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youunravelme · 11 months

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to all the girls you've loved before part six

author's note: okay......so i can explain. i know it's been like four months, but i swear it wasn't on purpose and tbh i lost track of time. so here's it is after months of waiting. i promise i didn't forget about it, i just had other projects i was working on (like the 30k words i wrote for two separate fics) that really took up most of my inspiration. there is a time jump in this, but not a huge one. but enough excuses! here's to part six (which is 9.4k words, i figured y'all deserved it)!

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, moving into angst city baby

day forty-five

you woke up in an unfamiliar place. disoriented, you looked around, noting that it was still dark outside. there was a weight around your waist that was familiar in the sense that you'd felt that sensation before, but unfamiliar in that it smelled like someone new. your heart started racing at the feeling, until you recognized it for what it was: an arm.

your heart rate settled for a moment until you blinked and realized that while you were at home, you were in a different room and considering there was no crib, you could only make one leap in logic:

it was mat's room.

jason's words came back to haunt you almost immediately.

he'll get bored of you eventually. people always do.

your hands felt clammy as you slowly slid out of mat's hold. your knees were shaking. the air was too thick to breathe evenly, but you knew if you started hyperventilating in mat's room, he might wake up and freak out with you.

so you took some shaky breaths and then booked it back to your room.

you stared up at the ceiling for two hours until ella woke up. immediately, you got up, thankful for a distraction from the conflict brewing inside your chest.

when you opened your bedroom door, mat was standing across the hall in his own doorway. his hair was disheveled and his white tee shirt was askew, but it was clear he had the same thought as you.

the two of you stared at each other until one of ella's cries snapped you both back to reality.

"i'll get her," you said quickly before darting into ella's room and ignoring the feeling of his eyes on you. they burned into your back like someone was steaming the clothes hanging off your body.

in the crib, ella was kicking her legs and flapping her arms as much as her sleep sack would allow. and for a moment, you forgot the momentary discomfort at the sight of her gummy smile.

"good morning, sweet girl," you crooned. you reached into the crib and unzipped her sleep sack before picking her up and into your arms. she immediately snuggled into your chest, tucking her head under your chin.

you changed her diaper before heading out to the kitchen where mat was cooking eggs.

you wouldn't look him in the eye, just focused on getting ella into the high chair. mat walked past you, putting her plate of fruit on her high chair tray. it was the closest you'd been since that morning in his bed. and while it was technically innocent, it didn't feel innocent.

as much fun as he was, you'd forgotten that mat was still technically your boss, a friend too, but your boss nonetheless. and sleeping in his bed, regardless of how much you believed you needed it, was a mistake.

you couldn't lose this job, lose ella, lose sydney, but you didn't think you could handle losing mat. not entirely.

so you'd settle for losing the smaller moments of closeness. you'd stay professional with him if only for the sake of keeping your heart and income safe.

god, you hated thinking of him just as an income, but jason's words rang in your head like a small town church bell at noon. was he just waiting to sleep with you? was he just taking pity on you?

it was too early to get a headache.

you sat in a chair next to ella and checked your phone for any messages when a plate was placed in front of you with eggs made in the way you loved and a piece of toast.

"it was all i could manage without giving you food poisoning," mat said sheepishly.

you said a quiet thanks and turned your attention back to your phone, missing the way mat's face contorted into a frown.

"what do you have planned for today?" he asked, taking the seat across from you.

you shrugged, not feeling too keen on going out in public after what happened the night before. you weren't stupid, logically you knew new york was a large city and the odds of running into natalie or jason were slim, but you saw them last night and you weren't too eager to chance repeating the same thing.

"i think we'll just take it easy, stay home and hang out," you said. the words what about you were sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth shut.

mat hummed as he took a bite of his toast. "i'm gonna go work out with tito before practice, and then i think we have some interviews or media to do," he said.

you nodded but said nothing. when ella finished her breakfast, which looked like her tossing eggs onto the floor, you scooped the plate up and hurried back into the kitchen, excited to do something more than just sitting in a room with mat. you started washing the plate, not even thinking about the dishwasher three feet away.

"i can get that," he said, reaching around you and grabbing the plate straight out of your hands. he placed in in the dishwasher before grabbing the broom and sweeping up the eggs on the floor as he cooed at his daughter.

your heart lurched in your chest at the sight, at the view of him being so gentle and doting. you cleared your throat and dusted your clean hands on your pants to keep them from doing something stupid like pulling mat to you and asking him to hold you like he did last night.

"i hate to rush off," mat started as he placed the broom back in its corner and washed his hands. "but i told tito i'd actually be on time today." he got ella out of her high chair and kissed her chubby cheeks. "dada loves you ella bean," he said before approaching you.

you did your best to prepare for eye contact. but the bottom line was as soon as you met his eyes, you couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

he was the prettiest man you'd ever seen, with an even bigger heart.

you snapped out of it when ella reached for you, focusing on how her downy brown hair was growing longer, instead of how she was a complete carbon copy of her father.

for a second, you almost felt bad for her birth mother, nine months of being pregnant, all that labor, only for ella to look just like mat.

but then you remembered that same woman dropped her daughter off with him with just a note, and any lingering feelings of empathy and pity immediately vanished.

you took ella and scampered off to her room, ready to get out of mat's presence.

the two of you were playing with some of her toys when you heard mat call out a goodbye before the door shut behind him.

it wasn't until the lock clicked that you could finally breathe.

day fifty-five

"are you coming to the game tonight?" sydney asked over the phone.

you had your cellphone tucked between your shoulder and your ear as you prepped ella's lunch for the day. the baby in question was babbling to herself when she wasn't stuffing her face with the cheerios you gave her until you could give her lunch.

"uh..." you hesitated, trying to play it off like you were too focused on mashing up bananas.

"oh come on," sydney said. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

"you saw me last week."

"that was seven days ago. you didn't even come to the game earlier this week. what was that about?"

the words were on the tip of your tongue, the truth dangled in front of you like low hanging fruit, but you couldn't get yourself to say it. not in his home, not when he would be getting home shortly, not in front of ella, even though she would never be able to repeat it.

sydney said your name. "are you there?"

you sighed through the receiver. "i'll be there."

"great! i'll pick you up!" she said before hanging up.

you and ella ate in silence until mat came through the front door. ella immediately squealed and threw her bananas in the air, some of which landed in her hair, other pieces ended up on the floor.

"ella bean!" mat smiled as he dropped his things on the ground.

he walked over and you shot up out of your seat to walk into the kitchen under the guise of grabbing paper towels to clean up her mess.

"how was she?" mat asked, taking over your job in supervising his daughter eating her lunch.

you shrugged even though he couldn't see you. "she's been fine. it's been a normal day."

"are you coming to the game tonight?" he asked. truthfully, he'd asked you earlier that morning, or maybe the word begged was a better word to use. you could tell he was disappointed that you hadn't gone to his game earlier that week, but he was never going to pressure you.

"yeah, we're riding with sydney."

"do you have anything to wear?" he asked.

your back was turned, so you didn't see the hopeful gleam in his eye. so when you shrugged and said "sydney said she would get me a shirt," you didn't see the way his shoulders sagged and how the corners of his mouth turned down.

when you turned back around, he was back to looking happy.

you started cleaning up the banana off the floor while mat handed ella her water cup.

"she takes a nap right after lunch, right?"

you looked up at him to find him already staring at you. his hazel eyes felt like they could see right through you, like they could tell you were pulling away and wanted to know why.

you nodded, rendered speechless by his gaze.

"i'll put her down, i've missed her." he booped her nose which made her immediately shriek and squeal. "i don't have to be at the arena for another two hours, so you're free to do whatever."

you expected as much, after his first long roadie, mat wanted to do everything concerning ella. considering he got back earlier that week before having a home game two days later, he hadn't been as present as he would like.

and the result was always a clingy mat.

"sounds good," you said.

maybe you'd text sydney to hang out at a coffee shop for the time being. or maybe you'd lock yourself in your room under the guise of napping while you stared at the ceiling and wondered how you got into this situation.

as ella finished up, the idea hit you immediately.

erin, the woman who you nannied for first.

when mat put ella down, you snuck out the front door and across the hall, praying she would be home. you knocked and waited, fully expecting to turn around and go back to mat's apartment.

you stood outside for all of five minutes before turning back around and heading back into mat's apartment.

"everything okay?" mat asked when you walked back inside the apartment. he was just coming from putting ella down if having one of the baby monitors in his hand was any indication.

"yeah, i'm fine," you said. "i'm just gonna go lay down for a little while."

"oh," he replied. "thought we could watch one of those reality shows you like. felt like i haven't seen you in awhile."

you gave him a small smile. "rain check? i'm really tired."

mat smiled back, though it wasn't as confident as it usually was. if you looked hard enough, you could see the edges of it shake, like he was doing his best to keep up appearances.

but you headed back to your room before you could do something stupid like apologize for the emotional distance and ask for forgiveness.

you got got into bed and stared at the ceiling, only taking your gaze off of it to turn your baby monitor on. you weren't sure how long you were in that borderline comatose state, just repeating jason's cutting words in your head, when ella woke up.

you got up when she cried, fully expecting mat to be gone by then, considering it had been an hour and a half. but you walked into ella's room to see him pulling her out of her crib in his game day suit.

and it should've been illegal to see him snuggle and kiss her cheeks. to witness him cooing back at her as he changed her diaper. you leaned against the door frame, unable to keep your heart from soaring at the sight. just to think, a month and a half ago, he was terrified, now he was changing a diaper like he'd done it his entire life.

he didn't notice you until he turned around and nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the sight of you standing there. "jesus fucking christ," he said. "you scared me."

you couldn't help yourself. "you don't say," you quipped with a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

mat closed the distance between the two of you and passed off ella. "i hate to run, but--"

"you don't have to explain yourself to me," you said. "we'll see you later."

he nodded and booked it out of the room, but not before pressing a kiss to the side of ella's head.

you heard the door lock behind you a beat later.

you and ella spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around before it was time to start getting ready for the game. you had her dressed in her barzal jersey and a coat while you slapped on a pair of jeans and a tank top, waiting for sydney to bring you the shirt you'd end up wearing.

it was a quarter to six when sydney knocked on the door. she had her daughters with her. winnie immediately went to see ella, who was sitting in her playpen with one of her toys in her mouth.

"you look cute," sydney commented before tossing the shirt at you. without even thinking about it, you tugged the shirt over your head and threw on the jacket you had laid out on the couch.

"so do you," you replied while slinging the diaper bag over your shoulder. you quickly scooped ella up and looked at sydney. "you ready?"

she nodded as the two of you got three kids out to her suv. you had ella in one arm, her car seat in the other, with her diaper bag weighing heavily on your shoulder.

fifteen minutes had passed by the time you got all the girls in the car and strapped in yourselves. you thought everything was normal until sydney turned the music on a little louder and looked at you from the corner of her eye.

"what's going on with you and m-a-t," she spelled out his name probably as a precaution to prevent winnie from picking up any details.

you froze, but tried to play it off. "what do you mean?"

sydney rolled her eyes. "don't play dumb. you asked me for a shirt to wear tonight instead of raiding his closet like you usually do. you didn't go to the game earlier this week under some flimsy excuse."

you sighed, knowing you had been caught.

but sydney wasn't done.

"not to mention, m-a-t asked me what happened at the bar because you'd been distant ever since and hadn't talked to him about it." sydney sighed. "i'm not mad," she said. "i just want to know what's going on with you, i thought things were going well. you two seemed..."

you looked over at the blonde. "seemed like what?"

she shrugged. "just thought you two were a good fit is all."

you groaned. "syd--"

"but we don't have to talk about it, i just think you need to have a conversation with him sooner rather than later."

whatever you had to say was cut off by winnie screaming out the lyrics of baby shark.

the five of you arrived with an hour left until the puck drop. thankfully, the wags rented a suite which meant you didn't have to contend with a huge crowd and ella didn't have to feel confined to just one seat the entire night.

grace along with the other wags greeted you and ella with grace offering to take ella from you in exchange for a margarita, an offer you couldn't turn down.

when the boys came out for warmups, you went with sydney and her daughters and ella down to the ice. ella fought the headphones on her head, she kept reaching for them but you had to pull her little hands away so she wouldn't hurt her ears.

it took a few seconds for matt martin to spot the five of you before he was skating over and waving at his daughters and wife. he smiled at you and ella, tapping the glass once before continuing his warm ups. it was seconds later when your mat showed up with a big smile on his face. ella shrieked, and though the sound was lost in the ruckus of the arena, mat looked happier.

your eyes met and the noise died down, even if it was for a brief moment.

you okay? he mouthed.

you nodded and gave him your most convincing smile. it seemed to do the trick because he was beaming back at you as he skated away backwards, eyes locked on yours.

you turned away and caught sydney staring with a smirk. and while she didn't say anything, you could almost hear her train of thought.

when the game finally started, you were all back in the suite. ella was clinging to you, refusing even the idea of being held by someone else. you couldn't blame her, it was getting close to her bedtime and she was always clingy around that time.

you did your best to pay attention to the puck, to the other players on the ice, but your eyes kept finding 13 whether he was on the bench or the ice. he kept glancing around the ice, probably following the puck like you should be, and occasionally talking to his teammates.

you turned when someone nudged you. grace was standing there with a cup of ice water in her hands. "do you wanna sit?" she asked. "i know your arm is getting tired." you smiled and nodded thankfully, following her over to a pair of seats.

she let you sit in silence for just a moment before she started talking. "are you okay? you seem lost in thought tonight."

part of you wanted to be annoyed with the constant interrogation. no one had ever asked you this many times if you were alright. but that thought alone had your heart lurching.

no one had ever checked on you this many times like sydney, grace, and mat had. it was an unusual feeling, and one that made your heart beat faster in your chest while also making your stomach turn.

"i've just got a lot on my mind," you said, hoping the answer would suffice.

grace nodded, like she could recognize when it wasn't worth the effort to keep pestering. "if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm here. i know running into an ex is never fun."

you kept a straight face even though grace hit the nail on the head.

the game continued on with the islanders winning 6-2. but you had been so out of it, if anyone asked, you wouldn't be able to tell them who the isles played against.

you made your way down to the locker rooms with ella sleeping against your shoulder and the diaper bag slung over the other shoulder. you would've put her in the car seat, but after an earlier attempt ended in her crying and screaming for ten minutes before she fell back asleep, you decided to just hold her. grace had the car seat in one hand so you wouldn't have to carry it while holding winnie's hand with her other one so sydney could carry her diaper bag and her youngest.

the three of you waited with the other wags, making small talk amongst yourselves like you had all night.

anders came out first and kissed his wife before greeting everyone else. matt came out shortly after with casey. his attention was immediately drawn to winnie who ran into his legs with zero hesitation.

you waited for ten minutes before your mat came out with his game day suit on and wet hair. it felt as familiar as your mother's homemade cooking.

he smiled when he saw you, anything anthony was telling him didn't matter anymore.

"what'd ya think?" he asked.

"you played a good game."

his gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips then to the baby on your shoulder. his brows creased in confusion. "she didn't sleep in the car seat?"

"we tried, but she screamed and wouldn't settle unless i was holding her."

he nodded before adjusting the bag in his hand so he had a free one to scoop the car seat out of grace's grip. he nodded towards the diaper bag on your shoulder. "want me to carry that?"

"you saying i'm not strong enough to carry it by myself?" honestly, you were supposed to be keeping things professional between the two of you, but you just couldn't help but quip back at him. not when he made it so much fun.

mat rolled his eyes and took the bag off your shoulder and slung it over his own. "let's go home."

day sixty-eight

with christmas approaching, you were spending all of ella's nap times, packing your bags and wrapping presents. thankfully, you had the foresight to ship your family's christmas presents to your parents' house.

it was just a matter of wrapping mat and ella's presents.

you might've gone overboard with ella's presents, spending too much money on books and a stuffed animal you thought was cute. mat's present was different.

it was always gonna be different.

originally, you weren't even sure if you were going to get him a present considering you were trying to keep things professional. but sydney let it slip that his present to you was really thoughtful, so you immediately left the apartment as soon as mat got home.

in the end, the tie felt a little impersonal, but you added a note, heartfelt enough to not be insulting, but maintaining an air of professionalism. you kept the presents in your room, knowing mat wouldn't try to guess what you got him if it was out of sight.

mat had roped you into decorating for christmas, a tradition he hadn't honored since moving out to new york, but with it being ella's first christmas, he was going all out.

with ella's first christmas approaching, mat's family made plans to fly in two days before to attend the game. you made plans to leave the city so his family didn't have to get a hotel room and you could miss the christmas eve traffic.

your bags were packed by the door while mat got ella ready.

"who's driving you to the airport?" he asked at the dinner table the other night.

"no one," you said after you'd swallowed your food. "i'm taking an uber."

mat made a noise in the back of his throat. "no you're not. i'll drive you. what time do you have to be at the airport?"

"mat, it's not that serious."

"it is to me. so again, what time do you need to leave?"

mat came walking down the hallway with ella all bundled up against the cold weather that was raging just outside the window. snow flurries were falling down at a rapid rate, something that might've concerned you had mat, a canadian, not been the one to drive you.

he handed ella off to you before scooping your bags up in one hand and opening the front door with the other.

"you don't have to carry my bags, mat."

"well, you're carrying my child, so why would i make you carry bags on top of that?"

"you could've carried ella!"

"not when i was planning on carrying your bags! now let's go, you don't want to miss your flight, now do you?"

the three of you headed out to his car and loaded it up. mat placed your bags in the trunk while you strapped ella in before you both hopped in the front and headed towards the airport.

"you excited to see your family again?"

you nodded. "it'll be good to see everyone again."

"you don't have any relatives you'd rather avoid?"

you couldn't help it, a laugh burst out of your mouth without your permission. "actually not this time around but--"

an alert on your phone cut you off.

flight BA4739 has been cancelled due to a mechanical issue.

"you've gotta be shitting me," you said.

mat glanced at you before quickly turning his eyes back to the road. his attention, though, was still on you. "what happened?"

"my flight's cancelled."

mat eased into the right lane and began the drive to the apartment. "are there any flights you can catch?"

you were a step ahead of him, checking every possible flight out of jfk and shaking your head when you came up empty handed. "it doesn't look like it." you sighed and pressed your head against the head rest. "god, i'm sorry mat. i know your family is coming in tomorrow and this puts a dent in things."

he scoffed. "it's fine, just means they'll have to get a hotel, but i can take care of that easy."

your eyes shot open. "mat, don't put them in a hotel, i can find someone to stay with."

"i'm not kicking you out of our home. that's ridiculous."

you clenched your jaw to keep it from dropping at his statement. mat said it so plainly, it was almost like it wasn't a big deal.

"mat--"

"listen, you're not going to a hotel, that's final. when we get home, we'll check for the next flight out and i'll buy the tickets."

"you don't have to--"

"consider it my christmas present to you," he said like there weren't presents under the tree with your name carefully written on them.

you rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

when the three of you got back to the apartment, you grabbed ella while mat took the bags. the second you three were settled, you were pulling out your laptop and double checking for flights. when you couldn't find anything, you sighed and resigned yourself to a white christmas in new york.

day sixty-nine

you and ella were dancing to christmas music in the living room when the barzals came in through the door.

"let me see my grandbaby!" nadia said, dropping her purse on the couch.

you handed ella over immediately, though you hung around for a second to see if she would cry. but ella just smiled and stuck a fist in her mouth.

liana came through next, hugging you briefly before turning her attention to her niece.

a man who you'd never met but knew to be mat's father walked in carrying bags of his own with mat following behind him. you fully expected to be bypassed in favor of ella, and you wouldn't even blame him. but he stopped in front of you and placed the bags on the ground at his feet. with a heavy hand he'd placed on your shoulder, mike barzal began to speak.

"thank you," he said. "thank you for taking care of my son and my grandchild. when we heard the news, my wife and i were trying to figure out what to do, but then mat called a few days later and sang your praises." he squeezed your shoulder gently. "i can't tell you how much it means to us knowing that you're here taking care of ella and helping mat."

you managed a smile, not really having the words to communicate how much having mat and ella has changed your life.

mike squeezed your shoulder one more time before walking over to where his wife and daughter stood.

mat approached you next, the bags he carried in were resting by the door.

"i can sleep on the couch, or go out and buy an air mattress and sleep in ella's room," you said. "just say the word."

mat rolled his eyes and elbowed you lightly. "quit it. this is your home too, i'm not kicking you out."

"i hope i didn't hear you offering to vacate your room," nadia turned around and faced you, quirking an eyebrow. "we're not going to make you leave."

"you wouldn't be making me do anything, i'm offering--"

"and we're denying the offer," she said matter of factly. "there's a nice hotel not too far from here."

"i don't want to split up your family for christmas!"

nadia approached and with the arm not holding ella, she reached out and squeezed your hand. "sweetheart, you've been taking care of my babies, you're family to me now."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"i'm sorry you don't get to spend christmas with your family," she started. "but i'm glad i get to watch you open the presents we got you in real time."

your jaw dropped. "mrs. barzal you didn't have to--"

she shook her head. "you deserve to be appreciated, sweetheart." then she directed her attention to ella. "isn't that right, baby?"

liana turned her attention to you. "are you going to the game tonight?"

you shook your head. "i'm going to grace's to help with last minute decorations for the team christmas party."

"are you taking ella?"

you shrugged. "i figured i'd leave that up to you. i can take her if you'd rather focus on the game and not a cranky baby.

nadia pressed kisses to ella's cheeks, enough that the little girl shrieked with laughter. "let's play it by ear, if she's cranky before the game, she can go with you, if that's alright."

you smiled and nodded.

as the day went on, ella stayed in pretty high spirits, even when mat left to head to the arena. she took a lengthy nap which gave nadia enough confidence to take her to the game. you ubered to grace's house, a secret that was meant to stay between you and liana, who saw you ordering the ride.

you arrived at grace's house five minutes before the puck dropped. in true hockey wife fashion, she had the game pulled up in the living room so you could watch while you worked. sydney's daughters were camped out in front of an ipad, watching bluey while their mom came in and out of the room with bags of groceries. grace's daughters, you were told, were already in bed.

"where's the baby?" winnie asked when she saw you.

you couldn't help yourself and laughed. "she's at the game."

"why aren't you with her?"

you smiled and squatted down to look her in the eye. "her grandparents are watching her, so i came over here to help."

winnie furrowed her brows, scrutinizing you. "but you're her mom, you're supposed to be with her. my mom is always with me."

"i'm not ella's mom, winnie. i'm her babysitter. like when your parents go out sometimes and they have a babysitter watch you? that's my job."

"then where's her mom?"

you opened and closed your mouth a few times before you realized the words just failed you. there was no way to say the truth other than plainly.

so you shrugged and said "i don't know."

sydney and grace rounded the corner and smiled when they saw you, greeting you with hugs.

