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gloomwitchwrites · 2 days ago

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Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Ten

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, mild suggestive themes, mentions of war

Word Count: 4.4k

Under Simon’s watchful eye, Kyle and Johnny keep you occupied during the singles social. Simon has a frank conversation with you.

Chapter Nine // Chapter Eleven

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

“Looking to crack some teeth, Lt?” asks Johnny as he peers into his empty cup.

“More like cracking a few skulls,” replies Simon with a growl.

Across the room, you chat with a man Simon doesn’t recognize. The sizzle beneath his skin becomes a raging boil, threatening to bubble over into action. The fucking wanker shouldn’t be standing that close or smiling at you like he can’t wait to get you under him.

Johnny clucks his tongue in disappointment. “Talking about your jaw.”

Fucking hell.

“What about my jaw?”

“It’s clenched.” Simon promptly relaxes his jaw. “That’s a good lad,” croons Johnny.

“Shut the fuck up, Soap.”

Soft classical musical plays from hidden speakers in the ceiling. The lighting is warm, casting the room in an intimate glow. Simon hates these events. Fucking loathes them. When he first arrived at this Safe Zone after the whole of Task Force 141 was transferred, he met with a family planner just as you did. But because of his position in the military and the importance of his work, they never put up a fuss when he refused their every suggestion. He avoided the socials they told him to attend and ignored each summons to their office.

For a while, Simon was free, unbeholden to everyone except his superior officer. He kept busy, picking up every mission and every job Captain Price brought to him or the team. And when he needed his cock sucked, it was never difficult to find a willing mouth. They left him alone, and Simon forgot all about the pillars and the mandates and the other stupid fucking rules and regulations civilians are forced to follow.

Unhappy is the word Captain Price used. Unhappy with his refusal to propagate.

“They might force my hand, Simon,” Price had said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Punishment. Rescinding his rank. Forced leave. Price listed off all the possibilities if Simon couldn’t get his shit together and pretend to be involved.

Johnny lightly taps Simon’s upper arm with his empty drink cup. “Need a damn refill.”

“Not stopping you, Johnny,” replies Simon dryly.

As you shift on your feet, popping your right hip, the man you’re talking with glances over your shoulder and makes direct eye contact with Simon. Like a knife to the jugular, the man’s face pales. Good. The bloody wanker gives you a half-hearted smile before turning tail.

Johnny whistles lowly. “Still got it, Lt.”

“Never lost it,” chuckles Simon.

Victory is sweet brilliance—an infinite bath of joy that can only occur when you’ve taken another step toward the thing you want most. Simon could soak in this feeling all damn day.

It’s a temporary exaltation. Fleeting. A momentary triumph.

Like a copperhead lurking in the leaves to bite the wayward hiker, Sergeant Noah Fields strikes. Emerging from nowhere to take the previous man’s place, Fields smoothly slides into conversation, lightly touching your elbow for a stirring of your attention. As you turn toward him, Fields adapts a smile that would fool anyone if they didn’t know him well enough. And you, unknowing of Fields’ transgressions, greet him.

Anger is not the correct word. Red may be the color, but it is not the tangible malice that culminates in his limbs, urging Simon to succumb to poor decisions. It is sharper. Feral. It is bloodthirst and violence.

Johnny notices. And he reacts.

Before Simon can take a step toward Fields, Johnny drapes his arm across Simon’s shoulders, halting his forward momentum. Bringing him in close, Johnny whispers to him. “A drink, Ghost. You need it.”

“Another and I might start swinging.”

Johnny shakes his head. “Ya need a drink. A strong one.” He sighs. “Maybe a fucking walk.”

Fields leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret. You turn your head to give him your ear. The inhale is small, but Simon notices—and he seethes. Fields’ nostrils flare, eyelids growing heavy as he takes a whiff of you. With a slowness that borders on maliciousness, Fields’ heavy-lidded gaze intensifies, flicking upward. Calculated with cold execution, Fields smiles over your shoulder in challenge.

Come and take her, Lieutenant.

Simon tastes metal. If he’s bitten his tongue, he feels no pain. There is only focus, and a great, heaving need to take Fields out in the street for a fucking curb stomp.

“Simon,” warns Johnny through clenched teeth.

His arm around Simon’s shoulders tightens. The empty cup in his hand is quickly discarded as he presses his palm to Simon’s chest. Johnny is just a barrier, one that Simon can easily push aside if the determination is there. And it fucking is. Fields shouldn’t be anywhere near you and why the fuck are you even entertaining him? Simon told you to stay away. It’s infuriating how you listen to him but don’t out of sheer stubbornness and spite.

His dick would be hard and throbbing for you if he weren’t so bloody mad.

“Handle this, Johnny,” growls Simon. “Or I will.”

“Be civil, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, his gaze sweeping outward to observe the surrounding area. “Don’t draw unwanted attention.”

Without breaking eye contact with Fields, Simon speaks out the corner of his mouth. “You and Kyle said you’d keep her occupied.”

“We did,” affirms Johnny.

“Then go occupy her time.”

Johnny squeezes Simon’s shoulder, putting on one of his best smiles. “Can’t be suspicious. Everyone will think I’m desperate.”

“You are desperate. That’s why Kyle’s chatting up the blonde in the corner. Need a wingman to get your dick wet.”

Johnny nods at two men from another unit as they walk past. “You won’t share,” drawls Johnny, giving Simon a pat on the back that’s more forceful than necessary.

“I won’t share her.”

With another squeeze of Simon’s shoulder, Johnny saunters over to where you and Fields chat. The man isn’t in your space like he was before, but the fact that he’s in your vicinity at all pisses Simon off. Every man that looks your way is a threat and Simon’s instinct is to lash out—to push in and shove them away. His interest is the only one that matters.

“Noah!” booms Johnny, extending his arms outward like the two are old friends.

The easy smile on Fields’ face becomes a grimace as Johnny embraces him with overt enthusiasm. Simon would laugh at the spectacle if he weren’t irritated with it all. Johnny deplores Fields just as much as Simon does. Everyone knows this.

The hug is intentional. Johnny places himself between you and Fields, creating a clear separation. From where Simon stands, he can see Johnny’s lips moving, but the distance obscures the words. Fields, to his credit, keeps that forced smile. They’re both pretending—faking it for the sake of control. Johnny aggressively pats Fields’ back before grasping his shoulders. The façade begins to crack, annoyance slipping in between the fractures. The man is about to snap, and it’s exactly where Simon wants him.

Make an ass of yourself, Fields. Go on.

Fields attempts to step away from Johnny, to create space where there is none, but Johnny is a menace, completely obstructing you from Fields.

“Atta boy,” murmurs Simon.

Kyle appears to your right, gently touching your arm to bring your attention to him. You turn, and Kyle gives you a stunning smile. His charm is the perfect distraction, and it takes Kyle no effort at all to herd you away, striking up an easy conversation with you like he’s known you for ages. Fields doesn’t even notice that you’ve disappeared. He’s too focused on Johnny. With a scowl, Fields storms away, heading for the bar. Johnny pivots on his heel, winking at Simon as he makes for the blonde that Kyle was schmoozing minutes ago.

Another hour of this and Simon can take you home. The two of you need alone time. He needs you to listen, to understand that this isn’t a game. On the surface, this entire process might appear trivial—Simon thought so when he first arrived—but eventually, as all authoritative powers do, they sink their teeth in, shaking you around in their maw like a dog toy. Wombs are precious, which is why they’re already shoving this down your throat, forcing you to eat the mandate of genetic contribution all while telling you how good it tastes.

The only choice you’ll have is who. Simon intends for it to be him.

Walking the perimeter of the room, Simon keeps tabs on you. Pretending is the hardest part—faking his disinterest because someone behind a desk wants you to “shop around.” Every glance your way, every step, every word from another man is a threat. From the moment you were brought before him, Simon knew.

You are an opportunity. A way to not feel so alone anymore. He seized it. Cornered you. Staked a claim. From that possession came longing—deep and sharp and bloodied. For Simon, every intimate interaction has been transactional. But with you, he can picture a different future, a path where he has an actual partner and not someone looking for a handout.

Not that he blames any of the women that tried to baby trap him, or the ones that never told their husbands that they cheated. Danger is thrilling for the ones stuck in monotony. They seek escape with him. Others want to ensnare him, bring him to heel simply for their own ends. Simon knows. He understands. Which is why he takes every precaution. It’s why he has a reputation.

Safe Zones bleed with rumor. Civilians eat that shit up, devouring it as quickly as they devour resources. Simon hears what people say about him. It’s no mystery. When women flock to him to seek his bed, it’s easy to sus out who wants a quick fuck and who is looking to get knocked up. Simon always indulged the sex but never took it farther. They never wanted him. They never wanted Simon.

“See the new military ordinance?” Kyle saddles up to Simon’s left side, taking a sip from his cup.

“You’re not with her,” observers Simon.

Kyle inclines his head. “Price is with her.”

Frowning, Simon glances around the room, seeking you. It takes a few sweeps before he locates you near the far wall in animated conversation. The tension in his shoulders dissipates some. In terms of rank, Captain Price is one of the highest in the room. That authority alone will deter anyone from cutting in.

“Surprised he’s here,” replies Simon.

The middle of Kyle’s brow furrows. “The old man isn’t married.”

“No,” says Simon slowly. “But he donates.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. “No shit?” He shakes his head. “Wanking on the weekends.”

“Don’t we all,” comments Simon which only makes Kyle laugh harder.

“Wonder how many little buggers are running around with Captain’s genes.”

“Probably more than we think,” muses Simon with a chuckle. Glancing away from you and Price in deep conversation, Simon changes topics. “What’s this about a military ordinance?”

Kyle’s humor dissipates, replaced by exasperation. “Excessive force.”

“What about it?”

“Use of force must match level of threat,” says Kyle as if he’s reading from a script.

Simon snorts. “That’s nothing new.”

“Use of excessive force against civilians or essential infrastructure is now considered a war crime.”

Simon clucks his tongue. “Sounds like one of the zones was behaving badly.”

Kyle nods. “Bad enough that every zone has to establish a civilian oversight committee.”

“Fucking hell,” growls Simon. “We taking orders from civilians now?”

Kyle shrugs and downs the rest of his drink. “Talked to Price about it. Says military personnel are included in the ordinance. But we’re not the problem.”

“Then who is?” asks Simon. Kyle arches a single eyebrow. Simon scoffs. “Fucking police. Always on a goddamn power trip.”

“Bunch of gits who couldn’t pass basic,” mutters Kyle. “Don’t know the details but Price said it wasn’t good.”

“People died,” states Simon because it isn’t a question.

“Enough that it fired up the Continuity Council.” Kyle takes a slow, lingering look around the room. Leaning in, he lowers his voice until it’s a whisper. “And upped the minimum number of births across all zones.”

“Price confirmed this?”

Kyle gives a quick nod of his head. “Said he’d debrief us in a few days. We might be heading elsewhere for a bit.”

No. No.

You’ll be left unattended. Vulnerable. Up for the taking. Anyone can step in and make themselves at home. Simon won’t be able to stop them.

“Sounds like tyranny,” growls Simon.

“Stinks of it,” mutters Kyle, his mouth curled downward in disgust.

A trio of women saunter by, their gazes lingering on Simon and Kyle in lecherous interest. Kyle sends a flirty wink in their direction, eliciting a few girlish giggles and a fluttering of eyelashes. Simon remains unmoving, expression neutral. They don’t interest him. The only woman he wants is you.

But that future might be slipping away.

“How many days are left?” asks Kyle.

“A few,” answers Simon. “Then she’s on her own.”

Kyle inhales deeply. The exhale is slow—almost a sigh. “You need to talk to her. Make a move before it’s too late.”

“I know,” mumbles Simon, his gaze growing soft as he watches you in animated conversation with Captain Price.

You’re a strong, stubborn thing with a touch of sweetness. There are moments when Simon lingers in memory, when the two of you slept beside each other in that bunk on base. He draws up the desperation on your face, the vulnerability of loss, of how you begged for him to make you feel anything other than the pain you felt in your heart. You were beautiful and soft. Simon hungered to devour every bit of yourself you were willing to give.

If only Johnny hadn’t interrupted. You’d be his right now, and the two of you wouldn’t have to navigate this ridiculous function. There would be no threats, no potential suitors.

Simon checks his watch. “Fucking finally,” he grumbles.

“It’ll work out,” affirms Kyle as Simon heads in your direction.

When you notice him, there is no malice or fear. Your smile widens in pleasure, a clear sign that you’re happy to see him. Hope renews itself, pushing down on Simon’s worry. There is every possibility that things might not go his way, but you continue to gravitate toward him. You will choose him. Simon only needs to make you understand.

“Time to go,” he murmurs, placing his hand on the small of your back.

You melt into him, leaning into Simon’s touch as you gaze into his face. Pride blooms in his chest at how quickly and easily you respond to him. There is no asking—no commanding. You are drawn to him, effortlessly seeking him when he’s close.

“Finally,” you sigh, your gorgeous smile softening. “Thought you’d never rescue me.”

Captain Price inclines his head, a knowing glint in his eye. “Have a good evening.”

When Price is out of earshot, Simon leans in, drawing you closer to him. “Ready?”

“Yes. Please, Lieutenant.”

The way you say his title pleases him. Even when you’re angry, even when you say it with venom, Simon adores it. He wants to bottle up the tone of your voice and bathe in it.

With a gentle push at your back, Simon shepherds you away from the noise and drudgery of societal expectation. There is only the two of you walking in quiet contemplation, simply enjoying the mutual company. While you don’t hold his hand, you stroll along the pavement close to him, your arm occasionally brushing his.

It's not until the two of you enter your temporary flat that Simon drums up the courage to push the issue.

“How was it?” he asks, shutting the door behind him.

Simon steps up to you, helping you out of your coat. “Fine,” you reply. “Better than I thought it would be.”

“Not a social butterfly?” teases Simon.

“No,” you laugh. “Not when it’s forced and with people I don’t know.”

“That’s fair,” murmurs Simon, hanging your coat on a hook near the door. “Family planner will want to hear about it.” The annoyed groan that bursts from you makes Simon chuckle.

“Joann can go fuck herself.” You rub at the back of your neck, rolling it back and forth. “She’s pushy.”

“That’s her job,” replies Simon dryly. You turn, narrowing your eyes in annoyance. “Not justifying it, dove.”

You drop your hand. “Probation isn’t over and she’s up my ass about finding a partner. I don’t even know where I’ll be living once it’s up. And I just started work.”

Kyle’s words from earlier creep in. Enough that it fired up the Continuity Council and upped the minimum number of births across all zones.

It’s no surprise the family planner is being pushy. If the United Nations Continuity Council is upping the minimum number of births across all zones, the family planners and localized governments will do anything to incentivize women to increase their numbers to meet the new standard. You’re an untapped resource they intend to seize.

“Contributing to the genetic pool is the first pillar,” states Simon. “It’s expected from everyone.”

“Is it?” you counter. “Or is it only truly expected from those with a working womb?”

You don’t understand the significance of what you’re saying. There are much larger powers at play that don’t entirely care about your opinion on the matter.

“This isn’t a game,” growls Simon.

“Didn’t think it was,” you retort. “But I will not be forced to choose.”

No. You truly are ignorant to how it works.

Simon slides into a calmer tone. “You’ll have to make a choice.” He takes a step toward you. “They will push. Talk around your options. But you will choose.”

“Will I?” you counter. “How long have you lived here, Lieutenant? Did they ever force you to make a choice?”

Simon draws back from the blow. “No.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you hiss, stepping into his space, staring up at him in challenge. “You’re a man. They would never.”

“That’s not entirely true, dove,” murmurs Simon. “They might covet those with viable wombs, but they need healthy, strong donors to fill them.”

The fire in your eyes fades a bit, your gaze hiding nothing from him. Simon picks up on it, glimpsing the hesitation as you process his words. This place is a stranger to you. Isolation has numbed you to the reality of the world and how it functions in the aftermath of so much death.

You lick your lips, glancing away from him for the first time. It’s not a sign of submission. It’s a consideration.

“It’s not the same,” you murmur.

“No. It’s not.”

A few brief seconds pass before you look up into his eyes. “I don’t want to choose.”

“I know,” he answers softly. “But it doesn’t matter what you want.”

It’s far too blunt, but it needs to be said. If Kyle is right, and they might be leaving shortly for a new mission, Simon needs to have this conversation with you. Bringing you gifts and asking to kiss you might be small steps toward his goal, but they won’t be enough if he leaves for an extended period.

