ruined sleeping bag and stare at the sky.  

He cursed it when it was empty and dull.  He cursed it when it was full of twinkling stars and a bright moon.  It was never quite right.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y’know any constellations?” 

Megumi startled upon hearing her tired voice creep up behind him.  When he turned to see her shuffling out of the doors in her bare feet and ducky-print pajama shorts and matching tee, he could almost laugh.  She was yawning, her eyes shut as she rubbed at them with the ball of her fist.  She looked like a child.

“It’s late” He muttered when she waddled up next to him sleepily.

“No shit,” She grumbles back with a roll of her eyes.  “So? Y’know any constellations or not?” 

Megumi wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing out here.  Had she heard him sneak out of his room to step out for fresh air? He’d left fifteen or so minutes ago.  If he’d woken her up, surely she would’ve followed him out here sooner than now.

Not to mention, she’d barely spoken to him since their last assignment together, and their sort-of argument in the infirmary.  The few times she had addressed him had only been out of courtesy to their present friends.  But even then, her eyes never quite met his, and her words were short.

“Actually, yeah,” Megumi hums thoughtfully.  “Tsumiki loved ‘em.  She used to show me when I was little” 

(y/n) nods, wrapping her arms around herself after realizing she wouldn’t relieve the ache in her eyes if she kept irritating them.  She lets out a soft sigh as she stands beside him, tilting her head back to glance across the sky.  She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d appreciated the stars.  It must have been when she was still a child.

Megumi clears his throat uncomfortably, before raising his hand to trace a pattern in the sky.

“Obviously that’s the Orion’s belt,” He says, before mapping out the rest of the hunter’s shape.  “The rest of Orion,” He mumbles, and he’s surprised when he glances down to see (y/n) carefully following his hand.  He wonders if she can see it the way he does, like the picture in the Astronomy book Tsumiki used to haul around.  Curious to see how interested she really was, he continued on to another constellation.  “That’s Ursa Major,” He says, tracing the shape out slowly to give her time to adjust to the image.  “And, uh, Ursa Minor is… there” He does the same for both bears.

(y/n) hums curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement.  She never would have guessed that Astronomy of all things was one of Megumi’s interests.

“Do you know what your star sign is?” He asks, dropping his hand and glancing down at her.  She raises a brow at him in surprise, slowly delivering her answer, half expecting him to come up short and sheepishly admit he didn’t know where that one was.

But he surprises her again, eyes darting around the sky for a matter of seconds before finding it in seconds and dragging his fingers along the main stars of her constellation with a great amount of ease.

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” She finally confesses, shyly glancing up at him.  “You’re a pretty good brother for learning all of this” She tells him.

His attention is brought back down to her as soon as she says it, finding a soft smile on her face and a look in her eyes that he can’t quite decipher.  He thinks it’s akin to worry, perhaps empathy.  His eyes flicker between hers a few times as he tries to pinpoint exactly what it is.  She doesn’t shy away from his long silence accompanied by the eye contact that made her feel like she was an artifact under glass.  

It’s quiet for a while, until eventually Megumi looks back up at the sky again.  She wonders what brought him out here to begin with, but she doesn’t ask.  Instead, she clasps her hands together behind her back and admires the stars with him.

“What else can you show me?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If it had been up to him, Megumi would’ve rather stayed behind at Jujutsu Tech to guard Tengen.  Maybe if he’d sat alone in the warping hallways of the school he could pass out from the mindfuckery of it all.  Then maybe, once Kenjaku arrived…

It doesn’t matter now.  Yuki and Choso had already decided they’d be the ones to stand guard.  He and Yuuji were already on their way to find Hakari, and there was no point in changing plans now.  Besides, he didn’t want to burden Yuuji any further than he was sure he already had.

“So, you’ve met this guy?”

Yuuji’s the first to speak, and Megumi doesn’t exactly have an answer.  He shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head side to side with a blank expression.

“Sort of.  I guess” 

Yuuji waits for further explanation, but after a few beats of silence, he realizes that Megumi isn’t going to explain what that means.

“Okay… well, do you think we can convince him to help us?” 

“Don’t know” Megumi replies.  

Yuuji frowns, and turns his gaze forward, fixing it straight ahead before slowly exhaling through his nose to ease his nerves.

Megumi glances at him out of his peripheral vision, and seeing his clear disappointment in his features, huffs out a breath and tries to explain himself.

“I met him for, like, a minute.  One time.  Before I was even enrolled at Jujutsu Tech,” He said.  

Yuuji turned towards his friend with a grin, eager to hear him opening up, or at least, trying to.  For once he keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Megumi continues to talk.

“Gojo introduced me,” He went on.  “And I really don’t know if he’ll help us.  He’s a bit… eccentric” He mutters the last part with distaste.  

“Like Gojo?” Yuuji chuckles, and Megumi tilts his head from shoulder to shoulder once more.

“If Gojo had a gambling addiction so twisted it got him kicked out of school, then… maybe” 

Yuuji’s eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut before he could ask any other questions.  Megumi’s patience may have been thin- and perhaps nonexistent at this point- but he had a feeling that he should let his friend save up some energy for his social battery.  If Hakari is anything like Gojo, then he’d certainly need it.

When they stop to rest it’s not for long.  Yuuji gets Megumi to eat a bit more than usual, though not by much, he takes it as a good sign.  They rest just long enough to soothe the ache in their feet, but as soon as they’re moving again, the pain returns.  Neither one of them complained.

THe sun was just starting to set when they finally reached their destination.  Megumi stopped them both just on the perimeter of the territory.  An unsettling feeling spiking in his chest had his instincts telling him not to step any closer without a plan. 

Silently, he glances over to Yuuji, who’s already surveying the area.  He must have felt it, too.

“Cursed energy?” Yuuji mumbles, his brows furrowed as he meets Megumi’s hard stare.

The dark haired boy nods his head once in confirmation.

“Yeah,” He hums back.  “And a lot of it” 

It was impossible to ignore.  Cursed energy in great quantities had a natural buzz, like static electricity in the air.  This wasn’t that at all.  If Megumi closed his eyes and focused on it, he was sure he could feel the ground below him vibrating with thick waves of energy.

One thing was for sure, they were in the right place.  But whatever it was that was happening here put him on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” He muttered, stepping past the brush they’d been hiding behind and heading towards the building.  He tucked his hands into his pockets as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Yuuji was following.  “And your expectations low” He adds upon seeing the grin on his friend’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Arms up, Megumi!” 

Despite her offensive stance and the glow of cursed energy around her fists, (y/n’s) voice was full of pure delight.  Sometimes when Megumi would spar with her, he would be reminded of Maki.  He never understood why she never sought her out instead, surely the older sorcerer was a better match for her twisted delight with training.  Nonetheless, here he was on a Saturday, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands to keep his face behind his arms so that when she hit him she didn’t break anything.

(y/n) spoke as if she could read his thoughts.

“Skipping out on training doesn’t get you to Grade One, y’know,” She told him as they started circling.  “And if Yuuji can’t teach me Black Flash, I’ll have to learn it myself!” 

“Did you even ask Nanami?” Megumi grumbles, already knowing her answer.

She wasn’t one to ask for help.  Only ever requesting a training partner- or victim, as Nobara had once affectionately put it.

She didn’t give him an answer anyways, throwing a fist towards his exposed stomach, trying to apply her cursed energy at the last possible moment.  She not only didn’t succeed in using Black Flash, but she missed hitting him too, as he dodged with a graceful sidestep.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you say yes?” (y/n) asked, gearing up to find a weaker spot on him to aim for.

He doesn’t want to answer that, but she clearly isn’t going to make her attack until he gives her something, so he huffs.

“No one else would wake up at this hour on a weekend” He says lamely.  It feels like a lie when he says it, even though Megumi knows it’s the truth.  

It was seven in the morning, after all.  Yuuji and Nobara likely wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.  If (y/n) needed a partner to train, her options were severely limited.

“Guess you’re right” She shrugs.

In the same motion she throws another punch at him, this time her cursed energy crackling in her hand, giving her some hope. But even though she landed a hit on his shoulder, it was still unsuccessful.

She groans loudly, to which Megumi scowls, seeing as he was the one that just got punched.  He rolls his shoulder to work out the ache before taking his defensive stance again, waiting for her to try again.

“You’re not in the right mindset” He points out.

She raises a brow at him.

“You wanna chase me around a bit?” She suggests, only half jokingly.  Megumi snorts, but stops himself before he could actually laugh at the idea.