"so it shouldn't take too long," grace started. "we're just adding a few decorations, sydney's gonna help me in the kitchen with prepping some of the food for christmas." her attention turned to you. "do you think you can handle the decorations around the house? it should just be the downstairs and the railings up to the second floor. nothing too extravagant."

you looked at the totes of decorations numbering in three total on the floor. "i can do that," you said.

grace smiled wide. "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

you smiled back and immediately got to work. it wouldn't take you long, the house was already pretty decorated, but grace had gone about and beyond and insisted on getting stockings for every player's family still in town, which was more than half the team. there was a table in the front entrance where you put the players' stockings and laid them out in neat rows.

on the stockings, there was the last name of the player with names below it being members of their family. marty's had sydney's, winnie's, and alice's name below his own. sorokin's just had his own name. but you hesitated when you pulled mat's out of the tote.

barzal was in big letters with ella's name underneath.

and then your own.

you blinked over and over, thinking maybe you were hallucinating.

"i hope i didn't overstep!" grace's voice startled you out of your stupor. "when mat told me you were staying in town for the holiday, i went ahead and added your name. do you know if his parents and sister are joining us?"

you shook your head. the plan was you'd be with the barzals christmas eve and christmas morning, but christmas night, when you went to the lee's house, nadia, mike, and liana would stay back. as far as you heard, anders had extended the invitation, but they declined it, not wanting to impose.

grace nodded. "okay, sounds good then!" she made a move to walk away but stopped when she saw the look on your face. you weren't quite sure what she was seeing from her perspective, but your mind was racing and your feet felt like lead. "are you okay? you seem in your head."

you shrugged. "just trying to figure things out."

"is everything okay with mat? you two seemed fine not too long ago."

and you were. but you hadn't told sydney or grace about how you slept in the same bed as mat the night you ran into your ex. and you weren't going to share that now. they'd both read into it, think things were different than they actually were.

"i just miss my family," you said.

it was clear she didn't believe you, but thankfully, grace let it go. she walked back to the kitchen while you continued to lay out the stockings.

you finished with the stockings shortly after, not sparing another glance to the one with your name on it.

it took another thirty minutes to finish the decorating before you joined grace and sydney in the kitchen. you took a seat at the bar and watched them prepare some of the dishes for christmas. it was mostly just chopping and putting things into pans and oven safe dishes.

you were halfway listening to the chatter happening between the wives when your phone buzzed.

liana told me you ubered to anders'?

mat.

you texted back, a small smile on your face. sydney was already here, i didn't have a ride otherwise.

could've asked me to drop you off.

two hours early? no thanks.

well, stay there until the game is over. i'm picking you up.

you rolled your eyes, but still couldn't keep yourself from smiling.

"what's mat saying now?" sydney asked.

"huh?" you asked, head snapping up to see two smirking blondes staring back at you.

"mat," grace said. "what did he say?"

"how did you--"

"you only smile like that with him," sydney explained. "certainly never smiled like that around your ex, the one time i saw him with you."

at the mention of jason, your stomach churned, but you kept up appearances.

you, grace, and sydney were chatting on the couches when the front door opened with matt, anders, and mat walking in. winnie, who was originally dozing off, popped up from laying on the couch to see her father standing there. she smiled and ran over to him.

anders walked in the living room and kissed his wife.

which just left you and mat, staring at each other across the room and not saying a word.

"how was the game?" sydney asked.

all three of the hockey players shrugged in unision. "fine," anders said before collapsing on the couch next to his wife. "how was your night?"

grace looked at you and sydney before smiling and turning to her husband. "i'd say it was productive and fun." you and sydney hummed in response.

matt came and sat next to his wife and a sleeping alice who was in sydney's arms. which just left an empty spot next to you and mat who was still standing in the doorway.

"barzy, you gonna come sit or stand there awkwardly?" anders chirped.

almost like he was snapped out of a daze, mat walked over and took the seat next to you, leaving about four inches between your hips and his. almost immediately, he threw his arm over the back of the couch behind your head.

you turned and looked at him for a moment, forgetting about the other people in the room. "ella with your parents?"

he nodded. "i offered to take her, but my mom insisted on putting her down."

"did you score at all tonight?"

he grinned and nodded yet again, but it was marty who cut him off.

"should've seen him! two goals, one assist."

your jaw dropped as you looked back at mat. "that's insane!" he immediately beamed at your reaction. your eye contact was broken up when his phone vibrated. mat's face twisted into a frown before he stood up and offered you a hand.

"hate to rush off, but my mom just said ella keeps crying and won't go to sleep, so we gotta go."

marty and sydney stood to their feet, each carrying a child. "we should also be heading out," matt said. anders and grace stood up a beat later, offering to walk all of you to the door.

matt and sydney exited first, with you and mat trailing behind them. mat's hand rested lightly on your lower back, something that had your knees trembling.

grace and anders hugged all of you goodbye and promised to see you in two days. they stood on the front porch and watched as all of you got into your respective cars.

mat didn't say anything until he was pulling out of the neighborhood. unlike the times before, the silence wasn't tense or awkward, it was just calm.

"did you have fun?" he asked.

"yeah, it was nice seeing them outside of hockey games and bar meet ups." you yawned.

"missed you at the game, it wasn't quite the same without you there."

"you scored twice and assisted on one goal, i'd say you did fine without me."

"could've gotten a hat trick if you were there."

you furrowed your brows, but there was a small smile playing at the edges of your lips. this felt normal, like nothing had changed, just you and mat. "how do you figure?"

he shrugged. "i always play better when you're there."

you almost did it. you almost asked him why. but you were scared of the answer, scared of what it would change.

scared that it wouldn't change a thing.

he's not gonna fall in love with you.

it was only a matter of minutes before you were back at your apartment. the two of you took the elevator to get to your floor.

you could hear ella's cries through the front door as mat hastened to unlock it. the second the door was open, every head turned towards the two of you. mat shut the door while you walked over to where liana was holding a crying ella.

ella immediately reached out for you, rubbing at her eyes when she finally settled on your hip. "sorry," you apologized to mat's family.

"what're you apologizing for, sweetheart?" nadia asked. she squeezed your arm before ushering her family to the front door. "we need to get to our hotel and get some rest. we'll see you three tomorrow."

"bye mom," mat kissed his mother's cheek and hugged liana and mike before walking them to the door and locking it behind them.

you stared at him, even as he turned around and made eye contact with you. you finally noticed a line on his forehead that you missed earlier.

you gestured to your own forehead. "you have a line right here..." you trailed off.

mat reached up a hand and felt for it before rolling his eyes. "it's from my helmet, dumbass."

you gasped and covered the one ear of ella's that wasn't pressed against your collarbone. "in front of the baby?"

"you said worse two days ago when you hit your hip on the kitchen counter."

you rolled your eyes, which seemed to be a recurring theme between the two of you that night. "i'm gonna try to take the queen to bed, wish me luck."

"i can put her down if you want," he said but you were already walking down the hallway and waving him off.

it took twenty minutes to settle ella down enough to go to sleep, and by the time you hit your mattress, you were out like a light.

day seventy-one

you woke up when the sunlight peeked through the blinds. your heart immediately shot to your throat when you realized you couldn't hear ella's sound machine through the baby monitor. the panic didn't settle when you turned over and realized it was off.

you jumped out of bed, barely remembering to throw on a sweatshirt over your tank top, and threw the door open.

you were immediately greeted with the sound of christmas music coming from the kitchen. it wasn't until you rounded the corner and saw mat making eggs with ella on his hip that you finally relaxed.

mat turned around at the sound of your heavy panicked breathing. his brows were furrowed and he moved the pan off the stove when he saw you were winded. "are you okay?"

"the monitor was off, i'm so sorry i thought i turned it on last night but i forgot--"

"i turned it off this morning," mat said. "figured you deserved a chance to sleep in."

ella smiled at seeing you and reached for you. mat didn't hesitate to walk her over, probably to make it easier to cook breakfast. you took ella and cherished the snuggles she gave you.

"when is your family coming over?"

mat tapped his phone, presumably to check the time or his texts. "fifteen minutes or so?"

you spared a glance outside. "will they be okay in the snow?"

"uh oh, mama bear's coming out," he teased. "we're literally from canada, my family will be fine."

you nodded, feeling heat crawl up your neck at the slight overreaction and concern.

the three of you sat at the table, eating the eggs and sausage mat made. normally, when you were with your family, you'd eat homemade cinnamon rolls, but maybe this year was about changing traditions and embracing them.

you picked up your phone and called your mom, waiting for her to answer. when she didn't pick up, you just shot her a quick "merry christmas" text and telling her to call you back when she gets the chance, that you couldn't wait to see her tomorrow.

by the time the three of you finished breakfast, his family was knocking at the door, greeting the three of you with an excited "merry christmas" when mat opened the door. while they got settled, you took ella out of the high chair and carried her into the living room.

you sat on the floor in front of the recliner and plopped ella in your lap while mike and nadia brought their wrapped presents in. mat and liana were the ones to pass them all out while their parents got situated on one end of the couch.

you were surprised to see some presents for you written in handwriting you knew did not belong to mat, part of you fully expecting nadia to have been bluffing two days ago.

when the presents were passed out, mat took the seat behind you in the recliner, even going as far as to let you lean against his shin for support.

"now, i don't know how you do it in your family, but in the barzal family, we going youngest to oldest, and we record everything," mike said, holding his phone up. "our sweet ella, though, is the first person to take away liana's long standing reign over opening presents first."

mat got out of the recliner, choosing to sit on the floor on your left, seemingly to help ella open her presents. you scooted back to use the recliner as back support now that mat was sitting next to you.

you heard a beep, presumably of mike's camera starting to record.

"let's open this one, ella bean," mat said to his daughter. he started ripping it at the edge, carefully placing the present in front of her and waiting to see if she did anything with it.

ella stared at it, but otherwise seemed uninterested

"look ella," you said, reaching around her and tugging the paper a little more.

she was uninterested until she heard the distinct sound of ripping. then she tried it for herself, laughing and clapping her hands when it made the noise she liked.

her first present was a puzzle made up of the letters of her name from liana. her next present was from nadia and mike, a box of playpen balls. you couldn't wait to open them, to get her settled in her playpen with them and watch her entertain herself.

mat helped her open the books everyone had bought her. he must've told his family she'd gotten into reading lately, because you weren't the only one contributing to her library.

mat's present to ella was a walker. she'd started crawling a few weeks ago, and mat was determined to get her to start walking before the end of the year.

your last present was the last one for her to open. it was just in a gift bag, and ella thoroughly enjoyed taking the tissue paper out once she got a hang of it. but nothing could've prepared you for the shriek that left her mouth when she saw the stuffed hippo.

you didn't think you'd ever seen her smile that big.

she reached for it with grabby hands, bringing it to her chest when she got it.

"guess we know her favorite gift," mat chuckled.

the rest of the morning was filled with the other presents being opened. you ended the morning with cute sweaters and a barzal jersey.

"so you can stop wearing mat's," liana had said. "figured you'd at least want something clean to wear to games."

mat had mumbled something under his breath, but when you asked him to repeat himself, he just pressed a kiss to the top of ella's head and kept his mouth shut.

when it was mat's turn to open gifts, you could feel yourself flush with embarrassment when he opened your gift. you didn't know the platonic way of saying "i got this because it would bring out your eyes," so you settled with "i thought you'd like it."

and he did, he swore it would be the tie he'd wear in the first game of the new year when you got back in town.

nadia made a wonderful christmas lunch. it was light because she knew you were going to the lee's in a matter of hours, but still better than anything mat could've cooked up.

it wasn't long before the three of you were saying your goodbyes with mike, nadia, and liana all promising to come see you soon, and to thank you for taking care of their newest addition.

just like any other time the three of you left the apartment, you carried ella while mat grabbed the diaper bag.

ella sat in her car seat, snuggling her hippo while mat drove.

"you must be pretty proud of yourself for that hippo gift," he said.

you smiled at him, reveling in the way he'd occasionally take his eyes off the road to look at you. "i am. i have an extra one in my closet just in case this one gets messed up."

his jaw dropped. "you're a fucking genius."

you weren't the last ones to get to anders' and grace's house, but you surely weren't the first. there was a line of cars parked on the street, none of which you recognized.

"are we taking the car seat inside?" you asked when mat put the car in park.

his hand paused over the door handle. "do you think we should?"

you shrugged. "we could always come back out and get it if we need it. but i'm willing to bet that she's gonna be passed around like a hot potato tonight."

mat rolled his eyes but sighed anyway. "as long as dobson doesn't hold her, it'll be fine." with that, he got out of the car and opened the back door to grab the bag.

"wait why?" you asked, getting out and unbuckling ella. "what's wrong with dobson?"

"he's like 23!"

you blinked. "am i missing something? why is that a problem?"

"he's too young to hold her, he'd do something dumb like drop her."

you rolled your eyes as you picked ella up, but said nothing.

the three of you were immediately accosted by christmas music and food smells when you walked through the front door of the lee house.

"you made it!" grace exclaimed, coming out of the living room to greet you. "grab your stocking and head to the couches, i think my husband is gonna do a toast and then we'll get started on dinner."

you nodded along and turned to look at mat who hadn't said anything. your heart dropped straight to your toes when you saw him pick up the stocking that made your mind go blank the other night. his fingers traced over his last name, then ella's name, then yours. he hesitated on yours though, fingers running over it like it was something delicate.

it felt weird to watch that moment, like you were intruding on something private, but before you could look away, he looked up at you. "did you see this?" he asked.

you nodded. "saw it the other night. are you mad?"

he quickly shook his head. "nope. just caught off guard." he glanced back down at the stocking before looking up at you and smiling. "let's get on with this, shall we?"

the night started with anders toasting to the team, but more importantly the wives and girlfriends and support behind each member who'd played a large role whether they realized it or not.

mat nudged you at that moment, which earned him an elbow in the side and a wink from anthony who stood next to him.

when they broke off for dinner, mat offered to take ella so you could get your plate first, but you declined, saying you could wait a few more minutes.

while he was gone, sydney approached. "so, how was this morning? get caught up under any mistletoe?" she nudged you. "get any sentimental gifts?"

when you thought about it, you didn't really. the gifts you got, while amazing, weren't tear jerking, which was surprising considering sydney had said mat's gift to you was thoughtful.

but what was thoughtful about a spa gift card and some bath bombs?

"nope, just the typical gifts, you know?"

sydney's face twisted a little before it righted itself when mat came back with a plate of food.

"got you what i thought you'd like," he said, handing the plate to you.

your brows furrowed. "i thought we agreed you'd eat first."

but he smirked. "no, you did."

"mathew. go eat!"

he shook his head. "not before you. now, let's trade, i'll take my child and you take the plate and go eat with sydney and the other wives if you want." mat handed the plate to sydney before taking ella and walking away before you could say anything.

you watched him walk away for a moment before turning to your friend, only to find her already looking at you. "what?"

she had a smirk for reasons you weren't sure you wanted to know about. "oh nothing."

the night continued on without much fanfare, with you and mat leaving around the same time as the martins again because of the children all three of you brought.

you'd made it back home before midnight. mat this time, wanted to put ella to bed, making sure to leave the hippo out of her crib.

you were in your room packing the last bit of your things so you could leave tomorrow and fly home. you were in the zone until you heard a throat being cleared. when you turned around, mat was leaning up against the doorway with a box in his hand.

"i know you're probably tired, but i have one last present for you."

"mat--"

"i didn't want to give it to you in front of my parents and liana, just seemed too personal." he offered no other explanation and just handed you the box.

you took it carefully, going to your bed and sitting down on the edge to open the present. when you pulled the lid off the box, you were staring at tissue paper until you pulled it away to reveal a photo album.

oh god.

it was the thoughtful present sydney had talked about.

you immediately pulled it out of the box and started flipping through it. the photos were some you'd never seen before, but they were all of you and ella. until you got further in, the photos went from just you and ella to you, mat, and ella.

you looked like a proper family.

sydney or grace must've had a hand in it, because half the photos you didn't remember being taken and they were all candids.

you could feel your eyes water, you noticed the pressure. but you kept wiping at your face to prevent them from falling onto the album itself.

you looked up at mat who looked the most unsure of himself since that first night he had ella. "i hope it wasn't over stepped, i just figured you would like to see how important you are to me, to us, me and ella." he gestured at the book. "some of the photos i took, others i got from grace and syd. i hope it's not weird or anything--"

but you were already up and crossing the room towards him.

a beat later you grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his lips to yours.

he responded not even a split second later, his mouth moving against yours. mat's arms came around your waist while your hands made a home in his hair.

was kissing always supposed to be this charged? to feel this right?

you had no idea how long you stood there, kissing mat, before you both pulled away to breathe. your eyes opened slowly, only to meet his hazel irises almost immediately.

and then reality hit you.

jason's words haunting you at just the right time.

he's not gonna fall in love with you. you're a no good bitch who didn't know what she had when she had it.

you pulled away instantly and stumbled back into your room, dodging mat's hold when he tried to reach out for you.

"what's going on?" he asked. "what just happened?"

you shook your head and grabbed your bag, moving past him without making contact. "this was a mistake," you said. "i have to go."

god you felt sick to your stomach.

mat was calling your name, but you kept walking, out the front door, down the stairs, and onto the street where you hailed a taxi.

it wasn't until you got in that you exhaled.

what the fuck had you done?

taglist:

@nicoleloveshockey @thg02 @fallinallincurls @bbbbruins @random-readers-world @sydsxoxo @jhughesy @whenmypartysover @sunflowerhood @spencereidbasis @icanfsplel @avareadsthings @zegraswrites @matthewkniesys @heyitsmeimdead @kashee-h @bordelhoe @diary-of-jj @literatureluster @dani746 @barzyblogbabe @tomhollandsbabymama @wickedlovely121 @coldheartedmar @oh-my-ladymay @heartsforhischier @brrbrina @sebsfeverdream @cathamnsns-diary @coldheartedmar @wickedlovely121

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #mat barzal blurb

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fic-over-cannon · 9 months

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New Year’s Day

jason todd x f!reader

part of the holiday scenes series

summary: waking up with jason on New Year’s Day

tags: frotting, kissing, light dirty talk

rating explicit (mdni) | wc: 1k

a/n: wrote this in like four hours while traveling and posting while a bit tipsy, so i can’t guarantee that this is my best work. enjoy and have a wonderful new year!

(edit: i should mention that this was partially inspired by @ivysangel’s incredible fic and my brain going ‘hay if you were the one dreaming instead?)

You wake up slowly, disoriented and sleepy from the late night’s celebrations. It’s warm under the covers but you can’t help but feeling frustrated, like you’ve forgotten something on the tip of your tongue. Furrowing your brow, you can’t remember what it is, but the frustration is intensifying. Warm lips press between your eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles from your thinking face.

“Ah, awake yet sweetheart?”

Opening your eyes slowly, cautious in case the morning light decides to sear your tired eyes, you see Jason lying on his side, mouth twisted up in a mirror to your own frustration. Now that you’re looking at him, his teal eyes and wild bed head, you’re slowly becoming more aware of his presence. His carefully tense body, arm around you, hand flexing but not moving on your hips that are grinding unconsciously against the deliciously firm thigh between your legs. Oh, you think, unable to string together anything more complex.

There’s something hard and hot against your hip. Jason’s cock, if his full body shudder when you press into it is anything to go by. It’s warm and good and syrupy slow, your hips moving back and forth like they’ve got a mind of their own, seeking out more pressure, more friction to make you both feel good.

“M’awake,” you mumble, leaning into the crook of his neck and placing messy open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. All the while, your hips keep moving, circling. “More please,” you ask, ever so sweetly.

Jason groans, then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You’re fully on top of him now, the leg between yours bent so you can rub yourself on it more easily. There’s two hands gripping the plush of your ass, controlling your rhythm and pace now, pulling you down against him and getting you pressure you’d never achieve on your own. It also traps his cock between your bodies, the slow, filthy drag of your bodies against each other pulling hitching moans out of him. Your breath is coming in harsh little pants now, interrupted by whimpers as the pleasure in your aching cunt builds. Jason’s hips are twitching underneath you, the way they also do right before he comes. He’s got one hand in your hair cradling your head into his neck. Panting into the side of your face words of praise and encouragement as he keeps thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

“C’mon love, doing so good, so so good for me. Puttin’ your pleasure in my hands. Makin’ me feel so perfect. Gonna come soon, want you to go first baby. Want you to shatter for me, okay?”

And something about his words and the way his cock’s starting to kick under your belly has you flying apart, pleasure numbing in its intensity. Through it all, Jason keeps your hips circling, pressure on your clit steady and unyielding through the aftershocks. He goes tense underneath you under the weight of his own orgasm, before relaxing into the bed. Both of you are breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest under your ear.

When you can find the strength to move, you crawl up Jason’s chest, prop yourself up on your elbows so you can kiss him properly. The sheets have tangled up around your hips sometime during your orgasm and Jason trails irregular patterns into the soft skin of your bare shoulder blades. The kiss is slow, unhurried and aimless. There’s no sense of urgency and so kiss for the simple pleasure of his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

Pulling back you breath out, “Hi,” before resuming your ministrations, making sure no inch of his mouth is left unkissed.

He laughs. “Hi yourself, gorgeous. What a way to start the year off.”

And strictly speaking, that’s not true. You’d rung in the new year together at an infamous Wayne gala. Crisp champagne had bubbled in a crystal glass, the murmur of polite conversation and soft classical music performed by a live orchestra the soundtrack to the evening. You’d learned to stop asking what you were drinking early on, when Dick’s answer about a specific vintage had made you so nauseated at the price, you’d nearly thrown up someone’s yearly salary. Jason had kept circling the canapés, bringing you back little bites he’d thought you’d enjoy and grinning in satisfaction at your reactions. A few minutes before midnight, all of the guests had been directed to the rooftop garden of the hotel. There had been gasps at the first fireworks that had quickly turned to applause. Under the blooming golden light, Jason had looked so pretty, still capable of awe in the face of beauty. You’d kissed at the last stroke of midnight, pressed your foreheads and smiled eyes half closed.

The party had gone on for hours longer, socialites getting progressively more loose limbed (and lipped) as the alcohol flowed. The two of you had stolen more quiet moments together, but never longer than a few stolen kisses. As dawn started to crest over the skyline, the last few stragglers had left for bed.

You and Jason had stumbled back down to your borrowed hotel room, tipsy enough to weave convex lines through the halls. After struggling with the room key card, you had entered the room giggling and struggling to get each other’s clothes off. Shoes, an orphaned suit jacket, ripped stockings, and your gloriously sparkly party dress heaped on the floor a trail of evidence to your attempted debauchery. By the time the two of you had landed in the king sized bed, exhaustion had caught up with both of you. Within minutes sleep had claimed you, burrowed in a feather duvet and the most comfortable mattress you’d ever slept in.