“The fact I have to choose at all is ridiculous.” Your voice breaks, and it hurts him to hear it. “The pillars preach autonomy but contradict it in the next breath.”

Desperation clings to you—holding on like a sickness that just won’t clear the system. Simon understands your frustration, he accepts your anger with it all, but some battles are not achieved alone. Sometimes, you must mold what you have and make it work.

“Picking someone is better than fighting.”

“It’s not a choice, Lieutenant! It’s an illusion.” Your outburst softens into a murmur. “I shouldn’t have to.”

You’re not drawing back from him—not fleeing. Taking a chance, Simon shifts closer, fingers itching to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

“That’s the reality, dove.” You scoff, turning away. Simon reaches out, grasping the back of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye. “But as long as you pick, they’ll think you’re trying. They’ll leave you alone for a while.”

Even now, your eyes water. Tears are threatening to fall. Simon longs to chase them away.

“And what happens when there is no baby?” you counter. “What happens then?”

Simon’s answer is immediate and laced with finality. “There will be.”

“Really?” you guffaw, clear disbelief in the way you snort. “With who?”

With me.

Simon remains silent. You’ll figure it out.

The deep creases in the middle of your brow start to smooth as your facial muscles relax, shifting from disdain and stubbornness to surprise.

“With you?” you whisper. Your lips part, eyes darting across his face as they seek any hint of confirmation.

“I told you I’d protect you. Provide for you. Keep you safe.”

Your head shakes slightly in abject refusal. “I—I don’t—”

“When they make you choose,” continues Simon. “Who will you be safer with?”

“Don’t, Lieutenant.”

“Who do you think will be patient?” he pushes.

“Stop.”

“Me? Sergeant Fields?” He pauses. “A stranger?”

You attempt to pull away, to remove yourself from this conversation. Simon stays steady, his grip on your neck firm and unmoving.

“I’m done talking about this,” you say, nearly begging.

“But the family planner will ask,” murmurs Simon. “Joann will want to talk.”

Genetic contribution, the rebuilding of society, are veins sunk deep in the very fabric of this new world. Genocide and war will do that. Near erasure of an entire people cripples everyone. There is a reason there are so many rules and regulations now. There is reason in the spreading of cultures across the globe, equally divided among Safe Zones. Isolationism and puritanical eugenics brought the world to a precipice. Then it pushed everyone into the abyss. Even the ones that believed these ideals would save them suffered.

There were no winners. Just carnage and scorched earth. And the remains of civilization.

“Just go home, Lieutenant. Just—go.”

Your voice is breathy, tinged with grief. You’ve right to be angry with him, to blame him for ripping you away from everything you know. It was selfish. Simon won’t deny that. To pursue you after is pure greed.

“Look at me,” he urges, coaxing you with gentle timbre. You shake your head, refusing. “Look at me, dove.” With the lightest touch, Simon taps your jaw with his thumb. It’s brief, a ghost of a thing, but you respond to him. “You’d be safe with me.”

Your mouth forms a sad smile, and it’s an answer unto itself. A revelation. An epiphany toward revealing what you’re truly thought all this time.

“But can you make me happy?” you ask. Your stare is piercing—seeking answers and reassurance.

Simon doesn’t lie. Not to you. But sometimes he twists the truth.

“In time,” he sighs, tilting your mouth toward his.

Maybe you believe him. Maybe you don’t. The only concrete reaction Simon can gleam is your refusal to choose, that in the end, you will have an option. For now, you do have the option, an opportunity to select the man who will father your children. But if you keep denying—keep pushing the decision off—someone will be assigned to you. And if Simon is gone, if he’s away at another zone, it won’t be him.

“It’s not enough.” You place your hands on his chest like you’re going to shove him away. But there is no pressure. Just your palms against his pectorals.

He needs to frame this differently, to give you reason to pick him over anyone else. The truth of the situation isn’t working. For whatever reason, you’re denying it, believing that all will be fine, and your autonomy is intact. When it comes to life in the Safe Zones, this is true. But genetic contribution is their top priority. It is the one thing they won’t budge on.

Drawing you close, he drapes his arm around your lower back, his hand splaying wide across your hip. The way you surrender to him, how you melt and form to him with gentle comfort, should be enough to persuade you. How the fuck do you not see it?

“Then why do you indulge me?” he asks softly, bringing his face closer. You sigh with contentment, eyelids closing, head tilting to welcome him. It takes all but a single kiss. You fully collapse into him, your splayed hands moving upward to hook behind his neck. “You like this,” he rasps against your lips.

“It’s—it’s just a bit of—” Simon’s hand falls to your ass. Squeezing, he nips at your bottom lip. “—comfort,” you manage to gasp out.

Simon nuzzles the side of your face, lips brushing your cheekbone. His hands roam, and with each exploration, you press into his touch, little moans of pleasure falling from your lips.

“You begged for me once,” he murmurs. “Spread your legs and welcomed me.” Simon’s hands slip beneath the hem of your blouse, fingertips caressing bare skin. “You tasted so good,” he continues, licking his lips in remembrance.

Blood rushes downward, hardness becoming an intense, throbbing need. You shiver as his fingertips trace an upward path, and then moan when he palms your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple, bringing it to stiffness.

“Do you want safety with me? Security?” Simon palms your other breast. “Pleasure?”

You whimper, hips flexing as if to grind against him. Words mean nothing in the face of action. Denial dripping from your lips are empty, hollow shells when you surrender to him like this. How close he is to making you his.

Mine.

Always mine.

Simon’s hands descend—retreating. In the haze of lust, you drift upward, emerging as if from a dream. Deep in the recesses of his mind, Simon captures this, storing it away. When you’re bare and riddled with post-orgasm euphoria, is this what you’ll look like?

“I can’t,” you breathe. “I won’t choose until I’m ready.”

Stubborn as ever.

There are no more kisses, no yearning touches. Simon gently cradles your cheek and lightly presses his lips to your forehead. The ticking of the clock on the far wall is an incessant reminder.

Time is fleeting. And it is not his ally.

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trevuorzegras · 2 days ago

Text

BLOOD TRAITOR 　LUKE HUGHES

　　　luke hughes x fem OSU!reader

SUMMARY 　after following her family’s expectations to ohio state, y/n’s world shifts when her bestfriend tyler duke transfers to michigan. leading her to an unexpected connection with his teammate, luke.

contains 　family pressure, college rival romance, semi plot, use of y/n, mentions of platonic tyler duke x reader.

note 　this is for @lukesfawn!!

　　BEFORE COLLEGE, y/n had no clue what she wanted to do with her life. She had always known she was good at communicating, but was that really something to build a future on? The uncertainty weighed on her.

Being born and raised in Ohio came with its ups and downs. A major down: the pressure to follow in her family's footsteps and attend Ohio State University. Her whole life had been filled with relatives talking about how proud they'd be to see her there, how perfect it would be.

So when she arrived at OSU, she expected to hate it. But then she met Tyler Duke — a loud, charismatic hockey player with confidence that bordered on charming arrogance.

The two clicked instantly. Tyler was everything y/n wasn't: extroverted, loud, commanding. She was quiet, observant, and thoughtful. But somehow, it worked. They became best friends in record time.

So when Tyler told her he was transferring to the University of Michigan to be closer to his brother, her heart shattered. Sure, she had other friends, but no one like him. No one who got her like Tyler did.

She started to retreat — stopped going out, stopped making an effort. She buried herself in schoolwork, convincing herself it was the right thing to do.

Months passed before Tyler finally called her out. He invited her to the Michigan vs. Ohio football game, insisting she drive up for the weekend. She hesitated... but she missed him. Of course she'd go.

The moment she saw him outside a little restaurant in Ann Arbor, her heart felt whole again. He pulled her into a tight hug, laughing at how she practically launched herself at him.

"Come meet the guys," he grinned, guiding her toward a group of his teammates.

She smiled and nodded as Tyler introduced them, her gaze flitting from face to face-until her eyes landed on him. A tall, broad-shouldered brunette with messy curls and kind eyes.

Her breath caught.

Tyler smirked, oblivious to the internal chaos.

"And that's Luke."

From that moment on, no one else mattered.

During lunch, y/n found a way to sit across from Luke. The group was split across a few booths, but she hardly noticed. Her focus was locked on Luke — quiet, thoughtful, and effortlessly handsome.

Tyler noticed everything. He knew y/n well enough to recognize the look in her eyes. She had never been one for dating — always too focused, too scared to stray from what her family expected. But this? This was different.

To his amusement, Luke seemed just as captivated.

He asked questions about her, listened intently, smiled like it was second nature. Tyler couldn't help but shoot him a knowing look and waggle his eyebrows.

Yeah. Luke was definitely in trouble.

Later at the game, Tyler made sure y/n and Luke sat together. Y/n rolled her eyes at the obvious matchmaking, but didn't complain.

As the night grew colder, she crossed her arms tightly, shivering in her light jacket. Luke noticed. Of course he did — he hadn't looked away from her all evening.

Wordlessly, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her.

She blinked up at him. "Doesn't this make me some kind of blood traitor?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. But a blood traitor has never looked so good."

Yeah. She was definitely in trouble too.

The weekend flew by. Tyler showed her the campus, the rink, his favorite local haunts. And somehow, Luke was always there. At first, he claimed he was just bored. But by the third hangout, no one even asked anymore.

Y/n didn't mind. She liked having him around. More than liked, really.

When it came time to leave, Tyler complained loudly. He begged her to transfer to Michigan.

Joked about kidnapping her. But beneath the jokes was something real: he didn't want to say goodbye again.

Neither did Luke.

So as y/n loaded her bag into her car, Luke walked up, hands in his pockets, eyes unsure.

"You don't have to decide anything now," he said quietly, "but... l'd really like to see you again."

She smiled, heart racing. “Then I guess you'll have to visit Ohio sometime."

He chuckled. "Deal."

Three months later, y/n stood once again on the edge of the University of Michigan campus — this time, with her own acceptance letter in hand.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she took a deep breath, eyes scanning the familiar sights: the towering buildings, students buzzing around, the crisp winter air filling her lungs. Only this time, it was her campus too.

She had done it. She had said no to the expectations, no to the pressure, and yes to herself. To her future. To the unknown.

To him.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket before she could take another step.

Tyler: Where are you? We're waitingggg.

She smiled and texted back quickly before following the path toward the dorms.

When she reached them, Tyler was already outside bouncing on the balls of his feet, wearing a ridiculous grin and a maize-and-blue beanie.

"I told you l'd get you to transfer," he beamed, pulling her into a tight hug that lifted her slightly off the ground.

"I'm starting to think you manifest everything you want," she laughed into his shoulder.

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "Not everything. That one was a team effort." He nodded behind her.

Y/n turned.

Luke stood a few steps away, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, watching her with a look that made her heart stop. His smile was gentle, almost shy-but his eyes held so much more.

"I didn't think you'd really do it," he said, walking up to her.

She tilted her head. "Why not?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "Maybe because I didn’t think you would ever want me."

There was a moment of silence between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. The wind danced around them, tugging at her jacket, but she didn't notice the cold.

"I thought about you every day," she said.

He stepped closer. "I thought about you every night."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I thought I was making the biggest mistake. Leaving everything behind. But now.."

She looked up into his eyes, voice lowering.

"Now it just feels like I'm finally in the right place."

Luke reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His hand lingered there, warm against her skin.

"I want to be something real for you, Y/N," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Not just a few days... not just a nice memory."

Her heart thundered in her chest.

"Then kiss me," she said.

Luke didn't hesitate.

His lips met hers with the kind of softness that felt like coming home — like every missed moment, every text left unsent, every mile apart had led to this one. The world seemed to still around them, the cold forgotten, time holding its breath.

When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

She nodded, eyes shining. "I was ready the second I saw you."

Behind them, Tyler groaned loudly. "Finally!

Jesus, I thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a room or something."

They both laughed, but neither let go.

In that moment, y/n realized something. She had found something so much more. More than the expectations, more than the pressure.

NAVIGATION　　 ✶ 　　NHL MASTERLIST

#໒꒰ྀི୧ ◞ ʾ vamp writes ୨ৎ #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #university of michigan #umich hockey #umich boys

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hoonieyun · 3 days ago

Text

the apple ₊ ⊹

pairing: park sunghoon x reader genre: angst, romance, sorrow, lovers to exes warnings: religious themes, kissing, profanity, skin ship, cheating but its just a misunderstanding, mentions of death and suicide, yn and her mom get slutshamed by the church, talks of an arranged marriage, yn and sunghoon both have daddy issues, a lot of internalized trauma and mental issues, major character death, 18+, not proofread lol pls lmk if i need to add anything

synopsis: if life was anything like an apple, it'd be sweet, crisp, and bloomed on your tongue. being with sunghoon started off like that but after one incident, you find yourself teetering at the edge, a rotten apple staring back at you with a singular chunk bitten out of it.

wc: 10595

you’re sitting in a grassy field, leaning against a large tree, fingers grazing past the ink on the worn out pages of your bible. your eyes are attentive as they take in every word on the page, absorbing god’s graces and holding it close to yourself.

you were always taught to follow in our lord’s footsteps, that his guidance alone will lead you on the right path, and that you’ll find salvation.

but no matter how long you spent in the church, how long you spent reading the bible, and how long you spent on your knees praying at night– none of it ever stuck to you.

“yn!” your mother calls your name from the trunk, you hadn’t even realized the car stopped, indicating that you had arrived to where your mother has been driving the two of you for the last 13 hours. “honey, come help me, please. stop daydreaming.” she says with a grunt as she pulls out one of several suitcases from the trunk.

you blinked several times as a way to ground yourself, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings, the new neighborhood that had white picket fences, cars that were squeaky clean, and well kept lawns. it was something out of the movies; a picturesque neighborhood– the only thing was that usually in those movies when they show these perfect neighborhoods, there was almost always something wrong with the people that lived there. you pushed open the car door with a sigh as you walked to the trunk of your mom’s car to help unload your belongings into your new home.

the decision that came with moving to a whole new state was all your mother’s. she didn’t really consult you about her decision, just told you that you guys would be moving in one month and to start saying your goodbyes to everyone.

not that you knew that many people that would care about you were moving away.

except for your old neighbor, mrs. carol. she was the old lady that lived next door, 3 cats; all of them well fed and you can tell because they wobble when they walk, she had pretty bad eyesight so you often helped her with chores and things during the weekends. she’d always thank you with a freshly baked apple pie, a squeeze on your cheek, and then send you off– but not before she asks if you’ll be going to church that following sunday.

you nodded in response and left, but the both of you knew that you were lying.

the last time you saw mrs. carol was the wednesday before you moved. she had noticed your mom was giving away a lot of the things in your apartment and she thought it was just a simple spring cleaning but when she saw you with moving boxes she instantly knew you were moving away.

“you’re moving away, darling?” she asked, hunched over as she peeks through her front door; her three cats lingering around her ankles. you give her a half smile and nodded, mrs. carol doesn’t do anything but nod back. you thought you wouldn’t see her again but as you and your mom were putting the last of your things into her car, mrs. carol appeared at the top of the stairs at the front of the old and slightly rundown apartment building.

“yn, sweetie. come here.” she said softly. you quickly excused yourself from your mom and walked over to mrs. carol, telling her goodbye and thanking her for her company whenever you were lonely. “oh, dear. i should be thanking you, you’re such a blessing.” she says, pulling you into a hug. she was like your grandmother in many ways but also not like her at all because it was just you and your mom.

you didn’t have any other family besides each other so mrs. carol felt like family to you. she subtly places something in your hands before curling your fingers over it, “keep this with you at all times and you’ll never be alone. okay, dear?” she says and you nod, tightening your grip on the item surrounded by your fingers. you couldn’t quite tell what it was but you could feel the metal in your hands.

she gives you one last hug and sends you off. your mom was standing by the car waiting for you, a small smile on your face as you walked down the steps, “thank you for taking care of my daughter, mrs. carol. i promise to write to you for the holidays.” your mom says as you get into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you.

you wave at mrs. carol through the window as the car begins to drive away, a bittersweet smile on her face as she watches your mom’s car get smaller and smaller in the distance. mrs. carol also didn’t have a lot of family. she was an orphan who was brought to the US and when her adoptive parents passed away, she didn’t have anyone else. the extended family of her adoptive parents didn’t claim her, she never married and had no kids, and she was also an only child.

mrs. carol saw herself in you and oh how she prayed you wouldn’t end up like her. she prayed for you to have a happy and fulfilling life and as sad as it was to see you leave, she continued to pray and hope that this new place would bring you joy unlike how your life was in the town you had grown up in.

you’re carrying the last box from your mom’s car when you see a boy on a motorcycle pull into the driveway next to yours. the roaring of the motorcycle catches your attention and you find your footsteps slowing down as you watch him park his bike and remove the helmet off of his face. his hair is windswept as the helmet reveals his face, a sharp nose paired with an even sharper jawline. his brows are thick and eyes filled with allure.

so much so, you find yourself accidentally tripping on a pebble, groaning and the sounds of pots and pans clanking together as you drop the box in your arms. your clumsiness catches your handsome neighbor’s attention and he’s running after you to help you up off the ground. “hey, you alright?” he asks, gently grabbing your arms to pull you up. you wince slightly as you get back on your feet, watching as his hands leave your skin and move to pick up the box you dropped.