“No,” He shakes his head.  “You should try something else” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” He huffs, annoyed for trying to walk her through a technique he’d never even used.  Still, he finds himself brainstorming another approach.  “Try psyching out,” He suggests, nodding his head as he thinks it through.  “It’d be more effective that way anyways.  If you’re using hand-to-hand with an opponent but don’t lead with it, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side, too,” 

(y/n) nods along with him, finding the advice to be surprisingly solid.

“So if you let them underestimate you, then catch them off guard, you’d probably be good as gold” He finished.

She beams at him as she raises her fists again, ready to take his advice out on him right away.

“Just remember you suggested it when I take you to the infirmary later” She teases.

Megumi smirks, widening his stance and raising his arms to protect his face again.

“You’ll still have to figure out the technique” He reminds, but the coy look on his face suggests that he had no doubt in his mind that she could master it in no time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The inside of the building was so loud and rambunctious, it was downright overstimulating.  Megumi fought the urge to cover his ears as soon as they entered the premises.  Crowds of people swarmed multiple levels- he counted about six before getting distracted by all the pushing and shoving- and it was no secret what it was they were wildly rooting for.

“A fighting ring, huh?” Yuuji grinned, not out of delight for the sport, but surprise for the timing of a setting like this.  Did these people even know about the games?

“Great,” Megumi clicked his tongue bitterly as he surveyed the crowds with a furrow in his brow.  “Should’ve expected he’d pull some shit like this” He muttered too low for Yuuji to make out what he was grumbling about.

The squared ring where the current match was taking place wasn’t too far from where Yuuji and Megumi found themselves, but with all of the people in the way it made it difficult for them to see who was winning.  Too many arms in the air with money in their fists blocked the fight.  But it seemed whoever was up there was getting thrown around like a ragdoll.  The sound of a body rapidly being smacked against the rough mat or against the chains surrounding the ring were heard in quick succession.

However despite the sound of someone being brutalized, the match continued.  Neither of them have caught a glimpse of either combatant, but they knew it must’ve been an impressive lineup as it had been a few minutes of this now.

“Is this even legal?” Yuuji asked.  Megumi scoffed, although he wasn’t trying to deliver a rude response.

“Not even a little bit” He mutters back with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, they decide they’re going to push through the horde of chanting people to get a better look at what was going on.  They pause in their shoving when a booming voice erupts from an intercom, the screech of an excited announcer sounding throughout the building and echoing across the concrete infrastructure.

“Place your final bets now!” He drawled every word out for dramatic effect.  “Will our resident Panda live to see another day?” 

Yuuji and Megumi locked eyes instantly, and without having to say a thing, began pushing and shoving forward again.  The sea of people cast them dirty looks and occasionally pushed back to scold them for their rude behavior, but they paid it no mind.

There could only be one Panda in that ring, right?

Sure enough when they got closer to the square, they could see the wide, furry expanse of a panda- The Panda’s- back.  His shoulders were trembling, not from pain or fear, but from the rambunctious laughter he let out.  He raised his paws, tilting his head back as his howl boomed.

Yuuji’s face brightened excitedly upon seeing their old friend.  Megumi couldn’t help but feel some relief as well.  Neither of them had considered the possibility of scattered sorcerers they knew being here.

They were close enough now that when Panda spoke, they could make out what he was saying.  The crowd around them was too busy screaming and chanting threatening cheers to care about what the fighters in the ring were saying to one another, but Yuuji and Megumi did their best to listen in.

“Just try not to knock me out this time!” Panda said through his laughter.

Was he throwing the fight? Megumi didn’t quite understand the context to this statement.

“Last time they didn’t bother to move me off the ring, I slept here all night!” Panda continued, his laughing ceasing as he took on an irritated tone.  “Ruined my back!” 

His opponent only laughed.  Something feminine and twisted, but undoubtedly genuine.

Megumi’s heart plummeted to his stomach.  He recognized that sound.

When Panda’s body was knocked back into the chains of the ring from a swift but heavy kick to the chest, his opponent was finally made visible.

A girl.  Not that girls couldn’t fight, but this particular girl had a cutthroat attitude when it came to fistfighting a bear.  It seemed every swing of her arms as she landed hit after hit on him grew faster in speed.  Half of her face was covered with a black mask, but the bloodied grin on her face was that of someone who believed they couldn’t possibly lose, no matter what beast of an opponent they might face.

Recognition flashed in Megumi’s face, making him go pale as he watched her strike two blows to Panda’s jaw so quickly it had to have given him whiplash, sending his furry head back and forth with such great force.

If Panda was throwing the fight, it didn’t really look like it.  He blocked a hit here and there with his massive paws, but she always seemed to move quicker to outsmart him.  Ducking and weaving around him with graceful feet and agile movements to keep herself from getting caught by him again.  Clearly she’d learned a lesson when he’d been throwing her around earlier.

When Panda did try to land a hit on her again, she grabbed his large wrist in one hand, still grinning as she used the momentum of his swing to swing herself forward and kick her feet into his chest.

The first from the right foot, directly against his ribcage, knocking all wind out of him.  

The crowd began to go wild, anticipating something Megumi hadn’t caught onto yet.

The second from the left foot, kicking lower against his stomach, making him curl over and heave.

But before he could catch his breath or clutch his stomach, she struck with her right foot again.  

The third and final blow came with a shock of blue energy, an abundant amount of cursed energy striking him in the chest so hard it sent him a few feet backwards, crashing into the chains and crumpling to the mat in a heap of black and white.

It was undoubtedly Black Flash.

She didn’t taunt him as the referee began his countdown before calling a knock out and declaring her a winner.  She didn’t strut around or try to rile up her fans in the crowd.  Not that she needed to, the people around Megumi and Yuuji were clawing at their own faces in astonishment from watching her take her opponent down with ease and showmanship.

And when the match was officially over and the announcer was hyping the crowd up for the next fight over the intercom, she slid out of the ring and left the area without so much as a wave.  It took a few minutes for Panda to get up, but eventually he was sauntering his way out of the ring too, waving to the few people who were his diehard fans and didn’t take his defeat tonight as anything more than some bad luck.

“Come on” Megumi beckoned Yuuji to follow him, his feet already moving as fast as they could take him through the mob, struggling to follow the exact direction that Panda and his opponent before him had gone.

Yuuji kept up fairly well, but Megumi wouldn’t have noticed.  He was driven forward by absolute panic, his heart racing in his chest with a feeling he’d thought he’d relinquished days ago when he’d tried to stop living in denial.

But he couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind.  She was so… he couldn’t get his hopes up.  Her laugh was so familiar he couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for someone else's… he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Yo! Panda!” 

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough that Yuuji tried using the power of his loud holler to get their friend’s attention.  Panda perked up immediately, spinning around and searching the crowd for the familiar voice.  It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the waving boy with the unmistakable head of pink hair.  He grinned, and his ears twitched a bit as he turned completely and began to make his way towards the pair.

“Itadori!” He beams wider as he reaches them, as if they could have turned out to be figments of his imagination.  “Fushiguro!” 

He hugs them both at once before either could protest.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Did you come to see me fight?” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head before they could even say anything.  “Really though, what are you doing here? It’s not as fun as it looks, y’know” 

“We’re looking to talk to Hakari-” 

“Who was that with you?” Megumi speaks up before Yuuji could begin his explanation.  

Yuuji turns to him with a confused look, which Panda shares for a moment, before he chuckles.

“She went down that way,” He said, pointing behind him in the direction he’d been heading.  “(y/n/n) always ditches fights fast.  Hates the crowd, I guess.  Not me, I love the-” 

“Wait, (y/n/n)?” Yuuji repeats the semi-familiar nickname, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

He turns to share a look with Megumi, but it seemed the raven haired boy was already processing just whose nickname that could’ve been.  His face was flushed so pale he looked sick.

“As in (y/n)-(y/n/n)?” Yuuji continues.

“Yeah,” Panda nods affirmatively, not understanding just how devastating his casual response was for the younger sorcerers in front of him.  “She’s-” 

“She’s alive?” Megumi finally speaks. 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but the words are like a dropping bomb.  Clear, and unmistakable.

Panda blinks in shock, his features contorting in realization as he looks between his two friends.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to start.

So he nods his head, and turns to point down the corridor he’d been heading once more.

He gives them specific directions to where she’d been likely to go.  Megumi listens but doesn’t quite hear a thing he’s saying.  His heart is pounding in his ears, his body is going hot, and even once his feet are moving on their own accord- apparently having understood the directions just fine without his ears- he frets that he might break down into a panic attack if he’s not quick enough.  