Now it’s morning, and you’re making good on all the teasing promises of the previous evening. There’s a wet spot on Jason’s boxers and you’ve got the stubborn remains of mascara smeared around your eyes in a poor imitation of a panda. You’ll have to get up soon to deal with the clothes strewn all over your suite, start trying to see if anything can be salvaged for the short trip back home. But for now, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here. Starting off a new year in the arms of the man you love, with the promise of more pleasure just on the horizon

#jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd #sunnie writes 🌻#mdni #smut fic

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vmbrq · 1 year

Text

MINORS DNI ; cnc (breeding?), afab/fem reader

just bc @/hyeyulove said they missed my ethan writing.

giggling rn because being in a relationship with deranged, ghostface ethan landry would be one hell of an experience on its own, but the day you let him fuck you without a condom is the day you can kiss your autonomy GOODBYE LMAOOO that man will NEVER leave you alone. he's already attached to you as is, so you think you can expose him to raw sex with FEELINGS and live the rest of your life in peace? that's actually really funny.

he'll be so needy—pawing at you, pressing up against you, languidly smoothing his hands over your waist and thighs, sheepishly commenting on how good you smell or look, anything to lure you into fulfilling his wishes. even if it's just you sitting on his cock and not moving while you two watch a movie or him teasing only the tip into your cunt, he just wants to feel you. he'd be addicted to how fucking warm and wet you feel without the latex barrier, groaning at how clearly he can feel every twitch and pulse of your walls, his breath hitching as you let him hold you by the hips and slowly guide you up and down along the length of his cock, on the verge of trembling when he clutches you tightly and empties his balls inside you for the second time.

and god forbid you ask him to pull out in the middle of him drilling into you. you're so overwhelmed, crying out and drunk on pleasure, babbling for him to pull out! since it's the only thing you can remember to do. but sometimes, ethan can be so mean when he's in charge. he'd loom over you, eyes wild and dark, lips pulled back into a mocking grin, and laugh. you think you have a chance at deterring him? that's cute. he'd take your moment of bewilderment as you stare up at him with wide eyes to hook his hands under your knees and fold your lower half up and into a mating press.

you don't have a snowball's chance in hell at pushing him off. he's far too heavy, too strong, and he'll reinforce your lack of control by leaning his weight on you to keep you pinned helplessly in place. all you can do is moan and whine and wince, embarrassed, at the obscene squelch of his cock bullying its way deep inside your sticky, overstimulated cunt and the slap of his heavy balls against your pelvis. but as overstimulated as you are, you don’t dislike it. he knows you don’t. if you did, your cunt wouldn’t be squeezing around his cock to keep him inside every time his hips pulled back a bit further than usual. you’re like an open book. he knows you by now.

on another note, the amount of text messages he sends you will increase in general, and if you don't reply within the time frame he deems acceptable, he'll start blowing up your phone. you'll wake up from a long nap, disoriented and not even remembering who the hell you are, and find several missed calls and texts from him as well as your man HIMSELF standing outside your bedroom window.

and those little couples pranks you see on tiktok, the one especially that's like "texting my bf he's gone, you can come over now?" yeah, you can't do that LMAOOO that man is INSANE. you remember how strong he was in that apartment scene where he was terrorizing the core four? HELL nah. you can damn near hear his car tires screech from down the STREET as he swerves around and heads back to you. in his brain, oh, so you think you can just be handing out pussy that good all willy nilly? 🤨 yeah okay. i know that the way he tried to kick in that bedroom door had y'all feeling something, bc me too.

he wouldn't try to kick it down immediately, but he'd stand out there seething, jaw locked, knocking on the door a little harder than normal, fighting to keep his voice even so he won't scare you out of letting him in. but his patience would dwindle rapidly. his behavior would be erratic, switching between pleading and persuasion and guilt-tripping and banging on the door and yelling so quickly you can barely keep up. babe you are playing with your LIFE😭 that pussy got him in a chokehold, and he'll be damned if anyone even gets the opportunity.

#ethan landry smut #scream smut #scream 6 smut #fem reader

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cheenapri · 4 months

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Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day four + five

Summary: Illumi takes you to meet his family as promised, it goes exactly how you'd expected to some degree. You're tired afterward and Illumi ends the date in the best way possible.

Word count: 13k ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, the dinner is very uncomfy for the reader, Illumi slowly exhibits signs of horniness

A/N: There will be a bonus chapter but it takes place in the future rather than being a continuation of this! Thanks for the support! :3

Day one Day two + three

Taglist: @alien-00715-blog @rebirthbunbun

Your wrist hurts. You think it’s broken if the unnatural lump didn’t give it away. You simply stare at it, cradling it with your other hand as you sit in the corner. It hurts like hell, but you’re somehow tolerating the pain.

“It’s not broken,” Illumi states, the dim light shadowing his face as he slowly slides off the bed and approaches you, “it’s simply dislocated.”

His eyes are half-lidded from what you could see of them, signaling his mild disappointment with you. You don’t respond, looking up at him as you continue to cradle your poor wrist. Illumi crouches down to your level, long hair draping perfectly over his shoulders.

He’s beautiful, even in times like these.

He’s within arm’s reach, staring you dead in the eyes with that same disappointed expression. He only seemed to show emotion during times like these, wanting to make it clear to you just how stupid your actions were.

He reaches a hand toward you, palm facing upward. “Give me your hand.”

You’re reluctant, afraid he wasn’t done punishing you and was fixing to dislocate or even break more bones. Your heart was beating rapidly, your knees pushed against your chest with your injured wrist resting in between. Illumi only gestured his hand, he was becoming impatient.

“I won’t ask again.” his eyes are still boring into you.

You exhale sharply, tears stinging your eyes as you slowly present your injured wrist to him. He looks down at it, grabbing it roughly before quickly popping the bone back into place; the sudden sharp pain causing you to jolt and instinctively yank your arm. He doesn’t let go, grip tightening even further as he watches a tear fall down your face.

“Fix your face,” he orders. “you’re in no position to cry. This is your own fault.”

You quickly wipe your tears with your free hand, looking down at your knees as you try to prevent more from coming. Illumi then brings his other hand to firmly grab your wrist, rotating it to ensure everything was back in place. You wince in pain but manage to prevent yourself from pulling away again.

He finally lets go of your arm, slowly standing as you quickly pull your arm back into you. He’s staring down at you, his eyes melting holes into your soul. “I don’t understand why you can’t just behave.” he says, voice condescending, “You do know this means you won’t get food for a while, right?”

Fuck, you must’ve really upset him.

What you had done wasn’t even of great defiance, you had simply knocked his hand away when he was trying to wake you up for the third time. He was sitting too close to you on the edge of the bed and had visited at two in the morning according to the digital clock on the wall. You were tired, and disoriented, as he’d woken you to talk to you about his day. It wasn't uncommon for him to do this, unconsciously using you as an emotional outlet regardless of what you were doing.

You should’ve just entertained him, he would’ve left eventually. You could tell his silent frustration was building every time you gave a hum or silence for an answer, his voice changing slightly with every other lazy response. You kept falling back asleep as he talked about his earlier activities, giving explicit details about his killings and quirky adventures in his flat, bored tone. He was annoying.

It all happened so fast, your wrist quickly being grabbed and dislocated as you tried to stop him from shaking the sleepiness out of you for the third time, the pain causing you to fall out of bed and scoot against the wall.

That leaves you in your current predicament.

“Next time I’ll break it. You’re lucky I didn’t do that from the beginning.” he says, staring down at you. He doesn’t say another word as he goes to leave, your body relaxing once he’s out of the room, the titanium door clicking shut behind him.

Your wrist still hurts, and now you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.

Opening your eyes, you exhale deeply as you’ve had yet another nightmare regarding Illumi. Your body is sore. You can’t move, at least you don’t want to, not with Illumi spooning you like this. You can feel his head resting against you, his grip around your waist still firm. You wish to get up though, to be free of his hold, and so you shift, pushing down on his arms to move them off you. He doesn’t budge; you can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake. You shift again, putting a lot more force into it this time. His hold briefly tightens as he suddenly rolls over, dragging you with him and slamming you back onto the bed with more aggression than he intended.

He was definitely awake.

You were in an even worse position now as he managed to smother you even more, his weight partially on top of you and his embrace even tighter. You’re still as you lay there, wondering what it was you did in life to deserve treatment such as this.

“Illumi,” you call out to him. He remains silent. “Illumi,” you call again, reaching forward and allowing your hands to dangle off the edge of the bed.

He finally responds, “Hm?”

“Could you let go of me?” you ask. He falls silent yet again, not making any move to loosen his hold on you. “Please, Illumi.” you feign a softer voice.

A few seconds pass before Illumi reluctantly releases his grip, eyes watching as you quickly slide off the bed. He continues to lay sprawled out in the same position as if you were still underneath him, his black eyes tracking your every movement. You quickly make your way into the safety of the bathroom, relaxing once the door is shut and locked behind you.

Taking your time with your morning routine, you take a minute to stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed and your lips form a small frown, even when you relax your face. Spending so much time around Illumi is starting to take its toll on you; you hope this stupid date ends before your face transforms into a permanently pissed expression.

You take a second to rub your temples, massaging them to soothe your growing anxiety as your mind starts thinking about tonight’s dinner. It doesn’t work, you’ll just have to deal with it.

You sigh before opening the door, fully expecting to see Illumi standing and staring on the other side. You don’t. Instead, he was over by the balcony door, the curtains covering it moved aside as he looked out. He doesn’t acknowledge you despite knowing you were watching him. Your eyes shift to his hip-length hair, taking this moment to admire how it always seemed to flow gracefully behind him.

You finally speak up after staring at him momentarily, “What’s the plan for today? Before we go back to Kukuroo Mountain?”

Illumi continues to stare out the glass door before he slowly turns to look back at you. His expression is neutral, but something feels off about him. He turns forward again. “There is an aquarium I wanted to visit… after breakfast, of course.”

Looking down at the oversized Persian rug sitting in the middle of the room, you bring your hand up to your chin. “So… who are your family members?”

He replies, “They are assassins."

“I meant their names and personalities.” you reiterate, rolling your eyes.

He finally turns around to face you. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that.”

Illumi knew you were still anxious about tonight’s events, trying to predict your fate by gathering what little information you could. He thought you were worrying over nothing. Without you asking, he walks over to the wardrobe, takes out multiple outfits, and lays them out on the bed. He then looks up at you expectantly, seemingly allowing you to choose your outfit again.

You look down at the options, then up at him, not knowing how to respond to his sudden susceptibility. Illumi wasn’t one to give you a choice, let alone give you a choice without you asking for it. You assumed his recent submission to your requests was simply to get you to shut up, thinking he’d return to his overcontrolling ways immediately after the storm passed; he didn’t, he’s only favoring you more.

You take an outfit that caught your eye and change in the bathroom, taking extra time to ensure you look perfect. The last thing you wanted was to sit in front of the Zoldycks looking a complete mess, though that should be the least of your worries. You move to sit on the lounge chair once you are finished. It doesn’t take Illumi long to get ready himself, your eyes lingering on him as he shuffles through a drawer, pulling out an orange pill bottle and shaking a singular tablet into his hand.

He examines it for a moment, then grabs a water bottle sitting on the dresser before turning and offering you the items. “You should take this.”

You slowly grab the items, examining the little pill yourself before looking up at him. “What is it?” you ask.

“Diamox. It helps with altitude sickness.”

Confusion was spread across your face before you realized he was taking you to the actual Zoldyck mansion located on the mountain’s peak, making this much more personal and intimate than you ever wanted it to be. “Wait, we’re going all the way up the mountain?!”

“Indeed. I would rather not have you passing out in front of everyone, so I’d advise that you take the pill.”

“What happened to just meeting on ground level?” you ask, clearly not wanting to be taken up the mountain.

“Some members of my family aren’t very fond of leaving the house. Just take the pill.”

You examine the pill further before reluctantly popping it in your mouth and taking a swig of the water. The pill is a bit hard to swallow but you manage to get it down. You had taken too long though, allowing it to dissolve a bit and leave an awful taste in your mouth. Illumi takes the water bottle from you, placing it on the TV stand before slowly grabbing your hand. It felt like your hand no longer belonged to you whenever he held it as if he had completely removed it from your body.

Illumi then walks you out of the suite. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, his pace was slower than it ever had been. He feels oddly warm compared to his usual coldness, his grip surprisingly gentle. Instead of taking you to the hotel’s restaurant as usual, he takes you to an outdoor dining area, sitting you down at a two-person table. The table was more of a small patio table than an actual dining table, resulting in him being closer than necessary; your legs would’ve touched if you weren’t seated sideways.

You stare at the blockades surrounding the hotel, then at the trees gently swaying in the wind. You can’t see people in the distance from here as the trees and hedges block your view. The butlers that would be standing guard outside the hotel were out of view at Illumi’s request, leaving just the two of you in complete silence.

“What’s the change for?” you finally ask after avoiding Illumi’s stare for some time, looking past him but not directly at him.

He slowly blinked at you from what you could see in your peripheral vision, not responding audibly. You look away just as quickly, nervously scratching your head and turning your attention to anything other than him.

He thought it’d be nice to eat outside, thinking it would clear your mind and dissuade you from saying anything he would make you regret, especially since he was much closer to you now. The last thing he needed was an incident right before you met his family — or any incident at all seeing how you’d become more docile since yesterday’s episode. It was probably the trauma.

His eyes remained fixated on you, a slight change in his way of staring that managed to make you even more uncomfortable. It wasn’t a negative emotion he was hinting at thankfully, but you still couldn’t help but be slightly concerned as you couldn’t decipher it, only knowing that it felt a little more… intense.

“Aren’t you tired of staring at me?” you ask, still refusing to look at him.

“No.” his answer came as quick and honest as you’d expected.

“It makes me nervous.”

“I know.” he admits but doesn’t make any attempt to avert his attention.

It was his love language, when he wasn’t upset, the size of his pupils further indicating the intensity of his emotions. You quickly glance at him. His pupils were round rather than their usual oval shape, he was really admiring you. You look away yet again.

A butler approaches, placing a singular plate of food and fork on the table before returning to his station. You look down at it, then up at Illumi. You noticed his hand position, him gripping both sides of his chair as if he planned to scoot even closer to you.

“Nope,” you objected before he could move, “we aren’t doing this today.”

Illumi pauses, his pupils slowly returning to their oval shape. A small frown on his face as he slowly sunk back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

He chose not to force it. Thank god.

You quickly grab the fork and plate before he can change his mind. It was a small, basic feat but you felt victorious nonetheless. You take your time eating, allowing yourself to enjoy the flavor rather than quickly chew and swallow like you would if he were adamant about feeding you. He continues gazing at you, but you manage to ignore it.

Eventually, you finish, placing the small, empty plate on the table. Illumi stands, as do you, and you follow him around the side of the hotel. His pace suddenly slows before you reach the truck, however, then stops completely. “There is something I wish to give you before we set off.” he says dully.

You look at him curiously as he fishes in his pocket, pulling out a small, black box. When did he sneak that into his pocket? He turns to you, presenting the piece of jewelry inside. It was a ring — an engagement ring.

Your eyes snap from the ring to him, to the ring again, then finally back at him. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for this?” you ask almost sarcastically, but secretly dreading having to wear it, especially in front of others.

“I would’ve given it to you sooner, but you tend to be quite unpredictable. For your safety, I thought it best to hold onto it until I could ensure you wouldn’t destroy it.” Illumi’s voice was soft despite his subtle threat.

You watch as he takes the ring out, putting the now empty box back into his pocket and holding his hand out to you. You’re reluctant, not really fond of sporting it despite knowing you didn’t have a choice. After giving him your nondominant hand, he gently slides the ring onto your finger, holding it for a little too long as he gazes in admiration at the little piece of jewelry while you stare in repugnance.

“We’re now officially married.” Illumi says unenthusiastically, slowly releasing your hand. He wasn’t wearing a ring, though.

The way he continued to stand there and stare down at you made you feel as if he was preparing to try something. Your suspicions were confirmed when he slowly raised both of his hands as if moving to cup your face, his staring becoming intense yet again. You quickly turned away.

“You’re wasting time. I want to go to the aquarium.” you said, hoping to dissuade him from whatever it was he thought of trying.

Illumi remained quiet, his hands paused midair. You’re just being shy, he can wait a bit longer. Thankfully, his hands began their descent down at his sides and he slowly shifted his gaze to the black truck up ahead. “The aquarium… right.”

He began walking once again, much to your relief, and you soon found yourself seated in the passenger side of the truck. Soft music played as he pulled onto the empty road, though it was quieter than usual.

The aquarium was quite large, just as you’d hoped, the only living beings in there being the aquatic life, a few butlers, a few employees, and, of course, you and Illumi. You watch the dolphins as they swim in circles, occasionally leaping out of the pool and spouting water out of their blowholes. There was a glass wall next to their indoor enclosure, giving a clear view of the vast lake just outside the aquarium. You found it cruel, completely understanding what the dolphins must be feeling whenever they caught a glimpse of the freedom they should’ve had.

Illumi doesn’t notice anything, though if he did, he’d argue that species of dolphin won’t survive in lakes, therefore justifying their imprisonment.

He’s silent as he follows you around, seemingly lost in thought as he doesn’t appear to be as engaged as you were; not that you were super engaged either, the pretty fish and marine life doing little to take your mind off of what’s to come.

“We’ve been here longer than we should’ve. It’s time to go back to the hotel.” Illumi’s voice fills the room.

You continue to look down at the gray tree frogs as they sit perched on a branch, their large, black eyes looking back at you. You eventually look up at Illumi, frowning in a pathetic attempt to change his mind about the whole dinner thing. He stares at you blankly, indifferent to your emotions, and begins walking back toward the aquarium’s entrance. You groan loudly, to which he ignores, and follow him. The ride back was silent, he didn’t play any music.

As you arrive in the hotel’s parking lot, you take note of two limousines parked out front, Shiori standing next to one of them. Illumi does his performance, helping you out of the car, and guiding you over to Shiori. She bows in formality, but Illumi ignores her. He opts to help you inside the limo, but he doesn’t get in himself, only shutting the door behind you and leaving you alone and confused.

“Hello, Master (Name).” Shiori greets after entering the limo a few moments later, the vehicle starting and beginning to make the long drive back to Kukuroo Mountain.

“Uh, hi?” you’re still confused.

Shiori dryly chuckles, “I suppose Master Illumi didn’t tell you that you would be riding with me?”

“No, he didn't.”

“Master Illumi does like to keep to himself. I was instructed to inform you of the details and proper etiquette regarding tonight’s event as well as answer any questions you may have. To start, how are you feeling now?” Shiori’s voice is soft yet monotone, her gloved hands resting neatly on her lap.

‘Well, I’m scared and I don’t want to go.” you say, fiddling your thumbs together as you look out the window.

“I understand your feelings, Master (Name), but I assure you have nothing to be afraid of.”

That’s easy for her to say. She has a place within the Zoldyck family, whereas you don’t.

“I’m going to be an outsider sitting in a room full of notorious killers. I have everything to be afraid of.” you say. You didn’t know much about the Zoldyck family aside from the fact that they kill and hire only skilled butlers to serve them, as well as any small details Illumi and your assigned butler were willing to share.

Shiori chuckles again. “The Zoldycks are assassins rather than mere killers. Their job is to complete missions for clients, not harm innocent people. As you are Master Illumi’s partner and no threat to them in any way, they would have no reason to harm you.”

You cringe at being called Illumi’s partner, the sound of it making your stomach churn. “Don’t call me that.” you groan, shutting your eyes as you bury your face into your hand and lean against the door.

“My apologies, Master (Name). Shall I begin my lesson on etiquette?”

You agree and tone her out as soon as she starts her lecture. She explains that you are to sit and be silent unless directly spoken to, only answering with short responses if that was the case. Shiori put great emphasis on the word “directly” as if hinting at something greater.

Shiori continues, gesturing her hands as she speaks, “You absolutely must remain composed throughout the dinner, even if someone is insulting you.”

This catches your attention. You turn to face her again. “What do you mean by that?”

Shiori stops her gesturing, moving her hands back down to her lap, a small frown on her face. “What I mean is that it is of the utmost importance that you don’t let anyone’s offensive behavior get to you.”

Oh, someone wasn’t pleased about your existence. Your anxiousness was justified and you began fiddling your thumbs once more. Shiori simply stares at you, her head slightly tilted as if trying to get a better angle of your face.

“So like,” you start, causing Shiori to straighten herself, “who are they?”

Shiori answers swiftly, “The Zoldycks are a family of assassins. They are highly skilled at their jobs and are known for their efficiency as well as their lethality.”

God, you can’t stand how much in common she has with Illumi.

“I meant their names and all.” you reiterate.

“My apologies, Master (Name). The Zoldyck family members you will be meeting today include Master Kikyo, Master Illumi’s mother; Master Silva, Master Illumi’s father; Master Zeno, Master Illumi’s grandfather; Master Milluki, Master Illumi’s younger brother; and Master Kalluto who is Master Illumi’s youngest brother.” she explains. Your head is spinning from the amount of times she’s said the word “master” but you managed to retain the information. “There is also Master Killua who is also Master Illumi’s younger brother, but he will not be present.”

Shiori intentionally leaves out further details regarding Killua’s inability to attend the dinner, not wanting to give you a bad impression of him simply not caring, though he doesn’t, but also not wanting to delve into his and Illumi’s unsteady relationship. It would be awkward to mention that one time he tried to murder his little sister, right?

“Oh.” You reply simply, turning your attention down to your shoes.

“Is there anything else you would like to know, Master (Name)?” Shiori inquires.

You’re silent for a moment as you slowly glance out the window before looking back at her. “What are your thoughts on this shitshow?”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t comment on your use of profanity. She answers, “My personal thoughts on the matter are irrelevant, my only job here is to provide the assistance and support you need to strive.”

You frown. “Do they know about all the horrible things Illumi has done to me so far?”

“They do know where you’re being kept and that your circumstances may not be entirely voluntary, but they don’t know all the intimate details. Some may have their suspicions but are choosing not to confront as you are a rather… sensitive matter.” she pauses for a moment before continuing, her face showing slight guilt. “Additionally, they may feel it is not their place to interfere with Master Illumi’s personal matters, especially one as unique as this.”

You don’t respond as you simply stare at her, causing her to sink back into her seat. “Shiori,” you finally say, “why did you choose to work as a butler for them?”

She’s nervous, though she tries her best not to show it. Her eyes shift downward towards the ring on your finger, then back up to your eyes. “I believed becoming a butler would provide me with the opportunity to learn and grow. Working for an individual like Master Illumi is challenging but also rewarding, his high expectations require me to constantly push myself in order to improve and excel at what I do.”

“What about taking care of his hostage is rewarding?”

She knew you’d ask that as you’ve asked something similar in the past. She thought it appropriate to give you a direct answer, though finally. ‘While the circumstances regarding your situation are not ideal, I asked to become your personal butler with the goal of providing you with a comfortable life at the estate. I knew he would be more likely to choose a butler like me after the… incident… that had occurred, so convincing him wasn’t difficult.” she looked down at her hands, a small frown on her face. “I understand your feelings towards the situation, Master (Name). I really do. It’s rewarding to see you smile though, even despite what’s happening. I only wish to see you happy.”

Shiori does genuinely care about you, though in her own way. A way much, much better than Illumi’s in your eyes. You wonder if the two of you would’ve been friends in an alternate universe.