“uhm– yeah. thanks, sorry about that.” you huffed, dusting off the dirt from your jeans.

“you guys just moving in?” he asks and you nod, telling him that you literally just got there and it’s not starting off as good as you would’ve liked. “oh– i can take that, thanks.” you muttered as you attempted to grab the box from his hands but he refused, walking over to your front door so you have no choice but to follow him so you could open the door for him.

he follows you around your new house and the two of you wander around a bit too long before one of you says anything else, “hey, i don’t wanna complain but this is kind of heavy.” he says and you start to panic because you couldn’t remember where the kitchen was in your new house. the two of you had walked through the foyer, living room, and dining room but you just couldn’t find the kitchen.

“shit, sorry! you can just set it down right there.” you say and he squats to put the box down. “sorry, i’m not entirely sure where the kitchen is.”

“honey! did you grab the last box, i think it’s the pots and pans– oh! who is this, hon?” your mom says, emerging from the back of the house. she walks up to the two of you and you aren’t completely sure how to answer her as you didn’t even know him.

“oh– hi, i’m sunghoon. i live next door, um i saw her fall and trip so i thought i’d come and help bring the box in. sorry if i’m intruding.” you finally learn of sunghoon’s name as he introduces himself to you and your mom. she thanks him for his help and spots the box of pots and pans she was looking for. she attempts to pick it up but because it’s so heavy she decides to just push it through the house with her foot.

she returns to wherever she was, somewhere in the back of the house where you assume where the kitchen is.

“thanks by the way, i’m yn and that was my mom.” you inform sunghoon as the two of you walk back to your front yard. “don’t mention it.” he mumbles and you’re both walking in an awkward silence for a moment until a deep voice calls from a few feet away.

“sunghoon! dinner is almost ready, your mother is waiting.” the man calls as he stands, hands on hips waiting by the front door of what you assume is sunghoon’s house. “i’ll see you around, yn. let me know if you need someone to show you around town.” sunghoon says with a small smile, before walking back to his house. he sends you one last glance as he walks inside and his dad lingers just a bit longer, menacingly watching you retreat into your home.

great, not even 24 hours in your new town and you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your handsome neighbor and now his dad seems to be suspicious of you.

“did your friend leave already?” your mom asks as you enter the kitchen, leaning on the counter and taking a look at your surroundings. the kitchen was practically the size of your old apartment, you were absolutely baffled at the stark difference of your old life in the city to this new one in some small town you didn’t even bother looking up before you moved.

“he’s not my friend, just some guy who saw me trip and eat shit on the pavement.” you muttered, fidgeting with the knifecase your mom had unpacked onto the kitchen counter. your stomach suddenly grumbles and your mom sends you an amused look, “hungry?” she asks with a chuckle as you pull your hoodie tightly around your body.

“a bit, are you cooking anything?”

“not tonight honey, i don’t think we’ll have everything unpacked for me to cook and i still need to find the market in town. why don’t you take my car to that pizza place we saw just a few blocks away? grab a box of pizza and maybe some wings if they have it?”

you nod at her instructions and do some finger guns, catching her keys as she unhooks them from her jeans and tosses them over to you. “drive safe! just let me know how much it costs when you get home.”

the air has gotten much colder since you were last outside just a few minutes ago. weird, you thought. it was spring, damn near summer, but this little town seemed to send chills like it was winter down your back. you throw on the hood of your jacket and jog to your mom’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat and buckling up before starting the engine when a knock on the passenger door window startles you, “shit!” you exclaimed as a hand flew to your chest in shock.

you look over to see sunghoon hunched over with a smile on his face as he waves at you from outside. “can i help you? you fucking scared me.”

sunghoon laughs at your remark before answering, what a nice laugh you thought to yourself, “heading somewhere? want company?” he asks and you narrow your eyes at him. was it a good idea to let a complete stranger into your car and drive around a town you hadn’t even been in yet for more than an hour or so, maybe not– but since you knew where he lived and he didn’t give you any reason to doubt him, you unlock the car and sunghoon smirks when he hears the car unlock, pulling the door open and plopping down in the seat next to yours.

“where to?”

“pizza, i’m starving.”

“perfect, i’ll show you where to go.” sunghoon says, smiling even wider when he hears the word pizza.

“holy shit, this pizza is really good.” you say after swallowing a bite. you notice sunghoon stiffening up after what you said, contemplating on whether you should ask him about it because you were worried of offending him. “did i say something wrong?”

sunghoon wipes his mouth with a napkin before responding, “no, you didn’t. i just have never heard anyone say holy shit before.” he responds, whispering profanities like he was a small child speaking in secret, afraid he’d get caught by his parents.

you tilted your head to the side at his words and soon realized that he must come from a religious family, one so religious that those types of profanities weren't something he had ever heard uttered– and considering that he looked like he was in his 20s, that was a really long time. you muttered a small apology and he shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine and he doesn’t really mind. sunghoon explains that he comes from a church family, his dad was the deacon and his grandfather had founded the local church in town.

sunghoon found himself telling you more about himself than he had anyone else in his life, maybe it was because you were a complete stranger or maybe it was the fact that sunghoon felt instantly connected to you, he’s not entirely sure.

“wait, so you sound like you come from a picture perfect family but why am i getting the feeling that’s not entirely the case?” you asked.

sunghoon laughs and nods at your question, “there’s honestly nothing wrong– well, aside from the fact that my father wants to control everything in my life including who i marry; nothing really wrong.” he jokes and now it was your turn to laugh.

“and the motorcycle?”

“ah, that was just to piss off my dad because he was pissing me off.” the two of you laughed as sunghoon recalled the story. his dad originally gave him his credit card to buy his first car and usually his dad would’ve been there but he was preoccupied with the church so he trusted sunghoon to go alone.

bad idea.

sunghoon was already mad at his dad about an argument before that but because his dad kept nagging him about the type of car to buy, what color, what model, making sure that the license plate didn’t have any sort of resemblance to anything blasphemous– sunghoon decided he’d buy a motorcycle instead.

and because the bike shop doesn’t do returns– he got to keep it.

that was just a lie he and the shop owner came up with to ensure that sunghoon got to keep it.

“i should probably get going, i need to bring this box to my mom for dinner.” you say, wiping your hands with the napkin before scooting out of the booth, box of pizza in hand. “here, i’ll carry it.” sunghoon offers and you let him because a part of you feels like he wasn’t going to take no as an answer since the two of you got into a fight on who would be paying for the pizza.

you eventually agreed that he’d buy you a slice but you’d be the one to pay for the box of pizza you were taking home to your mom. sunghoon agreed reluctantly and all you could do was smile at his friendly eagerness.

“thanks for the pizza, sunghoon; and for welcoming me into town.” you muttered as the two of you got out of your car. the sun had dipped past the horizon and the moon was now high in the sky when you returned home. you checked your watch to see that it was only half past 8, but it felt so much later.

“no problem, welcome to edenville yn. enjoy your night and the best pizza in town.” he smiles before walking off and slipping through his front door. you smiled at sunghoon as you watched him enter his home but your eyes traveled to the window in the far side of the home, slightly startled when you see a figure watching you from behind the curtains.

you recognized him as sunghoon’s dad and as his gaze bore into yours, you duck your head low and rush back into your home, fidgeting with the keys so you could unlock your door and get inside– away from his dad’s piercing gaze. “creepy..” you muttered and your mom suddenly rounded the corner in her pajamas.

“what’s creepy– ooh, pizza. finally.” she says, eyes beaming at the box of pizza as she grabs it from you, taking it into the living room where she’s already got the tv setup with a random show playing it on it. you follow behind her and take a seat on the floor next to the couch, leaning your body and resting your elbow on the cushion.

“ooh– what’s this?” she asks, pulling out a piece of paper when she flips open the pizza box. “i think someone at the pizza shop likes you, that why you took so long?” she asks, handing you the slip of paper that had a phone number on it with a note that reads, “thanks for hanging out with me, i’ll show you some more spots. text me?”

you smiled at the note and knew who it was from.

“well?”

“uh– no, it’s from sunghoon. the boy next door, he ended up coming to get pizza with me, told me about the town and stuff.” your mom smiles at you teasingly and you’re instantly rolling your eyes at her, telling her that it’s nothing and he was just being nice.

“yeah.. sure, hon.” she says before taking a bite of pizza, not believing a word you say– and perhaps you don’t believe yourself either. sunghoon was sweet and kind, made you feel welcome and something about him being a complete stranger drew you to him even more.

him living next door didn’t help your natural curiousity to want to get to know him more.

and you just might.

settling into your new home was pretty easy, a few neighbors would stop by at random times to introduce themselves and it was nice– however it just made you think of mrs. carol, hoping that she was doing fine and hasn’t forgotten your reminder of making sure to turn off the stove whenever she was done heating her kettle.

you learned that the family to the left of your house was the kim family, they had a son named sunoo around your age and assumed similar to sunghoon’s as well. the house across the street from yours was the sim family who you learned had a cute dog named layla and a son named jake, who you later learned is sunghoon’s best friend.

it was nice that people took the time out of their day to introduce themselves and welcome you and your mom into town but they all had a shocked expression when they’d see the two of you and you knew it was because you and your mother looked close in age. she had you during high school and because her pregnancy came as a surprise, your biological dad told his parents and they put him into boarding school in a whole other country– leaving your mom alone to raise you on her own at just 16 years old.

you didn’t care what people thought of you and your mom, but you could tell it bothered her so you tried your best to protect her when you could. it also didn’t help that it seems everyone would ask where your father was when they meet you and you’d just have to awkwardly smile before telling them he wasn’t in your life.

sunghoon’s mom had stopped by very shortly to introduce herself, sunghoon awkwardly standing behind her as he waved at you, cheeks slightly puffed out making him look like his face was made of bread. you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“this is my son, sunghoon, he’s told me you’ve already met?” she says, pulling herself forward as he greets you and your mom. you explain to sunghoon’s mother that he helped you move a heavy box into your house and then you two got pizza afterwards.

she smiled at your words but it wasn’t one of amusement, the smile was more one of irritation that she tried to mask with joy. “didn’t know you liked that place, sunghoon. we’ll talk about that over dinner with your father. speaking of my husband, sorry he couldn’t be here to introduce himself; he’s very busy with the church but i’ll extend his welcome to you both…

uhm, welcome to edeville.” she says, another fake smile on her face as she walks down the stairs to go back home, turning around and tugging sunghoon’s sleeve when she realizes he doesn’t instantly follow her.

you and your mom go back inside the house but you watch the two of them walk away from your window, you can faintly see sunghoon’s mom scolding him as they got closer to their house, sunghoon’s head hanging low as his mother scolds him, her pointer finger directed at him with so much aggravation you could almost feel it.

“what a strange lady.” your mom mumbles, shaking her head before walking to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. you silently agreed and followed her, telling her about how you saw sunghoon’s dad a few times when you first moved in, leaving out the part of when you saw him staring at you menacingly from the window.

you tell your mom you were going to freshen up before dinner but she stops you before you could leave, “oh, by the way. we’re going to church tomorrow so don’t be up so late.” and you weren’t really sure why you were going to church. it wasn’t until high school when you stopped attending a religious school that had a church open 24/7. that was where you learned of things in the bible like salvation, adam and eve, when god said let there be light, and the garden of eden.

it’s been maybe 6 years since you’ve last stepped into a church and because you weren’t sure why your mom suddenly wanted the two of you to start attending again, you chose not to question and decided to just see it through.

observe your mother at church and see why for yourself.

church the following day was filled with awkward glances and short greetings as your mom introduced the two of you to random churchgoers. you smiled and nodded, keeping it cordial as you didn’t want to cause any problems while at church even if you could tell they were all judging you.

you spotted sunghoon sitting at the very front of the seat and you could see his mother to his right; you were wondering where his dad was but when he emerged from behind a statue of jesus, bible in hand, you remembered that he was the deacon.

sunghoon briefly stretches his neck and sees you from the corner of his eye, eyes widening as he waves over to you. a smile on his face that revealed his sharp canines. you waved back at him but his attention is quickly averted to the front of the room when his mom nudges him to straighten up and focus.

this was going to be one long sunday service.

you and your mom are walking back to your car when you hear a faint whistling sound, so you look around to see where it’s coming from and you see sunghoon hiding behind a brick wall, waving you down when you finally spot him.

“oh, mom. i think i forgot something inside, i’ll be right back.” you tell her, running off before she could even respond. you round the corner and find sunghoon pacing back and forth, thumb in his mouth as he anxiously bites on the nail.

“mysterious… is there a reason we’re hiding behind this random brick wall right now?”

sunghoon looks up when he hears you speak, a smile on his face when he sees you; “hey..” he breathes out. “sorry, need to hide from my parents.” he explains and you nod in response, puckering your lips at the awkward silence.

“why haven’t you texted me?” he suddenly asks and you giggle at his cute expression. looking up at you through the strands of hair blocking his eyes, a small pout on his lips. “sorry, i guess i’ve just been taking it all in.. why? did you miss me already?” you tease and from the way you could see the blush creep on his cheeks and the way sunghoon shyly turns away from you, you had guessed right.

“my mom is probably looking for me but i’ll text you tonight, ok?”

“wait– meet me at this place at 9? ok?”

he grabs your hand suddenly and pulls a pen out from the pocket on the front of his dress shirt. he quickly scribbles an address on your palm and blows on it briefly to dry it so the ink doesn’t smear. “please come.” he says and you smile, nodding your head before walking back to your mom’s car.

smiling to yourself as you look at the writing on your palm but before you could get to your mom’s car, a figure stops you in your tracks. you look up to see who was standing in front of you and crane your neck upwards to see sunghoon’s father.

“yn! how nice of you and your mother to join us for sunday service. welcome to edenville.” he says, a somewhat sinister smile on his face. you returned with a smile of your own, yours much smaller than his. “i know you and your mother are new to town so here’s some advice.” he says before leaning down and getting closer to your ear.

“i know the kind of girl you are, stay away from my son.” he whispers and it sends a shock to your system, his breath tickling your skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. when sunghoon’s father pulls away, he’s got the same wicked smile like he was trying to put on a face for those around who may be watching the two of you as anyone outside of this conversation would just be seeing the kind deacon of the church welcoming the new girl into town.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before walking off and staring at the address on your palm again, only now it feels less exciting and more unnerving.

you had been contemplating on whether or not you’d go out and meet sunghoon at this address. you decided to write it down in your phone just in case the writing on your hand would smear and become unreadable. you had looked up the address and found out it was a waterfall just a few minutes on the outskirts of town.

it was around 8:30PM and you still hadn’t decided if you were going to show up or not. you stared at the ink on your hand and then back at sunghoon’s contact in your phone. you weighed the options and the warning from sunghoon’s father weighed heavily on your mind, on the other hand; a part of you naturally gravitated towards sunghoon and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see him.

that’s how you found yourself telling your mom that you were going out for a quick drive and that you’d be back soon. sliding into the driver’s seat and inputting the address into your phone so you could follow the GPS. it was only 15 minutes away so you’d definitely get there by 9PM, you just hoped that you could find sunghoon quite easily.

before you drove off, you took note that there was only one car in sunghoon’s driveway, his motorcycle nowhere to be seen so you assumed that he was already there. you made the drive to eden falls silently, wondering about what the night will bring and how you were really hoping sunghoon’s father wouldn’t catch wind of your secret rendezvous with his son.

the drive doesn’t take long before you’re pulling onto a dirt path, your headlights shining over a boy leaning on his motorcycle, he uses his hands to block the lights and you quickly shut it off before stepping out of the car.