The warning signs are there, the labored breaths, the hot and cold flashes in quick succession, his blurring vision- but he ignores all of it, racing through what was left of the crowd to slip into the near empty corridor.  Yuuji is hot on his tail as they dart through, eyes moving in all directions at every doorway and passerby, just to be sure that they wouldn’t miss her.

“(y/n)?” 

Her name leaves his mouth in a strangled choke of syllables, as though it were his first time speaking in months.  

She hadn’t been facing his direction, her hand still on the handle of the door she was about to open.  Her movements had been rushed, like she were hoping to sneak into the room and lock the door behind her as quickly as possible.

But now, as her hand stilled and a chill shot up her spine at the familiar voice, her movements were far too slow as she turned towards the owner of said voice.

Megumi and Yuuji are standing a few feet down the hall, their heavy footsteps having skid to a stop when they finally did see her.  She’s closer to them now than she had been in the ring, and although she still wore the mask, she was far more recognizable now.

Her hand trembles as she raises a hand to her head, pulling at the black material of her mask until it gives way, sliding off her head and pooling in the palm of her hand, revealing her face completely now.

Her eyes were wide as they moved between Yuuji and Megumi slowly, disbelief written in her features from the way her brows drew together, to the part in her lips but no words coming out, to the way her eyes began to water as they snapped back into reality and began to move closer to her.

“Megumi?” She drops his name in a mumble, barely audible even to herself, but seeing him here, right now, has her in such a state of shock that she could have believed Panda threw her around too rough and now she was experiencing delusions.

But then she’s moving too, her feet shuffling at first before picking up pace and running towards them once she’s close enough that she didn’t even need to.

“(y/n)!” Yuuji cheers when they’re huddled close together again.

“Yuuji!” She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight, rocking back and forth in bliss upon seeing her beloved friend safe and before her now.

When they part, Megumi still hasn’t figured out what it is he should even say.  He doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and suddenly feels so anxious he worries he might throw up.  To his luck, (y/n) acts before he has to, and she’s giving him the same warm welcome.

Her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her fingers curl into the material at the back of his uniform jacket.  She gathers the fabric in her fists, making sure that he won’t pull away until she’s squeezed every bit of comfort out of his embrace as possible.

And to her surprise, he returns to affection with more force than she would’ve thought.  One arm around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest, the other laying upwards against her spine so that he could bury his hand in her hair and cradle her head close to him.  He’s shaking, she can feel it, and she pushes closer until her face is buried against his shoulder, hoping to ease his panic.

“We- I thought-” He gasps between struggling breaths, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.  He drops his head so his lips hover over her ear when he finds his voice again.  “I thought you were dead” 

Her heart spikes with an odd feeling, and she squeezes him a little harder before pulling back.

“Alive as ever” She says with a weak smile and an awkward shrug of her shoulders.

Megumi has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide their obvious trembling.  The rush of adrenaline in his system hadn’t quite worn off yet, and at this rate he wasn’t sure that it would.

“Well what happened?” Yuuji asked.  “How’d you end up here?”

She lets out a humorless chuckle before wincing.  

“It’s… it’s not an interesting story,” She explains, then beckons with her hand to have them follow her back to her door.  “Here, I sorta have my own space, if you want to come in I can tell you about it, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here, too” 

Yuuji begins a long winded rant right away.  He tells her all about meeting Yuuta and dying again, and despite Megumi sending him a dirty look for going into too much depth about the parts that didn’t matter as much, (y/n) was an attentive listener, taking in every detail and asking him questions, too.  A lot about Yuuta, seeing as she hadn’t crossed paths with him in months, it was good to know he was still out there and on their side.  Yuuji continued on about the culling games, and how they had come here originally looking for Hakari.

“But then we found you and Panda- hey wait, do you know Hakari?” Yuuji asked excitedly.  “Maybe you could talk to him for us-!” 

Her eyes widen with uncertainty, a nervous smile stretching over her lips as she shakes her head quickly.

“I- I don’t know about that,” She tells him.  “He doesn’t really come out much, I think I’ve seen him once since getting here.  I wasn’t exactly trying to get on his radar.  He doesn’t love those affiliated with Jujutsu Tech, you know” 

“What? Why! He must like you, your fight was very entertaining!” Yuuji gushes.  Megumi sends him another look that he ignores.  “And you mastered Black Flash! He’s got to be interested in- ow!” 

Megumi smacked his hand upside the back of Yuuji’s head, making sure this time that he didn’t miss the look he was giving him.  His displeasure wasn’t exactly subtle.  (y/n) laughed through her nose at the pair that hadn’t seemed to change too much in their time apart.

Besides the fact that Yuuji had a few more scars on his face.  And Megumi looked like he had lost a bit of weight.  Besides that, their demeanors hadn’t changed one bit.  For a second at a time, she could pretend things were normal again.

“Go find Panda and tell him our plan,” Megumi orders gruffly.  “See if he has any ideas on how to get Hakari to see us” 

“What? But-!” 

Megumi widened his eyes, silently telling Yuuji to go.  The pink haired boy huffed, but stood from his seat on the floor and shuffled towards the door.

“And keep a low profile!” Megumi called, only for Yuuji to wave him off nonchalantly before shutting the door behind him.

(y/n) chuckled when it was just the two of them, turning to face him again.

“So,” She breathes out a heavier exhale than she’d expected.  “How’s he really holding up?” 

“How you’d expect,” Megumi replies honestly.  “It was really rough for a while.  We all were… pretty messed up.  Still are, I guess” 

(y/n) frowns.

“Yeah,” She mumbles.  “Shibuya… was…” She drops her head before she could finish her thought.  There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain the devastation of the incident.

Megumi’s fingers begin to twitch, fiddling and locking together as he thought over what he wanted to say next.

“Look, before we…” He starts, but loses momentum quickly.  He clears his throat to try again.  “When I last saw you, I-” 

“It’s okay,” (y/n) cuts him off before he could say anything more.  The face he makes is uncertain, and she gives him a nod as she repeats herself.  “Really, Megumi, it’s okay.  It was just a fight, it didn’t mean anything” 

“But I-” He starts, only for her to shake her head again.  “But it did mean something” He argues.

“We fought a lot, Megumi,” (y/n) chuckles.  “Trust me, if I was holding onto resentment over every time we ever argued, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now” 

“No- not like that,” Megumi shakes his head.  “It meant something because you left and I- I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, (y/n),” His voice holds a grave tone that has her kind smile faltering and her brows pinching together as she watches him.  “Yuuji said he lost track of you when you were dealing with all the transfigured humans and- and then you were just gone” 

(y/n) blinks, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she realizes just how long it had been since they’d seen each other.  How long he must’ve carried around guilt and grief over her.  It makes her heart sink, and she shuffles forward on her knees to sit closer to him.

“I got dragged out of the train station pretty quick,” She tells him.  “There were so many of… them… and I knew that I was worrying Yuuji while exorcizing them.  Cause- cause it didn’t feel like exorcizing,” 

Megumi nods, recalling how Yuuji had told him she’d been crying during the whole ordeal, something quite out of character for her.  Even now as her eyes begin to tear up, the sight is alarming.

“It felt like… like killing,” She whispers.  “So I started leading them away and got outnumbered and got dragged out further.  By the time I… once they were all gone, I was out of it.  I must’ve passed out or something, because when I came to, Shibuya was… gone.  I tried finding you- I tried finding anyone-” She tries to catch her wording, but she’s not quick enough.  “But it was just rubble and dust.  It was nothing.  After a while of trying to find somewhere to land to… to rest and regain some strength, I found this place and Panda with it and I just… stayed.  It sort of started to feel like this is all that was left,” 

She lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing her clammy hands over her thighs to relieve some of the stress building up in her body.  It doesn’t do much, but she continues the action a few more times.

“You know, I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever see you again, either,” Her eyes are downcast as she speaks.  “For a while I wondered, um, if you’d show up here…” 

“Sorry it took so long,” Megumi replies quietly.  She lets out a short, watery chuckle.  “But we’re here now,” He adds, moving closer to her, until she looks up at him, surprised by the sudden close proximity.  Her eyes are wide as they flicker quickly over his face, trying to read his expression.

It was a new one for Megumi, one she’s not sure she’s ever seen on him before.  Except maybe the night in the infirmary, when he’d stitched up her arm.  Her face feels warm, and she can’t decide if it’s because of the memory, or if it’s because of how close he is to her.

“And I’m not going anywhere without you” He tells her.  His voice is low, but instinctively, she doesn’t feel a shroud of doubt in his words.

She blinks to try to rid the tears from her eyes, but after reliving the last week and a half, and reuniting with the people she’d been naively hoping were just missing and not gone was starting to get on top of her.  She’d spent quite some time shoving down bitter thoughts and choosing to stay in denial.  As long as she focused on her matches and made enough of an earning to have a place to crash, she tried to stay as blissfully ignorant as possible.