“Do you..” you pause for a moment, “do you know how or why Illumi came up with this date idea?”

Illumi had already answered this, but you felt as though there was a huge part of it he was leaving out. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he’d suddenly thought of treating you like an actual person, to some degree, after months of torment and controlling behavior.

“I’m sorry, Master (Name), but I don’t think I’m allowed to disclose that type of information even if I did.” Shiori states, continuing to stare down at her hands.

She had her suspicions when a butler from another group began lingering around your residence far too often, though she never confronted the older lady, only humoring her questions to some degree and directing her to Illumi if she wanted more in-depth answers. She could feel Silva’s judgemental stare through her monocle as she did so.

She didn’t know much about Silva, but she knew he wasn’t entirely devoid of compassion. He most likely sent in his own butler after realizing just how serious Illumi was when he failed to hear news of your inevitable death after the fifth month. He wanted to assess the situation and see if you really were Illumi’s so-called spouse.

You weren’t, not willingly at least. He concluded that you were more of a plaything than a spouse; he thought Illumi was confused.

He got his scoop but did not confront his son about it. He did, however, help in other ways such as giving Illumi a lesson on how to court his partner and being very thorough on how said partner should be treated.

This resulted in Illumi being softer towards you — or rather less likely to physically punish you. Shiori didn’t tell you any of this though, it was best if you remained unaware.

You stay silent for the rest of the car ride, feeling ill when the limo pulls through the gates and takes a specific manmade trail up the mountain. The bumpy ride only made you feel even more sick. Why didn’t they choose a better vehicle for this?

You refrain from looking out of the window, afraid leaning too much against the door to get a better look at the cliff would cause the limo to tip and you all to fall to your deaths. Shiori attempts to calm you as you’re now visibly shaking, but her monotone voice and nearly blank expression don’t help. You feel queasy, your heart feels heavy. You can’t tell if you’re sick due to anxiety or sick due to the high altitude. Probably both, though that Diamox should’ve kicked in by now.

You let out a small whine as the limo slowly pulls up in front of the Zoldyck mansion, all of your negative emotions intensifying as reality sinks in. It’s cold. You hope it's due to the altitude and not from the lingering threat of death. The sea of dark lenticular clouds surrounding the mountain only makes it worse, you can’t see anything other than rock formations poking out from the clouds as well as occasional lightning.

It’s like you’re in a whole new dimension.

“Master (Name),” Shiori calls out as she gently grabs your trembling hand, “I assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. No harm will befall you.” she states once again with a gentle smile.

You respond in the form of a tear rolling down your cheek, your eyes wide as you stare at her. You quickly wipe it away as your door is suddenly opened, the breeze only making you feel colder.

You take several deep breaths, swallowing hard as you slowly turn to face Illumi. He’s holding his hand out as usual, but his eyes have a more dictatorial feel to them. You quickly take his hand, assuming his family is watching and judging despite not being present. He doesn’t say anything as he helps you out of the vehicle, his grip on your hand a bit tighter than usual and his stare burning holes into you.

You know what he’s demanding without him even needing to say it. You close your eyes for a moment as you slowly breathe in, and then out. You’re visibly calmer now, as he wanted, and he slowly releases your hand.

Shiori and a few other butlers trail behind as you follow Illumi towards the mansion’s front entrance. You swallow hard yet again as butlers open the door, mentally preparing yourself to see bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood splattered all over the place.

You don’t.

The interior was comfortingly warm and quite nice if you ignored the assortment of weapons and odd, hopefully animal, skulls on the wall. It’s unsettlingly devoid of people as you walk through the mansion, you would’ve expected at least a few house butlers roaming about. You hear hushed muttering and whispering as you approach the main dining room, your dread immediately flares once again as you follow Illumi inside.

They’re all staring at you. They’re all judging you.

You hold your breath briefly to keep your facial expression mellow, but you feel like you’re being watched by a pride of bloodthirsty lions. Their eyes follow you and you alone, causing you to try to hide behind Illumi. You’re unsuccessful as he moves himself out of the way. You don’t look at them, you can’t bring yourself to. It takes all your willpower to keep yourself steady as your knees threaten to buckle under their watchful eyes.

“This is insane…” a boy, who you assume to be Millluki, whispers to his grandfather, eyes still looking at you. He probably didn’t mean to be so loud, but how could you not hear him in this unbearable silence?

Zeno ignores him, but Silva shoots him an icy glare in response, causing the boy to stiffen and correct his posture in his seat. Silva then turns his attention back to you, but your eyes have a magnetic relationship with the table as you approach it, sitting directly across from him after Illumi pulls the chair out for you.

You keep your gaze lowered as Illumi sits to your left, an empty seat to your right. You can feel his father’s intense gaze on you, as you do everyone’s, and you fiddle your shaking hands underneath the table in a hopeless effort to soothe yourself. You can see who you thought to be Kikyo on Silva’s right, and Zeno on Silva’s left; both brothers on either end of the table.

You wonder who this empty seat was for if Killua was the only one missing.

“This is (Name).” Illumi finally states after allowing the silence to linger for an unnecessary amount of time. His demeanor is slightly off despite his nonchalance.

You’re freezing all of a sudden, you can’t decipher if it’s because someone decided to turn the AC on max or because Illumi was radiating energy. Considering you can only feel it coming from your left side, you conclude it was Illumi. Illumi doesn’t say anything further and you’re not daring enough to add to his introduction, not that you wanted to anyway.

“So Illumi, this is your… partner?” Kikyo asks, her tone rather uncertain and her demeanor ungracious. She didn’t like you, that much evident in her body language and how she kept her lips pursed when she watched your timid form enter the dining room. Even without knowing you personally, Kikyo thought you were a bad influence; you do not belong here.

“Yeah.” Illumi confirms, once again not adding any details.

“Are… they an assassin too?” Kikyo inquires further. You can see that she’s gripping the edge of the table, her long nails digging into the expensive marble.

“No.” Illumi responds.

Kikyo grits her teeth before swiftly correcting herself, her expression returning to one of slight vexation. “A hunter of some sort?”

Illumi replies, “Nope.”

“A nen user?! Anything achievable?!” she was grasping for anything that would prove you had at the very minimum some kind of honor.

“No. They don’t do anything at all.”

You’re not the melancholic type, but sometimes you wish you weren’t born — times like now. Kikyo’s shocked, as is everyone else, though internally, and she covers her mouth with her hands. In her mind, Illumi had just confirmed her biggest worries: you were nothing but a burden and an obstacle in his career as an assassin.

You rub your knees together. You feel awkward. You shouldn’t be here. The tension is suffocating, but you feel as though the negative energy is directed at Illumi now.

“So… they’re useless?!” she brings her hands down, almost slamming them onto the table. No one reacts to her offensive comment. Normally, Kikyo would’ve had better etiquette when hosting for a guest important enough to be invited inside the Zoldyck mansion, but you didn’t deserve that. You were just some person.

Illumi especially does not react, only casually sipping his wine as his mother begins to berate you. You awkwardly shift in your seat as the insults fly, trying your best to keep your expression neutral like everyone else’s.

“How DARE you bring someone so inadequate into this household?! Just what were you thinking, Illumi?!” she yells.

You really wish you’d kept your mouth shut the other day.

Not in the mood to hear Kikyo’s whining, Zeno speaks up, “There’s no need for that. I’m sure Illumi has his reasons, we mustn’t judge.” his voice was nonchalant, almost teasing as he spoke.

Kikyo sneers, clearly not taking too kindly to Zeno’s comment. “You know as well as I do that there is no reason to have someone so useless in the family! We mustn’t encourage this!”

“Kikyo.” Silva’s deep voice booms throughout the room, causing you to sink into your seat. He had turned his head slightly to look at his wife, the action causing her to fall silent while gritting her teeth once again. He turns back to you and you courageously meet his gaze. He’s scaring the absolute shit out of you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away as you continue to cower before him. You’re a feeble little thing, aren’t you?

Silva won’t judge though, not externally at least. “Father’s right, we mustn’t judge Illumi.” he forces a softer expression as he holds his hands out in an almost welcoming gesture. “Welcome to the family, (Name).”

You were officially a Zoldyck now.

You merely nod your head in response, a repressed frown on your face. Silva then crosses his arms, attention turned toward Illumi. “I’m surprised they’ve survived for this long.” he closes his eyes and lets out a small chuckle. “They’re in one piece too. You must be really serious about this.”

“I suppose so.” Illumi, who had been silent the entire time his mother spoke negatively of you, nodded in agreement, ignoring his father’s implied incredulity in his ability to keep you safe. He couldn’t blame him, however, as you’ve had several encounters with him and still managed to live another day. You seemed to have a knack for getting out of certain death situations, causing Silva to realize just how strong of a hold you had on his son’s heart.

“Woah,” Milluki chimes in, his fingers rubbing his chin in curiosity as his eyes rake over you a little too much, “I never would’ve expected anything like this from someone like you, Illu. What’s so special about them anyway?”

Illumi’s reply came swiftly, “I don’t know.”

The tension is oppressive once again. When’s the food coming so you can eat and get out of here?

Illumi’s words were immensely shocking. They believed that someone as distant as him would have some sort of grand reason for wanting to pair up with you. Instead, it sounded like it was a whim that occurred to him with no ulterior motive in mind. They didn’t understand him, you didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand himself.

Illumi continues, “I saw something in them and I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. My efforts were in vain though, so I accepted the fact that I simply would never know.”

Your eyes drift downward again as they all look at you. It was like they were trying to solve the puzzle themselves based on your appearance alone.

“You don’t know?” Kikyo, as expected, was the first to verbally react. “You don’t know?!” she repeats, her voice a bit louder. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Either you have a valid reason or you’re just wasting your time!” she huffs as she glares at you.

Her presence feels overwhelming, she must be releasing aura. It does not compare to the aura Illumi is releasing, though.

“This… person… is nothing but a nuisance.” her tone is sharp as she continues speaking.

Illumi nods. “They can be troublesome at times, I’ll agree with you there.”

You can’t tell whether you should be surprised or not at Illumi’s unwillingness to stick up for you. You prefer not to be as that would mean you’d have to recognize him as someone who’s supposed to fight for you. He’s not your savior in your eyes, and he never will be.

“Troublesome…” Kikyo repeats, her voice laced with malice. She scowls deeply as she prepares to rant again, but the butlers distract her as they place tonight’s dinner on the table. Your internal prayers have finally been answered.

You feel slightly relaxed as everyone is now distracted by the lavish meal before them, but you’re still slightly shaking. You keep your hand bearing the ring under the table and use your other to pick up a fork — or try to as the fork seems to be glued to the table. You look at it confused, then briefly glance at Illumi. He returns the glance, but to a butler who quickly moves to replace your fifty-pound fork with a fork of normal weight. You were able to lift this one with ease and you slowly began to eat.

You don’t turn to look at Kikyo as she scoffs. “See? Weak.” she slowly shakes her head.

Illumi doesn’t acknowledge her, but Zeno does. “Now now Kikyo, that's enough. Shouldn’t we try to be more welcoming to our new family member instead of criticizing their every move?”

Kikyo huffs, her head turning away from you. She didn’t know what to say or think anymore. No one ever seemed to consider her perspective, no one seemed to understand how dire this was. She can’t even stand the sight of you right now, especially with you right next to her son.

She takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think they’re good enough for Illumi. That’s all.” her voice feigns a sense of calmness.

You didn’t take as much offense to her comments as you should considering you don’t want to be with Illumi either. You simply ignore her and continue eating.

“Illumi, how did you two meet?” Silva suddenly asks.

You nearly choke as you swallow. You keep your eyes glued to your plate, your teeth holding your tongue in place as you prepare yourself for Illumi’s answer. You know Illumi won’t lie about this, and you know things would only get more awkward when he proudly announces that he stalked and kidnapped you.

Illumi slowly sips his wine, making direct eye contact with his father. He sets the glass down, taking his sweet time before he replies, “I saw them while I was out on a mission. I visited them frequently after that and our relationship grew from there.”

You were right, he did not lie.

He had skewed the truth, making it seem as if you two had bumped into each other and hit it off rather than him stalking you and breaking into your house. However, Silva wasn’t dumb; he knew Illumi was misleading based on your subtle body language alone. You weren’t just afraid of them, you were afraid of Illumi as well.

“I see. That’s certainly interesting.” Silva feigned ignorance nonetheless. “I’m sure you make them very happy.”

“I try to.” Illumi states flatly. At least he was acknowledging you weren’t happy with him, but knowing him, he probably blames you for it rather than his own actions.

You visibly cringe, but quickly correct yourself. Everyone already caught onto it though, so there was no point in trying to hide it.

“Congratulations to the both of you.” Silva states, eyes glancing at you for the final time before the subject changes to an assassin-related topic.

You stay quiet as almost everyone ignores you, seeming like they have lost interest in the stranger in their home. That was fine by you as you were no longer in the spotlight.

Illumi pulls your chair out as dinner concludes and you all head towards the living room. You can feel Milluki staring you down as you walk in front of him, but you refrain from complaining as you remind yourself that Illumi is not your savior. You enter the living room, noticing Shiori standing formally in the corner. Illumi looks at her, causing her to nod and walk over to you.

“Master (Name),” she says, “it is time for us to go. Please follow me.”

You’re confused as you thought you’d have to stay for much longer but follow Shiori nonetheless, assuming Illumi had decided to cut things short. You’re forever grateful as Shiori guides you out of the mansion, not even questioning the fact that Illumi was staying behind. No one says their goodbyes to you, not even Illumi, as they all silently watch you leave.

Milluki chuckles once you’re out of earshot. “You get a pretty good idea as to why Ilu chose them once you see them from behind!”

He continues giggling to himself, but his smile instantly vanishes when a loud snapping sound rings throughout the room. His face twists into one of great affliction as he clutches his freshly broken arm.

“What the hell, Illumi?! I was only joking!” he shouts, annoyed more than anything.

Illumi simply stares at him, expression neutral but clearly threatening. Milluki steps back and grits his teeth, muttering insults under his breath as he turns to leave. The act of brutality takes no one aback, Kikyo disregards it as she makes her thoughts and feelings known to Illumi.

“I’m disappointed in you, Illumi.” she states calmly, her hands tightly gripping her fan. Kalluto, who hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the entire ordeal, looks up at Illumi curiously.

“I know.” Illumi simply replies.

Illumi’s nonchalance only serves to further provoke Kikyo. “Have you no honor for your family?!” she yells, glaring at Illumi. “Do you not care about how much you’re holding yourself back by wasting your time with that weak person?!”

“I’m not holding myself back, I’ll be fine.” Illumi casually crosses his arms.

Zeno soon parted after confirming there was nothing more to do, leaving only Silva, Kikyo, Illumi, and Kalluto in the living room. Kikyo was at a loss for words and she turned to Silva, expecting some kind of backup. Silva, however, continues to silently stare out of the window, watching the limo as it takes you away.

You’re exhausted. You’ve never been exposed to Illumi’s aura for such a long period and you feel like you’re about to pass out. Huh, maybe that’s why Illumi decided to end things early.

“I see that you look fatigued, Master (Name),” Shiori says as the limo begins the long drive back to the hotel, “I trust the dinner with the family went well.”

“Went well?!” you nearly shout despite your tired state, “I was insulted and stared at for the vast majority of it! Not to mention the overwhelming tension in the room, it was horrible!”

“While I understand the experience may have been unpleasant for you, it is important to note that no physical harm occurred to you. In that sense, the dinner went well.”

You let out a deep breath. “You’re just like Illumi sometimes, you know that?”

“I appreciate your observation.” Shiori responds, not sensing your mocking tone.

“That’s not a good thing.”

“It is understandable that you may not perceive our similar mindsets as a positive attribute.”

You merely groan and shut your eyes, resting your head against the door. Once you reach the hotel, Shiori escorts you inside. She ensures you’re set for the night before saying her farewells, leaving you alone in the suite.

You would scream if you weren’t so tired right now. Instead, you change into your silk sleepwear and throw yourself into bed. It’s over with; you’re relieved. You turn on your side, hugging a pillow as you try to drift off to sleep. You hope this date ends soon.

Something was touching you.

You’re a bit groggy as you stir, quickly realizing your movements were partially restricted. “Illumi?” you call out into the darkness.

“Did I wake you? Good.” he answers, voice uncomfortably close to your ear. You jump from the sudden closeness, causing him to tighten his grip briefly. After a moment, he audibly sighs; an uncommon sound from him. “You were rather brave during dinner tonight.” he spoke with his usual monotone voice, though it had a hint of exhaustion to it.

“I didn’t do anything.” you say, shifting in his arms as you try to get comfortable once again.

“That’s the point. You didn’t pass out.”

“You were overwhelming me.” you complain as you think back to how ungodly cold and uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. The whole time leading up to the dinner, you thought his family was going to be the biggest threat to you. Illumi proved you wrong though, he was the biggest threat to you.

“You caught on quickly, I’m glad.” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “My mother scolded me when you left, saying you were weak and a waste of time. You shouldn’t worry about her, she won’t hurt you. None of them will.”

None of them except him.

You’re quiet as you think back to all of the things she’s said. You don’t feel any type of way about her comments, they were true after all. “Your mother is right, Illumi. You should listen to her.” you say, your gaslighting attempt made apparent.

“I know she is. It was my choice though, and I don’t regret it.”

He continues rambling about the discussion he had with both of his parents after your departure, but you don’t listen as you glance at the clock. It was two in the morning. Typical of him to wake you up at this hour to express his feelings, except this time he was allowing you to fall back asleep.

Day 5

Illumi was acting strange — stranger in a way you were used to at least. That much was apparent when you woke up to him standing next to the bed and staring at you, his hand gently caressing your cheek. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken up to him doing this though this instance felt much, much different.

“Wake up, (Name).” Illumi commands in a softer tone of voice. You’re groggy as he’s allowed you to wake up in your own time these last few days. He begins gently poking your cheek, the pokes becoming more firm the longer it took for you to rise. “Today will be exciting. Get up.”

You yawn as you begrudgingly sit up, moving around Illumi to get off the bed as he didn’t think it was necessary to step out of your way. As you’re completing your morning routine, you are harshly reminded of Illumi’s proof of ownership on your finger, the jewelry twinkling in the light as if signaling you to its presence. You consider ripping it off and flushing it down the toilet, but as much as you wish to, you know better. By the time you walked out of the bathroom, Illumi was sitting up in bed, sleepwear still on.

You scratch your head in confusion. “Why did you wake me up if you’re just going to hop back into bed?” you ask in an almost annoyed tone.

Illumi turns his head slightly in your direction, expression eerily innocent. “Breakfast is on the way, that’s why. Come back to bed.” when you fail to make any move, Illumi’s head slowly turns even more, his stare silently commanding you to obey.

You tilt your head a bit before reluctantly moving to slide back into bed. You pull the blankets onto you and turn away from Illumi.

“Don’t fall asleep.” he directs. He shifts, supposedly turning to face you. Your assumptions are confirmed when he turns you over onto your back. “We can talk while we wait if you need something to keep you up. How was your sleep last night?” his tone was still flat and boring despite returning to its softer version, only making you want to fall asleep even more.

You respond nonetheless, “It was restrictive.”

As expected, Illumi is not a very good cuddle buddy. It’s like he’s trying to prevent you from escaping rather than lovingly holding you. You can’t wait to return to the estate. Not because you want to be there, but because you would have your solidarity again and not have to deal with Illumi’s overbearing nature.

“Restrictive? How so?” Illumi asked. He had moved a bit too close to you.

“I’d like to be able to move around and position myself properly at night.”

“Hm. I see.” Illumi leans forward slightly, invading your space even more. “If you’re sore, that’s a good thing. It will make our trip to the spa all the more special.”

You don’t respond as you focus your attention on the blank TV ahead. A massage does sound nice right about now. You rub your shoulder, you definitely slept on it wrong thanks to Illumi.

“It’s only polite to ask about my night’s sleep, (Name).” Illumi continues.

Humoring him for the sake of getting him to shut up, you respond, “How did you sleep?”

He replies quickly, “I didn’t sleep.”

You gesture your hands in confusion, shaking your head. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Illumi tilts his head slowly, eyes boring into you.

“Have me ask you a question you don’t have a response to.”

He slowly straightens himself, but his expression remains unreadable. “Because I want to talk.”

You cover your face with your hands, irritated Illumi had woken you just to have this stupid little back and forth with you. You had rolled back onto your side and before Illumi could turn you over once more, a knock could be heard at the door. You let out a deep breath, relieved as your prayers have been answered.

Your eyes trail Illumi as he answers the door and brings in a service trolley. You’re sitting up now as he unfolds a mini bed tray and places it over you. You dramatically sigh when he sets a singular plate of food on the tray before sliding onto his side of the bed, the only fork available being held in his hand.

“Must you do this every morning?” you ask, leaning away from him as he is sitting far too close to you.

“I could’ve done this every morning, but I didn’t. You’re only making up for yesterday.” the softness in his voice was long gone though he wasn’t upset — not enough to show it at least.

You ponder why he was so insistent on feeding you despite already having a good idea as to the answer. He probably thought it was a romantic gesture, which it is, but only with an actual lover rather than an erotomanic, crazed assassin. You can’t stand the way he stares so intently at you, especially at your lips, when he feeds you. You’re quick to turn your head away after each bite, quickly chewing and nearly swallowing the bites whole in an attempt to speed up the process. Illumi, however, takes his time, the sections of food on the fork getting smaller and smaller the more you rush.

You watch as Illumi moves at a deliberately slow speed as he scoops up the last piece of food. He then grabs your chin firmly as he feeds you the last bite, his hold preventing you from turning away. You shut your eyes, swallowing the piece whole as you just wanted to be done with this. He doesn’t let go right away, however, his touch lingers for moments longer before he finally releases you.

“You should get ready.” he says as he sets the fork on the empty plate. “You can get your clothes out of the wardrobe.”

You’re quick to move, your uneasiness being relieved now that there is some space between the two of you. You don’t even think about how he’s allowed you into the wardrobe for the first and only time throughout the entire duration of this so-called “romantic” date. You take your time as you look at all the options, Illumi cleaning up and pushing the service trolley out into the hallway.

You change in the bathroom after finding a combination you like, Illumi is dressed as well by the time you come out. Your hands are in your pockets as you approach him by the door, not wanting your bodily autonomy ripped away even more by giving him the idea to hold your hand.

He makes no move thankfully, and quietly leads you out of the hotel and into the Mercedes truck.

Music was playing; you don’t know whether that’s good or bad anymore as any mood Illumi was in deemed to be bad for you. He’s speeding too, he seemed to be eager to get to his destination. Your grip on your seatbelt relaxes as he pulls into the spa’s parking lot. You take a second to collect yourself after experiencing Illumi’s reckless driving, sighing as he helps you out of the truck and leads you into the building.

You don’t notice Shiori standing formally in front of the reception desk immediately upon entering, your attention focused on the beautifully decorated interior. Though it wasn’t anything super fancy, the simplicity and interior design still managed to captivate you.