“you came.” sunghoon says enthusiastically and you can’t help but smile at him. you jogged over to sunghoon and are surprised to see him extend his hand out for yours, so you accept it. he gently wraps his hand around yours and guides you to a small bench just a few feet from the falls. you could see the large waterfall to your left and assumed that below would be a large pool of water where the waterfall led to. the loud rushing of the waterfall fills your ears but not enough to drown out sunghoon.

“i almost thought you weren’t going to show up..”

you shyly look away for a second before turning back to him, “i almost didn’t…” you confess and sunghoon looks at you, urging you to elaborate. you weren’t sure if you should tell sunghoon about what happened with his dad but because he didn’t give you any reason not to trust him and given his relationship with his dad that he’s told you, you decide to tell him what happened.

sunghoon was shocked to find out the news and he’s shaking his head in disappoint when he listens to what you have to say. he’s profusely apologizing and explaining to you that his father had previously mentioned not approving of the new neighbors because your family was incomplete– meaning he didn’t like you and your mother because you didn’t have a dad present.

you scoffed at his words but couldn’t be too mad when sunghoon rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “im sorry… but if it makes you feel better i definitely don’t feel the same way as my dad. as a matter of fact, i think you’re probably the best person i’ve ever met.” sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, his naturally shy demeanor melting away whenever he’s with you.

“sorry– i don’t know why i said that, please forget what i just said.”

you laugh at him, squeezing his hand slightly, “don’t apologize– it’s cute. plus, you’re also probably the best person i’ve met in this town, by a large margin might i add.”

you and sunghoon spend the next hour or so learning about each other. you learn that he was a figure skater as a child but had to stop when he turned 18 because his father told him it was time for him to man up and follow in his footsteps, it irritated you that everything you’ve learned about sunghoon’s dad was something terrible and it hurt you to know that sunghoon had to deal with such an overbearing father.

outside from the daddy issue’s that you and sunghoon bonded over, you also learned that he really like tiramisu, he had a small dog when he was little named gaeul, and he also had a small interest in fashion but it never went anywhere because he knew his dad would just shoot it down. you frowned at his words but sunghoon seemed to be optimistic regardless. he came off as shy at first but he warmed up to you fairly quickly, whenever he laughed it was hearty, he loved to crack corny jokes, and he had a habit of zoning out randomly.

“we should get going, it’s pretty chilly.”

sunghoon agrees and the two of you walk hand in hand back to your vehicles but not before he quickly shrugs off his coat and wraps it around you. once again you try to refuse but sunghoon insists on you wearing it because you mentioned being cold. you smiled at him with a small thank you and he smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he watches his large coat cover up most of your body.

“thank you for tonight, sunghoon. i had a lot of fun.”

“me too. i’m glad you showed up.”

“i’m glad i did too..”

you and sunghoon part ways as you walk over to your car that is parked just a few feet away. as you’re turning the key in the engine and starting the car, you’re startled when you hear a knock on your window, jumping at the sound.

sunghoon laughs to himself when he sees your reaction, apologizing when you lower the window down, “you really gotta stop doing that..” you chuckle and he apologizes again. “don’t show anyone this spot, ok? it’ll be our own little oasis.” sunghoon says while he sits on his bike, helmet hanging from his arm before he slides it over his head.

your own spot with sunghoon. you liked the sound of that.

two months into living at edenville and everything seems to be normal. the judgemental glances have died down for the most part, you only noticed it most when you went to church with your mom since church was only one day out of the week for only an hour, you choose to just ignore them. plus, seeing sunghoon in his sunday’s best was a great way to balance out the awkwardness at church.

“man, my dad was on one today.” sunghoon huffs as he takes a seat on the bench. the two of you would text each other every day and fall asleep on the phone every night, sunghoon was becoming a regular part of your routine and you would become the highlight of his day. you weren’t necessarily one for relationships, the only boyfriend you’ve ever had was the boy who gave you candy during valentine’s day when you were in the 4th grade but aside from that, you weren’t ever interested in dating.

being with sunghoon felt so innocent and calm yet he revitalized you and made your days brighter. whenever the two of you needed to relieve some stress or just wanted some time alone together, you and sunghoon would send each other a water emoji, indicating to meet at your spot at eden falls in the next 10 minutes– and every sunday after church, you’d meet there too.

“his service was extra long today, thankfully i had some coffee beforehand or else i probably would’ve snoozed through all of it.” you muttered, kicking around a pebble on the ground with your shoe. sunghoon hums in agreement, you could tell there was something on his mind and you wanted to tell him that he could tell you anything, that you'd listen and be there for him no matter what.

“cmere.” he says, offering his hand out to you and you take it eagerly. sunghoon’s hand basically covers yours as he takes your hand in his and it surprises you when he pulls you into his lap instead of the empty spot on the bench next to him. you fall into his lap with a small hum and he laughs in admiration. scanning your face, sunghoon’s eyes trailing from your lips to your eyes that were already planted on his.

“you look so pretty..” he whispers, slowly brushing some of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better view of your face. he smiles at you when you get shy but he holds you firm but gently to stop you from hiding away from him. “your lips look really soft.” sunghoon says, causing you to bite down on them momentarily and you can feel and hear sunghoon take in a sharp breath.

“ca– can i kiss you?”

your lip falls from in between your teeth and sunghoon’s eyes are glued to them, almost like he was studying their shape, every line and engraving on your lips– his eyes flutter upwards to yours and you blink several times at him before nodding.sunghoon’s hands travel from your waist to the back of your neck and he pulls you closer, connecting your lips with his.

soft.

sunghoon was right, your lips were soft. incredibly soft.

as humiliating as it may sound, this was your first kiss– but as your lips matched sunghoon’s rhythm and as your mouths melt, and blend, and fit into each other's, all you could think about was the fact that you’re pleased to have sunghoon as your very first kiss.

when you pull away from sunghoon and your eyes flutter open, you find that sunghoon has a dazed expression on his face– like he was in some dreamland while he relished the feeling of your lips on his. a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected for a brief moment before it eventually breaks as sunghoon sighs at the absence of your lips.

“i was wrong..” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

“your lips aren’t just soft, they’re really soft.” you laugh at his remark, playfully slapping him on the chest as the two of you laugh. he holds you close to him for just a moment longer before you both decide to go home for the day. since it was still sunday, sunghoon’s dad would be expecting him for dinner. his family had dinner every night but on sunday’s it was mandatory for him to be there per his father’s orders.

as you’re walking away, sunghoon quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him, your hand lands on his chest again and he kisses you some more. lips dancing together with more passion than before– “hoon, come on. your dad’s probably gonna be upset.” you say after pulling away.

“fuck that guy.” he huffs and you laugh in amusement at his use of profanity. sunghoon wasn’t one to use them often but you found it funny that when he did use them, it was to damn his father, the deacon of the church.

you shoot him a wink before getting into your mom’s car and driving off, sunghoon riding on his motorcycle in front of you. his broad shoulders covered by his black leather jacket, his long legs straddling each side of the bike, and the feeling of your lips lingering on his face. you couldn’t tell because of his helmet, but sunghoon had a smile on his face the whole time he was driving home.

sunghoon gets home before you do because you’ve decided that you guys can’t arrive home at the same time to avoid suspicion, specifically from his parents. you get home about 5 minutes after he does when he sends you a text that he’s arrived home. you send him a heart emoji before pulling into your driveway and heading inside.

you spend the rest of the night just lounging, doing minor house chores and having leftover soup for dinner. your mom was working overtime so she wouldn’t be home until much later in the night but you didn’t really mind because it was nice to be home alone every now and then.

it’s around 10pm when you’re suddenly awoken by someone yelling outside, their voices were loud enough that you could hear it but still faint that you couldn’t fully comprehend what they were saying. you were planning to just go back to sleep until you hear a string of profanities followed by the sound of a door slamming. you decide to look out the window and find sunghoon’s dad pacing back and forth in their backyard pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, irritation clear in his actions.

you could only assume that sunghoon must’ve been arguing with his dad and that’s where all of the noise was coming from and from what you’ve heard about his dad from sunghoon himself, you were worried for him– but you didn’t want sunghoon to know that you were basically eavesdropping on him and his father. you ultimately choose not to do anything about it but you keep it in the back of your head all night.

over the course of the next few days, your interactions with sunghoon have decreased to just short stolen glances and the occasional text message. whenever you ask if he wants to talk on the phone when you go to bed or meet at your spot, he gives you some excuse of why he can’t, one that you don’t fully believe but choose not to argue over.

you’re chewing on your bottom lip as sunghoon’s father is going over the service, extending god’s praises to everyone at the church as they all hail in his words. you weren’t paying attention because all you could think about was how it’s been a whole hour of being in this church and sunghoon has not once turned around to glance at you, even when you sent him a text saying that he looked handsome, he just looked down at this phone and quickly stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers.

you weren’t sure what was going on with him but it was getting to a point where it bothered you more than it should. you and sunghoon weren’t official but you spent so much time together that it felt like those moments were special enough to mean something. it did to you but you weren’t sure if it did to him. it also didn’t help that it seemed like sunghoon was suddenly distancing himself to you right after you kissed, it was humiliating honestly– to have your first kiss with a boy that you were starting to really like and all of a sudden he’s barely even speaking to you anymore.

sunghoon sat upright, face forward, and shoulders back as the service was ending. you were going to talk to him one way or another, just not here. you couldn’t risk causing a scene at church of all places, you weren’t religious but you had enough respect not to start any problems there.

you weren’t sure how you were going to get sunghoon alone to talk but the opportunity arose when you saw him head to the back of the church once service was over. you figured that if you could quickly slip away before his parents were to find him then you could quickly talk about what’s going, maybe figure out what’s been going on with him and get clarification on the distance that’s been created between the two of you.

you tiptoed towards the back of the church, glancing behind you to make sure there wasn’t anyone following or watching you. you pick up the place slightly out of fear that you would be caught or the small window of privacy would slip away but you’re halted in your steps and crouching behind a wall when you see sunghoon standing there.

for a second you think he’s alone but when he shifts slightly, you can see him crouch downwards and hug someone. a girl. you didn’t really know her but you recognized her from church. she was always there every sunday, sitting in between her parents as she wore a white frilled dress with matching shoes.

you’re left speechless at the sight before you and you didn’t know what to think. were they dating? just friends? but your mind went to the worst possible option as you come to the conclusion that sunghoon has probably stopped talking to you because he no longer found interest in you now that he was with this new girl. she was beautiful, her skin appeared as soft as silk, her hair was done perfectly, and her smile could rival the sound of an angel singing.

she was perfect and you were far from that.

you’re about to run away when your body collides with someone behind you, sunghoon’s father. you fall to the ground with a grunt as the gravel pinch into your skin– gathering sunghoon and the girl’s attention.

“yn?” he asks, letting go of the girl in his arms.

“what are you doing here? are you ok?” he asks, running over to you in an attempt to help you off the ground much like he did the first time you met– but this time his father stops him. putting out his hand to prevent sunghoon from getting any closer as they all watch you.

your eyes bounce from sunghoon to his father, a scoff leaves your lips as you stand onto your two feet, dusting the dirt off of your clothes. you couldn’t be there any longer so leave, pushing past the deacon and ignoring sunghoon’s attempts at calling your name to stop you from leaving but his dad holds him back.

“let me go!” he shouts, snatching his arm away from his father.

“why do you insist on going after that girl? she’s nothing!” his father yells and thankfully you’re far enough that you don’t hear any of it, which also means you don’t hear sunghoon’s defense.

“i don’t give a damn. she’s everything to me even if i have nothing.” sunghoon says, jaw tightening as he glares at his father. sunghoon and his dad have gotten into arguments several times but lately it’s gotten more frequent as he’s noticed you and sunghoon have become closer even in your attempts at hiding it.

the argument that you had faintly heard between him and his dad before all of this went down was about you and the girl that stood just a few feet away from all of this. she didn’t play a part in any of this, at least not willingly. when sunghoon got home that night he and his dad got into an argument because sunghoon was late to dinner, now it would’ve been fine if it was just any other dinner but this wasn’t just an ordinary dinner.

sunghoon’s father had invited a good friend of his and his family to have dinner with them. this man was of high status as he was the town’s mayor and with his attendance came the attendance of his wife and daughter. the dinner was filled with tension as sunghoon would attempt to push back at his dad whenever he could to try to embarrass him in front of his uptight friend but that was when his father dropped the bomb on sunghoon.

“sunghoon, mayor kim here and i have been talking and we think it would be a good idea if you and his daughter were wed. we’ve gone over all of the details already.” those words were ringing in sunghoon’s ears, vision beginning to be tainted red as he could feel his blood boiling. marriage? with a random girl? when he had you? he wasn’t about to let that happen.

he looked over at the girl who seemed to be just as shocked as he was but before sunghoon could fully process everything, he abruptly slid out of his chair, the wooden piece of furniture slamming to the ground as he left the room without a single word, his mother apologizing on his behalf. his actions at dinner, although justified, is what led to the huge argument with his dad that you had witnessed and what would eventually lead to him distancing himself from you when his dad ends their argument with a few simple words.

“if you don’t stop seeing that girl, i’ll make sure you don’t see her ever again.”

sunghoon didn’t know what his dad meant by those words but he had never seen his father so angry before. his eyes bore into his son’s with a type of fury that instilled fear inside of sunghoon. so much so that he decided to stop talking to you out of fear that he’d lose you completely if he did, at least this way he could admire you from afar.

“sunghoon if you follow that girl you’re only damning yourself. she’s corrupt and i refuse for my son to be corrupted by some whore.” his dad says and this sets something off inside of sunghoon. his vision turns red again and before his dad could react, sunghoon’s left fist is connecting with his dad’s face, a cracking sound emitting from the contact.

his father stumbles back onto the back of the church, leaning on the wall for support as he clutches his jaw in shock. the girl standing to the side gasps and runs over in shock, making sure that sunghoon and his dad are okay.

“sorry, you had to see that.” sunghoon mumbles to the girl.

“it’s fine… go..” she says, pulling out the handkerchief from her purse. sunghoon furrows his brows at her words for clarification.

“go after her.” she says, giving sunghoon an encouraging smile.

so he does. sunghoon runs after you, knowing exactly where he could find you. he wished that he brought his bike but his dad insisted that they all arrive together to church in the same car so that they appeared to be the perfect and well put together family that they tried so hard to look like.

sunghoon had been running through so many things in his head while his father was at the front of the church doing his usual service. all sunghoon could think about was you and how guilty he feels for ignoring you and how hurt you must’ve felt but because he was afraid of his father and wasn’t sure what he’d do to you if he continued to see you, you chose to silently protect you– but he was growing tired of it.

he craved you more than you could think. he missed the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you smiled at small things like seeing a caterpillar scooting across the surface of an apple, and how your lips felt against his.

sunghoon wanted to feel the softness of your lips against his so badly and he’d make sure that your kiss from before wasn’t going to be the last. when the service ended, sunghoon hurriedly rushed out of the church and told mayor kim’s daughter to meet him back there. he was planning to apologize to her and tell her why he acted that way and surprisingly enough, she understood him.

she mentioned how her father was setting them up for an arranged marriage because both of their fathers didn’t approve either of their lifestyles and who they fell in love with. sunghoon, who fell in love with a girl from an incomplete family but found a way to complete the missing puzzle pieces in sunghoon’s heart and kim minjeong, the daughter of the mayor who had fallen in love with yoo jimin, the chief of police’s daughter.

sunghoon was relieved to hear that minjeong was as opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage as he was and they decided to hug it out in solidarity with each other– and that’s when it happened. sunghoon’s father somehow had seen you creeping behind the church and was going to put a stop to whatever you had planned and eventually that’s how it all played out. you saw sunghoon hugging a girl and paired with his father’s intimidating aura, you felt so small and could feel yourself crumbling under all of their gazes.

sunghoon’s lungs were burning as he continued to run, the pavement under him made his feet sore with each step he took but he didn’t care. he was going to get to you no matter what, he was going to explain everything, and he was going to kiss you and show you how much he loves you.

his father was wrong. you weren’t corrupting him, you weren’t a bad seed or the temptation of the apple that the snake gave to eve. you were his salvation, his light, and you’re the only person who has shown him true happiness.

and he wasn’t going to let that go.

you had made it to eden falls fairly quickly, your mother not questioning on why you wanted to take the car but she could tell something was bothering you and decided that she’d talk to you about it once you’ve had some time to clear your head. your mom wasn’t privy to all of the whispers of the people in town and especially not to those in the church.

she heard their comments about how she was a slut or a whore because she didn’t have a husband and it didn’t help that people took notice of your closeness in age; adding more fuel for them to judge you and your mom when they figured out that not only did you not have a dad, but your mom also had you when she was a teenager.