Still, there had been a few sleepless nights when she’d wander outside and try to find a few constellations in the sky, or when she’d lay wide awake and let the tip of her finger trace over the perfectly straight scar on her shoulder.

“Really?” 

The question comes out with a shaky breath.  She held no uncertainty in him, Megumi was a man who was always true to his word, but reality was beginning to settle in and the urge to hold on to him and never let go was growing stronger.

Megumi nods, clearly amused that she even had to ask.  It felt like the first time in a long time that a smile began to twitch on his lips, the muscle feeling awkward from underuse.  His eyes gleam as he reiterates his intentions.

“We’re not splitting up again,” He tells her, a weight hanging on to each word.  His eyes move between hers, and when she blinks, a tear sticks to her lashes.  “I’m not losing you again” He adds in a smaller voice.

A choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh comes out of her as she nods back at him, shaky and fast.  For once, agreeing with him completely.

To (y/n), there had always been something about Megumi that drew her to him.  He was easy to pick on, easy to tease and laugh at.  She found joy in their banter, even when it was less petty and more serious, there was a magnetic spark between them that she just couldn’t deny.  She’d tried to explore that feeling, before Shibuya.  But she’d never known how exactly to approach it, always becoming apprehensive of the foreign feeling.

Now, it felt so easy to jump into the unknown territory that she felt silly for never having worked up the courage to do so before.  The fear of losing someone she cared so much about was too great, and there was no time to waste.

Her tear dropped onto her cheek, the fat droplet rolling slowly across her skin until it dipped into the edge of her wobbly smile.  A few more followed shortly after, unable to be stopped no matter how hard she willed herself not to cry.

Just as she raised the back of her hand to hastily rub the wetness away, Megumi beat her to it, moving closer to her as both hands worked softly to catch each tear.  They were cold against the hot wet skin, just as she’d remembered, and she found herself shutting her eyes and leaning into how comforting they felt.  The tears didn’t stop, but she didn’t seem to be in any anguish.

“I’m not losing you again either,” She whispers, her fingers skimming over his wrist before she clasps her hand around it, making sure he doesn’t pull away just yet.  “I- I can’t” The words come out in a small whimper.

Megumi nods in understanding.  His thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, and softly under her eyes, trying to catch every last tear.

“I know,” He says softly, still nodding as his eyes wander her features, making sure there weren’t any lingering tears he’d missed.  “I know, and you won’t, ‘m not goin’ anywhere” 

When their eyes lock again, she’s overwhelmed by an influx of emotion.  An eagerness to have him back by her side, a desire to keep him there next to her and never let him go, to never let anything take him away again.

“Listen, ‘gumi, I-” She tries to put words to the feeling, wanting to explain to him that having him here with her was sending her heart into orbit, wanting to tell him that knowing he was alive and he was okay was the first time she’d felt happiness in what seemed like weeks.

But the words are too difficult.  They’re too big and they get caught in her throat.  Rather than try to force them out, she acts on it instead.

Megumi anticipates the movement before she leans forward, catching the way her eyes rapidly shift between his and his mouth.  He reciprocates the look, curious to see if it meant what he’d thought it did, but just as quickly as his eyes land on her parted lips, she’s shooting forward and pressing them against his.

It’s a rushed kiss at first, full of anxiety and grief that hadn’t fully been relieved yet.  It’s  messy lips and clashing teeth, but once they both realize that whatever this feeling was, it was reciprocated, they relaxed.

Megumi sighs through his nose as he cups her cheeks and keeps her close, kissing her a little more softly, a little more deliberate in his need to display to her just how much he’d missed her.  In turn, (y/n’s) hands rest against his shoulders, squeezing just firm enough that he could feel her there, without being too aggressive.

Kissing her like his life depended on it made him feel like everything could turn out alright now that she was with him again.  Now that he was sure she was here, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and her soft breaths against his cheek, Megumi thinks his life had depended on this.

Up until about an hour ago he’d been mentally checked out since Shibuya.  Seeing her again brought him back a sense of purpose he hadn’t even really noticed he’d been losing.

Her hands are gentle when they card into his hair, combing softly through the dark locks that seemed a little longer since the last time she’d seen him.  He sighed at the sensation, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

The tips of his hair tickle her skin as his forehead drops to rest against hers.  (y/n) lets out a soft, breathless giggle before opening her eyes.

He’s smiling at her.  So full of delight that his blue eyes seem to gleam, and they’re crinkled at their corners.  She can’t help but smile back at him, her heart full and her face warm, even with his cool hands still holding it.

Megumi moves then, fingers catching a loose strand of hair.  He twirls it thoughtfully for a moment before tucking it behind her ear carefully, and laying his palm across her cheek again.  His long fingers splay out, wanting to touch as much of her as he possibly can, just to keep sure that she really is in front of him.

“No more runnin’ off, alright?” He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

Her hands latch behind his neck, her focus on his lips as she thinks about kissing him again.  They linger there for a moment before shyly meeting his gaze again.

“Don’t let me go again” 

He shakes his head, a silent vow to never do anything to push her away again, and even if he fails to keep her by his side, he swears he’d follow her, wherever she may go.

With his eyes falling shut he leans in again, lips grazing hers as he speaks.

“I won’t,” He murmurs, and then once more before he seals their lips again. “I won’t” 

She could never part from him again.  She loved him too much to even conceive the idea.  What was next to come would be difficult, she may not have known Hakari very well personally, but she knew enough to be anxious about approaching him.  He was a bit of a loose cannon.  However she was sure that with Megumi- and Yuuji and Panda of course- they would come up with the right plan of action to gain his help.

With needy hands and a needier heart she clings to him now, just to be sure that she could never look back and regret not holding onto him tight enough.  He does the same, dropping his hands to circle his arms around her waist and pull her in impossibly close to him.

Whatever it took, he’d keep hold of her for the rest of their lives.  Nothing could ever take her from him again as long as she was right there in his arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i got you where i want you // you did it, i never // i’m falling for forever ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi #fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro friends to lovers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #megumi brainrot

[borathae]

“You and your friends celebrate girl’s night at the penthouse. This however, isn’t an excuse for Jungkook not to receive his welcome home kisses. You won’t complain, he’s your cutie after all.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, casual BDSM

Warnings: just girlies being best friends <3, they talk very freely about kink, she shows off her playroom, mentions of sex work & BDSM events, mommy kink, Kookie being her cute Bunnybaby <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: i reread the caravan chapter of aaol and in it, Koo mentions that she can bring her girl friends over for girl's night whenever she wants to. so i wrote something about that feat. Koo being a cutie. have fun besties 🤎

You had your girls over tonight. It has been ages since you last saw them and it couldn’t be any more exciting to have them stay at your place. You call it your Paradis Girls’ Sleepover. Hyejin brings the snacks, Byulyi the drinks, Yongsun is responsible for the face masks and Wheein brings candles. You offer them your guestrooms to sleep in, comfy pajamas to wear and fluffy socks to show off. 

The sleepover started at four. Hyejin and Wheein were the first to arrive. Like always. Yongsun was next and Byulyi came last. You all greeted each other with happy squeals and tight hugs, falling into excited conversation instantly. Your voices overlapped, everyone had something to tell and unsurprisingly, nobody was heard. You giggled about it and then agreed on taking turns telling your stories. 

Yongsun and her now-fiancé are currently trying for a baby and are moving apartments. She stopped working at Paradis four months ago. You knew of the last fact of course because you and the others were her emotional support cheerleader in the group chat during the process. She doesn’t miss the work and says that sex with her partner feels so much better all of a sudden. 

“That’s what I’m always saying. Sex hits so good when you’re only doing it with your love”, you say, snacking on some salted pretzels.

“Yeah I agree, it hits hard. You’re especially lucky though. Kook’s kinky as fuck”, Yongsun says as she sips on her makgeolli.

“Is Shiwon vanilla?” Wheein asks, “that’s news to me.”

“Oh hell no, not vanilla. Just not as kinky as Kook. You guys have a playroom. That’s so hot.”

“Oh, yes right!” you exclaim, clapping into your hands, “Yongsun, do you still wanna tell us more? Because I just remembered that we redid the toy shelves and you didn’t even see them yet.”

“Okay slay. Please show us”, Hyejin says, “unless you still want to talk, Yongsun. We don’t wanna cut your time short.”

“No, I can still talk during the house tour. I need to see the new shelves.” 

“Slay. Let’s do that”, Hyejin says and gets up from the couch.

You and the other girls follow. 