“Good morning, Master Illumi and Master (Name).” your attention snaps to her and she bows her head. You nod in acknowledgment but Illumi doesn’t respond, he rudely walks off as Shiori continues speaking, “Master (Name), it is my pleasure to be able to serve you today. Please follow me to the changing room.”

You do so without question, eyes still looking around as you take in the calm atmosphere. Peaceful ambient music plays throughout the spa, you can already feel yourself relaxing as you manage to forget about Illumi’s existence. Now sporting a fluffy white robe with matching slippers, you sit on a reclining chair.

Shiori, now gloveless, gently applies various creams and masks onto your face, even going so far as to put slices of cucumbers over your eyes. Her hands move skillfully as she then gives you both a manicure and a pedicure.

“It’s nice to see you so relaxed, Master (Name).” Shiori speaks softly as she finishes up. “I only hope for this trend to continue. Please follow me to the massage room.”

You rub your palms together as you follow her, relishing how soft your hands, feet, and face feel. Now it was time to get rid of this crick in your shoulder. The massage room was small, though it felt just right. A singular bed sat in the middle of the room, two chairs off to the side, and a small table with a beautiful succulent on it placed in the corner. Thin, white curtains covered the glass wall, but see-through enough to allow the right amount of light in.

You undo your robe and lay belly down on the bed, Shiori then places a white towel over your lower half. “The masseur will be with you shortly. Please enjoy yourself.” Shiori says, bowing her head before departing.

You shut your eyes as you hear the door click shut. Your mind wanders as the near fantasy-type music plays. You imagine yourself in a fairytale garden, a small smile creeping onto your face as you watch fairies flutter in the air. A sign of life returning to your eyes causing you to laugh as you skip around. A magical butterfly lands atop a flower bud, causing the bud to bloom and release the most pleasant of fragrances. You gently hold the freshly flowered plant, careful not to damage it in any way.

You were truly at peace — or so you deluded yourself.

The door clicks open, ruining your dreams of being in a magical, happy place and snapping you back to reality. You glance back, then return your attention forward as you are met with the person you didn’t want to see: Illumi.

“Hello, (Name).” he greets. You really didn’t want to hear his voice right now.

“Are you getting a massage too?” you inquire, waiting for him to make his way over to the two seats pushed up against the wall. He doesn’t, he merely shuts the door and walks over to you.

“Giving.” he corrects. You try to sit up upon hearing this, but Illumi pushes you back down just as quickly. “Relax. I will be gentle.”

“Wait-” you try to protest, but his actions cut you off.

His hands move skillfully, moving with a perfect combination of firmness and delicacy as he begins working on your shoulders, slowly massaging the pain away. You shiver under his touch, hands gripping the bed as he rolls over various knots.

“You’re full of tension. It seems you’ve been holding it in for quite some time, haven’t you, (Name)? Let me help you release all of that.” he pinpoints the exact spot that needs the most attention and applies pressure, causing you to groan. “You’re very responsive. I wonder what other sounds I can get out of you.”

You’re too caught up in the intensity of the massage to fully grasp what he had just said. If you could see Illumi’s face right about now, you would immediately know what was on his mind. His expression was still blank to the ignorant, but someone more knowledgeable about his behaviors would be able to detect the hint of libidinousness within his eyes. His eyes were rounder as they had been nearly all morning whenever they were focused on you. His touch gradually becomes more sensual as they move across your back, nearly threatening to venture into forbidden regions before he was able to catch and compose himself, remembering there was a time and a place.

“Perhaps I should give you more massages like this from now on.” he speaks, his voice low and almost sultry.

You did enjoy the massage, you won’t lie, but you also don’t want Illumi to get comfortable with putting you in positions like this. Nevertheless, you choose not to respond, thinking in the future you would probably give in if the need were strong enough. You’re quick to turn opposite of him as you put your robe back on, your adrenaline nearly fading once you are covered.

He says nothing further as he escorts you out of the room and into the small sauna. You sit in the corner, your eyes closed as you pretend Illumi isn’t sitting directly in front of you and staring. You cross your hands in front of you, the warmth of the steam eliminating any remaining soreness within your body.

Your time at the spa comes to an end as you’re now dressed and back in the car with Illumi. You stare out the window, noticing but not reacting to how Illumi constantly glanced at you as he drove.

“We’re going to the museum.” he says, eyes now back on the road where they should be.

“Cool.” your tone is dull.

Illumi kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the drive though it seemed as if he wanted to say something more, that much evident in his slight frown.

When you reach the museum, Illumi is quick to begin his unusually talkative behavior as he walks around the empty museum with you in tow. Your hands remain in your pockets, mind not really there as he gives one-sentence explanations on the museum’s various torture devices in his signature flat tone. You follow him like a kid following their parents who are out shopping, annoyed, and wanting to go home. It’s almost nostalgic in a way.

Illumi notices your demeanor, as much as he tries to ignore it in hopes you’d drop it, and stops in his tracks, looking down at you. “Are you tired? We can take a break at the cafe if you’d like.”

You merely nod in response and he leads you to the cafe. You take your seat at a small table, not hesitating to eat when you are served a warm drink along with a snack. Illumi continues his staring habit, head resting in his hands as he observes you.

You’ve eaten your snack and are now focused on finishing your drink. You slowly sip the now lukewarm beverage, eyes focused on anything other than the man sitting across from you.

“Feeling better now?” Illumi inquires.

You ignore his novel concern for you in favor of asking your own question, “When are we leaving?”

Illumi sits up. “Eager, are we? That’s good. The next activity would have to wait until later, though. We still have more time to spend here.”

“I meant when are we going back to Kukuroo Mountain?” you reiterate, setting your empty cup on the table.

You were, in fact, eager, but for a different reason than Illumi wanted. The day was moving too slowly for you, and Illumi’s presence was overwhelming even though he hasn’t released any aura since yesterday. You just wanted to be away from him and have time to relax and recharge.

Though you hadn’t asked in a while, Illumi was fed up with your constant inquiries about returning to the mountain — also known as your way of rushing to end the date. Illumi was displeased, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re ungrateful. I’m trying to spoil you and all you’re concerned about is getting rid of me.”

“How so?” you ask, genuinely curious to see what kind of mental gymnastics Illumi went through to conclude that you were ungrateful.

“For starters, this entire date was designed to make you happy. I spent months planning and millions of yen buying all to ensure you’d enjoy it to the fullest. Even despite everything, despite considering your outlandish requests, you still remain unappreciative. What more do you want me to do?”

His response was exactly what you’d predicted.

“Maybe let me go outside? Let me see my family again? Let me go entirely?” is what you would say if you were in a bolder, emotional state. Instead, you merely stare at him with an almost blank expression.

Illumi’s voice grows cold. “You owe me something.”

“I’m sorry, Illumi.” you say flatly. You were always the one apologizing as Illumi is, of course, never wrong about anything.

Illumi calms himself, willing to forget your rude behavior in favor of ending the date on a good note. “Consider yourself fortunate, (Name), as I still wish for you to enjoy yourself. Who knows when you’ll be let out again, hm?” he pauses for a moment, allowing the silence to dramatize his previous words. He continues, “Let’s finish exploring the museum.”

And with that, Illumi rises out of his seat. You follow suit, both of you silent as you walk around the remainder of the museum. He didn’t bother with his one-sentence explanations anymore, not that you minded considering you weren’t listening to him anyway.

Eventually, the two of you leave, the car silent as Illumi drives. Despite the lack of music, Illumi wasn’t upset with you, but rather pensive. His attention continues to flicker over to you as he’d done earlier. For once, Illumi felt a ping of uneasiness. He was pleased with your compliance, sure, but he didn’t like your sudden unusual demeanor. You hadn’t asked a single question regarding the day’s activities like you had been doing in the past.

After several minutes of silence, Illumi finally speaks, wanting to get you re-engaged. “The spa and the museum seemed to be to your taste, no?”

You rest your head against the door, still staring out the window. “Yeah.”

Illumi glances at you yet again, keeping his eyes off the road for even longer this time. “Good. As for our last activity, I have planned something unique.”

“Awesome.” your response was still short and dry. You didn’t fall for his attempt to prompt curiosity.

Illumi frowns slightly as he listens to your incurious reply, his hold on the steering wheel temporarily tightening. “Your response lacks excitement and interest. It seems you couldn’t care less about what’s happening.”

“It’s not like you show enthusiasm either.” you say.

“I am very enthusiastic.” Illumi states unenthusiastically, his expression blank aside from his slight frown. “It’s overflowing.”

You merely hum in response which only furthers his discontent. Illumi, still insistent on keeping the mood light despite his annoyance, pushes his feelings aside. He remains quiet as he drives back to the hotel, his expression composed, though cold, and his eyes fixed on the road.

You thought he was being unusually emotional, he thought you were being dismissive.

As Illumi helps you out of the truck for the final time, his grip on your hand remains firm. He leads you inside the hotel’s lobby, walking down a hall he’s never taken you before and into the grand ballroom. The ballroom was large, yet empty, with not a single person or piece of furniture in sight. The room felt liminal, the floor’s pattern the only thing giving it some personality.

Illumi stands with you in the very middle of the room, attention focused on one of the far walls. “We are dancing.” he says, his voice slightly echoing in the room.

You look around as if expecting a band or some sort of radio to magically appear. When it doesn’t, you turn to look back at Illumi. “In silence?”

Illumi slowly turns to face you, his demeanor off once again. His voice is low as he speaks, “No distractions, just us.”

His fingers intertwined with your own before pulling back, essentially pulling you into him. You’re caught off guard by the sudden contact despite mentally preparing yourself for it, especially with how slowly his other hand settles around your waist. Illumi then leans in, his head next to yours as he whispers into your ear, “Just follow my lead.”

The dance, if you could even call it that, goes exactly how you had expected — unpleasant — for you at least as Illumi was clearly enjoying himself. It felt like he was rubbing against you too much despite his gracefulness, performing moves that would optimize maximum contact with you. His actions became increasingly assertive as the dance went on, his grip on you tightened and the hand on your waist shifting lower and lower.

His movements were surprisingly elegant, you never would’ve expected someone like Illumi to be this good at dancing. You tried to mirror him, the only music heard being your echoing footsteps and the ringing of complete silence. You’re unable to meet his strange and foreign gaze, the roundness of his pupils reminding you of some sort of alien. Maybe he was an alien, that would make a whole lot of sense.

He’s almost melting into you like he was trying to merge both of your bodies, his touch gradually becoming more intimate and amorous.

“Illumi.” you call out.

The hand on your waist returns to its original position, his grip slightly looser and a little space being allowed between the two of you. As his movements slow and the dance comes to an end, Illumi firmly holds you in place, almost hugging you. His head rests next to yours, his eyes closed as he savors this moment.

He then pulls away, stepping back as he looks down at you with a near-amatory gaze. He says nothing, and neither do you, as his attention shifts towards the ballroom’s door before falling back on you. “It’s getting late.” his gentle hold on your shoulders slid down to your upper arm. “Let’s go to dinner.”

You slowly nod and walk with him as he makes his way to the hotel’s restaurant. You keep your gaze lowered as a butler serves your meal, Illumi lacking one of his own. His intense stare remains fixed upon you as you eat, his eyes never wavering from you, even when you make your nervousness clear. It was like he was trying to burn your image into his memory, every detail of your form being seared into his mind.

He looked hungry which made the absence of food before him even more bizarre.

“Aren’t you hungry? Why aren’t you eating?” you ask. You didn’t mean to express concern for him, just wanting to know why he was acting so strange.

Illumi shakes his head slightly. “I’m not hungry for food.”

His words left no room for misinterpretation yet you managed to be completely oblivious as to what Illumi was hinting at, your mind more focused on finishing your meal so you could escape his direct attention.

“Enticing.” Illumi suddenly says in an almost whisper, more so speaking to himself than to you. “Tempting.”

You look up at him. “Huh?”

His words hang in the air, and his eyes widen slightly. He doesn’t respond further and his gaze manages to intensify. There are pieces of you that remain enigmatic to him and he craves to understand your intricacies. To understand you is to possess you, and he yearns to possess you completely.

He’s as still as a statue, his eyes as watchful as a camera. You can’t read his expression or decipher his mood, his lips pressed into a thin line as if unsure whether to hint at a smile or a frown. When was the last time he blinked? You can’t stand him.

With your meal finally completed, the moment arrives for you to return to the suite. Illumi rises out of his seat gracefully, his hand extended as a silent invitation. You’re disinclined, but you take it nonetheless, eyes focused on the ground as he leads you out of the restaurant. Illumi’s expression returns to its usual calmness, though his quick pace and eager movements betray his facade.

After entering the suite and locking the door behind him, Illumi hands you your pajamas, his hands moving in a way to ensure they touch yours. You don’t react, only locking yourself in the bathroom before you change clothes, tossing your dirty ones into the hamper. Your eyes trail to the ring on your finger yet again. You were vexed that the ring was so beautiful, so expensive, as its beauty was tainted by the story behind it.

As you step out of the bathroom, you find Illumi changed and sitting up in bed. He’s, of course, staring at you, and the TV’s light softly illuminates the room. It was on a very low volume, however, rendering you unable to make out what was playing.

Your steps are slow and calculated as you make your way to your side of the bed, eyes glued to the TV as an excuse to ignore Illumi’s gaze. You made sure to leave a generous amount of space between the two of you but it didn’t matter as Illumi moved closer to you.

“You enjoyed yourself today. That’s good.” he said. It was more of a confirmation to reassure himself than a question in need of your input. He pauses for a minute, eyes focused on the near-silent TV. “We’ll be going back home tomorrow.”

Your heart flutters in excitement, but you keep yourself composed, eyes still focused on what the TV is showing you. “Is… this the only time you’ll do something like this?” you ask, a bit hesitant to ask your question as you didn’t want him to interpret it as you wanting to spend more time with him.

Illumi contemplates your question, eyes still focused ahead of him. ”It would depend on your level of appreciation.” his answer was left intentionally vague as he didn’t want to commit to a single answer.

“So you’ll do it again?” you glance at him.

After a moment of deliberation, Illumi slowly turns to look at you, pupils now freakishly round. “I could be convinced.”

You look away from him, turning your attention to the TV for the final time. You then shift under the covers, turning onto your side and away from Illumi as you try to find a comfortable sleeping position.

Sitting up even more and scooting closer to you, Illumi removes the covers off of you and places a hand on your hip. “Don’t go to sleep just yet.” he calls out. “We still have some time to spend together.”

“I want to sleep.” you state, your eyes remaining closed as you try to ignore his touch.

He ignores your declaration. “I want to talk,” he states quietly, voice carrying a hint of determination, “I have something I need to tell you.”

You feel his hand gently squeeze you, though you don’t react to it. “You’re free to talk.”

“Perfect.” his hold on your hip tightens as he flips you over onto your back, moving you in front of him and claiming his position between your legs. His face is perfectly shadowed yet perfectly illuminated as his eyes devour your figure beneath him.

His hands move to hold your waist, the intensity in his eyes softening slightly as he speaks. “(Name).” he says, his tone displaying a sense of vulnerability and primal need. “I want you.”

You’re merely frozen in the submissive position he’s put you in, eyes wide in shock at his confession. You’ve stirred unfamiliar feelings within him, emotions new yet powerful enough to consume him.

He leans down closer to you, placing a hand right next to your head for support while the other remains on your waist. “You’ve been tormenting me all this time, teasing me yet averse to the idea of giving in to me.”

Your hands hesitate before moving and gently grabbing his wrists, your head turning to the side as a sign of shyness and embarrassment. His eyes soften in adoration, realizing his words' effects on you.

“(Name).” he murmurs, savoring each syllable on his tongue as if it held the sweetness he strongly desired. “Give yourself to me.” his command lined with velvet, a gentle yet firm request for your willing submission.

“Illumi…” is all you say, unable to think of a coherent response after being put on the spot like this.

The hand on your waist moves to hold your jaw, tethering on the edge of gripping your throat, as he pulls you into a weirdly passionate kiss. He pulls you in closer as he deepens the kiss, his body further pressing into you, and his desires let loose, making themselves increasingly obvious to you.

The weight of Illumi’s control oddly arousing as he made his dominance over you painfully clear, leaving no room for doubt or confusion. You tremble in shock from the kiss, causing him to quietly hum and fuel his desire.

He finally pulls away, eyes undoubtedly filled with lust as he looks down at the beauty before him. “Every part of you will bear the mark of my desire.” he whispers as he leans down toward your neck, hand now interlaced with your own as the other trails back down to hold your hip. “I’ll make it so that you never forget who you belong to.”

Shit.

Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?

#hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #male yandere #yandere illumi #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere hxh #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere scenarios

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thewulf · 5 months

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Breaking Point || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I've got this itch for some hurt/comfort with Simon Ghost Riley and the reader from TF 141. Reader's this badass sniper, always on top of her game. But one day she wakes up feeling under the weather. She decides to push through training, but things take a turn when she starts feeling faint during drills after Price gives her shit for not training hard... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh this was challenging but so much fun to right. Please let me know your thoughts below :) Got a little carried away with this one!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 7.7k +

TW: Heat Stroke, Flu, Illness, general COD warnings.

Four years ago, you were a part of a special training assignment with the American Navy, deployed in a remote and sweltering military base off the coast of Africa. It was here in the middle of the grueling drills and relentless heat that you caught the eye of Captain John Price. Your prowess with a rifle was unmistakable. Every target set before you fell without fail. But what truly set you apart was your demeanor: you kept your head down, focused intensely on the task at hand, never boasting about your undeniable skills.

Captain Price who was always on the lookout for exceptional talent to add to Task Force 141, saw in you a rare combination of humility and sharpshooting expertise. Recognizing your potential he pulled some strings, navigated through the complexities of the American Military bureaucracy, and somehow successfully recruited you into the prestigious ranks of TF 141. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One that would challenge your resilience and skill more than any previous assignment.

Joining TF 141 wasn't just a promotion. It was being welcomed into a family of elite soldiers. While Soap and Gaz took an immediate liking to you, appreciating your wit and marksmanship, Ghost was initially more reserved. His trust was not easily won. It had to be earned on the battlefield not just through training exercises back at base.

Your defining moment came during a perilous mission in the frozen expanses of Russia within your first year with the 141. The mission had quickly gone sideways. Ghost found himself in the deadly crosshairs of an enemy sniper. With the situation deteriorating rapidly and no clear shot available to him your actions in those critical seconds would forever change the dynamics of your relationship with Ghost. From a concealed position you took out the opposing sniper with a single, precise shot, saving Ghost’s life.

This act erased any last reservations Ghost might have held. From then on he saw you not just as another sharpshooter but as an indispensable member of the team, his team. Your ability to make life-saving decisions under intense pressure proved your strength. Not just in terms of physical prowess but in intellectual and tactical acumen as well.

Since then you have become an integral part of TF 141's operations. Your journey from a promising recruit noticed by Captain Price to a pivotal player in some of the team’s most critical missions has been defined by relentless dedication and the deep trust you've earned from some of the military's toughest warriors.

The shrill beep of the alarm slices through the stillness of your room dragging you from the shallow waters of restless sleep into the harsh reality of dawn. For a moment as you blink against the dim light filtering through the barracks' curtains, the room spins slightly—a disorienting dance that forces you to close your eyes again.

You’ve always been the type who never gets sick. The one who breezes through the cold season unscathed while others succumb around you. Your robust health has been a point of pride, a badge of reliability in TF 141. But this morning something is different, and you know it immediately.

Your body aches profoundly, each muscle groaning with a weariness that feels bone-deep, and your head pounds with the relentless rhythm of a dull, throbbing drum. Swallowing feels like dragging sandpaper down your throat. An unfortunate wave of nausea rolls through you as you sit up. It has to be the flu, you think grimly, recognizing the unmistakable and unforgiving symptoms.

Despite the clear signs of illness, the thought of calling in sick doesn’t even cross your mind. It’s not just about pride. There’s also a deep-seated belief that you can handle anything, a belief that has carried you through countless challenges.

With a heavy, determined sigh, you push yourself off the bed. Standing unsteadily for a moment, you use the wall to keep yourself upright. Today is not the day to show weakness, not the day to break your perfect record of health. You decide to power through. To dress and join your team for the morning drills under the rising sun. The thought of letting them down by your absence is more daunting than the physical discomfort threatening to overwhelm you.As you gear up, each movement measured and more deliberate than usual, you steel yourself for the day ahead. Today, you'll prove—not just to your team, but to yourself—that not even the flu can keep you from standing alongside your comrades.

Stepping out into the cool, pre-dawn air, you allow yourself a moment to feel the chill against your fevered skin. It’s oddly refreshing, a natural contrast to the unnatural heat of your illness. It’s bound to be short lived though as the sun’s rays already feel warm on your skin. The training field is a short walk away and with each step you rehearse the day’s routine in your mind. A mantra against the physical discomfort.

As the briefing wraps up and the team begins to disperse to their respective training stations you feel the weight of Ghost’s gaze right on you. Despite the heaviness of your limbs and the fog in your brain, this unspoken solidarity from your teammates, especially Ghost, gives you a sliver of strength.

With each step towards the day’s first drill your resolve hardens. You're not just fighting the flu; you're fighting to maintain the trust and respect you’ve earned. Today, the battlefield is here, within yourself, and you're determined to prove your mettle. You are keenly aware of being one of the few women in the unit and the additional scrutiny that comes with it. It's crucial that you show no weakness even as your body wages its quiet rebellion. Your head pounds with a relentless ache. Your limbs are heavy. And every breath feels like an effort. Despite these symptoms screaming flu, you've chosen silence—no complaints, no excuses.

When you arrive at the training field the usual bustle of activity sharply contrasts with your internal struggle. Everyone is focused on what needs to be done, their attention solely on performance. As Captain Price begins the morning briefing his voice sounds like a distant echo in your ears drowned out by the pounding in your head. The day's challenges loom large, testing your limits before you've even started.

As you make your way to the lineup, the crisp morning air begins to turn warm, almost uncomfortable warm already. Soap falls into step beside you, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he launches into the light-hearted banter that typically marks your mornings together.

“Morning! Ready to outshoot us all again today?” Soap teases before giving you a gentle nudge with his elbow, expecting your usual lively retort.

You manage only a weak smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and nod faintly. The flu has buried your usual quick wit under a heavy weight of fatigue and discomfort. It takes all your effort just to keep standing without revealing how much you're struggling.

Soap’s smile quickly falters at your lack of reply, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay, lass?” he asks. His tone shifting to something more serious.

You nod again, swallowing hard against the surge of nausea. “Yeah, just tired,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You're careful not to reveal the full extent of your ailment, not here, not in front of your team.

From a short distance away Ghost's intense gaze follows the exchange. Though his presence is more subdued, and his demeanor reserved, his attention to detail remains sharp. You can feel his concern even without words. His posture is alert, his body tensed as if ready to act at a moment's notice.