but your mom didn’t care. sometimes it would bother her but then she thought about you. her beautiful daughter who smiled through adversity and the mundane, you were an inspiration to her and when she heard about your budding romance with sunghoon she was elated. she gave you the usual mother daughter talk when it came to boys but she pushed you to go after what you loved.

she wasn’t going to stop her daughter from finding love just because she didn’t have someone to call husband. you didn’t deserve to live in the mistakes that she made but if you heard her call these things a mistake you scold your own mother and tell her that everything is the way it should be and you were happy to have her as a mother.

you’re wiping the tears off of your face as you sit on the bench, letting the loud rushing sounds of the water drown out your thoughts but your heart is pounding too loud and your head is aching too hard for any of it to be drowned out.

was this what heartbreak felt like?

but no matter how hurt you felt, you couldn’t just let sunghoon go like that, you refused. your mother told you to fight for what you believed in and for those you loved; your mom was a testament to that as she showed you day in and day out how much she cared for you, going as far as working so hard that she was able to move you out of your small one bedroom apartment to the house you lived in now.

you decided you would fight for sunghoon, show him how much you loved him and wouldn’t stop at anything to get him back, not even if his father or anyone else at the church tried to keep the two of you apart. sunghoon came into your life like a miracle. everyday was the same back in your hometown and you were starting to think it would be like that for the rest of your life but when you moved to edenville and met sunghoon, everything changed.

you smiled more, you laughed more, and for the first time ever; you felt what love was like from someone other than your mother.

that feeling was too good to let go of and you sure as hell weren’t going to let go of it.

with a deep breath in and out, you close your eyes to gather yourself before deciding you’d take the car to find sunghoon and tell him everything you’re feeling; but the sound of a soft thud catches your attention. your head turns toward the sound and you find no one there and just as you’re about to get up and leave, you see an apple fall from a tree just a few feet away.

you hadn’t noticed that there was an apple tree at eden falls but since you were usually engrossed with sunghoon you hadn’t really paid attention. you looked around to find that there was only a single apple tree in all of eden falls. you find yourself walking over to the apple tree but are careful in your steps because of it’s closeness to the edge of the falls.

the tree seemed to be calling to you as the wind that blew past sounded like a song. the apple in your hand snapped off as you lightly tugged on it, like it was ready to be pulled off and eaten. you weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself shutting your eyes as you brought the apple to your lips and took a bite. a crunching sound from the bite filling your ears as you chew on the apple. it was sweet and crisp, almost blooming on your tongue.

however, when you open your eyes and look down at the apple in your hand, a horrendous gasp leaves your lips as you see the inside of the apple was black and rotted, maggots crawling throughout the crevices of the fruit. you spit out the apple in disgust, wiping your mouth of the feeling as the idea of the rotten fruit and worms cause you to gag.

you drop the apple in a startle and before you could react, your feet are slipping on the mud that surrounds the base of the tree and you feel yourself falling over the edge of eden falls with nothing to hold onto to pull yourself back up.

the fall is slow, you can hear the water in your ears before you can feel it but the impact of the freezing cold water was enough to shock you out of your trance. you flailed underneath the water, fighting to get out and poke your head through the surface before you ran out of air but it seemed like eden falls led to an endless pit of water and despair.

they say when you die that your life flashes before your eyes and when you take your final breath as your eyes close shut, all you could see was sunghoon and his smile. a smile appears on your face as your body continues to sink lower into the body of water. your body is dragged around until it couldn’t be moved any further, leaving you floating in the basin of eden falls.

when sunghoon arrived at eden falls, his eyes lit up at the sight of your mom’s car, it gave him enough energy to run even faster to your spot at the bench but when he got there; you weren’t anywhere to be seen.

he looked around, yelled out your name, called and texted your phone, but nothing.

maybe he was too late but your mom’s car still being there left more questions than answers. he dropped his head in disappointment but not in defeat, he was going to fix all of this but he just wasn’t sure how. when he finally opens his eyes, tears begin to fall onto the dirt below him and that’s when he sees an apple with a single bite taken out of it. sunghoon looks at the fruit and wonders where it could have come from since there weren’t any apple trees in all of edenville. he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer as he sniffles, picking up the perfectly good apple that glistened under the sun.

no maggots or signs of rotting to be found.

for the next week or so sunghoon does everything he can to get in contact with you but they all fail. he eventually walks over to your house to talk to you but your mother answers the door with tears streaming down her face.

when he asks her if everything is alright she goes to explain that she hasn’t seen you since last sunday. it’s now saturday afternoon and sunghoon realizes that the car isn’t in the driveway, meaning it’s probably still at eden falls, but where were you?

he extends his care and worry to your mother before going back inside his house to grab his phone and call you once more, but something on the tv catches his attention as the newscaster’s voice boldly says, “breaking news: deceased body has been found at the edge of eden falls on the other side of town.”

sunghoon easily recognizes the sweater of the deceased girl, it was you.

his world is instantly crumbling and he blinks at the tv, hoping that it would just miraculously disappear and that the news wasn’t true. he can hear your mother wailing from outside as she runs out of your house, running over to where they had mentioned you were found.

this can’t be true.

you were gone and it was his fault.

the next day at church, sunghoon is forced to sit through his father spewing some bullshit about your passing. your mother hadn’t shown up to church because she was in too much pain dealing with your death. sunghoon could barely stand to listen to his father and his lies, telling the people of the church of how much he prays for your mother, that you were a good girl even though he said you were corrupted, but it isn’t until his father says a certain thing that sunghoon finds himself storming out of the church.

“she was broken… and she’s in a better place now.”

“what the fuck did you know about her?” sunghoon spits at his dad, the people of the church gasping at him. “you didn’t know anything about her, you called her corrupt and said she’d ruin me and look what fucking happened.

you drove her away from me and she’s gone! it’s your fucking fault!” he shouts, veins protruding from neck and forehead as he yells at his father. “i loved yn. i still love her and that isn’t going to change, even if she’s gone.” sunghoon grits his teeth as he stares at his dad with so much anger his ears were turning red and his jaw would start to tremble as the anger surged through him.

sunghoon’s father was making it seem like you had killed yourself because you were “broken” and “corrupt” and whatever bullshit he knew that townsfolk would believe but sunghoon wasn’t having any of that. sunghoon knew you had your fair share of issues but you never showed any signs that would lead you to killing yourself, he just knew you wouldn’t but there was no way to prove him wrong.

he knew that he was to blame for some of this, that if he didn’t distance himself away from you and if he just fought for you harder then none of this would’ve happened. that you’d still be here, he’d be able to hold you in his arms, feel your soft lips, and tell you just how much he loved you.

sunghoon’s father made it seem like you were the apple that was used to tempt adam and eve but he knew better than that. you were eve, a beautiful woman who held the world in her heart and sunghoon was the apple and your eventual downfall.

the garden of eden

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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#kiki diaries #enhypen #kpop #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enha #fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fic

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ashthesalamipiece · 2 days ago

Note

Hellooo lovleyyy

I was wondering if you could do one were reader is babysitting her niece, and Bakugo sees how gentle she is with her and want kids of his own.

(aged up)

Thank youuuu

Enjoy♡

"Little Hands, Big Heart"

(Bakugo x Reader – Aged Up, Fluff, Established Relationship)

The soft click of the apartment door opening echoed faintly as Bakugo stepped inside, boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He paused, cocking an eyebrow at the silence — rare for a place that usually buzzed with your laughter or the sound of the TV playing in the background.

But then he heard it. Not laughter. Not the TV. A quiet hum. Soft. Gentle. Almost like a lullaby.

Bakugo dropped his duffel bag by the door and followed the sound into the living room.

And there you were.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, cradling a tiny, sleeping toddler in your arms. Your niece — the one you'd mentioned babysitting today. Her little hand was fisted in the fabric of your shirt, her cheek smooshed against your chest. You gently ran your fingers through her hair, humming softly, a tired but blissful smile on your face.

Bakugo stopped in the doorway, frozen. Not out of fear — but awe.

You looked up when you noticed him, offering a quiet smile and lifting a finger to your lips. “Shhh. Just got her to sleep,” you whispered.

He nodded wordlessly and came to sit beside you, his eyes never leaving the tiny bundle in your arms.

“Her name’s Emi, right?” he said under his breath.

“Yeah. She’s teething, poor thing. Fussy all day.” You leaned your head back on the couch. “But she finally knocked out after the third lullaby and about two hundred rocks back and forth.”

Bakugo chuckled softly, his crimson eyes flicking from Emi to your face. There was a light there — something peaceful and instinctive. The way you cradled her like you’d been doing it your whole life. Like you were made for this.

“She likes you,” he murmured. “A lot.”

“She drooled on my favorite hoodie. That’s love, right?”

He grinned, then looked back down at Emi. The smallest smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t think I liked kids,” he admitted.

You glanced at him. “And now?”

Bakugo hesitated. His throat bobbed with a swallow.

“I dunno,” he muttered, almost like he was afraid of the answer. “Seein’ you with her...makes me think about stuff.”

“Stuff?”

He looked at you then, eyes intense — but soft.

“Like...what it’d be like if it were our kid,” he said.

Your breath caught slightly, heart thudding.

“I know we’re still young. Not sayin’ now, or even soon,” he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But...you’d be a damn good mom. I can see it.”

Your heart melted instantly. The man who could tear down villains with one explosive blast was sitting beside you, blushing and stammering at the thought of fatherhood.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, Emi still sleeping between you.

“I’ve thought about it too,” you whispered.

Bakugo let out a quiet breath, almost like relief, and wrapped an arm around you both — protective, steady.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You nodded. “You’d be a great dad, Katsuki.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but the kiss he pressed to the top of your head said everything.

And in the stillness of the moment — with soft breaths, gentle hearts, and the weight of a tiny child between you — the future didn’t seem so far away after all.

#my hero academia #reader #mha x reader #fluff #bhna #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader

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mikkomacko · 20 hours ago

Text

Him and I - Famiglia

Mob Boss! Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of death

Previous chapter

Masterlist

A/n: Ok this chapter is a lot shorter than I usually do but it’s because sort of a transition chapter. I promise to be quicker about getting the next chapter out. Thanks for reading!

____________________________________________

Nico’s got way too much on his mind.

In the months since Switzerland, it’s like he can never catch up. Updates on Luca attempting to track down Rino come in, though they lead nowhere. The wound on his arm from Vancouver heals and Jack and Luke move on like nothing happened. The Pinterest board for wedding planning grows and grows, lists of vendors and themes get tacked up to the fridge or left in the drawer of his desk. You fully take up your role with Hischier Enterprises, settle into the spot in the Devils that’s been waiting for you. And that night you saved Nico from the Rangers? The one that sealed your readiness for said role comes back to Nico more than he’d like.

Small rumors of contracts and deals that he doesn’t like, the paranoid behavior of Trouba, all of it putting Nico on edge. Even though nothing has really happened in months, he knows something is off.

Something he should be looking into right now.

Except he can’t look through Haula’s last report of the Rangers with you like this. Because no matter how pressing work is, how direly he needs to focus on that, you’re always first, always on the forefront of his mind.

You come first.

In every way possible.

“I’ve got you baby, come on.” He grunts, splaying his hand over your belly, thumb stretching down to your puffy clit. He starts drawing tight little circles, groaning when your pussy tightens around him, both of you so close to the edge. You first though, you come first.

“Supposed to be a reward for you,” you pant against his mouth, heavy eyes filled with laughter underneath the arousal darkening them. “Didn’t stall once today.”

Nico laughs, breathless and rough and kisses you again, his left arm pulling you in closer. Not that you weren’t already close to him, cramped in the backseat of the new Camaro that goes parked in the garage at the house.

His learning car, you’d called it. Even if it’s far too nice and expensive to be a car one learns to drive in. You loved it at the dealer, said it was just like the one you learned to drive and how could he say no to the sight of you in the passenger seat, smiling all pretty for him.

“M’not going to now either,” he promises, puckering a line of wet kisses to your jaw, following a path to the sensitive spot under your ear. “So you better fucking drench me first baby.”

You moan at his biting tone, the command a low rumble in your ear and you wrap your arms around his neck, head tilting forward to press against his temple. You bounce on him only a handful more times, grinding into the pad of his thumb with it before your whole body goes taut.

Still pulsing on him, Nico buries his face in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist and holds you still as he fucks up into you, chasing his own high. You go all soft and limp in his hold, fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck and your voice is sweet in his ear when you speak.

“Please come for me Nico, need it baby, please.”

He comes with a shudder, chest arching into yours as he trembles with it. You keep combing through his hair, the other hand running down his back that grew damp with sweat against the leather seats. Not the most comfortable of feelings, but in his defense he didn’t think about the interior of the car for this purpose when he bought it.

“That’s it Neeky,” you coo, kissing at his hairline all tender and warm, like him painting your pussy white in the back of a car is the most romantic thing he’s ever done. “Feels so good.”

He hums in satisfaction, brain still a little too fuzzy to say anything right now. Instead he presses his lips to your neck and shoulder, passing over your slipping bra strap as he goes.

If you’d told Nico weeks ago that his new car would have more miles in the back seat than on the road, he wouldn’t have been shocked, but he probably would’ve laughed. At least before thinking practically about the fact that his legs are a little too long for the backseat and unlike the bigger SUVs, he can’t lay you down in this one.

“Mmm need to head home soon,” he sighs, slumping back into the seat, his hands holding your waist lovingly. You shift back on his thighs, sucking in a breath at the drag of his softening cock on your sensitive walls.

“I don’t want to go home,” you mumble, trailing your hands down his chest, one pausing to catch the pendant resting there. “Want to stay here with you.”

Nico smiles, cupping the side of your face and drawing you in for a kiss. If there’s one thing you haven’t liked about how packed Nico’s schedule has been lately, it’s that the downtime you used to spend getting lunch with him or dropping off coffee or checking in after jobs is now filled.

It’s been rare that he’s gotten to see you during the work day and even if he’s been lenient with allowing you to make him late in the mornings, it doesn’t make up for it. He misses you, you miss him, and it’s obvious now why you want to keep him in this abandoned lot for as long as possible.

As soon as he returns the car home, he’s gotta get in the other one and head to work for the day. And you’ve got to get ready for your packed day too. He thought that these late morning driving lessons with you would quell some of that, that spending a couple hours teaching him stick and then riding him in the backseat for a job well done would be enough.

Even if this has become your new routine, and he does look forward to having you on his dick after sitting there and acting like you reminding him to hit the clutch doesn’t turn him on beyond belief, it’s not the same. For either of you.

“I’d take you with me if I could baby,” he promises, pecking at your lips again “carry you around in my pocket all day.”

You give him a girlish giggle, cheeks blooming with color as you fiddle with his pendent. “Yeah? Which pocket?”

He nudges your nose with his, humming in thought and his heart swelling in his chest when you excitedly bite at your bottom lip. “The one right here,” he decides, laying his hand over yours and dragging it over until your fingers rest over his left pec. “Nice and safe, right next to my heart.”

“What about when you’re not wearing your flannel?”

He scoffs with disbelief, “I’d wear it everyday to keep you right there baby.”

Laughing delightedly, you lean in to kiss him again, pressing your palm into his beating heart like you’re trying to reach in and physically pet at it.

“Are you really busy today?” You ask him after a beat, lips pulled down a bit as you trail your fingers over his happy trail, almost shy with it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “gotta a meeting with Lee out on the island. Then some stuff with Haula and Jonas about the Rags.”

Dejectedly, you hum. He tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping the back of your neck until you blink up at him, apprehensively still fiddling with the patch of hair on his stomach. It would tickle if he weren’t so worried about you, about how you deflated at the mention of him leaving Jersey for the day. Maybe it’s Timo being gone too, your old habits coming back and making you insecure about being without the two of them for the day. Or maybe it’s just personal, the clinginess you’ve both been trying to fight since Vancouver making you like this.

“You can call me if you need anything, you know that right?”

You nod, chest rising as you inhale deeply and puff out a strong breath of air that warms his skin underneath you.

He squeezes your neck, waits for you to melt into his hold the way you always do. “I mean it baby. Anything. Trip will be quick, S’just basic stuff and then I’ll be here all day for everything else. Here for you.”

“I know Nico,” you nod, lips twitching into a grateful smile and he draws you in so he can brush kisses the corners of it.

“Keep Moose with you all day,” he reminds, just to make himself feel better. “and Dawson too. Know you have a couple things to do without him but he stays with you for the rest, got it?”