“Did you realise that you’ve started saying slay all the time?” Byulyi asks.

“Yes god so annoying”, Hyejin groans, “I’m watching this streamer and she keeps saying slay all the time. I can’t stop doing it because of her. Last night, I literally told one of my customers slay after we finished”, she whines, making your little group chuckle. 

“Did he say something?”

“Yeah, he asked me what it meant and I had to explain to him. He said that he didn’t get it and then left. Weirdo, it’s not like he wanted to lick cheese sauce outta my belly button before that.”

Wheein cracks up, you and the others laugh as well. You can clearly imagine how weird that customer was. You had so many of those during your time at Paradis.

You chat about the streamer on the way to the playroom. Hyejin tells you that she really likes her streams and that she always watches them in the evening during dinner and her night routine. She then proceeded to gush about this new rice water moisturiser she is trying, which in return made Byulyi think of how she got a new favourite brand of rice. Conversation shifted to Byulyi and her favourite brand of rice and how she thought of so many recipes already. Wheein asked for them and Byulyi gladly shared them. 

You keep the door to the playroom open, turning on the lights.

Your girls gasp and coo in unison, looking around the playroom with sparkling eyes.

“This won’t ever lose its spark”, Yongsun gushes, “it’s so hot. Seriously I’m getting all wet just being here.”

“Totally understand you”, Wheein agrees. 

“Wait till you see the upgraded toy drawers. That’ll make your clits throb”, you tell them, leading them to the drawers with a happy skip in your steps. 

The ladies follow you happily, looking left and right to really take in everything.

“Is that swing new?”Hyejin asks.

“Mhm? That?” you look at the black leather sex swing, “I think you girls haven’t seen it yet, but we’ve had it for like seven months.”

“Slay. Did you use it already?”

“What do you think?” you say and grin mischievously.

“Huge slay.”

Byulyi laughs because of Hyejin, patting her back sisterly. 

“It’s sturdy. Also it gives me a good grip on Kook. I can really go to town on him when he’s in there”, you say.

“I can imagine”, Yongsun says, “pegging in a swing just hits so much harder”

“Yeah definitely”, Wheein agrees.

You nod your head and turn to the drawers, “now look at those drawers.”

You and your girls gather in front of them as you open them and reveal your vibrator collection to them. 

“Woow so cool”, they gasp. 

“Right? Right? Check out the lighting in there. Helloo? We have drawer lights”, you gush, waving your hands around in the drawer.

“That’s genuinely so fucking cool. And the pillowing too. It makes the toys look so expensive”, Byulyi gushes, poking her finger into the velvety pillowing.

“And now check this out”, you say, pushing the drawer closed. It slides closed carefully, slowing down on the last few inches before closing silently, “they have a fucking automatic break in them. Remember the stupid ass drawers in Room 14?”

“They are still getting stuck each time you close them. Trust me, I’m still struggling”, Wheein says.

“I know right. God”, you groan and open the drawer again just to show off its closing mechanism to them, “look at how smooth that is.”

“This is so cool, seriously. Now stop closing the damn drawers I wanna see the collection”, Byulyi says, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay fine. A girl can’t do anything here”, you joke.

Byulyi chuckles deeply, looking into the drawer with a lopsided smirk on her lips.

And so you show them your new toys and give them a few details about how it is to play with them. You show them your pegging dildo collection and Wheein asks about Jungkook’s progress, which you proudly show them. They react in coos and honest praise and you felt so proud of your husband. There is no better feeling in the world than being able to show off with him.

And there are also no better people to do it to than your friends. You share everything about your sex lives. No topic, kink or fetish is taboo. Conversations about them are normal to you and them and part of the bond you share. You honestly think that if you suddenly stopped being so open with each other, the friendship would feel weird. Sex was what brought you five together, it is what you first bonded over as you had to talk shit about weird customers and even now, when two of your little group stopped working at the club, sex will still be a topic keeping you together. After all, there are many kink events where the five of you and your partners go to together. The shared love for kink and fetish is just part of your identities and a big reason why you loved to be friends.

It is obvious how normal kink conversations are in your friendship, when in the middle of you showing off the sturdiness of your flogging post, Byulyi begins talking about her rice again and you all exchange recipes. 

By the time the clock showed eight, Jungkook comes home from work. You and your girls were back in the living room again, but still haven’t started the movie you actually wanted to watch. Conversation was just too good to interrupt it with movies.

Jungkook is a welcome interruption however. You look at the elevator until its doors open and reveal Jungkook in his business attire.

“Hey there!”

“Yuhuu!”

“Welcome home, Kook!” 

“Helloo!”

Your girls greet your husband happily, giving him enthusiastic waves.

His eyes light up instantly.

“Hey there, girls”, he greets them, stepping out of the elevator, “hey, my love”. he tells you.

“Hey, Bunny. How was work?”

“Okay. I’ll just quickly take off my outside clothes and then I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jungkook disappears in the dressing room for a moment. 

“He worked later today, didn’t he?”

“No, he went for dinner with a friend. I told him to take his time. I’m surprised he’s home already.”

Jungkook reappears again, making his way to you. He looks so handsome in his grey suit that you can’t stop making heart eyes at him.

“___ says that you went for dinner with a friend?” Wheein asks him.

“Yeah, Tae. We had pork ribs. It was so yummy and I ate way too much. My pants are uncomfy now”, he says, tugging on the hem of them to give his tummy a well-deserved break, “I had to drive home with my pants undone”, he says and makes you laugh.

“I understand you so well”, Wheein says, “it’s kinda nice too though. I like being so full with food ‘cause it means that the food was yummy.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“So why are you home already?” Hyejin asks. 

“Actually, funny story. Tae had to hurry home because his daughter suddenly got explosive diarrhea and his wife begged him to help her with it.”

“Eew really?”

“Yeah”, Jungkook laughs, “apparently it went all over the walls?”

“Eeew that’s so nasty eeww”, Hyejin says jokingly, “you sure you wanna get knocked up, unnie?” she teases Yongsun. 

“Haha, very funny.”

“You and Shiwon are trying for a baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Yup, at least we’re trying for one. I can’t say that I’m hating the process.” 

Jungkook laughs, “I can imagine.”

He finally reaches the couch, scanning his eyes over the snacks and drinks.

“Don’t look at the drinks”, Byulyi says, covering the glasses of makgeolli with her hands. 

Jungkook chuckles, “it’s fine. I don’t mind looking at alcohol. You girls enjoy”, he says and closes in on you.

He gets on your lap and hugs you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You hug him back instantly, smiling dreamily.

“Hey, Mommy”, he says. 

“Hey there, Bunny.”

“How was your day?” 

“Good. And yours?”

“Okay. I had too many meetings”, he huffs out air, “so annoying.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry Bunnybaby. But you did it, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mommy”, he giggles happily, “I thought of you during the meetings.”

“You did?”

He nods his head and lifts it so he gazes into your eyes.

“I also have to fly to Shanghai for two nights. I gotta meet with a few business partners”, he says and pouts.

“When are you leaving?”

“Wednesday. I should be home by Friday night again”, he sacks his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I know this is really last-minute, but I only learned about it today.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know”, you assure him and squeeze his dainty waist, “gosh Bunny, I’ll miss you so much. Like damn.”

“I know. Me too, Mommy”, he whines and hugs you tightly, “we gotta call each night.”

“Of course we gotta”, you say, making him giggle and lift his head so he could look at you again.

He caresses the sides of your neck, scrunching his nose cutely.

“You’re so pretty, Mommy."

“Mhm, Bunny you’re so cute. Come closer and let Mommy have her kisses.”

Jungkook leans in gladly, kissing you deeply and with his hips squirming on your lap unapologetically. You and he only act this way in front of your girls. No one else in your lives, not even family, knows this side of you. There would simply be too many awkward follow up questions and quite frankly, it was more comfortable to keep this part of your relationship private. But not in front of your girls. They know you for who you truly are. Jungkook was shy about it at first, because he never experienced sharing his kinks with people before. But once he realised that he won’t find judgment with your friends – and he visited enough kink events with you and your friends to know they are just as kinky as you – he began opening up more and more. These days, he is not ashamed of acting like Mommy’s best Bunny in front of them and he is most definitely not ashamed to show how much he likes your kisses. Everyone should know that he is Mommy’s happy Bunny when he gets your kisses.

You break the kiss because you didn’t want it to deepen too much. Jungkook will get horny again and you can’t be with him for at least a few more hours. 

He smiles at you, licking his lips afterwards. You retort the smile, squeezing his hips.

“That was nice”, he says.

“Yeah, it was so nice.”