Ghost offers no overt gestures of worry; he doesn't need to. The slight tightening of his stance is a silent signal of his readiness to intervene. His eyes, just visible through the slits of his mask, never wander, tracking your every move with a vigilance that speaks volumes. You know he's always watching out for his team, and today, his protective focus is unmistakably fixed on you.

"Alright, let's warm up! Start with sprints!" Captain Price commands. His voice cuts through the morning air, decisive and clear. You line up with your teammates, the grass cool and slightly damp under your boots. The whistle pierces the calm, and you propel yourself forward. Each step is a battle, your muscles protesting every movement. Yet you push through the fatigue and dizziness.

After sprints the drills shift to push-ups. Down on the warm, wet grass you feel the earth against your palms, stabilizing yet unforgiving. You count each repetition, your muscles burning and a thin layer of sweat forming, which only seems to heighten the chills that intermittently rack your body.

Sit-ups come next and with each crunch a wave of nausea threatens your composure. The world tilts slightly with each lift, blurring at the edges. Captain Price’s footsteps approach. His presence looming. "Let’s see that strength, Y/N! Don’t slack now!" he urges. The encouragement is meant to inspire but it feels like a heavy mantle on your already burdened shoulders.

“Yes sir.” You manage to get out between crunches.

As you struggle through each exercise you can't ignore the hot flashes followed by chills, the hallmark of flu symptoms. Each movement is more taxing than the last and the temptation to give in and rest grows stronger. However, your determination doesn't waver. You are here to prove yourself, to demonstrate that neither flu nor fatigue can break your resolve. You need to showcase the unwavering strength of not just a skilled sniper, but a resilient soldier.

As the whistle blows, Captain Price directs everyone to break into their respective teams for more specialized, team-based drills. You find yourself grouped with Ghost, Gaz, and Soap. Your usual teammates and three of the unit's most competent operatives. Your heart sinks a bit. Their proficiency and teamwork are unmatched and under normal circumstances you would feel invigorated by the challenge. Today, however, it feels like an uphill battle.

"Alright, team," Gaz announces with a nod, "we’re up for the relay sprints and tactical positioning exercises. We need to be sharp and synchronized. Let's show these assholes how it's done."

You nod silently, attempting to muster a semblance of enthusiasm. Soap claps you on the shoulder giving you a reassuring smile, likely mistaking your subdued quietness for focused determination rather than the fatigue that’s slowly overtaking you.

The drills begin with relay sprints. You watch as Soap takes off with his usual speed. His figure swiftly cutting through the warming afternoon air. Gaz follows, moving with practiced ease. Then it’s your turn. As you push off your legs feel as though they are wading through molasses, your usually sharp agility significantly dulled by the flu’s tenacious grip. Each step feels heavier than the last as your breathing becomes ragged and unsteady.

Compounding your discomfort, the gear you're clad in feels unbearably hot against your skin. The layers that are usually a second nature in your fieldwork now seem like a furnace, trapping in every ounce of body heat. Your temperature rises not just from the fever, but also from the exhaustive exertion and the insulated heat from your tactical vest. Sweat beads on your forehead, not entirely from the physical activity but also from the early signs of heat exhaustion—your body’s desperate attempt to cool down under the layers.

Despite feeling increasingly overheated and nearly overwhelmed, you hide your discomfort well. Your face remains stoic, betraying none of the battle raging within your body against the heat and illness. To an outsider you might just appear intensely focused. But beneath the surface you're fighting a much tougher battle, trying to keep pace while your body screams for relief.

Ghost, from his vantage point, watches closely. His sharp eyes catch the subtle signs that others might miss—the slight falter in your step, the way you're breathing a little too hard after your sprint. His gaze intensifies with concern etched across his face as he monitors your every move, aware that something isn’t right but waiting for you to signal if you need assistance.

When you pass the baton to Ghost your hand trembles slightly. He catches it and for a brief moment your eyes meet. There's a flash of concern across his usually impassive face, a subtle shift that speaks volumes. He nods at you before taking off, his movements fluid and precise, yet his mind clearly not fully on the drill. His glance back at you is quick, discreet, checking to ensure you’re still on your feet.

As the exercises continue with the tactical positioning drills, the demands increase. This part of the training requires quick movements and even quicker thinking as each team member needs to cover different angles and work together seamlessly. You position yourself to cover Ghost’s flank, aiming to maintain your usual high standards. However, the world begins to tilt alarmingly. Your vision swims and the ground beneath you feels as if it’s shifting forcing you to steady yourself against a nearby tree.

Ghost, now at a slight distance, turns sharply in response to your stagger. His eyes narrow, not with disapproval, but with intensified concern. He makes a subtle move to close the distance between you, his instincts as a protector kicking in. Yet, he stops himself, respecting your pride and your ability to signal if you need help. He positions himself strategically, so he’s close enough to intervene quickly if needed. His body tensed and ready to act.

“Y/N, you alright?” Gaz’s voice suddenly cuts through your fog of discomfort, and you realize you’ve attracted more attention than you intended.

You straighten up quickly, nodding more sharply than necessary. “Just lost my footing for a second,” you lie. Managing a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Ghost, who has now subtly shifted his position to provide you with both physical and moral support, keeps his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer. He doesn’t call you out on your obvious discomfort. Instead, he gives you a nod, an unspoken communication between you two. It’s his way of saying he’s there, just in case, without putting you on the spot in front of the others.

His presence helps you gather your strength to continue. Despite the unease churning inside you knowing that Ghost is watching over you with such attentiveness gives you a small, but significant boost of confidence. You focus on the drills, pushing through the nausea and instability, bolstered by the knowledge that help is just a few steps away if you truly need it.

You begin to feel the oppressive heat bearing down on you more intensely than before. Each breath feels like you're inhaling fire. And the tactical gear, usually a familiar weight, now feels like an unbearable burden. Trapping too much heat against your body. More and more sweat beads on your forehead mixing with the slight dizziness that refuses to fade. The discomfort is escalating and despite your best efforts to mask it the heat is becoming unmanageable.

Ghost was still maintaining a discreet distance, watches you with sharp, observant eyes. He senses the subtle changes in your posture and the slight grimace that you can't quite hide each time you move. His concern deepens but he waits for a sign from you, respecting your pride and your position within the team.

As the drills continue you find it increasingly difficult to focus. The world seems to shimmer with heat around the edges and you feel a wave of nausea stronger than before. Recognizing that you might be in more trouble than you initially thought you catch Ghost's gaze across the field. It's a silent plea for understanding, a subtle acknowledgment that you do need his help after all.

Ghost responds immediately, his instincts as your LT kicking into high gear. He crosses the distance between you with a few quick strides. His approach discreet yet filled with purpose. “Everything okay?” he asks quietly. His voice low enough that only you can hear. It’s clear he’s prepared to step in, to offer whatever support you need without drawing unwanted attention to your struggle.

Your attempt to respond is less than reassuring. "Heat… too, it’s not the... can't—why can’t the air?" you mumble. Your words tangling into an unintelligible mess, a clear indicator that you are far from alright.

The expression behind Ghost's mask tightens, his protective instincts flaring as he assesses your condition with even greater alarm. Your face is flushed from more than just the heat. It's clear you're struggling significantly under the weight of your gear and the relentless sun.

At that moment Captain Price's voice cuts sharply through the air, his tone laced with the urgency of the drill. "Let's move it, Ghost, Y/N!" he commands from a distance, seemingly oblivious to the severity of your distress. His focus is on the continuity and discipline of the training. Unaware that one of his own is teetering on the edge of collapse.

Ghost’s response is swift and decisive. Without drawing attention to the situation, he steadies you with one arm, his other hand signaling subtly to Captain Price that something isn’t right. "Give us a moment, sir," he calls back firmly, his tone respectful yet insistent enough to convey the seriousness of the issue without alarming the entire unit.

He turns back to you, his gaze intense. "We need to get you out of the sun," he states quietly, directing you towards a shaded area nearby. His hand remains supportively on your back, guiding but not pushing. His presence a steady force as you stagger slightly under your own weight.

Once under the shade, Ghost helps you remove your tactical vest, easing the burden of the heat trapped against your body. The cooler air hits your skin, offering a momentary relief that you hadn't realized you needed so desperately. But as your body starts to cool an unexpected shiver runs through you, violent and uncontrollable. It feels as though the temperature has plummeted, though the day remains swelteringly hot.

"Ghost," you stutter out between shivers, "it's so cold." Your teeth chatter, a stark contrast to the sweat that still beads on your forehead. The sudden coldness is disorienting, confusing, and you clutch at your arms in an attempt to warm yourself.

"Simon," you manage to say between shivers. His actual name slipping out amidst the confusion—an unusual slip that does not escape his notice. Ghost, or Simon as you now call him, recognizes the gravity of the situation immediately. The usual protocols and formalities fade into the background as he prioritizes your wellbeing above all else.

You blink rapidly trying to focus as your surroundings become a blur. The ground seems to tilt beneath you for a second time and a wave of darkness edges your vision. Simon watches you closely with an arm around your waist in case. His trained eyes catching every sign of your deteriorating condition.

“Hang on,” he urges. His voice steady but the concern is palpable. Before he can offer more reassurance your knees buckle beneath you. Your body finally giving way to the overwhelming symptoms. And suddenly the world goes dark in your eyes.

Simon catches you before you hit the ground his arms securing you firmly yet gently. “Medic!” he shouts. The urgency in his voice cutting through the morning air without a hint of hesitation. Captain Price who had been overseeing the drills from a short distance, turns sharply at the sound. His quick assessment of the situation bringing him running.

Price approaches just as Simon adjusts his hold on you, bringing your body to the ground so you were laying. “What happened?” Price asks. His voice a mix of command and concern.

“Heat stroke, I think—she’s out,” Simon responds curtly. His gaze fixed on you as he checks your pulse and looks for any sign of recovery. Your brief moments of unconsciousness are fleeting but each second is critical.

As you flutter your eyes open, confusion mingles with the need to communicate. “Simon... it’s all spinning,” you murmur with your voice overly weak. The use of his first name again in such a vulnerable state only cements his resolve to get you the help you need immediately.

As Simon kneels beside you he carefully supports your head, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. “Can you tell me where you are?” he asks again. His voice a mix of firmness and concern trying to assess the level of your disorientation.

You blink slowly but the effort to focus feeling monumental. Your gaze drifts over the familiar yet strangely distant figures of Soap and Gaz before returning to Simon. “We're... in Bosnia?” you murmur hesitantly, the name of a recent mission location slipping out, completely unrelated to your current setting on the training field.

Simon’s expression tightens, a flicker of worry crossing his features as he realizes the depth of your confusion. He exchanges a quick, grave look with Captain Price who has been monitoring the situation closely. The incorrect answer confirms the seriousness of your condition, prompting Price to look around, expecting the medics to be approaching swiftly.

However, as Simon scans the area his frustration mounts. The medics, possibly delayed or misinformed about the severity of the situation, are nowhere in sight. Realizing that waiting even a moment longer could jeopardize your well-being he makes a decisive call.

"Not fast enough," Simon mutters under his breath. His protective instincts overriding protocol. Without waiting for the medics to arrive he gently but firmly scoops you up in his arms. His movements are swift and determined as he begins to rush you towards the infirmary. His concern for your immediate safety taking precedence over everything else.

Captain Price, upon seeing Simon’s sudden movement, understands the gravity of the decision and immediately acts. "Clear the way!” he shouts, commanding the attention of everyone on the field.

As Simon carries you, the world around you becomes a blur of motion and sound, but his steady grip provides a reassuring constant. "Hang on love, we're almost there. Just stay with me," he urges. His voice a soothing presence amid the confusion.

With each step Simon takes your sense of time and space dims, the urgency of his stride and the rhythm of his heartbeat blending into the background noise of the base. As you approach the infirmary you see figures moving quickly to prepare for your arrival.

Simon’s pace doesn’t falter until he reaches the medical staff waiting at the infirmary doors. As he gently hands you over to their care his gaze lingers on yours filled with concern and an unspoken promise of unwavering support, no matter the circumstances.

In the cool, sterile environment of the infirmary, Ghost stands a vigilant watch beside your bed. His gaze locked onto your face as the medical team works rapidly to stabilize your condition. The typical stoic mask he wears has fallen away, replaced by an expression etched with deep concern. Each furrow of his brow and tight set of his jaw reveals more than usual concern. It speaks of a profound fear that he rarely allows others to see.

As the medical staff step back momentarily to fetch additional supplies, Ghost's role shifts subtly but significantly. He transforms from a mere observer into an active caretaker, a role those in TF 141 rarely witness. He picks up a damp cloth and gently wipes your forehead. His touch delicate and caring, betraying the roughness expected from his formidable field presence.

"Hey, love, can you hear me?" he murmurs. His voice soft and laden with a tenderness that surprises even him. The word 'love' slips out naturally. A term of endearment that he hasn't used lightly before. This slip, this small but significant deviation from his usual manner, is a clear sign of his deepening feelings. Feelings he might not have fully acknowledged until this very moment.

You blink slowly, responding to the sound of his voice. Ghost watches for any sign of recognition, any indication that you understand his presence. As you meet his gaze, there's a moment of relief that passes over his features. But it's quickly replaced by renewed worry as he continues to monitor your responses.

He is utterly overwhelmed. A feeling that's foreign to him. He's faced countless dangers without flinching but the sight of you so vulnerable stirs a fear in him that battlefield threats never have. He realizes perhaps more clearly than ever how deeply his feelings for you run. It's not just friendship or brotherly protection. It's something much deeper, more personal.

He stays close, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The contact is meant to comfort you but it also grounds him, reminding him that you're still here, still fighting. "Stay with me, okay?" he adds quietly, almost pleadingly. This is not just a command from a superior officer; it's a personal plea from someone who cares deeply.

Ghost's presence in the infirmary becomes a constant, a guardian ensuring that no detail is overlooked, no necessary treatment delayed. His commitment to your recovery is unwavering, his actions driven by a mix of professional duty and personal concern that has become inseparable. The realization that his feelings for you have evolved adds a new weight to every decision, every action he takes on your behalf.

A few hours later, the haze of confusion and illness that enveloped your mind begins to clear slightly. As your eyes flutter open, the stark white lights of the infirmary momentarily blind you, and the unfamiliar sounds of medical equipment beep rhythmically in the background. Disoriented, you try to recall the sequence of events that led to this moment.

Sitting beside your bed, Ghost notices the subtle signs of consciousness returning. He leans forward, his presence reassuring amidst the clinical surroundings. "Hey, you're awake," he says gently. His voice a soothing contrast to the beeping machines. "Take it easy. You gave us quite a scare out there."

As fragments of memory return—the unbearable heat of the training field, your faltering steps, the feeling of collapse—your face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. The realization that you succumbed in front of your team, particularly because of a flu exacerbating the situation, is hard to accept.

Ghost reads the embarrassment in your expression and quickly addresses it. "Listen, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. You’re dealing with the flu on top of everything else. Heat stroke is serious and it’s a lot for anyone to handle. Especially when you’re already under the weather," he reassures you earnestly.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. His touch grounding. "Even the toughest soldiers need to take a step back sometimes. It’s okay to acknowledge that you’re human, that you have limits. It doesn't diminish your strength," he continues in your silence. His voice imbued with empathy and understanding.

Feeling the sincerity in his words helps ease some of your discomfort. "Thanks, Simon," you manage to whisper, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. The informal use of his first name in such a vulnerable moment speaks volumes about the trust and comfort you’ve grown to have in him.

Simon offers a gentle smile. His eyes softening. "You’re always pushing yourself to be the best and that’s certainly admirable. But sometimes, taking care of yourself is part of being the best. Don’t blame yourself for this. I certainly don’t blame you for trying," he adds, affirming his support in you.

"Sleep now. Don’t worry about the rest for now. We’re all here for you," he suggests while still holding your hand, his steady presence a comforting constant as you drift back towards unconsciousness. His commitment to your well-being is clear not just as a teammate but as someone who cares deeply on a personal level.

As you close your eyes, comforted by his words and presence, you feel a profound sense of relief. Simon's quiet vigil lets you know that no matter what, you’re not alone. Periodically, he checks the IV line and adjusts the cold packs making sure to monitor your recovery closely.. Each time you stir or grimace in discomfort, he’s there, adjusting your position or simply offering a reassuring touch.

As the hours pass Ghost remains by your side, a silent sentinel. Even as you're asleep he doesn’t leave, instead pulling up a chair to sit beside your bed. Occasionally, other members of the team peek in offering quiet words of support. But it's clear Ghost has appointed himself your primary guardian during this vulnerable time.

This unexpected role of caretaker reveals a depth to Ghost that goes beyond his tactical prowess and battlefield grit. In the infirmary, with the soft hum of medical equipment in the background, his softer, caring nature comes to the forefront, showcasing a profound sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards his team. Especially towards you.

As the day's tension slowly ebbs away in the quiet of the infirmary, you sleep deeply, recovering from the ordeal. Ghost sits steadfast by your side. His focus is solely on you. His usually impassive gaze softened by concern. The door creaks open softly as Soap and Gaz walk in. Both their faces splitting into mischievous grins when they see Ghost in his uncharacteristic role as your caretaker.

“Never thought I’d see Ghost play the doting nurse,” Soap chuckles quietly. Trying to keep his voice low to avoid disturbing you. “What’s next? Will you be knitting her a sweater?”

Gaz joins in leaning against the door frame with a smirk playing on his lips, “Maybe a nice scarf to go with it, mate. Make sure it matches her eyes, yeah?” His comment draws a soft laugh from Soap. Their teasing lightening the atmosphere of the infirmary.

Their laughter, though subdued, is a needed release after the day’s stress. It’s filled with genuine affection and respect for both you and Ghost. They understand the stakes of such moments and the bonds they forge.

Ghost, not missing a beat, shoots them a pointed look. His response is tinged with his characteristic dry humor. "Keep it up, and you'll be on the next solo recon mission in the coldest part of Siberia," he replies. His tone firm but with a faint smirk betraying his amusement.

In the background Captain Price stands silently in the doorway. His observant eyes taking in the scene. He watches Ghost’s interactions with a discerning eye, noting the subtle softness in his usually stoic demeanor. Price is no stranger to the complexities of personal dynamics within his team. And he senses the potential implications of Ghost’s deepening concern for you. There’s a hint of understanding in his gaze, mixed with caution, as he ponders the path this could lead down.

As the laughter begins to die down Price steps forward, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. He gives Soap and Gaz a brief nod, a clear signal that it’s time for them to leave. The moment for jokes has passed and it's time to restore some decorum. As they exit Soap can’t resist throwing one final teasing comment over his shoulder. “Take good care of her, Ghost!” he calls out as his tone is playful yet sincere.

Price remains a moment longer his gaze lingering on Ghost and then shifting to you, asleep and unaware of the exchange. There’s a quiet gravity to his demeanor, an unspoken reminder of his leadership role and his understanding of the deeper currents flowing beneath the surface of his team’s interactions.

Captain Price approaches Ghost, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. He pauses beside him, his voice low and measured to ensure privacy. "Simon," he begins. His tone serious but not without warmth, "you're handling this well and it's clear you care deeply. Just remember, maintaining balance is crucial." His eyes, steady and understanding, meet Ghost's, acknowledging the depth of his concern while gently reminding him of his broader responsibilities.

"Don't lose focus. We rely on you—not just for her, but for the whole team," Price continues, his voice softening slightly to underscore his supportive intent.

Ghost nods, the gravity of Price's words resonating with him. "Understood, sir," he responds, his tone reflecting both respect for Price's leadership and an acute awareness of the weight on his shoulders.

Price places a hand on Ghost's shoulder, a gesture that speaks of his care and mutual respect. "Keep me posted. If there's anything you need don't hesitate to ask," he adds. Emphasizing his role not just as a commander but as a supporter willing to provide resources rather than merely oversee.

"Will do, sir," Ghost says, his voice steady as he watches Price prepare to leave the infirmary. Price gives him one last affirming nod—an acknowledgment of Ghost's commitment and his understanding of the emotional complexities involved. As Price walks away his demeanor reflects as a leader who trusts his team to handle personal challenges with professionalism yet remains ready to step in if the balance shifts too far.

Once alone again Ghost turns back to you, his expression softening as he adjusts the blanket around you and checks the monitors to ensure everything is as it should be. In these quiet moments his demeanor reveals the profound loyalty and protectiveness he feels. Traits that define him just as much as his combat skills.

The room is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle beeping of the medical equipment and your steady breathing. In this sanctuary away from the battlefield's chaos, Ghost’s vigilance continues, a promise of unwavering support.

In the dimly lit infirmary, the soft beeps of the monitor blend with the quiet sounds of the night. Ghost sits closely by your side, his eyes tracing over your peaceful face, contrasting sharply with the day’s earlier tension. The room is calm now, the urgency has passed, but the weight of the day lingers in the air heavy with unspoken words.

Leaning closer Ghost watches you for a long moment. His expression a mix of concern and something softer, more vulnerable. He knows you can’t hear him, but the words slip out quietly anyway. A whisper meant only for you. "You’re killing me here, love," he murmurs. The hint of a smile touching his lips despite the worry in his eyes. It’s a rare admission. One that reveals just how deeply he’s been affected by your condition.

He sighs lightly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the room. Adjusting the blanket around you one last time to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible, he finally leans back in his chair. His gaze remains fixed on you a moment longer as a guardian watching over you.

Realizing the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion settling into his bones Ghost decides he wasn’t willing to leave you yet. Not when you’d hardly regained consciousness and certainly not when you might need him upon waking. He shifts to make himself as comfortable as possible in the chair beside your bed, his body angled to keep you in sight.

As he settles in, his eyes slowly close but it’s clear he’s not completely given over to sleep. Even in rest, he’s alert, ready to wake at the slightest change in your condition. In this quiet vigil, his presence is both a promise and a protection. A steadfast commitment to be there for you when you finally do wake.

The night deepens around the two of you. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor a constant in the otherwise still room. Ghost, in his chair, remains by your side. A figure in the dim light embodying both the warrior and the caretaker in this rare moment of peace.

As the first light of dawn begins to filter through the blinds of the infirmary your eyes flutter open greeting the new day with a mix of confusion and sluggish awareness. Initially, your vision is blurry, the shapes and colors of the room melding into indistinct forms. Gradually though your eyes adjust, and the figure slumped in the chair beside your bed comes into sharper focus. Ghost, asleep, his head resting awkwardly against the wall.

The sight of him so uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep immediately warms your heart. Despite the residual fog clouding your mind a soft smile plays on your lips. "Ghost," you call out, your voice hoarse but audible enough to stir him from his light slumber.

At the sound of your voice Ghost snaps awake, instantly alert. He straightens up before rubbing the stiffness from his neck as he turns to face you. His eyes that displayed a flicker of reprieve meet yours. "Hey, you're awake," he says. His voice rough with sleep but tinged with unmistakable relief. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, thanks to you," you reply. Your voice was still weak but filled with gratitude. "You stayed all night?"