“Yes boss,” you purr, words hot when they hit his mouth and you kiss him again. He pats at your hip in praise, nodding towards the door.

“We gotta go baby. Before I start getting hard again.”

Your eyes light up with interest, glinting mischievously and you pout your bottom lip at him. “Or we stay and have another round?”

He groans when you drag your hand over his chest, fingers brushing his nipple and you sink a little lower on his lap. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, ya know that?”

“With who?” You say teasingly, “Because the only person in charge of you is me and I really want to make you come again.”

Nico can’t argue with that one.

~~~~

A crystal glass of orange juice and champagne in hand, you sink back into the oversized chair of the nail salon, eyes fluttering shut as the mechanism massages at your upper shoulders.

“Oh you’re so right,” Nola hums, her feet swishing around in the hot water. “We did need this.”

You look over at her, smiling lazy as she clinks her glass of just orange juice with yours. The man working on your pedicure nudges your feet out of the water, resting them on a fluffy towel as he begins to file your nails down.

“When Timo’s away, the girlies will play.” You sing, the two of you giggling and sipping your drinks again. Timo’s been away for a week and a half now, off in Switzerland with Amelia again, and you’ve been distracting yourself from him abandoning you with absolutely no training and just fun.

Which works for Nola too because as the baby in her belly gets bigger, she’s gotten lax about sticking to the routine with you and Timo.

“I hope he knows he’s missing my 20 week check up,” she says, dramatically sighing. “Now he’ll never know what fruit the baby is at.”

You and Timo don’t go to Nola’s check ups with her. That’s strictly a her and Jonas thing, not that you really mind or even would want to go. Sitting in a plastic doctor’s chair and seeing something living inside of her makes you feel a little squeamish, but you’ll take any updates you can get on the fruit ratio of the baby’s size.

“What fruit is the baby at?” You ask curiously, and she laughs, twitching a little as her pedicurist takes the pumice stone to the bottom of her foot.

Proudly, she say, “This month we’re at a banana.” Her hands cup her barely there belly, whatever bump she may have hidden by the oversized linen button up she’s wearing today.

Either way it’s cute, and you’re about to tell her just that when another voice pops up from over your shoulder.

“Oh a banana sounds so good right now!”

Johnny is slumped in his chair, jeans rolled up to his calves and feet soaking in his own bubbling bath of hot water and salts. Like you, he’s got a mimosa in hand though it seems must be stronger than yours because his eyes already look heavy and a little delayed.

“We’re talking about my baby not an actual food,” Nola chimes in, narrowing her eyes at him. “You want to eat my baby John?”

He’s so relaxed, an easy smile on his lips as he simply giggles. “Nah I’m hungry,” he replies, “but for real food. Not babies.”

You can feel your own pedicurist looking from John to you, and sure enough when you peer down his eyebrows are raised.

“He doesn’t eat babies,” you explain, laughing awkwardly. “He’s new to the whole pedicure and mimosa thing.”

“And the massage chairs, holy…” he adds, practically purring as he presses into the vibrating back rest. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at him and making a mental note to not tell Nico about Johnny’s day with you.

He’s been filling in for Timo, switching with Mercer in backing you up on day-to-day stuff and acting as body guard of course. You’d imagine the sight of him slumped and buzzed on champagne, giggling every time they touch the bottom of his feet doesn’t exactly scream body guard though, especially not to Nico. Or Jonas who has also gotten weary about Nola going out with you so often the further along she gets.

Not that she cares. Jonas would have to sedate and tie her down probably to get her to stay home.

“We still have work after this Johnny,” you remind him when he requests a refill on his drink, though your tone is more amused than warning.

“Aye aye boss,” he clicks his tongue, peering down at his toes in excitement as they add a clear gloss to his pedicure. “Ooo that looks clean.”

“Who’d have thought that washing your feet works?” You joke, and he gives you a pout before looking at your own drying white toes.

“Basic color,” he comments thoughtfully, “but cute. Goes with everything so that’s cash money.”

Nola snorts. “Very cash money. Unlike my bright pink ones, huh?”

Johnny leans over you to look at her pedicure. “I like it,” he compliments, settling back in his chair and upping the massage timer.

“Figured I’d enjoy bright colors before I can no longer even see my toes.” She jokes, sipping the last of her orange juice. “What do you two have planned for the rest of the day?”

Humming, you mentally go through the list in your head. “Left the boys organizing projects at the penthouse. So I’ll take Johnny back there and leave him, pick up Luke for his appointment, then we’re all meeting around Newark for business check-ins.” You relay, checking them off on your fingers as you go.

The past few months of getting to run the legal side of the Devils has been fun. You like having more to do with your day than just train with Timo and doing odd chores around the house. Not that it wasn’t work per se, but it never felt like you were actually doing anything, actually pulling your weight.

With this though, you get to sort through project files and research on local businesses, put together potential deals. It’s almost the same process you went through with Timo to get Johnny and it’s fun, exciting.

Your little team of Devs is great too. Dawson and Luke, Alex and Johnny, Timo and you. Like you expected, they all work together well and they seem to enjoy the business side of things. Plus it’s safer for them to be on this side with you. Most of them are still young, we’re given busy work or behind the scenes stuff with Nico because he didn’t want to put them in direct danger.

They’ve got real work now, still sticking to the obligations Nico gave them of protecting you, but also getting to see the city in a new way. Face time with the people you’re supposed to be helping, looking into businesses they have an interest in.

Luke had just about died at the file Nico had half put together on a local animal shelter and while you haven’t had the chance to finish up any deal pitches yet, you know that one will be his.

“Wow, a real business gal,” Nola murmurs flirtatiously. “Nico better be careful before you get too smart for him.”

“She’s already too smart for him.” Johnny laughs, struggling in his chair to get his socks back over his feet.

“We’re equally smart,” you defend, ignoring the look Nola gives you in favor of swinging your legs to the side of the chair and slipping your sandals back on. She does the same, Johnny now yanking his jeans down his calves and shoving his feet into his sneakers.

The three of you get up, heading towards the front desk to pay. Johnny is giving you a look too, like he’s trying to tell you to give it up and admit you’re a rocket scientist compared to Nico. It’d be a lie though, so you can’t. They don’t often see all of Nico’s planning and preparations behind closed doors, see how his brain works a million miles an hour the way you do. Sure some simple stuff slips under his nose, stuff that would be considered stupid but he’s by no means dumb.

“Mr. Hischier has already paid for the services on his tab,” the receptions tells you when you approach the counter, smiling warmly. “He also left a message for John, saying next time no drinking on the job.”

Looking up from her sticky notes, she glances at Johnny who looks a little stricken.

“I’m guessing that’s you?”

Dumbly he nods. You nudge him towards the door, Nola laughing as she follows and you offer a final thanks before leaving too. The bell overhead rings as the door shuts, the warm spring air light on your skin as you step onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah alright,” Johnny huffs, “Nico is pretty smart.”

~~~~

It’s odd being back in your therapists office, especially when you’re not the one being checked in at the front, not the one filling out the mental health questionnaire, not the one being led back into the actual office.

Like you, Luke’s leg had bounced the whole time he sat waiting with you, head hanging low in that same way it had on the jet a few months ago. Today is his first real appointment, his first time genuinely coming to speak to the professional.

It’ll end up mostly being background stuff, about his childhood and what are his goals for being here. You know that from experience. And you’d told him as much, told him it’s scary and it makes you feel like shit at first but nothing he ever says in there will be held against him. The same thing Nico had told you first time he walked you in here.

When he was the one holding your trembling hand, checking you in with the receptionist, filling out forms for you because your hands wouldn’t cooperate. He even walked you to the door when they called your name, left you with a kiss on the forehead every time and a promise that’ll he be right out here.

You sit in the same spot he always sat, right up against the window that looks out onto the street. He never really people watched from what you remember, always had an AirPod in or a book with him, but you just stare out the window, watching the cars drive by and the clouds overhead move. Texting Nico about any cute dog you see walk by, let him know that Moose hasn’t once reacted to them as he lay by your feet.

Of course he was trained to not react to other dogs when he’s out with you like this, but it still makes you swim with pride when he obeys.

You spend the next 20 minutes of Luke’s appointment switching between texting Nico and watching the people outside the window. Not that you’re really seeing them, more focused on your own thoughts.

He’d come up to you only a week after you all returned from Vancouver. Him and Jack spent every night at the house, sharing the room next to Alex’s that Jack usually sleeps in himself. On the other side of the Jack and Jill bathroom sat Luke’s usual room, empty of its typical occupant.

They acted normal. Went to work every morning with Nico, hung out with the boys, bitched when you assigned them dish duty after dinner. The only thing out of place was how quiet they both were. Like their internal volumes had been turned down.

And then one night Luke found you by the patio door, waiting in the dim light for Moose to go potty so you could send him to bed and join Nico upstairs. You’d thought Luke had gone to sleep himself, maybe he had by the way his curls were sticking up but all he did was come stand next to you, take one deep breath and then speak.

“I think I want to trying seeing someone,” he murmured, gazing out the patio door even when you turned to him. “Like a doctor or whoever you saw. To talk about what happened.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to hug him, wanted to cry because after all this time he was finally looking inwards. He had seen what you’ve been carrying for him, as Nico had said, and he was ready to try carrying it himself.

Instead you nodded. “Okay, whatever you want to do Luke, I’ll make it happen.”

He nodded, lips pursing and then Moose came pattering back inside, tail flicking lazily and Luke leaned down to scratch at his ears while you locked up.

“You’ll call?” He questioned, staring a little too intently at Moose. “For me? To make an appointment.”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll go with?”

That urge to cry burned at the back of your eyes, made your throat feel dry. Luke still wasn’t looking at you, hiding behind the pretense that he just needs to examine the inside of Moose’s ear right now.

“Yeah,” you choke out, “I’ll be there.”

Then he’d straightened out, gave Moose one last pat and met your gaze. It was fleeting, just a moment of those pale hazel eyes silently thanking you before he turned back towards the stairs. You watched him go, heart thumping rapidly in your chest and once he disappeared back in his room, you tucked Moose into his bed by the couch, and practically ran upstairs to tell Nico.

You have no idea what made Luke decide that, what finalized his decision. All you know is the next morning you and Nico woke to the two brothers loudly yelling at each other and banging around in their bathroom. Completely back to normal.

The door back to the offices creaks open, Luke dragging his feet as he steps through the frame and lets the door softly click shut behind him. He heads straight towards you, shoulders a little slumped but not as downtrodden as you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” you greet him with a soft smile, climbing up from your seat. Moose follows eagerly, tail wagging as Luke comes to stand across from you. “How are you feeling?”

He purses his lips in thought, eyes roaming around the room for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine I guess. I kinda liked it.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, leaning down to pet at Moose’s head. “At least today I liked it. It was nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know me or us.”

A wide smile breaks out on your face, the dread of waiting for his reaction finally lifting from your shoulders and you feel about 10 pounds lighter.

“That’s good!” You say cheerily, and he offers a little smile. “I’m so happy for you Luke.”

“I talked about Jack,” he murmurs, glancing over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to come rushing out and drag him away for mentioning what he revealed behind closed doors.

You don’t know what to say so you simply hum. He straightens out again, looking a little sheepish as he scratches at his hair. “Just how I love him but sometimes it’s hard having a brother like him. Like I always have to owe him something or compensate because he got us here.”

His statement shocks you a bit. You don’t have siblings, don’t know what it feels like to have another version of you basically, running around and having free will and all that. It’s easy to see why Luke would feel that way though. Jack did raise him pretty much and even with them working separately now, you’d imagine he still feels a little like he’s under Jack’s umbrella. It must be hard, feeling like you never do enough to make up for everything an older sibling did for you.

Hell, sometimes you still look at Nico and think you’ll never be able to show him how much you appreciate what he’s done for you, the life he’s given you. It’s different than siblings obviously, but it’s a similar guilt.

“You felt good talking about it?” You ask him, “Comfortable and everything?”

Certain, he nods. “Yeah I did. Thanks for coming with me.”

Reaching for him, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him forward, taking a step closer so you can wrap the arm not holding Moose’s leash around him. “Thanks for letting me,” you reply, rubbing at his back.

He hugs you back for a moment, chin on top of your head. Moose nudges at his knee, pushing him back and you both part with a laugh.

“Wanna get something to eat?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Luke smiles, eyes bright and happy as he motions for you to leave first.