“I think I’ll go to my room then. I bet you girls have so much to talk about”, he says, looking at the others.

“It’s okay. We don’t mind the distraction”, Byulyi assures him.

“We saw the size you can take these days. That’s impressive”, Wheein adds.

Jungkook’s face is beet red in an instant. He gawks at you with big eyes.

“You showed them?”

“Of course I did. I gotta show off with my Bunny.”

Jungkook blushes even harder, hiding his face in his own hands as cute giggles leave him.

“Mommy, you’re so mean. Don’t show off with that”, he whines, making you and your girls chuckle fondly.

“Mhm no. I’ll keep showing off with my Bunny.”

“God”, he falls against you, hugging you tightly as he giggles, “this is so embarrassing. You’re so mean, Mommy.”

“Sorry Bunny. You know that I’m proud of you, yeah?” you say, patting his butt gently.

“Yeah, I guess. Hmpf so mean”, he says and straightens up. You give him a little smooch on his cheek and then it is already time for Jungkook to get up from your lap. 

He looks at the snacks.

“Mhm snackies. Don’t mind me stealing some”, he says and grabs a handful of salted pretzels. He snacks on them as he leaves the living room, chewing happily, “will you girls stay the night?”

“Yup, we wanna watch a movie later.”

“Uuh movie. Which one?”

“Hereditary.”

“Isn’t that the movie with the car scene?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook cringes, “well good luck to you girls. ___ showed me the scene and I’m still traumatized”, he says, making your little group laugh.

“Thanks Kook.” 

“I’ll be in the gym if you need me. I gotta work off the calories I ate. Mhm those are good pretzels. Damn”, he says and officially disappears out of sight. 

You release a dreamy sigh.

“He’s so perfect, you guys. I’m so lucky”, you gush. 

“Wah she’s so in love”, Hyejin teases lovingly, making you chuckle.

“I am. It’s getting stronger each day”, you say proudly, sighing adoringly.

#jungkook romance #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #sub!jungkook #bts romance #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan romance #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan drabble #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #sub!bangtan #fanfic: aaol

[vikkirosko]

Hi, I was wondering if this was okay with you. Could you do. How would hazbin hotel characters Charlie, Alistair, and angel dust react to their female lover s/o being a assassin like Yor Forger from Spy X Family. S/o has Yor's personality, strength, and style. The only difference is that s/o goes by the alias name Moon Goddess. How would hazbin hotel characters react? How would they feel? What would they say? Would they keep their S/o's secret or not?

Please note that headcanons with Angel are platonic

Partially platonic headcanons Moon Goddess

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x fem!Reader 🎶

Your relationship with Charlie was full of tenderness and care towards each other. She knew you as a caring and affectionate girl, you were a little awkward and didn't cook well, but that didn't spoil her opinion of you. However, one night Charlie woke up and found that you weren't in your bed. She started to worry and decided to go look for you. However, when she found you, her anxiety increased greatly

You were standing in the hallway, covered in blood, and your face showed no emotion. When she called your name, she saw the real panic on your face. Charlie ran up to you, fearing that you were injured, but it wasn't your blood. She took you to your room and only there asked you what happened. You understood that you couldn't hide your secret anymore. You told her that you were an assassin known as "Moon Goddess" and you've been doing this trade since you were alive

You knew you should have said this earlier, but you were afraid of how Charlie would react. You understood that after death you could start living in a different way, without killing, but you couldn't do anything else, because you've been doing it all your life. You talked about it with your head down and feeling excited, and Charlie listened to you attentively. The last thing you said before you shut up was your request to keep your secret even if she doesn't want to see you anymore

When you stopped talking, Charlie hugged you tightly, thanking you for telling her everything honestly. She promised not to tell anyone about your secret, and moreover she was not going to break off your relationship. Charlie still loved you and she was ready to help you leave the life of an assassin if you were ready for it. Although it was unexpected for her, it didn't mean that it would change her attitude towards you

🕷 Angel Dust x fem!Reader 💖

Your acquaintance with Angel happened shortly after he ended up in Hell. You were able to get along without any problems, even though you had little in common. You were kind, caring, a little naive and awkward, you didn't know how to cook at all and he didn't understand at all how you ended up in Hell. You were the one who told him about the hotel and offered to go there together, wanting to help him

You tried your best to help at the hotel and tried to convince Angel to at least try to atone for your sins. Angel was interested to find out what you were hiding, because even though you were friends, you never talked about the time when you were alive and why you went to Hell. This went on until he came into your room and saw you covered in blood, with a weapon in your hands and an absolutely cold, indifferent expression on your face. He's never seen you like this before

When you noticed him, the calmness on your face turned to fear and you hurriedly said that you could explain everything. Angel looked at you carefully while you were telling him that you were an assassin and had been doing this since you were alive. You've been doing this since you were a kid and you've never known another life. And when you were alive, and in Hell, you were known as "Moon Goddess". Upon hearing this name, Angel was surprised. He's heard of you, but he never thought that his gentle and friendly friend would turn out to be that cold-blooded assassin from the rumors. All you asked him to do was not to tell anyone about your secret

Angel's reaction was not long in coming. He smiled broadly at you and said he wouldn't tell anyone about it, since you didn't want to tell others about your work, but he asked you not to keep secrets from him anymore. You were the first person in Hell he could completely trust, to whom he opened his soul, and he hoped that you could do the same, and he, as your friend, was ready to stay close regardless of whether you killed people or not

📻 Alastor x fem!Reader 🎙

It didn't take Alastor long to realize that you were hiding something. You were a sinner, and you had been in Hell for almost as long as he had, and it was obvious that you were hiding your sins. You were kind, a little naive and clumsy, sweet, but if that was all you would not have ended up in Hell. Alastor was interested in learning about your secrets, especially since you became close. However, your secret didn't surprise him so much as it made him smile more broadly

You had another side, cold and scary, but that side only showed up when you were doing work. You were an assassin, known in Hell as "Moon Goddess", and you've been doing this job practically since your first day in Hell. Alastor was sure that you had done this before, but you tried your best to hide it and you were really good at it. You were able to hide it from everyone except him

You were sure that your secret was still with you and secretly left the hotel to do your job. You didn't know that Alastor knew everything. He noticed when you came and went, but he didn't tell you anything. He saw how you kept putting on the cute girl mask for the others, but he knew how you could be

When you came back, he noticed a small spot of blood on your cheek and carefully removed it, telling you with a familiar smile that you need to be careful. He saw a trace of fright on your face, but you both pretended that nothing had happened. Alastor wasn't going to reveal your secret, at least not yet. But now you knew that he was aware of your secret, which meant that you had to have a serious conversation

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Charlie Morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x Reader #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader #Alastor #Alastor x Reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

Annie always knew there would come a day where Eddie got in bigger trouble than his charm could get him out of. She just didn’t think it’d be false murder accusations.

The explanation Hopper, who shouldn’t even be alive, gave her and Wayne seemed ludicrous at best, but who was she to argue with the Chief of Police if it meant her baby boy would avoid prison.

It still didn’t add up, even when the kids who visited him backed it up with their own witness statements, or when Steve Harrington of all people cried while explaining that he saved their lives and everyone should be thanking him.

And she loved her boy, thought he was a gift to her and the world, but she knew that he still had some of his daddy in him and those were stronger genetics than she cared to admit out loud. Wayne silently agreed.

When Eddie woke up, he couldn’t quite talk, the bites on his face and neck causing some minor nerve damage that the doctors assured them all would heal up just fine. He listened though, always smiled the best he could when the kids came by, silently held Robin’s hand in his when she would ramble on for what felt like hours. But he got squirmy when Steve visited.

Luckily, Steve didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. And maybe he didn’t think it was unusual. Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to sit still before all this. Maybe this is just what Steve expected.

Eventually, Eddie woke up and tried talking and managed to move his mouth enough to be understood. It was still a little painful, and some words were harder than others to form, but he managed. Every day got easier.

But he also got squirmier.

Annie wasn’t around as much once he could talk, had to get back to work so she could start working on replacing their clothes and maybe Eddie’s guitar. She came by every morning, made sure he had people with him all day, and then came by after her shift to have dinner with him. He didn’t get to eat anything except soft foods, but she always made sure to bring his hot sauce to make it as edible as possible.

Steve was always there when she got there.

Always.

Sitting next to Eddie’s bed, relaxed, usually talking, but sometimes just sitting in silence as Eddie read his book silently to himself.

Eddie squirmed even while reading, but only while Steve was around.

“Okay, kiddo. What the hell’s goin’ on? Is Steve makin’ you uncomfortable?”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“No! He’s great. I’m glad he visits.”