Ghost nods, a soft expression crossing his face as he hears your voice. This subtle return to normalcy reassures him. Warming his heart and letting him know you must be feeling a bit better to revert to familiar terms. "Yes, I stayed. Didn’t want you to wake up alone here," he replies. His tone gentle. Ghost’s eyes scan your face for signs of pain or lingering confusion, ever the vigilant guardian.

"Thanks, Ghost. Really," you manage to say feeling comforted not only by his presence but also by the return to a semblance of normalcy. His constant vigilance, even as you slept, speaks volumes of his dedication not just to his duty but to you personally.

Ghost offers a slight smile, one that reaches his eyes this time. "No need to thank me. Just glad to see you're doing better," he says. He pulls a chair closer to your bed, settling in. "Need anything? Water? More pain meds?" he asks. Ready to assist with whatever you might need.

The simple exchange is light yet filled with unspoken care helps to ease the remaining tension from the ordeal. As Ghost continues to make sure you’re comfortable, you feel a profound sense of safety and appreciation for the bond that has only deepened through this experience. The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence filled with unspoken understanding and mutual respect. In this quiet early morning hour, a new layer of your relationship has been gently unfolded. Revealing the depth of connection that hardship and vulnerability can foster.

As the morning sun continues to pour a warm glow into the infirmary the doctor finishes his examination and nods with satisfaction. "You’ve made a remarkable recovery. I think you're ready to be discharged today. Just remember to take it easy for the next few days," he advises as he begins to pack away his equipment.

Ghost's reaction is almost immediate, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure she’s ready?" he questions the doctor. His voice carrying a protective edge that makes you smile inwardly. His overt protectiveness is both touching and reassuring. A stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

The doctor, accustomed to dealing with the cautious nature of soldiers about their comrades, reassures him with a confident nod. "Yes, she's stable. Just ensure she rests and avoids any strenuous activity. She should be fine," he explains patiently.

Despite the reassurance Ghost still looks unconvinced. His gaze flicking back to you, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering weakness. "Maybe another day for observation?" he suggests. His tone half-questioning, half-requesting. It's evident he'd prefer you stay under medical supervision a bit longer.

Your heart warms at his concern and though you find his overprotectiveness endearing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead, offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand instead. "Ghost, I think I’ll be okay," you assure him gently trying to alleviate his worries.

Ghost manages a small smile. His usual impassive facade softening. "Just making sure," he mutters. Though his eyes remain tender with concern. He finally nods accepting the doctor's verdict, but his posture stays alert, protective.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that. But we’re taking it slow for the next few days. I’ll let Price know." he declares. His tone firm, directed more at himself than anyone else.

As the doctor leaves Ghost assists you in gathering your belongings. His movements careful and considerate. He checks in frequently asking if you're feeling alright to continue, his cautiousness evident but heartening. It’s clear that although you’ve been given the all-clear Ghost will be keeping a close eye on you, ensuring your recovery proceeds without issue.

His unwavering attention not only makes you feel deeply cared for but also subtly deepens the bond between you, underscoring a shift in your relationship where his role as protector has become as instinctive as it is essential.

As you swing your legs off the bed and attempt to stand a momentary wave of dizziness makes your legs waver slightly. Instantly, Ghost is there, his hand firm on your waist, steadying you. His touch is gentle yet secure, grounding you in the moment.

You laugh it off with a light flush coloring your cheeks. "Just wobbly legs," you joke trying to ease the tension you feel from his close presence. Despite your attempt to downplay the situation your movements are still a bit too brisk. A clear sign you might be overestimating your current strength.

Ghost doesn't smile but there's a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Take it slow, love," he advises, his tone almost demanding. His hand remains on your back as a discreet but constant presence. He guides you slowly out of the infirmary. You feel the steadiness of his support with each step you take. His careful pace ensures you don't overexert yourself, allowing you time to adjust as you walk. The corridor seems longer than you remember but Ghost’s reassuring presence makes the journey feel safer, more manageable.

"You don’t have to rush this," he continues. Sensing your eagerness to prove your recovery. "We’ll get there when we get there." His words are simple but effective reminding you that your health is the priority not the speed of your recovery.

As you proceed you lean slightly into his support realizing how crucial his support has been, not just physically but also emotionally. Ghost’s unwavering steadiness helps bolster your confidence, making you feel that no matter how shaky your steps might be you won't fall as long as he’s by your side.

The walk back to your room is quiet but comfortable. It’s filled with an unspoken understanding that something significant has shifted between you. When you reach your door, Ghost finally pulls his hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingers.

"Thanks again, Ghost. For everything," you say while meeting his gaze. It's an open acknowledgment of all he's done and all he might continue to do.

"Anytime, love. Just... please take care of yourself," he responds. There’s a promise in his words, an implication that he'll always be nearby, watching over you.

As you reach the door to your quarters, Simon pauses, his hand resting lightly against the frame. "Can I help you get settled back in?" he asks. His tone as soft as it has been before, something new that has overcome him in your incident. His concern clearly evident.

You nod, touched by his attentiveness and as you enter your room he follows close behind. Simon watches carefully as you slowly make your way to your bed and sit down, still feeling a bit shaky. The room is familiar and comforting but his presence makes it feel even safer, more serene.

Once you're seated on the bed, he scans the room quickly, always alert for what you might need. "You sure you don't need anything else? Some more water? A snack?” Ghost asks, already moving towards your small kitchenette. He assumed a role that went beyond duty into something more personal.

You smile at his back, warmed by his concern. "I’m fine, Ghost. Really," you reassure him. But he shakes his head, not entirely convinced.

"It's no trouble at all. You should eat something," he insists gently while fetching a glass of water and a small snack from your stash. Simple things that you hadn't thought you’d needed until he presented them. As he hands you the glass his fingers brush yours lightly, sending a small, unexpected shiver up your arm. You thank him with a soft smile, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Noticing a few strands of hair falling over your face, Simon reaches out and gently brushes them back, his touch delicate and caring. His hand lingers for a moment, a silent expression of his deeper feelings.

You’re momentarily stunned but thrilled, nonetheless. You find it hard to find words as his hand lingers on your face. "I know I keep thanking you but thanks again Simon. For... well, for everything," you say after a moment. Your voice low and sincere. Using his first name feels natural, reflecting the shift in your relationship.

He pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be," he replies. His voice so soft it’s nearly a whisper, revealing the depth of his feelings.

"If you need anything else, just let me know. I'll be just a call away, love," He adds imbued with a warmth that reassures and comforts. His use of ‘love’ is tender, an endearment that resonates deeply, marking a significant moment in your ever evolving relationship.

He gives you a lingering look that was filled with care and a promise of protection before he reluctantly steps towards the door. There's a hint of hesitation in his movement, a subtle pause that conveys his desire to stay longer.

As he exits, gently closing the door behind him, you lie back against your pillows, the glass of water in your hand. His presence has left a comforting warmth in the room. A sense of safety that lulls you towards rest. The thought of Simon being just a call away brings a smile to your face. And as you close your eyes it’s not just the fatigue that makes you feel at ease. It’s knowing Simon is there, caring for you with a tenderness that goes beyond the call of duty.

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yeyinde · 2 years

Note

how do you think the boys would look after you when you’re sick? i think Soap and Gaz would wind up getting sick because they couldn’t stay away from you

they definitely seem like the type to coddle. as for the rest—

GHOST—

It's short. Succinct. He prefers blunt honesty, and that's what you aim for when, sniffling pathetically, you open up your messages, and type out: Can't make it. Came down with something, and hit SEND.

It goes unanswered.

You pretend, through the hazy spool of your fever, the one that clots inside of your head until you're shivering, teeth chattering, and yearning, that you aren't surprised. That it doesn't prickle somewhere inside of your chest with the distinct flavour of disappointment.

You toss your phone aside, head swimming, and try to get some sleep. You need rest.

You dream of vague touches, and low words dripped in condescension but carrying a tinge of worry. Of care. It's a mess inside the gummy spool of sickness, but it's comforting. The phantom hand on your forehead makes you sigh.

When you wake up hours later, there is a bag from the pharmacy filled with electrolyte water, cold and flu medication, canned soup, and something to reduce your fever. No note. No phone call. No text. The message is clear.

(Next to the bag, is tea in a thermos. No brand. You taste it and know he made it himself.)

—distant, reserved. He sends you a care package, one he delivers himself, but doesn't linger. If you ask him about it, he'll roll his eyes, maybe mutter a fuckin' hell as he walks away from you.

—(if you'd touched the seat across from your bed, you'd find that it was still warm.)

GAZ—

He shows up wearing a mask, and has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Says, as he makes his way inside, that he'll fix you right up. All you can do is baulk when he storms your kitchen, pots clattering loudly together, and tells you to go sit. He has it covered.

(It surprises you a little bit when he does.)

He brings spicy soup that, according to his auntie, is going to clear your sinuses. He fluffs your pillows and drags a blanket over to you. Tucks you in, nice and tight, and turns on Taskmaster for you.

You spend the evening drifting in and out, caught in the throes of a fever nap, but he stays by your side the whole time.

You wake up late at night, startled awake by some ALDI commercial, and find him snoring on your couch, your feet in his lap. The mask is lopsided. His hair is moussed. He left you some medicine and a glass of water on the coffee table.

His phone chimes with the sound of an alarm. When you check the notification, all it says is: MEDICINE. EVERY FOUR HOURS. You turn it off, and a notes app pops up. You don't mean to look, but the sight makes you a little misty-eyed.

how to care for someone who is sick

All the boxes are ticked. Spicy soup. Water. Blankets. Rest. Medicine.

You throw the end of your blanket over him and snuggle into his side.

He wakes up hours later, and you watch trashy reality television together until he carries you to bed.

—no getting rid of him. He wants to make sure you're taken care of. It doesn't surprise you at all, when, a few days later he rings you up, and says he's sick. He's a surprisingly adept caretaker.

SOAP—

The last thing you remember is texting Soap about something—sick, can't make it—before the medication and the sickness dragged you under.

You wake up, sticky and wet from the cold sweat of a fever—edging, somehow, on the equilibrium of being both incredibly hot to the point of panting from the inferno blazing through your veins, and absolutely freezing, near hypothermic with goosebumps, and chattering teeth. Nothing sticks in the oil-slick lining of your head. It doesn't make sense. You're dizzy and disoriented. The room spins. You kick the covers off of your burning legs, but pull the comfort tighter around your torso where an arctic chill has settled in the pit of your stomach.

You try to move, but you're chained down. Locked. Trapped. You nearly panic, but a noise cuts through the wave of terror—

"Stop wigglin' so much," it's slurred into your shoulder, humid breath ghosting over your sweat-slicked neck. "M'tryin' t'sleep…"

His mohawk tickles your nose, his scent thick in your throat. Soap pulls you closer, tucking you deeper into his embrace, and murmurs soothingly until you settle. Until the wave of nausea passes, and the throbbing in your skull is abated by the warm milk and honey smell of him that floods you.

Clumsily, he reaches for a bottle of water he tucked beneath his pillow, eyes lidded and groggy with sleep.

"Drink," he urges, pressing it into your hands.

"I can't drink right now, I'll be sick—"

"Y'need water," he rasps, rubbing his cheek over yours. "Need to drink so you don't get dehydrated."

You huff. "I'll need to sit up for that."

The prospect of moving makes him grumble softly. His arm tightens around you, refusing to let go.

Then he stills.

The curve of his smile on your skin spells trouble. You're already shaking your head before he pops up, smirking. The sleep fades from his eyes in an instant. "I know a way—"

"You'll get sick," you warn, but he's already twisting the cap off, and spilling the water into his mouth

It bulges his cheeks. He looks ridiculous, and you scoff.

"There is no way—"

His lips seal over yours. Water runs down your chin when he pushes it inside the melting cavern of your mouth.

He doesn't need to slip his tongue inside, but he does it, anyway. Nips your lips when he pulls back, eyes glazing over as he watches you sputter and gasp.

His hand settles on your throat. "Swallow it. Got the whole bottle to get through."

His eyes trail over your wet cheeks, darkening when your throat bobs under his hand.

"Good girl," he breathes, and brings the nozzle up to his mouth again. His hand leaves your neck, and slips under the covers. There is a promise in the tips of his fingers when they glide over your molten skin. "We'll work on sweatin' your fever out next, bonnie. You're burnin' up."

—Soap's definition of caretaking is coddling you. He's a firm believer in sweating it out.

—it doesn't surprise you when he sends you several articles about how sex is good for colds, and you only feel slightly bad when his voice cracks a week later.

PRICE—

For a man who lives off of Maduro and scotch, his immune system is surprisingly resilient.

("It's the cigars," he husks, leaking smoke from his pores. "Keeps me in top shape."

You know better than to argue. It's never a battle you'll ever win.)

You, however, do not survive on miracle tobacco and malt.

Price doesn't answer the text you send—sick, can't make it to dinner tonight—but nine times out of ten, he usually doesn't. It doesn't surprise you, and you're not worried. He has other things to do—reports, interviews with new cadets, and planning recon missions for men in precarious situations. You turn your phone over on the coffee table, prop your heels on the edge, pull a blanket over your legs, and turn on the trashiest reality television you can stand.

A cup of tea sits by your ankle. You'd taken some medicine, and expect to be napping in a fugue state for the rest of the day.

It's just a tickle, really. Nothing to be worried about. Nothing that needs immediate attention. You're used to dealing with it alone.

Somewhere between Gemma blinking at the camera in confusion, you fall into a fitful sleep. Plagued by fever demons that ravage your body until you're drenched in sweat, and moaning in discomfort. Everything feels wrong—

A worn, rough hand settles on your brow. Words clipped, gravel thick.

Just gotta let it work itself out, love.

Your stomach churns. You whimper. Arms slide under your knees, bracketed around your back. Flying. Weightless. You sniffle into a warm neck that smells of smoke, and hickory.

Adrift in the sea. The waves lap at your body. You cling to the thing keeping you upright amid the waves that try to drag you under.

It sets you down on a lush shore, sand billowing around you until you're tucked inside a cocoon of sun seared warmth.

It pulls away.

Your hand snaps out. "Please, don't leave me—"

Gritty hisses whisper in your ear. "Shush, shush. M'not goin' anywhere, but you need water and some medicine. Stay here, love. I'll be right back."

You find comfort in the raw, rasping tone. Pitched low, and brassbound. You nod, head carving out a piece of bliss in the sand beneath your head.

It's a blur, really. You remember the weight of a hand holding your head in a plinth, water slipping down your aching throat. A hand brushing back the sweat-slicked hair on your forehead. Dry lips pressed to your crown, susurrus murmurs leaking out into your skin.

You wake up hours later. The island fades into shades of familiarity. There is a weight in your palm. You blink the dredges of fever away, the gossamer of sick that sounds like the waves crashing on the distant shore.

Price. He's sat in an armchair pushed as close to your bed as it'll allow. Your fingers threaded through his. The other hand falls on his lap, resting over a manila folder.

His head dips, chin tucked into his chest. Soft, brassy snores fill your bedroom.

On the table beside you sits two glasses of scotch, a bottle of water, an ashtray, and medicine.

You smell something robust and meaty wafting into the room. On your dresser is a bag of takeaway from the Vietnamese restaurant you were supposed to go to. The heady scent of Pho fills the air.

Your fingers squeeze his, a gentle pulse. Warmth blooms in your chest. The heat is enough to rival your fever.

He stayed.

(He snorts awake a few moments later, and makes you sip the scotch between mouthfuls of the electrolyte water. Good for you, he says. Drink it up, now.

Once you've drunk as much as you could, he hands you the pho, and watches you sip the broth.)

—firm, like everything he does. No room for arguments: he's taking care of you whether you like it or not.

—he keeps you tucked to his chest, and turns on your favourite movies, making snarky comments from the corner of his mouth that make you laugh. You feel instantly better with him by your side.

He, of course, does not get sick.

#godddd im so sorry this took so long!!!!!#im terrible #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick #cod headcanons #gaz headcanons #soap headcanons #price headcanons #captain price x reader #ghost headcanons #simon riley x reader

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corgiplays · 1 month

Text

What if the time travel is just a weird dream?

Red wakes up disoriented with her mom gasping and rushing to her side. Her words drowned out by the roaring in her ears.

"Mom?" Red grumbles rubbing her temples.

"Rosebud I was so worried. I thought this was a declaration of war by Auradon when you and Chloe suddenly collapsed-"

"Chloe? Is she okay? I have to see her-"

"My rose, breath with me. Your Chloe is alright she's being watched over by Chad and Charming. She lost control after the two of you collapsed and had to be sedated for a bit before you two both stayed asleep for four days." Her mom's voice seemed so foreign, but familiar. A part of her was expected anger and coldness, but she didn't know why. "Can you tell me what happened miele?"

"I- you were evil. And you started a coup, beheaded Aunt Ella and me and Chloe went back in time to stop you from being pranked and-" Red cuts herself off, her breathing erratic as she felt wrong.

Her skin was smooth, why was her skin smooth?

She should feel raised scars and her mom shouldn't care for her- she can't- this is wrong-

Why were the walls closing in?

Her throat was so tight it made it painful to breathe, it was like the air was chocking her and there was something cold on her face.

A soft and warm pressure was applied around her shocking Red enough to stop breathing and then being able to breathe normally again. A small part of her was yelling in her head that this was wrong, that she didn't know this curly fur that surrounded her, but a larger more rational and calm part knew exactly who this was, who always comes to her rescue. Red buries her face into the fur, gripping it tightly as she silently sobbed.

Why was she crying?

"Rose-"

A protective snarl echoed in the room, making the voice stop. The warmth shifted slightly to fully envelop her. The weight was grounding and after a few hicks Red feels herself calm down full, a building headache starting.

"I'm okay amore." Red whispers, her voice hoarse as a noncommittal grumble comes from Chloe, her cold nose pressing into Red's cheek while her concerned burnt orange eyes scan her over.

"Red, Chloe." The voice can from her aunt as Red shifts slightly to look towards the voice. Chad and Charming are both in relaxed clothes and clearly out of breath, probably from chasing a panicked Chloe, Ella was standing next to Bridget looking concerned, but relieved. "While I'm glad you're both awake I do think we need a conversation which doesn't involve snarling at our host." Ella's voice is clearly ment to scold Chloe who huffs and puts her head down with her ears flattened. Red giggles a little as her hand rubs behind Chloe's ear.

"I agree with Ella, although I do understand why you reacted the way you did. Do you two feel like you can talk about what happened later? I don't want you to have another panic attack so quickly tesoro so we," Bridget makes sure to send a quick look to the Charmings. "will let you girls relax and understand what happened before we bombard you with questions." With those words The Queen of Hearts shuffles the Charmings, except Chloe out of the room closing the door as they left.

The soft snapping of bones and recession of fur a telltale sign that Chloe is shifting back. Red leans into Chloe's embrace, resting her head in the crook of the girl's neck breathing in the amber scent with a hint of citrus.

"You seem taller than dream you." Red teases feeling the vibrations of Chloe's laughter.

"And you seem softer than dream you." Chloe teases back pressing a kiss to the crown of Red's head. "This doesn't seem real, waking up I was a giant wolf, I never remember being able to do that and then feeling your panic. It was so out of body." Chloe murmurs as she wraps an arm around Red to keep her in her lap.

"I woke up to a loving mom, no scars, and had a panic attack because of it. I think I would prefer waking up as a wolf." Red teases as her finger taps against the back of Chloe's hand.

"So...was it a dream? Or was that our reality?" Chloe asks softly, confusion lacing her voice.

"I-I don't know. Maybe it's Auradon trying to force us to join, maybe we did truly change the past, I don't know..." Red mumbles into Chloe's neck. The crying and thinking of if they are from a different timeline is making her headache worse.

"Don't think herz, like your mom said let's rest and figure this out when emotions aren't running high." Chloe offers, shifting them so that they're cuddled in Red's bed. Red's head resting on Chloe's chest wrapped in her arms as they lay in silence.

Sleep comes surprisingly quickly even though their bodies were asleep for four days. Their dreams seem to try and tell them something, but it's too blurry to understand.

---

This wouldn't leave my mind, so I'm combining my two Aus into one. Enjoy while I try to figure out how to write the next chapter of ODYWS.

Bye 🥰

#chloe charming #red descendants #glassheart #redcharming #rise of red #descendants #descendants rise of red #red hearts #red of hearts #red of wonderland #am i making chloe an inch taller than red #yes

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mavrintarou · 1 year

Text

[4:38 PM] Oikawa Toru [3]

Thank you for your patience <3

Warning: angst, healing and future complication

Second part Fourth part

After ensuring Mateo’s fever had subsided, Y/n kicked Toru to get some sleep. She saw his hesitation; did he not trust her with his son?

Y/n responded with a deadpan expression, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “Oh, don’t worry. I promise I won’t just take off with him,” she said, her words laced with irony.

Toru shook his head, his expression filled with disbelief. “No, no, that’s… I trust you,” he muttered, looking visibly exhausted. “I just… I can’t wrap my head around this. Why would you care about us?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, surprised by his response. “you were the one who came to my unit,” she reminded him.

Recalling their initial encounter, Toru nodded slowly. “Yeah… you’re right,” he acknowledged.

“I have a weird sleep schedule anyways, so I’m used to being a night owl.” Y/n turned her attention back to Mateo, who suckled his pacifier in her arms. “I’ll watch his fever, so go rest.”

He inhaled like he had more things to say but nodded, “all right, but wake me up at any time, got it?” She saluted him, and he smiled before turning his heels towards his bedroom. He left the door cracked ajar so that Y/n did not feel uncomfortable entering his room if needed.

Y/n and Mateo sat together, swaying and waltzing to the melody of her old concerto videos playing on YouTube. The city night of Tokyo glowed below them as they gazed out from the window. The soothing music and gentle rhythm lulled Mateo into a peaceful slumber, his head finding a comfortable spot against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n’s gaze shifted toward the TV as the familiar sound of a solo violinist filled the room, and her heart began to race with anticipation.

Kim Woojin.

As the video continued to play, Y/n realized with nostalgia and sadness that it was their concerto performance from four years ago.

It had been a while since she had last spoken to Woojin, particularly after he had proposed to her.

Despite their history, she had made the difficult decision to reject his proposal.

Y/n sat across from Toru in awkward silence at his kitchen table.

She woke up to the smell of delicious food and immediately was hungry. The thought of food was pushed aside as her mind focused on getting Mateo’s fever down.

Toru set a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and fruits before her. He pushed a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice toward her while sipping on some tea.

“Thank you,” she muttered, still feeling dazed.

Mateo was in Toru’s arms, being fed with a bottle.

I need to go, she thought, chowing down her food.

“I won’t kick you out, so you don’t need to inhale your food,” Toru said softly, setting the bottle on the table and shifting Mateo upward to pat his back.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him for reading her mind. “I appreciate the breakfast, but I have other things to do today,” she lied; she had nothing to do now that she was taking a break from the piano world.

“Mateo and I can’t thank you enough for whatever you did to eliminate his fever.”

Y/n nodded, finishing the last of her strawberries. She stood up and began picking up her plate to take to the sink when Toru stopped her. “Your hands are full; this is the least I can do.”