“Fuck yes I do.”

~~~~

Paws pattering on the sidewalk, Moose prances his way up to the water dish outside the deli, not hesitating to stick his snout in the bowl and start drinking.

You fiddle with his leash on your belt loop, laughing when Mercer’s eyes widen at the loud lapping noises coming from the dog, water spilling out onto the concrete. Over his shoulder you see Johnny and Alex head into the open door of the boutique across the street, the little Devil horn logo decal on the front window glinting in the sun.

Lazily, Moose lifts his head, shoelaces of drool and water hanging from his snout.

“Putze, Moose.” You call lightly, his head tilting comprehendingly and then his leaning down to wipe at his face with his paws, the drool now soaked into the fur of his feet.

“That dog is stupidly smart.” Mercer says, and you beam with pride, patting the top of his snout affectionately. Then he’s pulling open the door to the Italian deli, the bell ringing overhead.

The tables are mostly empty inside, caught in the lag between lunch and dinner. You try to do monthly check-ins around this time, that way any lingering messes from early in the day can be spotted but you’re not interrupting the lunch rush.

Mrs. Sposato waves from behind the order counter, eyes brightening when she sees Moose at your feet.

“Oh there they are!” She greets, her accent still thick even though she’s one of the few in the shop that will speak English all the day. The boys in the back, including her husband, are strictly Italian. They don’t try English and they never will, at least that’s what Mr. Sposato told you. Italian is too beautiful a language.

Moose perks up, tail wagging and eyes lifting as he pretty much pulls you through the dining area and up to the counter. She rounds the edge of it, crouching down with open arms to greet the dog and he happily presents the underside of his neck to her for pets.

Mercer, standing behind you, sweeps his eyes over the place, examining the few patrons still hanging around.

“Come stai?” You ask her quietly, in case there’s listening ears. “Tutto bene?”

If anything was ever actual wrong at the shops the Devils protect, you and Nico would know immediately. They all have a direct line of contact to Nico in case of emergencies, but that’s strictly for life or death situations.

You want them to know though, that you’re invested in their well being. That there’s genuine care and interest when you come here to check-in. If anyone were threatening or harassing them for the Devils mark on the front window. If a cop or someone higher up is sniffing around and chatting about said logo on the front. If they’re unhappy with working with the Devils, this is how it’s fixed.

We keep them happy, is what Nico had told you. If they’re happy, we’re happy, and everyone’s wallets are happy too.

So you put in the face time and the personal touch, the petting of dogs and admiring graduation photos of kids. And you and Johnny conquer and divide the Italian speaking places because there’s nothing more personal than bonding over a shared mother tongue.

“Yes we’re good,” Mrs. Sposato assures you in Italian. “Getting busier now that it’s warm and everyone’s out again.”

“Best time of year for subs,” you agree, and she rises to her feet again. For a moment she disappears back behind the counter, sliding open the glass case and fishing out a little napkin placed in the corner of the refrigerated display.

“Always a good time for subs,” she corrects you, the two of sharing a little laugh as she opens the napkin, laying it out on the counter to reveal little chunks and scraps of meat.

Already knowing and eager, Moose sits politely, thick tail swishing on the tiled floor. She makes a soft sound of endearment before feeding the pieces to him, Moose taking the food from her fingers with delicate teeth.

“I don’t think very many people have our taste for good food year round.” You admit, leaning on the counter to catch a glimpse at Mercer. He’s still looking around, though a bit more lax now, two hands shoved in his pockets.

Mrs. Sposato hums. “That could be true,” she nods, petting at Moose’s nose as she wads up the empty napkin and tosses it in the trash. She wipes her fingers on her black apron.

“You and Nico?” She questions, sitting back on her stool. Her eyes fall to your ring, eyebrows raised. “No wedding date yet?”

You shrug, unable to hide your giddy smile at the mention of the wedding. All these months later and it still makes you swell with love when you look at the pretty diamond.

“We’re thinking summer. He loves the beach and water but it’s so hard to decide.”

She laughs with you, smacking her hand on the counter top and her own ring clacks on the hardwood. “Tell me about it. It took me two years to figure out a date for mine and by that time everyone was saying just go to the court house already!”

Two years is a while you suppose, but not long enough to abandon any plans of a ceremony and party for the court house. It’s a wedding, something special and hopefully for life. If it takes time to plan and get right, you think that’s ok.

“Where did you end up marrying?”

She gives you a shy smile, thumbing at her wedding band. “His parents back yard in Sicily. It was where we first met, where he said he loved me. And no where is more beautiful than Italy.”

You nod in agreement, even if the statement is unknown to you. Sure you’ve seen pictures and videos, can attest that through a screen it’s beautiful. But you’ve never witnessed it in person. After your parents left Italy, they refused to return. Any relatives you ever saw came here to visit.

“I know he’s Swiss, but I’m sure Mr. Hischier would marry you anywhere you’d like. Even your home country.”

Her words make you go warm, the reminder that Nico loves you so much it’s obvious to everyone around you. He’s not easy to read but he’s never hid that his heart beats for you and you alone.

“Yeah he would,” you agree, though you don’t know if it’d work out. Johnny still hasn’t returned to Europe since his father was killed. You’ve never been to Italy, don’t even know where you’d start looking for places to marry. And you’ve since lost contact with any family still remaining there.

It seems like a fruitless dream, even if you know Nico would make it happen.

“Whatever you end up doing,” she continues, laying her hand over yours and smiling with warmth. “If you need any subs or help, let us know, yeah?”

You laugh, lifting your hand to squeeze your fingers around hers. “I don’t know about sandwiches but hopefully there’s a table with your name card on it, right?”

Mrs. Sposato’s eyes go a little misty with surprise and something like honor, the dark brown of them growing shiny and she nods. “Right.”

At the entrance, the bell rings announcing new customers so you and her let go of each other, offering smiles in goodbye.

“We’ll be back soon to check in. And just call if you need anything ok?”

You take a step back with Mercer, Moose easily following you as you wave. “Yeah yeah,” she agrees, “tell Nico to stop by next time. I haven’t seen someone so good looking in awhile.”

It makes you giggle, especially when she winks and then worriedly glances into the back rooms to see if her husband has heard her. When she deems he hasn’t, she’s smirking devilishly and waving you out the door.

Turning around, you follow Mercer back into the maze of tables, glancing down to make sure Moose’s leash is still secured. You tug on the clip, double checking nothing is twisted and then look up to watch Mercer bully through the newest group of people to enter the deli.

You want to call his name, tell him to wait next time because low profile here means not shoving his way through customers, but your entire throat has gone dry at the sight before you.

A family of three, the middle aged couple standing stiff and poised next to an older lady. Her hair is white, styled in salon curated puffs on top of her head that her make her skin appear darker, her green eyes brighter. You could convince yourself you don’t know her if you really wanted to. It’s been long enough without seeing her you could say you forgot.

You can’t say the same about the other two. It may be three years since you’ve seen them but you can recognize the woman’s dark and unruly hair anywhere, her almond eyes and sharp nose. The man’s tan skin and mannerisms, from the way he stands to the way his face rests. After all, they’re the exact same features as yours.

They freeze at the same time you do, your eyes locked on your mother’s. It’s like the space between you and them freezes, everything moving around you. Mercer has noticed, quickly moving back to your side and Moose must have picked up on something too because he’s standing at attention in the space between you and your parents.

“Y/n,” the older woman finally gasps, the words barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. You take a step back, give yourself more space and Mercer steps into it, half shielding you from them.

“Can I help you?” He asks gruffly, tone short and clipped as his hand creeps towards the small of his back, ready to grab the gun in his waistband if needed.

Shocked, your grandmother’s mouth parts and she looks at him defiantly but must think better of it because she stops. Blinking timidly, she looks over his shoulder at you, eyes shining with tears.

“Nonna?” You murmur, your voice hollow in your own ears though it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart, the way it feels like it’s slowly beating away at the bone of your ribs, aching and cracking.

Mercer glances back at you, holding his other hand out in front of you. He’s waiting for instructions, for silent commands, for any hint on what to do. You should leave, you need to leave. Get away from them as soon as possible.

But you haven’t seen Nonna since you were 13, the last time she ever got to visit New Jersey before they all claimed her health was too bad. You never got to go see her either. Italy was forbidden.

“With someone new already?” Your mother cuts in, her Italian just as sharp and formal as you remember it. She was always the one to demand perfection. Even when it came to a language you could hardly use outside of the house.

She gives Mercer a mean once over, her eyes narrowed in disapproval and it rattles you, hits you painfully in the gut. It enrages you that she’s seeing you after all this time and her first words to you are about a boy. An assumption that you’re no longer with Nico, that he’s thrown you out the way she did. Already replaced and moved on from with Dawson apparently.

“No actually I’m not,” you reply, making your tone mimic Nico’s, carrying the same authority and confidence he always has when interacting with anyone but you. “He’s with me.”

Her expression doesn’t change, still unimpressed, still cold, still unrecognizable as the mother you grew up with. That look isn’t foreign though, it’s the same one she gave you when you told them you were picking Nico.

“Where is the knight in shining armor then? Shouldn’t he be with his little piece?”

Your jaw clicks, teeth sinking into the soft skin of your cheek and the taste of blood floods your tongue. Even so, you let the comment roll off, looking away from her and back to your Nonna.

“I didn’t know you were traveling again.” You tell her, softer and kinder. There’s no way of knowing her knowledge or compliance in your parents cutting you off, so there’s no reason to be spiteful with her.

“Yes, yes,” she nods frantically, her fingers coming up to touch at the cornicello necklace she always wears. “I’m all better. But you-“ she shakes her head, making a choked cry sound and pressing her hand into her chest. “You’re alive.”

“What?” You ask, dumbly. “What are you talking about?”

She swallows shakily, motioning to your parents. “They told us all it was an accident. Something after graduation. That you’d got in with a bad crowd and they hurt you. Killed you.”

There’s been two times in your life when the ground has given out beneath your feet. The first was that night the Flyers took you, when the lights in the bar had gone out and everything went pitch black. The only thing grounding you was Nico’s hand in yours, his fingers tightening in panic. You heard him call for you, could feel him moving to wrap you up in his hold and in that brief moment of feeling like you were dangling over an abyss, secured only by him, two pairs of hands had latched onto you.

They grabbed you by the waist, yanking you back and you yelped Nico’s name as something wet clamped over your nose and mouth, stung at your eyes. He was still struggling to hold your fingers when you lost consciousness, slipping from his grasp.

The second time is now. You stumble back, elbow hitting one of the tall tables and making your pinky tingle. Moose follows you, pressed tight to your side protectively. You want to be the person that stands up tall and ignores them, that walks away as if totally unaffected but you can’t. You’re not Nico, you’re not as capable or as strong.

Dead. Your parents have been explaining your absence by saying you were dead. Life taken from your body at the hands of the Devils, of Nico. They’ve been claiming that the man who loves you more than life itself is responsible for taking everything from you, even your breath.

When this whole time it’s been them.

You can’t even look at them, can’t stand to meet the pathetic faces of the people you used to call family, the people you used to love. Grabbing at Moose’s collar, you wrap your fingers around it to steady yourself, swallowing down the rising heartbreak that is filling your chest, pressing onto your spine and lungs.

Blinking, you wait for the ground to stop look like it’s moving, peering up and Mercer and giving him a curt nod. He towers over your parents and grandma, pushing them back until there’s enough room behind him for you to slip towards the door. Staying between you and them, Moose follows, his fur soft and soothing under your fingers.

“Wait y/n please,” it’s your father, the first words he’s said this whole time. Tears flood your eyes and the effort it takes to force them down makes the back of your throat ache. You can hear him move for you, trying to follow you and Mercer so you do the only think you know will always work.

The best protection Nico’s ever given you.

“Moose,” you whistle, unclipping his leash from your belt loop “protect.” His leash clatters to the floor and he spins around, snarling and barking at the feet of your father. You don’t bother staying to watch.

Shoving at the handle to the door, it springs open and you step out onto the sidewalk, still fighting to see clearly, to feel the ground beneath your feet. Mercer is only a beat behind you, Moose trailing behind him with low growls still rumbling out of him. You rush away from the front of the window, trying to appear calm as you move out of sight, pausing in the entryway of a closed shop.

Moose immediately finds you, nudging his nose into your leg and you crouch down to hug him, burying your face in his neck as Mercer covers you.

“Y/n?” He calls softly, his fingers just barely touching the top of your head. It makes you think of Nico, how he always goes for the soft spot on the back of your neck when you’re upset, how he knows just the right way to lay his hands on you so they feel safe

“I’m ok,” you croak, taking a few deep breaths. You just need a minute, a minute to collect yourself so they don’t freak. Except you don’t feel better, no matter how much you breathe or hold Moose, it still hurts. Your chest aches, your stomach feels tight with nausea.

“We have to move, come on.” Mercer finally says, kind fingers grabbing your elbow and he helps you stand back up. You grab the dog’s leash, holding it tightly as Mercer practically marches you up the sidewalk and back towards the car.

You know he’s lost, has no idea who those people were or what they said to you. He still stood in front of you, shielded and protected you. Obviously it’s what he’s been trained for but to know he does his job well enough to pick up on the silent cues makes you glow with pride, at least under all the bad feelings swelling inside of you.

This little team you put together is good. They’re all really good.

After a few steps you manage to shake out of your stupor, wiping under your eyes in case any tears escaped and clearing away the last of the sobs stuck in your throat. Mercer lets you go then, watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Head high, you follow him back towards the car, relieved that you managed to get yourself together before meeting up with Johnny and Alex on the corner.

“Mrs. Sposato chatty again?” Johnny asks you, the two boys falling into step. “You were in there for a while.”

It takes you a moment to think. “Yeah kind of,” you respond, looking over your shoulder at him. When you continue, it’s in Italian now. “I saw my parents.”

Johnny trips over his feet, stumbling as he rights himself behind you. “W-what? In the deli?” Blankly staring ahead, you nod. He lets out a low whistle, glancing at Mercer.

“Does he know?” He asks, “who that was?”

You shake your head, puffing out a breath of air as the car beeps to life on the curb. You pull open the door to the backseat, whistling for Moose to hop in. He does, curling up in the space between the two bucket seats.

Alex sits in the back with you, eyeing you worriedly as Mercer and Johnny buckle into the front. He shifts into drive but doesn’t pull away from the curb. You realize he’s waiting for your instruction.

“The bar,” you croak without hesitation. Mercer pulls out onto the street, easily slipping into the Newark traffic. Moose lays his head on your thigh, big droopy eyes blinking up at you. It helps, seeing his sweet face, always a reminder of how much Nico loves you, how he’ll protect you no matter what.

“Braver hund, Moose,” you coo, scratching at his ears and he wiggles closer, tail wagging at the praise. You tuck your hand back into your lap, peering out the window.

The car rolls by the deli shop, your gaze searching through the glass for any sign of them, any indication that maybe they followed you out, maybe they’re just as shaken as you.

They didn’t, and your heart shatters at the reminder that even know, they don’t regret letting you go. They don’t regret writing you out of their lives.

You press you fingers into your collarbone, rubbing at the aching spot and willing yourself not to cry. Not until you see Nico.

A hand slips into your lap, careful fingers taking a hold of your wrist, pulling your hand free and Alex slots his fingers through yours.

You glance up at him, meet those dark and comforting eyes that have always reminded you so much of Nico. The one person in this car with you that knows about it all, knows about your family and the way they treated you. How much it broke you to lose them just because you had met the person you loved most in the world.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, his other hand patting at the back of yours. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

They’re the words. The ones he overheard Nico swearing to you when he first got to New Jersey, when Nico would wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you so tight you couldn’t cry. The same ones you used when he came to your bedroom in the middle of the night, fighting to breathe through whatever nightmare he’d just woken up from.

The words that made you three a family. One that’s far better than whatever you left behind in the deli, now growing smaller in the rear view mirror.

~~~~

Halfway to the bar, you change your mind. Not because you've realized that Nico might not even be there right now and not because you've chickened out on telling him what happened, but because something else has popped into your mind.

It's sudden, the memory of the will your parents showed you when you had turned 18, listing out their estate and setting guidelines for their affairs. As their only child, you'd be in charge of handling everything after their death. Or at least you would've been.

"Left up here," you instruct Mercer, peering around his seat to look out the windshield. He takes the turn, pulling onto the gravel driveway and slowly inching forward. You keep directing him down through the cemetery, passed the old crumbling headstones at the entrance until you’ve gotten to the newer plots in the back.

“Stop here,” you murmur and the car comes to a soft stop, pulled off to the side so others can drive by if needed. Waiting for him to put it in park, you release your seatbelt, reaching for the handle when Johnny stops you.

“Do you want us to go with you?”

Half out the door, you pause. They’re all looking at you, Mercer tangled in his seatbelt and head craned awkwardly to try and meet your eye. While it’s sweet that they want to come with you, want to support you when they don’t even know what’s going on, you can’t let them.

If what you think is here actually is, Nico needs to be the first to see it with you. There’d be no way of explaining to them without crying and you don’t want to do that. You’re supposed to be their boss, to be strong.

“No I’m okay,” you promise, slipping the handle of Moose’s leash to Alex. “I just I think I need to call Nico and talk to him by myself, yeah?”

They all murmur out variations of agreement, watching you with sympathetic eyes as you climb all the way out. “Stay Moose,” you instruct, petting his neck in goodbye before closing the door.

You cut across the grass, slipping your phone out of your back pocket as you go. By the time you find the section of the cemetery you’re looking for, Nico’s contact is already pulled up on your phone. You hit call before you’ve even seen the front of the headstone. You don’t need to read the name, it being there in the midst of the two empty plots next to it is enough.

Nico picks up on the third ring, just as your coming face to face with the front of the marble headstone.

Y/n Y/l/n

September 13, 2000 - June 15, 2022

Loving daughter, friend, and person

May she rest in God’s arms

~~~~

When the screen of Nico’s car lights up with your contact, he knows not to answer it hands-free. He scoops his phone out of the cupholder, sliding the answer bar and ignoring the peeved look Jack gives him from the passenger seat. Little does he know, Nico is probably saving him from having to hear something inappropriate or cringingly sweet.

“Hey baby,” he answers, “what’s going on?”

He’s expecting you to say nothing, that you’re just calling because you finished up on wellness checks and missed him. Maybe beg him to come home early if he can or to let you come hang out in the office with him.

What he’s not expecting is the overly neutral tone of your voice when you ask, “hey are you busy?”

He pauses, listening to the background noise for any hint of where you’re at or what’s going on. It’s almost dead quiet from what he can tell and it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Just heading to the Rock,” he says, voice light and calming. “You okay? Do you need something?”

You clear your throat, voice trembling a little when you speak. “I’m okay I just- could you maybe come here?”

He has no idea where you even are but he still slows the car down, pulling into the slower lane until he can figure out exactly how to get to you. “Yeah of course. Where are you at? Are you safe?”

“Yes, yeah I’m safe. The boys are still with me too. But I’m at the cemetery in Jersey City, the one by my old neighborhood.”

His blood goes cold, panic seeping in. The cemetery? What are you doing at a cemetery by your family’s house? You haven’t been to that neighborhood since graduation and Nico hasn’t been since the month you and him were broken up. When he was tailing your father to make sure you hadn’t gone back to them, that you weren’t back in that house with those assholes.

“Are you-did something happen?” He asks, mind flashing with a million different scenarios. Your father dying, your mother dying, maybe both of them died. Maybe there was an accident and they’ve been gone for awhile, no one thinking to reach out to you even though you’d be the last of kin.

“Kind of. It’s really not that big Nico I just… I need you I guess. If that’s okay? I know you had a lot today and I can wait until later if that’s better.”

He deflates, chest aching at the thought of you standing in this cemetery, clearly shaken by whatever is going on and fighting with the decision to call him. Or worse, feeling guilty for it.

“Always okay, baby,” he assures, Jack gesturing wildly as Nico navigates towards Jersey City rather than Newark. Nico shoots him a warning glare, Jack slumping back into his seat and pouting out the window. “There’s a reason I’ve got so many of the boys with me. They can cover anytime, anytime you need something from me. Don’t ever question that, you hear me?”

A small laugh comes out of you, airy enough to make him smile too. “Yeah boss,” you murmur, “I hear you. I’ll send you my location, okay?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, “you need me to stay on the phone?”

Nico knows the answer. It’s the same one you always give him when he’s driving, when you get that mama bear tone in your voice and tell him absolutely not.

“No just drive safe.”

Laughing to himself, he promises you he will and that he’ll see you soon, then waits for you to hang up before dropping his phone into his lap. Impatiently, Jack stares at him.

“Where are we going?”

Nico glances at him, pressing on the gas a little harder as a text from you lights up the screen. “Y/n needs something.” He clicks it, your pinned location popping up. All he has to do is tap it and the map takes over, the estimated time of arrival showing 13 minutes from now.

“Something like serious or something like you’re going to leave me in the car while you go canoodle her?”

Making an offended face, Nico huffs at him. “Serious, you clown. Now sit back and make sure I don’t get us lost, ok?”

Taking his duty ever so seriously, Jack sits up straighter in his seat, gaze methodically shifting from the map to the road ahead. Nico doesn’t tell him that he knows what area he’s heading to, what exit to take and street to turn down. Mostly because he doesn’t want to talk to Jack about where they’re going and why, but also because none of them know how much time Nico still spent watching out for you after he’d broken your heart.

He doesn’t need to voice how much he’s always cared for you. That he’s been this pathetically and hopelessly in love with you that even when he knew you hated him, he was still tearing himself apart to be the one between you and all the bad things.

And he might be running a little behind getting there right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that he will be there.