“Then why the hell can’t ya sit still when he’s here?”

Eddie looked guilty, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel cornered. Cornered people did stupid things in her experience.

“I just have to keep trying not to hold his hand.”

Now Annie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

“You mean…?”

Eddie nodded sadly.

“Does he…?”

Eddie shook his head.

“You sure?”

Eddie sighed.

“I think Robin would’ve told me when she came out to me.”

“Hm. Or maybe she doesn’t know.”

“Yeah right. I think she knows the last time he dropped a pen on the ground. They’re ridiculous. You’ve seen them.”

Annie nodded. She had. And she’d even considered at first that they were together until she really watched Robin talk, listened to the way she referred to Steve, caught on to what she was really saying.

“Maybe Steve doesn’t even know.”

Eddie changed the subject and Annie let him. It wasn’t her business in the end, not if it wasn’t hurting Eddie, and a little crush wouldn’t kill him.

But another few days passed, the doctor gave him a date for when he’d be able to leave, and Steve was quick to offer help with bringing him home.

Of course, home right now was a motel room with iffy AC and a shower that didn’t have enough water pressure to water a plant, but the offer was nice.

“I meant home with me. Until you guys find a place. You guys can get a spare key to visit and check in. I don’t have a job right now so I’ll be home anytime I’m not volunteering.”

Annie and Wayne shared a look as Eddie silently begged them to agree.

The crush would maybe kill him after all, but he was an adult and had to be trusted with his own heart.

“Okay, but we’re coming to help get you settled.”

Steve and Eddie nodded.

Steve patted Eddie’s hand, held it for a bit longer than what one would consider strictly friendly, before excusing himself to call Joyce to make sure he could borrow the wheelchair she still had from when Jonathan broke his leg years ago.

“That was awful nice of him.”

“Don’t.”

So Annie didn’t.

“I’d say the boy’s got a crush on ya, Ed.”

Eddie glared at Wayne.

“Don’t start either.”

Wayne held his hands up, smirked, and said his goodbyes so he could head to work.

Sure enough, when it was time to bring Eddie home, Steve went above expectations. He made sure he had a wheelchair and a walker just in case Eddie was stubborn, he’d made up his guest room with fresh sheets and posters Eddie would like, even arranged for the kids to set up some of their DnD mini figures on the desk for decoration.

Annie didn’t say anything.

When she visited, Steve was always busy cooking or cleaning or taking care of Eddie or making sure the kids had rides where ever they needed to go. He was a regular old mother hen and Eddie watched it all with a fondness Annie didn’t think could be hidden.

Three weeks after he got home, she stopped by to bring Eddie a new pair of jeans she’d found at the store, the last of his size.

The house was quiet, and it was almost enough to worry her.

She slowly checked the downstairs rooms, her heart racing at the thought that something could’ve happened to both of them.

She rushed upstairs, unsure of any room except for Eddie’s designated space. She took a chance on the door on the right and immediately felt a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

Steve and Eddie were both starfished across Steve’s bed, limbs overlapping and faces smooshed close together. She could see Eddie’s hand twitching every few seconds, a new thing that came with some of the nerve damage to his arm, and he eventually bunched Steve’s shirt up in his fingers.

Steve smiled in his sleep, scooting closer and draping his arm completely over Eddie’s back.

Annie back away and slowly closed the door behind her.

When she got back to Wayne, she just handed over the $5 bill in her pocket.

“In Steve’s room?” He asked, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

“In his bed.”

“Damn. Clothes on?”

Annie smacked him on the back of the head.

“Yes! And they better stay on until I approve of Steve officially.”

“Yeah, right. Good luck preachin’ that to your son.”

“What’s that mean?”

Wayne looked over the top of the newspaper for a moment before continuing to read.

“At least neither of them can get pregnant.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Annie Munson #mama Munson #wayne munson #headcanon

[favefandomimagines]

Baby on Board (e.b)

Summary: you find out your pregnant with Buck’s baby and have no idea how to tell him or how he will react.

AN: IM BAAAAACK (one time thing) you can thank 911 for that because we all know i have a soft spot for Evan Buckley

It felt like the world became one big blur. Everything around you seemingly fell out of focus as you stared down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand. A mixture of fear, nerves and excitement settled into your stomach.

In any other instant, you’d be ecstatic. If you were following your life plan correctly, you’d be married and have a steady job before getting pregnant.

But you weren’t following your life plan at all. You were in a steady relationship for a few years but you didn’t know if marriage was in the cards yet. You didn’t know how Buck felt about marriage. You definitely didn’t know how he was going to feel about a baby. How were you supposed to tell him?

You thought a baby would for sure ruin whatever plans Buck had. You were terrified of his reaction. You loved Buck more than anything and of course you wanted a family with him. But was it too soon?

In a wave of panic, you grabbed your purse and your keys and left the apartment. You had no idea where to go at first, all of your friends were Buck’s friends.

Eddie was always nice to you and you were closer to him than anyone else. You had hoped he wouldn’t be angry or upset that you were putting him in this situation but you needed advice.

The only reason you knew Eddie was home was because him and Buck were on alternating schedules. Eddie worked overnight and Buck worked during the day.

When Eddie opened the door, he was surprised to see you standing on his porch with tears in your eyes. “Y/N? Are you okay?” Eddie asked, grabbing hold of your hand entry and brought you inside.

“I need your help, actually. Well, more like advice.” You spoke. “What’s going on?” Eddie questioned. “I’m pregnant. Obviously it’s Buck’s but how am I supposed to tell him? We haven’t talked about kids yet, hell we haven’t even talked about marriage that much. I just, I don’t know what to do.” You explained, the tears falling.

Eddie took you in his arms and hugged you tightly, mainly just to calm you down. “First, take some breaths. You’re going to be okay. Second, I think Buck is going to be ecstatic.” He said. “But what if-“ you started before Eddie cut you off. “No buts. Sure it’s not the most conventional way to have a baby, but I hear how Buck talks about you. He talks about like you’re the center of the universe. Technically, you are, at least to him,” Eddie started.

“Buck loves you. There is nothing that would make him not love you. And he was born to be a dad and you’re going to give him that.” He finished. You sniffled and wiped the tears from your face.

“What if you’re wrong?” You whispered. “Hey, you came here for a reason. You know I’m not wrong.” He said. “How did Shannon tell you? If you don’t mind me asking.” You asked. “She knew I was enlisting. So she just said it, didn’t want to wait any longer. Especially if I didn’t make it home.” He answered.

You nodded your head slightly and let out a sigh of relief. “I’m scared.” You said. “You are one of the strongest people I know. You can do this.” Eddie said.

You thanked him again, very grateful you went to him other than someone else. Now all you had to do was wait.

—

Buck was due to be home any minute and you just finished making him his favorite breakfast; waffles, bacon, eggs sunny side up. He’d know something was up because the last time you made him that breakfast was when you told him you loved him for the first time.

“Honey, I’m home.” He teased, entering the home. “Hey, how was your shift?” You asked. “Good, just run of the mill stuff. What’s with the breakfast?” Buck asked.

You were quiet for a moment, that being enough for Buck to see something was up. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” He asked, approaching you. “I need to tell you something. Something really important.” You said.

“Okay. You’re kind of freaking me out though.” Buck replied with a small laugh.

“I’m pregnant, Buck.” You finally said. At first, the room was quiet and you feared the worst. 

The voice in the back of your head said he was going to run out the door and you’ll never see him again. 

“You’re pregnant?” He questioned. “I’m sorry.” You said. “No, no, why are you sorry? Don’t be sorry, not for this.” Buck said. You looked up at him and saw the way his eyes lit up and the smile on his face. “You aren’t mad?” You questioned. 

“Of course I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.” Buck said, taking your hand. “I-I know this isn’t the best way for us to start a family but-“ You started. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He interrupted, pulling you into an embrace.

Buck held you for a moment, feeling like everything was falling into place for him. For so long he felt like he was at a standstill. That there was no real progress happening in his life.

But now, he was going to be a dad.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He said sweetly to you. “I love you too.” You replied. Buck leaned in and kissed you sweetly before pulling you into his arms.

“Does anyone else know?” Buck asked. “I-I panicked when I found out and I didn’t know how you’d react so I went to Eddie. So only him.” You said.

Buck smiled widely at you, holding you close. “We’re having a baby.” He said. “Yeah, we’re having a baby.” You replied.

The rest of the night, all Buck could talk about was baby names, if it was going to be a boy or a girl, buying a house. Everything was all falling into place for the both of you.