She ended up washing the dishes before she said goodbye.

“I’ll be away the next couple of days. I used your TV to search for some of my old videos on YouTube last night, and it seemed to have put Mateo to sleep.” She sighs, “hopefully, it’ll work.”

Toru smiled, “thank you, Y/n. Truly.”

. .

Y/n returned four days later.

Traveling across multiple time zones took a toll on Y/n’s body, making it difficult for her to adjust. Exhausted, she managed to take a quick shower before collapsing into bed. She fell into a deep sleep, unaware of the passing hours until evening.

Glancing at the clock on her phone, Y/n groaned in frustration. She despised the disoriented feeling that often accompanied traveling, as it disrupted her entire day.

Opening her fridge, she was greeted with empty shelves.

Sighing, she returned to her room to change her clothes to go out.

She returned an hour later, complete and with some groceries. She exited the elevator and looked at the opposite door for a second before entering her unit.

. .

[Aoba Josei High School]

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling like a fool.

She and Toru have plans to stop by the bookstore after school to pick up the latest manga volume to In Your Heart. A series that he took an interest in after he found her reading it.

Toru also wanted to treat her to ice cream.

Y/n has yet to tell Toru that she couldn’t resist and read beyond the chapters online and find out what happened next.

The main character, Lina, is a well-known pianist who returns home after being abroad for many years. She runs into her first crush from high school, Nikko, and they reconnect, falling in love with each other once again. But Lina has a secret…

Y/n has been giddy, wanting to blurt about the spoiler she discovered; Toru will be so shocked!

She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, which seemed to flutter whenever she thought about Toru. Unable to ignore it any longer, she realized she was just like the many other girls easily charmed by his captivating personality.

A persistent voice in the depths of her mind constantly urged caution, reminding her to be careful. However, her heart was experiencing emotions she had never felt before, and it was impossible for her not to desire more.

Y/n followed behind three unknown girls as they led her outside the school building. She was annotating her notes when three girls approached her desk.

“We have something to say to you; follow us.”

They turned the corner behind the gymnasium, and Y/n hesitated until one of the girls stepped out, “come.”

Finally, when they were out of earshot, the girl Y/n perceived as the leader stepped closer and swiftly retrieved something from her pocket. She forcefully brought it to Y/n’s face, making her flinch in surprise.

“Watch this.”

The video began playing, starting shaky and at a weird angle toward four boys.

She immediately recognizes Toru and the other three boys he is often around with, Hajime, Takahiro, and Issei.

“How is it going with Y/n?” Issei inquired, kicking his feet onto his desk.

Toru shrugged his shoulder. “I think it’s going good; she’s warmed up to me.”

“Yeah, we can tell; I’ve never heard her talk to so much before.” Issei laughed mockingly. “What did you do? Woo her?”

Toru snorted, “my charm was enough for her to open up to me. How much more do you need for me to win the bet?”

A hand slapped the back of Toru’s head; Iwaizumi Hajime growled, “you made a bet? That’s the bet you guys were talking about?”

“Toru said he could get any girl to fall at his feet; Y/n is totally at his feet.” Takahiro laughed, digging into the inside of his pocket before slapping a few bills in front of Toru. “It’s just a bet; it’s not like Toru said he would get her to fall in love with him. He just needed to open her up; no harm done.”

“But still, you made a bet on her.” Hajime pointed, “that’s still a shitty thing to do, Shitty-Kawa.”

“Chill, Iwa-chan,” Toru rolled his eyes, “I only said I’ll get her to fall for my charms, which she did. I didn’t say anything about dating her and dumping her. If anything, I helped her open up to a man, a future man for herself, so she should be thankful I helped her up for her.”

Issei leaned forward before Toru, “do you like her?”

Toru shook his head, “no, she’s cute, but I don’t like her. Her stuttering is cute, but personally, it’s a turn-off.”

Hajime swore, “you’re an asshole. Did you pretty much use the girl to help your grades?”

“Yep!” the two other guys answered. “That’s why he had the top scores in the class, and now Oikawa has the grades to apply to colleges.”

The video ended.

Words were sealed, and Y/n could only look pitiful.

“We thought you should know the truth.” The girl stuffs her phone back in her pocket. “Whatever you decide to do is up to you.” They turned to walk away.

“W – wa – ait,” Y/n whispered; they turned to look over their shoulders. “Th – thank y – ou.”

Toru found himself glancing back at Y/n’s empty seat.

It has been day three of her absence, and their teacher has not said anything about her absence like she would with other students.

She also hasn’t responded to any of his messages after her last message to him canceling their plans to go to the bookstore and grab ice cream afterward.

“Class, I have an announcement to make.” The teacher tapped her pen against the chalkboard to get everyone’s attention. “One of our classmates, Y/n…” she paused to inhale sharply. “She will no longer be in this class as of today. Can I ask a volunteer to clear Y/n’s locker and deliver her possession?”

Toru stood up immediately, “I volunteer.”

After school was out, when Naomi approached him, Toru rushed to gather his items to leave.

She looked seriously before asking quietly, “can I talk to you for a bit?”

Toru nodded before following her. She stepped off to the side, away from the crowd rushing to leave.

He noticed Naomi eyeing the bag of Y/n’s items, mainly a pencil pouch, a few notebooks, and small stationary items. “I can take those to Y/n.”

Toru frowned; his grip tightened around the handle of the bag. “It’s okay. Utada-sensei asked me to drop it off, and it’s on my way home, too, so I can swing by.” He paused, watching Naomi before asking, “did something…happen to Y/n?”

Her eyes turned cold, “shouldn’t you know best? Since you made that bet on her?” She wanted to laugh in his face when his eyes widened. She held her hand out, but Toru made no move to hand over the bag. “Face it, you’ve been outed, Oikawa; I hope you won a good chunk of money.”

Naomi took a step forward, she was tall for a girl, but she wasn’t as tall as Toru, but her stance was taller than him. “If I had not promised Y/n, I would have punched you.” She reached to snatch the bag out of his hand, leaving him behind stunned.

The end of the school year came in a blink of an eye, and before Toru knew it, he was only two days away from graduation.

Everyone has congratulated him for getting scouted and accepted to join Club Atletico San Juan, a professional team in the Argentina Volleyball Federation. It is beyond his hopes and imagination, and he is still processing it.

He would immediately leave for Argentina right after graduation.

He knows he’s happy and proud of himself.

But there was something heavy on his heart.

Toru has been sitting on the bench at one of the local parks near his home, waiting for Y/n.

If she does come.

He had texted her earlier; you probably don’t want to see me anymore, but I would like to explain myself. Can we meet at the park by our house in 30 minutes?

His knee has been shaking nervously. Doubts plagued his mind: What if he couldn’t effectively convey his message? What if he stumbled over his words? The fear of choking on his words weighed heavily on him.

His head snapped up the moment he felt the spot beside him shift. “Y/n…” She doesn’t spare him a glance, staring straight ahead. “All I can say is… I’m sorry.” There is no emotion on her face. “I got accepted to play for a club in Argentina, and I’ll be leaving soon, but I couldn’t leave without saying I’m truly sorry. I own up to all my mistakes, my actions of hurting you… I don’t even know how to make up for hurting you.”

Tears pricked his eyes, but he berated himself for even considering crying. How dare he shed tears after showing no remorse when agreeing to the bet? Deep down, he knew the situation was complex, but he believed it was better not to make this worse any further. “I’m truly sorry,” he managed to say, his voice filled with regret.

Y/n stood up, and Toru’s eyes followed as she turned her heels to stand before him. She exhaled softly and then smiled.

Toru blinked, eagerly awaiting her response, hoping for any words to escape her lips. He braced himself for the possibility of her expressing hatred or refusal to forgive him. However, she remained silent, to his surprise, not uttering a single word.

She just stared at Toru for a second longer before she dropped her head and turned her heels, walking away.

. .

[Present day]

Y/n woke up feeling drowsy; she couldn’t tell if the sun was rising or ready to set.

Closing her eyes, she found herself once again immersed in memories of her high school days. Since the day she reconnected with Toru, her dreams seemed to be plagued by images of the past. It reminded her of the pain he had caused her, urging her to be cautious about getting involved with him again. However, part of her wonders if these dreams were a form of closure she needed, a way to finally put the past behind her.

The last encounter Y/n had with Toru occurred just before he departed overseas. Discovering that she had been nothing more than a bet to him left her reeling, and she needed space to process her emotions. Over time, she managed to move on and let go of the hurt caused by the bet.

In hindsight, she realized she should have trusted her instincts and knew it was too good for someone like Toru to genuinely want to be her friend.

However, his hurtful comment about her stuttering pierced her heart the deepest. That remark cut deep, lingering her thoughts and intensifying the pain caused by the ordeal.

For the longest time, she had accepted her speech impediment as a flaw, and her parents had encouraged her to seek professional help. However, she was always too nervous and shy to take that step. It was easier for her to remain silent; she had grown accustomed to that.

Reflecting on her past, Y/n realized that Toru’s presence in her life had sparked a newfound confidence in her speech. She developed a strong desire to communicate with him, which motivated her to study diligently and practice speaking sentences slowly to overcome her stuttering.

“M – mom… and d – ad…,” Y/n inhales sharply, interrupting the silence at dinner. “I… I want to go to – to O – Osaka School o – of Speech….”

The specialty school didn’t operate like public schools. After much consideration and approval from the principal of Aoba Josei, they allowed Y/n to graduate early so she could immediately start her classes at the specialty school.

Y/n decided to temporarily set aside her passion for piano to focus entirely on improving her speech. With dedicated effort and determination, she witnessed a remarkable process in a short amount of time. Her speech had improved tremendously, surprising her expectations.

For the first time in her life, Y/n experienced an unparalleled excitement about engaging in conversations. Her new confidence had been uplifted, inspiring her to discuss all the topics she had been too afraid to broach in the past.

Even years later, her stuttering only resurfaced in rare instances when she found herself overwhelmingly nervous. With her progress and confidence, her speech impediment became a distant memory, only appearing in the most intense moments of anxiety.

And recently, since she ran into Toru again.

Y/n lifted her head at the sound of her door chime. Grabbing her phone, she sees the notification that someone is at her door.

Toru and Mateo.

She exited the bed and ran her fingers through her hair before shouting, “coming!”

“Hey,” Toru greeted as soon as she opened the door, “we wanted to see if you would like to join us for dinner at our place. Mateo and I would like to treat you to dinner for being so kind to us.”

Her gaze met Mateo’s, and for a brief moment, he seemed taken aback before recognizing her. A look of excitement spread across his face, and he energetically pumped his chubby arms. She smiled sweetly at him before answering, “sure, give me ten minutes to change, and I’ll be over.”

Toru left the door ajar, allowing Y/n to enter without hesitation. She scanned the room, searching for the baby, and Toru directed her attention to the living room.

As she stepped inside, her eyes fell upon the adorable sight of Mateo sitting amidst a scattering of toys. When he saw her, his chubby arms started flapping excitedly, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward.

Y/n couldn’t contain her laughter as she hurried over to him.

“Don’t mind him; he’s in the phase of wanting to be held all the time. Don’t fall for it.” Toru’s voice echoed from the kitchen. Despite the warning, Y/n couldn’t resist the adorable charm of Mateo’s longing gaze.

“Hi, Mateo!” she cooed, clapping her hands to get his attention. Mateo’s face immediately lit up with excitement, clearly indicating his desire to be picked up. Y/n gently maneuvered him into a sitting position, but as soon as she did, he clung to her with a surprisingly firm grip, refusing to let go. “All right, all right, I’ll pick you up,” she chuckled, giving into his pout. Mateo nestled comfortably against her chest, his eyes gazing at her with awe.

She leaned in to kiss his chubby cheek, “so glad you’re feeling better.” She reached to comb his mop of dark brown hair and brushed it behind his ears, “your hair is getting long.” Her thumb rubbed his earlobe, and he let out a yawn. “Are you tired?”

She stood up and cuddled him against her chest, rocking him gently.

“Don’t cave in, Y/n… or else you’ll make it hard for me.” Toru groaned from the kitchen.

Despite Toru’s comment, the genuine smile on his face betrayed his words. Deep down, he harbored a secret appreciation for any interaction between the two.

Toru knows he can only do so much to fill the vacancy of a mother figure for Mateo, and he often wonders how it would be if Mateo had a mother figure in his life. Though he was still too young to understand it now, eventually, he would question why he didn’t have a mother like other kids his age.

Until that day arrives, Toru will assume the roles of both mother and father and will do his best to explain the situation when Mateo is old enough to understand. He won’t hide anything, but he will do his damn best to protect his son from anything and everything.

Being thrust into the role of a single parent, Toru found himself starting from square one with no prior knowledge or experience in caring for babies. The prospect of raising a child was entirely foreign to him, leaving him feeling utterly clueless and uncertain about where to begin.

As Mateo’s due date approached, Toru’s anxiety consumed him, and self-doubt crept into his thoughts. The weight of being the impending responsibility began to overwhelm him. Questions raced through his mind. Could he genuinely handle caring for a baby on his own? What would this mean for his volleyball career, which demanded so much time and dedication? Amid his uncertainty, the idea of putting the baby up for adoption crossed his mind as a potential solution. These distressing thoughts clouded his judgment and added to his growing panic.

As soon as Mateo was placed in Toru’s arms in the quiet sanctuary of a separate room at the hospital, a profound shift occurred within him. In that tender moment, as he gazed into his baby’s eyes, Toru realized he couldn’t abandon this innocent life. This was his baby, his flesh and blood, and he felt an overwhelming surge of love and responsibility inside him.

He no longer wished to beg Lucia to reconsider or plead for her to stay for the sake of their child. He wanted her to leave, to have no part in their lives. It was clear to Toru that he and Mateo were meant to face the world together, forming an unbreakable bond as father and son.

“Your noo – noodles will overcook at this point….”

Toru blinked, seeing that he completely ignored the pot of overly boiling ramen. “Oh shoot!” He quickly turned off the stove and glanced at Y/n, holding Mateo in her arms as they looked at him with the same confused look.

“You might be right; it’s a little overcooked.”

Y/n shrugged her shoulder and turned her attention to Mateo. Smiling, she told the baby, “it’s okay; I like soft ramen.” As if Mateo knew what she meant, he smiled widely at her.

Toru smiled too, his heart soft like his ramen at the sight of his son and Y/n smiling.

Y/n leaned back against her seat, groaning. “I’m so full.”

She thought he was only making home-cooked food; it turns out he ordered other food, which was delivered. Toru’s family-size kitchen table was filled with different dishes.

“Why did you get so much food?” She complained that she was full but continued adding to her plate.

Toru held a sleeping Mateo in his arms and ate with one hand, “well, I didn’t know what you like, so I got a variety of things.”

“Toru, if you knew me – you would know I’ll never say no to any food.” She bit into a piece of batter squid and sighed, “this is so delicious too.”

“I would like to know more about you.”

Y/n blinks, allowing those words to sink in. It was a simple yet significant statement that carried the weight of curiosity and a genuine desire to understand her better.

Toru observed the rapid whirl of thoughts in Y/n’s mind, realizing the gravity of his words. “I mean as in a friend,” he clarified, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want to be your friend again if you allow it.” His heart raced as she set her chopsticks down, causing his anxiety to spike. “Please, I’m sorry if I made this uncomfortable. I didn’t intend for it to be – “

Y/n’s words carried a sense of maturity and willingness to let go of the past. She assured him, “whatever happened between us years ago, it’s in the past. I don’t hate you.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I’m glad you’re bringing this up because… I didn’t know how to address it.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I won’t ask why I was a bet, but I want to know if you ever regretted it.” Her question hung in the air, reflecting curiosity and the need for closure.

“Yes,” he admitted, his response soft, almost a whisper, as he nodded. “Every day.”

Toru’s gaze bore into Y/n’s, his eyes reflecting guilt. It was a look she had noticed ever since reconnecting with him.

“I forgive you.” Y/n said in a heartbeat. Her words carry the power of absolution. A soft smile graced her lips as she continued, “so, let that burden go.” Though her words were simple, they meant everything.

She offered him her forgiveness and the opportunity to release the weight of his remorse and find solace.

With a profound sense of relief, it felt like the heavy burden on Toru’s shoulders had finally lifted.

His head dropped as he took a deep breath, mixed emotions washing over him. Setting his chopsticks down, he wiped the tears from his eyes. His voice barely above a whisper, “thank you.”

For so long, Toru had carried the weight of his past actions, believing that he deserved any punishment or consequences that came his way. He had run away, thinking it to be an act of cowardice, choosing to pursue his career in another country. But the burden became heavier with each passing day, month, and year.

He quietly carried it, not making a fuss, as he believed it was the price he had to pay for his foolish behavior.

Through time, Toru recognized the impact Y/n had made on his life, despite the relatively short period they had known each other. Her kindness had touched his heart, a realization that slowly dawned on him. That was all she had ever offered him throughout their encounters: genuine compassion.

Even after all this time, her influence lingered within him, a constant reminder of the goodness he had encountered in her presence. It was a testament to the power of small acts of kindness and the lasting impact they could have on a person’s life long after the moments have passed.

“Toru,” he looked up, “forgive yourself so you can be better and do better.” Her eyes drop to the deeply asleep baby in his arm, “do it for Mateo.”

And you, he said to himself.

“Okay,” he nodded, “please continue to eat; I didn’t mean to ruin the atmosphere.”

“I’m going to gain so much weight, thanks to you.” She teased, “but I’m really full; I can’t even eat even if I want to.” She stares at him for a split second, “thank you for dinner; everything was delicious.”

“Thank you for joining us,” Toru smiles at his son, “even if this guy is rude and sleeps during dinner.”

He met her gaze, reading the curiosity in her eyes, and something within him shifted.

For the first time, Toru felt a sense of pride in sharing his and Mateo’s story. It was no longer a source of shame or regret but evidence of their resilience and the love they built together.

“Are you wondering where his mother is at?”

Y/n looked at Toru with a gentle and understanding expression. She wanted him to know that he had a safe space to share his story, but she also respected his boundaries and understood that some things might be challenging to discuss. With a soft smile, she reassured him, “only if you feel safe and comfortable sharing.”

Her words were warm and sincere, letting Toru know he had someone who genuinely cared about him and his experience. Toru felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, realizing he had found someone who could truly understand and accept him, flaws and all.

“Of course,” He adjusted Mateo in his arm, “I was in a long-term relationship with his mother, her name is Lucia, and she is a pretty well-known model in San Juan. We both agreed and understood that our main priority was our careers.” He glanced down and rubbed the cheek of his son. “Mateo was not in either of our plans, and it scared the shit out of me when Lucia told me she was pregnant. I had no time to think about it and had to decide either my career or my child quickly.”

Toru’s mind had been consumed by the thoughts of his future, torn between his passion for volleyball and the responsibility of becoming a father. He had spent countless nights wrestling with his desires and aspirations, questioning if he was still finding fulfillment in the sport that had once been his everything.

He prayed for a sign that indicated what path he should take. During this time of deep contemplation, he learned about the life growing inside of Lucia, and Toru couldn’t help but see it as a sign that he had been desperately seeking. In an instance, his priorities shifted, and he knew deep down that his child would always come first.

The thought of being a father and having a little person who would look up to and rely on him filled him with a sense of purpose and determination he had never experienced before.

He realized his love for volleyball would always be a part of him, but being a loving and dedicated father was the most important role he could ever play.

“I was ready to retire or take a long break from my career, but Lucia wasn’t on board; she was unequivocal that she didn’t want the pregnancy, and I convinced her not to terminate the pregnancy and that I’ll take full responsibility of him.”

He gazed up at Y/n, marveling at how her soft eyes still held the same affectionate gaze for him. He had grown accustomed to seeing the disappointment in people’s eyes so much that he had forgotten the warmth and comfort she brought into his life. Despite the disapproval from his closest friends and family, who believe it would be more convenient for both of them to end the pregnancy and avoid any commitments, he finds himself questioning their perspective.

But Toru was firm on his decision.

“For the entire pregnancy, she remained out of public eyes and out of work,” he opted out of disclosing how he had paid a hefty amount of money to support her lavish life during the nine months. Thankfully, Toru continued his career for another season and signed another contract with brand-name sponsorships. “I checked in with her daily to ensure the pregnancy was going well.” There were times Lucia wouldn’t respond to him, annoyed he was always bothering her when there was nothing new. “Mateo was born two weeks earlier but was the size of most newborns.”

Y/n asked, “Lucia didn’t want anything to do with you two?”

Toru shook his head, no longer sad when asked that question. “No, she didn’t want him from the beginning, and as soon as she could, she demanded a cesarean section to get him out of her.” He winced as he observed the heartbreak etched across her face. “Please don’t be sad,” he murmurs, trying to offer reassurance. Deep down, he believes this unexpected turn of events might be a disguised blessing. Though she chose not to be in the same room as Mateo after his birth, Toru felt a surge of determination as he cradled their child in his arms, making a silent vow that they would find a way to make things right.

“I’m proud of you, Toru.” Y/n quietly said with a heartfelt smile.

“Thank you for dinner and,” she lifted the bag in her hand, “sharing some of the leftovers.”

After their heart-to-heart talk, they realized it was close to 11 PM. Y/n began cleaning up as Toru went to set Mateo down for the night.

Toru rubs the back of his neck, “no, thank you for joining us,” and for everything.

Silence hung in the air to the unspoken words that lingered between them.

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with relief. “I want you to know that talking tonight has brought me so much comfort,” she confessed. As she moved to open the door, ready to leave, he called out her name, causing her to pause in her tracks.

Glancing back over her shoulders, she met his gaze and patiently awaited his words. Toru hesitated momentarily, holding his breath before he mustered a barely audible whisper, “can I… hug you?”

A flicker of surprise sparkled in her eyes, quickly replaced by a warm smile that reached her lips. Setting her bag down, she stepped forward, guided by an unspoken understanding. She nestled herself into his open embrace, her arms enveloping his waist tightly.

It lasted mere seconds, yet within that brief hug, it felt like they had encapsulated a lifetime of emotions, comfort, and understanding.

It was a simple act, but it held immense significance for two wounded souls searching for peace – a much-needed embrace for two broken people.

Y/n pulled away; her cheeks tinted pink as she rushed to grab her food and slip her shoes on. “I’ll s – see you around. Have a good night.” As she turned the doorknob to his unit, her movement abruptly stopped. Surprise ran through her veins as she looked at the towering figure standing before her unit, his gaze fixated directly on her. “Woojin?”

“What are you doing over there?” Woojin stepped forward and froze, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know him?” Y/n looked over her shoulders, seeing Toru staring straight at Woojin.

The atmosphere is tense, and to add to that, she hears Mateo’s cry at a distance. “Go – I know him. He’s… a friend.”

Toru looks down at Y/n, “you sure?”

“Of course.” Swiftly, she placed a hand firmly against his chest, using her strength to push him back into his unit. With determination, she closed the door, creating a barrier between them. Turning her attention to Woojin, she gestures with a subtle nod, silently conveying her invitation for him to follow her into her unit.

. . .

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