#imagine #imagines #911 imagine #911 fox #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader

[imbored1201]

can you please do an arsenal x young r where r gets an injury and has to get the green whistle. Steph is worried, Caitlin is filming and pissing herself laughing, Kyra is being supportive (r is a Tillie), Katie is writing stuff down and Alessia feels bad

Climbing Trees

Arsenal x Teen Reader

Word Count: 1,203

"Y/N! Get down from that tree!" You heard Steph yell; you looked down at her, "I can't! I made a bet with Lessi. I have to stay up here for an hour," you told her as you swung your legs back and forth and hummed. 

"You're doing great kiddo! 30 more minutes!" Katie yelled at you, looking at her timer. "You cannot seriously be encouraging this McCabe," Katie shrugged.

"They were arguing nonstop this morning; I needed to somehow separate them, and Alessia can't even step over a bench without falling, so the safest option to climb the tree was Y/N."

"Hey!" Alessia said offended, although she was happy she wasn't the one up there. 

"If you don't get off, I'm telling Tony and Sam!" You perked up at that; nah, Sam would forget after a day. Especially with Kristie being there to distract her now, and Tony was used to your nonsense. 

"I'll tell Leah!" Now you were really listening. "Screw this," you mumbled, starting to climb down. You refused to lose your dinosaur nugget privileges again. 

"Fuck!" You yelled as you slipped on one of the branches and fell. "See, that's what happens," you heard Caitlin say, and usually you would laugh it off, but this time you couldn't.

"Ow!" You yelled as you held your arm, "What happened?!" Steph rushed over to you, grabbing your shoulder. Once she saw your arm, she freaked out. 

"Sam is going to kill me," Steph mumbled and glared at Caitlin, who was recording this moment. She grabbed a small rock that was near you and threw it at Caitlin, hitting her straight in the stomach. 

Caitlin groaned as she held her stomach. "Stop being useless! Go get the medics!" She yelled, and Kyra and Less were quick to run and get the medics, dragging Caitlin with them. 

They were back in under a minute, Kyra running with a green whistle in her hand. "They are coming; Gio had a little accident on the treadmill," Alessia said, and Steph groaned. Why right now?

You started sobbing now; this is when the girls knew it just got real. Right away, Katie dropped to her knees and stroked your hair. Kyra guided the whistle the medics gave her into your mouth, and Steph was on the phone with Leah. 

"What the hell happened?" Everyone scurried away from you as Jonas came running with the medics. Steph glared at Katie, who started explaining the situation. 

After a few minutes, your hand was wrapped, and you were giggly. Kyra smacked Caitlin's shoulder as a sign to start filming again, so she did. 

"Stephyyy" you whined, sitting up, "yes?" She questioned, "How come Lessi could go on a date but I can't?" You whined, Alessia's smile dropped, and everyone turned to her. 

"Russo went on a date." Katie smirked, pushing Less teasingly. "I have no idea what she's talking about," Less said in defense. 

"Yes you did. Remember when you were supposed to be watching me, but you left me home alone to go to it, and you even brought me back a little piece of cake and gave me chocolate and told me not to tell anyone" You muttered the last part, starting to wonder if you were going crazy or not about the fact Less went on a date. 

"I'm surprised Lessi was even able to talk to someone without tripping," you heard Leah say. You jumped up and looked around. "She's on the phone bones," Steph told you, handing you the phone. Kyra giggled at the new nickname. 

"Leah!" You yelled happily, "Hey kiddo, how are you?" "My arm still hurts; can I ask you a question?" "Yes." "How come you're allowed to have so many girlfriends, but I can't even have one?"

Katie tried to hold in her laugh as Leah went silent for a bit. "What do you mean so many girlfriends?" Katie asked, and Leah muttered a little 'screw you' to her. "In the car, she's always on the phone with someone new, always flirting with them."

"You are a naughty girl Williamson," Caitlin said, wishing she could see Leah's reaction right now. Steph just wished the ambulance would hurry. Jonas demanded you'd be taken in an ambulance since he knew something would go wrong if the girls drove you to the hospital. 

"I quite like her like this; what else do you know?" Katie asked you, and your eyes fell on Steph. "Steph-" 

"Look at that! The ambulance is here; let's  go."Steph quickly said, lifting you up, You waived bye to everyone with your good hand. 

"Oh come on! She's my only entertainment," Kyra whined, chasing after the two of you. "Kyra! Don't let her take me!" You yelled, you noticed Less following you two, and you reached for her. 

She grabbed your good hand and squeezed it. Steph put you on the stretcher. "I don't like this thing," you told them. "The hospital is close kid; you'll survive," Steph told you, sitting down. 

"Lessi!" You yelled and reached out for her, but Steph pushed you back. "I'll see you at the hospital, I promise." Less reassured you, and that made you feel better. 

Surprisingly, you behaved the whole trip to the hospital. Mostly whining about how the ambulance was unnecessary. Then you passed out from the drugs in your system. 

When you woke up, you were surprised to see your arm in a cast. "Aw, I didn't get to choose my color." Steph jumped up upon hearing your voice. "Next time kid, trust me, you'll be here a lot now." You pouted at that. 

"That's boring; I can still play football, right?" Steph shrugged. "I don't know; I mean, I'd let you; I don't know about Leah, though." Your heart dropped at her name.

"I'm dead." Steph smirked and nodded. "No one will be able to save you this time, not even Wally."

You always went running to Lia when you were in trouble; she always defended you and babied you the most. "Where's Lessi? She promised she would be here."

"Her and Katie went to get you food, your favorite; Kyra is at home making you a get well soon card; Caitlin is too busy showing the video to everyone; oh, and Alanna and Mac said that you have to work on your climbing more." You scowled at that. 

"They act like they could do better." "I'm sure they can, and I can’t be joking around with you right now. Leah said, I have to be strict with you." You bursted out laughing. "You? Strict?"

"I'm serious kid. You have to stop listening to Katie; you're going to give me gray hairs. I can't have gray hairs for my wedding."

"Stephy, you're old; you have to accept your gray hairs," you told her, but quieted down at the glare you were receiving. "You know what? I can't do this tough thing. I'm leaving Leah to do this."

You did, in fact, get a yelling through FaceTime from Leah. Then you got another one from Sam, but that shut down quickly when you threatened to tell Kristie about Sam breaking her favorite vase. Sam blamed it on the cat. 

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #matildas #steph catley #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #alessia russo #kyra cooney cross #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

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

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

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

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse. 

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him. 

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion. 

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful. 

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch. 

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly. 

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips. 

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that. 

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.” 

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.” 

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere. 

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you. 

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds. 

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.” 

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly. 

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really. 

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang. 

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer. 

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep. 

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.” 

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up. 

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony. 

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head. 

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire. 

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it. 

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease. 

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other. 

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about? 

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs. 

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters. 

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging. 

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.” 

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times. 

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps. 

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from. 

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree. 

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee. 

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful. 

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today. 

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees. 

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec. 

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes. 

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back. 

Nikto watches with hidden concern. 

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him. 

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow. 

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down. 

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame. 

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater. 

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face. 

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.” 

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath. 

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person. 

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question. 

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours. 

He reminds himself once more, not dumb. 

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.” 

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away. 

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask. 

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that. 

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.” 

Your skull pulses. 

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance. 

“It is my job. Do you require anything?” 

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title. 

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand. 

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching. 

Your spirits are lightened by his presence. 

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine. 

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.” 

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse. 

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.” 

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.” 

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

 ‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя! 

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’ 

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos. 

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last. 

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob. 

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you. 

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle. 

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent. 

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh. 

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end. 

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.” 

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth. 

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips. 

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear. 

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly. 

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call. 

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders. 

Thinking like this was making him reckless. 

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing. 

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment. 

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses. 

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest. 

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox. 

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind. 

His mission was more important. 

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket. 

‘My Сладкая, 

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin. 

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal. 

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water. 

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door. 

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.  

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious. 

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip. 

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub. 

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine. 

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly. 

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too. 

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.” 

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature. 

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching. 

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?” 

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand. 

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence. 

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.” 

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night. 

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he. 

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch. 

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you? 

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine. 

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them. 

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car. 

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms. 

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete. 

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.” 

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them. 

So the trip ensued. 

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip. 

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed. 

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck. 

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip. 

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought. 

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.” 

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door. 

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?” 

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful. 

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you. 

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing. 

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame. 

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe. 

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all. 

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself. 

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you. 

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb. 

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug. 

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask. 

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well. 

You made for quite the distraction.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

#ravishing allure #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #cod x female reader #x fem!reader