~~~~

Mercer, Johnny and Alex are all standing outside the SUV when Nico pulls up behind them, Moose rising from where he was laid out in the shade of the car by Alex’s feet.

“A graveyard?” Jack asks, “Who died?”

Nico shoots him a look, shutting off the engine and pulling the key out. “I thought you were gonna start using that thing that rattles around in your head before speaking?”

Wounded, Jack grabs at his chest. “Ouch. I’m telling y/n that you’re being mean to your second hand man.”

“Just get out.”

He shoves open the door, squinting into the afternoon sun as him and Jack approach the boys. Mercer is already waiting for him, arms crossed impatiently and by the harsh line of his jaw Nico knows the kid already thinks it took him too long to get here.

“What’s going on?” Nico asks, glancing down the line of headstones. He finds you, almost dead center in the middle of all them, just standing there. Your turned just away from him, enough that he can barely make out the profile of your face, much to his dismay.

“John,” Mercer grunts, elbowing him forward. Before he can speak Alex is pushing into Nico, grabbing at his bicep and eyes wide with concern as he rushes out.

“It was her family,” he rushes, “she went into the deli and then came out all panicked.”

Simultaneously they all gawk at him, caught off guard that he’s apparently picked up some Italian in his time here in New Jersey. They all know that when you get emotional you switch to your first language, Johnny being the one to usually translate for Nico when you’re too upset to stop and explain. For years he’s been the only one, especially since Nico’s knowledge has remain limited even if he’s capable of picking up a few words here and there. He thinks it’s how fast you speak, the words bleeding together ever so slightly and he gets lost trying to decipher.

But Alex didn’t.

“What?” The youngest boy scoffs, eyebrows pinching together as he releases Nico’s arms. “She’s my mom. And I’m not stupid, I’ve listened to her speak Italian for years.”

Shaking his head, Nico blows off that topic in favor of focusing on what’s more important now. You went into the deli, has some kind of interaction that made you think of your parents, and has now lead you the graveyard you grew up near. The only explanation he can think of is that one of them has died. That you’re standing a family plot right now, confirming that you have in fact fully lost family.

“Oh fuck,” Nico mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He points a finger at all the boys. “Don’t move, okay?” Comfortingly, he pats the top of Alex’s head, offering him an impressed smile. “You are smart kid,” he compliments, “thanks.”

Alex has just enough time to smile all shy at him before Nico is turning and crossing the grass to you. He doesn’t exactly know the etiquette of walking through a cemetery, if he’s supposed to be doing an odd little hop around all the graves so he’s not stepping on the dead. That seems kind of impossible though so he just marches along, gaze locked ok you.

You must hear him coming because he’s only a few steps away when you turn, glossy eyes meeting his. As if his absence were the last thing holding it all together, your whole face crumples at the sight of him, lips quivering and eyebrows frowning as your mouth parts, forming what he thinks is his name. Instead a heartbreaking sob bubbles out of you, your hand reaching up to clamp over your mouth and Nico rushes forward, catching you as you take a stumbling step towards him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay.” He shushes, cupping the back of your head protectively as you cry into his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Hugging him around the middle, you hide in his chest with his muffled sobs, Nico unable to do much except hold you. He manages to walk you back a few steps until he can finally see the name on the headstone, expecting to find either your mother or father’s name carved into it.

What he finds instead makes his heart drop into his stomach. It’s your name and birthday on that stone, scraped into the marble under an intricately carved catholic cross. The most concerning part is the date of death. Nico would know it all too well. The day of your college graduation, the day you picked him forever.

“Baby,” Nico gasps, fingers slipping into your hair. “Why does that grave have your name on it?”

Still sniffling, you pull back, wiping at the smears of mascara under your eyes. “I saw them,” you mumble, voice raw. “I saw my parents, at the deli and they had my nonna with them.”

He balks, “your nonna? The one from Italy?” You talked about your grandmother a lot when Nico first met you, all those nights he laid naked in your bed back in your college apartment, too excited to be listening to you talk to even think of sleep. Story after story of her visiting when you were a child, how much you looked forward to it every year. Until she’d gotten too ill to travel and your parents, unwillingly to return to Italy, left her there to be cared for by relatives. Relatives you never really knew or cared for, not like your nonna.

“Yeah, I- I guess she’s better and all but Nico, you should’ve seen the way she looked at me. It was like she had seen a ghost. They told them all I died. That I wasn’t around because I had been with the wrong crowd and got into an accident or something.”

He’s never been a man of many words but for maybe the first time ever he’s actually rendered speechless. Your family quite literally killed you off from real life. Instead of claiming no contact or personal reasons for your absence they shifted all the blame of their faults to something else. To this accident that supposedly killed you, to the bad crowd-

“Me,” he realizes, “the devils and me, we’re the bad crowd aren’t we? Your parents told your family I killed you?”

The date makes even more sense now. They chose the day he took you from them, at least that’s how they saw it in their eyes. The big, bad mafioso that charmed you with money and a life of excitement, that needed arm candy more than he needed love and you were the prettiest option. He knows that’s what they told you, the lies they spewed to try and deter you. They had already made him a villain in their lives, so making him the one that killed you probably wasn’t a reach.

“I mean I guess.” You croak, more calm now that you’ve cried and gotten to speak to him. Flakes of mascara stick to your cheeks, the concealer under your eyes marred with tear tracks and Nico cups your face in both hands, gently clearing them away with his thumbs.

“The date,” you whisper, “I’m sure they’re saying it’s you that did this since the date is-“

“The day you left them for me.”

“The day they made me leave.” You correct, leveling him with a scolding look and Nico’s whole chest warms at it. You’ve always gone out if you’re way to make sure he knows everything with your parents wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t force you into picking him. He already knew that, always thought maybe it was you’re way of trying to make yourself hold them accountable but to be doing it even know, after seeing the fake grave your parents have created for you, it’s just nice.

This should all be about you right now, and yet you’re fussing over him.

“Are you okay baby?” He asks, tracing the tip of his thumb under your swollen bottom lip, trying to ignore how beautiful you always look even after crying.

He’s always liked the glossiness of your eyes, the flush to your cheeks and mouth after you’ve gotten emotional. Not in the sadistic way like he’s enjoys seeing you hurt and crying, but the vulnerability. He really likes that you let him see you like this so openly. You’ve never hid from him.

“I don’t know,” you shrug after a beat, sliding a hand up his chest until your palm is over his heart. “I mean, I guess it’s nice that at least they buried me in the family plot.” You laugh dryly.

“Baby,”

You let out a breath, more earnest this time. “I can’t believe they’d go this far and it sucks but also like it doesn’t matter.”

Nico pauses, frowning in concern. This would terrify him. If he one day walked into a cemetery and saw his own grave, his own headstone, it’d make him sick. Seeing your own potential plot, bare of any markings, is already unsettling enough, but seeing an actual marker for your death? Even if it is fake, it’s nightmarish.

“It does matter if it makes you feel badly.”

You slip out of his hold, turning to look down at your own grave again as if trying to gauge how it actually makes you feel, like underneath your name a sudden carving of instructions on what to think will appear. Nico wraps his arm around your shoulders, urging you into his side and you slip a steady arm around his waist.

“I think I cried because I saw them,” you finally mumble, “but I don’t care about this. It just makes me angry, makes me hate them. Like I never want to see or think about them again hate.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “Hate like you hate Lena?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I want to ruin their lives, I want to take them away from their family, I want-“ them dead.

For the first time in years, Nico brightens at you finally seeing eye to eye on this. He’s been wanting to kill them since the day they abandon you, used to spew all kinds of nasty things about them and while you never disagreed, you never held that rage or contempt for them.

He turns to you, gazing at your side profile as he speaks. “You know I can make that happen right? If you wanted me to.”

You don’t so much as flinch. “You’d do that for me?”

“Thought I told you I’d do ungodly things for you already? Besides I already killed you it seems, might as well add the rest.”

Looking to him, you examine his face for a moment, eyes narrowed in the questioning and innocent way you always give him when you need more. Words he doesn’t even have to say, holding your gaze firmly and knowingly, tilting his head as if to say ‘come on baby, it’s me’.

Relief floods your eyes, a little smile curling at your lips and Nico chuckles at the sight, jumping in to smoosh kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“At least let me get rid of the headstone,” he pleads, “they don’t deserve to be laid next to you, whether it’s fake or not.”

You hum, laying your head on his shoulder and looking back down at your marble name. “They won’t be laid next to me,” you assure, “that’s not the last name I’ll be buried with.”

It’s the smugness of your tone, how haughty and pleased you sound to be saying it that makes Nico smile, body alighting with adoration for you. Everyday he thinks he couldn’t possibly love you more and then you prove him wrong, looking so enamored at having his last name, at being with him forever. Even in death.

He presses a kiss to your temple, burying his nose in your hair and squeezing you so tight you make a little squeaking noise.

“No it’s not.”

~~~~

Nico’s boot thump on the tiled floors, heavy and bulking as he shuts the front door behind him. He’s never fully learned how to keep his feet silent, unable to ever move without making a sound. No matter how many times he’s watched you sneak around, the way your shoes always seem to melt into the ground in careful and noiseless steps, he can never mimic it.

Not that he really needs it right now. The house is empty, its occupants away for the day and even if they weren’t, he has every right to bully his way in here. It is his city after all and he’s been lenient with who he lets run around it.

It’s not a very homey place, more so than the house he grew up in, but still not light and welcoming. Not like the home you’ve made with him. Dark wood furniture, all of it freshly polished and matching. Fancy china dishes in them, rosaries and crosses, knickknacks he couldn’t even begin to identify.

There’s photos though, dozens of them everywhere. Framed neatly, tucked into the duvets of curio cabinets, on side tables by the living room furniture. All of them of the same little girl, from photos of her as just a pink bundle in a hospital crib to ones of her crossing the stage at graduation.

Documenting her life up until the moment she received her college degree and then stopping abruptly. It’s bullshit, Nico decides, jaw clicking as he examines them.

He should take them. They shouldn’t be here, pushing a false narrative of what’s actually happened. Yet there’s too many to take even if he wants to.

Blatantly, Nico shifts around the photos, moving the angles of them and crunching to the rug under his boots. He stomps his way into the kitchen, cracking open a kitchen cabinet just because he can. Shifting around more photos on the fridge, switching magnets and wallet sized school photos.

Angry about it, fingers moving with a purpose. It’s not fair that all these photos are here, photos he’s never gotten to see and you’ve never gotten the privilege of having. The familiar curve of your smile, the shape of your nose, the brightness of your eyes always the same no matter the age and size of you in the photo.

They all make him ache, make him so vengeful he might just plant his ass at the kitchen table, gun in hand and wait for your parents to return. You didn’t tell him not to kill them but you never answered him either. I want to ruin them, that’s what you had said. Ruin their lives.

Nico can make that happen, easily. Starting with this, planting that uneasiness, make them scared. They need to know that he’s been here, that he knows everything and he isn’t happy. Everything they said about him before is going to look like nothing after he’s done here.

He’ll make them spiral. Make them paranoid and anxious, vulnerable. Then he’ll take away everything familiar to them, make sure whatever security they thought they had is gone. Hell, maybe he’ll even let them know that he’s been watching them for years. All this time they’ve never actually been safe. Not like you have been with him.

Nico pauses on a 4x6 photo on the size of the fridge. Held in place by a magnet from the Jersey Shore. He has no idea how old you are here, what year it could possibly be. The photo is slightly blurred by smears of white, big snowflakes turning to fuzzy flashes in the camera. But the large tree behind you is still visible, bright and colorful on Rockefeller center. You’re just a tiny thing of a girl in front of it, a white fur coat and black shiny boots peaking out under it.

It’s so you, smiling that wide and pretty in a winter wonderland at Christmas, dressed like the mob wife you were meant to be.

Nico’s never thought about it very much but looking at this photo now, the happy wrinkles by your eyes and the rosiness of your cheeks, the way you shine even brighter than the most famous Christmas tree in the world, Nico hopes that one day he can give you this all back.

That you’ll let him give you a little baby girl, her smile and personality as beautiful as yours, a mirror of her mother’s. That the childhood depicted here can be restored with a family of your own. He already knows how healing it is for you to care for others, to be the safe space you didn’t have in your parents.

He thinks that maybe getting to love babies of your own would fill that last bit of you that still aches. And he thinks it’d maybe fix him too. Let him prove himself, show that he can love more than just you. He doesn’t think he could ever love anyone or anything as fiercely as he does you, but he can still love them wholly and entirely.

He can love in the way only a father can. He’s sure of it.

Plucking the photo off the fridge, he traces his thumb over your smiling face, chest flooding with warmth. Carefully, he slips out his wallet and tucks the photo in there, cautious as to not bend the corners. Shoving it back in his front pocket, he takes one last glance at the fridge, faltering when he realizes what the other papers stuck to it are.

Condolence cards. So many of them displayed, handwritten sympathy for the loss of you. Nico swipes those off the fridge too, gathering them in his hands until the metal is startlingly bare. Dumping them in the empty kitchen sink, Nico digs through the drawers until he comes up with a box of matches.

He leaves the drawer slightly ajar, lighting the head against the scratch on the back and dropping it onto the pile of cards. Then he waits, watches them light up in flames, curling and melting away into ash, the air turning warm in front of him.

Once they’re all ruined, half burnt and charred, unsalvageable, Nico dusts his hands off and heads back towards the front door.

Satisfied with his work, he leaves, locking the door behind him just to make them wonder how he got in and if he’ll get in again. Let them know what this little visit was for. Not an act of intimidation or revenge, but one of war.

#mob boss nico hischier #him and I #nico hischier #Nico Hischier x reader #mob boss Nico x reader #Nico hischier fanfic #nhl fanfic #devils mafia au

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cookiieduh · 2 days ago

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wake up from him .ᐟ

.shame that it took your crappy ex cheating on you to let you finally see what’s been in front of you the entire time..

pairing.ᐟ shoko x reader.

.cont.ᐟ SFW, fem!reader, mentions of cheating, best friends to lovers (?), wlw (duh), hurt/comfort, possibly a little angsty, fluff, the faintest whiff of crack perhaps (?), massaging, mutual pining, WILL be proofread in the morning, lmk if i missed anything :3

extra.ᐟ wc,, 2k,, for the wlw shoko enjoyers <3 once again sleep deprived, on the verge of passing away

“guys suck.”

shoko definitely wasn’t expecting that to be the first thing she hears from your lips the second she answers your sudden call at 8:34pm. a little disoriented, she doesn’t even register how blubbery your voice is, or the little sniffles that sound through the speaker.

“yeah, tell me about it.” she finally snorts. oblivious. setting her phone down as she continues fixing up another weird, late-night craving: salt and peppered apples. “we’re friends with the biggest dipshits ever.” she continues, voice lowered with the soft rumble of laughter.

but this wasn’t about geto, not even gojo. this was about your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend.

“no. shoko.” the sadness in your voice carries through her end of the line, making her pause the unconventional seasoning and sharply turn as if you were about to supernaturally materialise in front of her very eyes. “he cheated.” she can hear the shaky exhale, then dry sob before you promptly mute.

and shoko’s confused by her reaction. of course there’s that immediate burst of anger. forget an inkling, she had a whole dissertation on why this guy was bad news. like how he took you to a hockey game with his brother, leaving without you because he ‘forgot you tagged along’, or how he always talked about future plans that somehow always excluded you.

but what surprises her is the little spark of relief, maybe satisfaction, that follows. was she a bad person? no. well, maybe. anyone would be happy if their longtime best friend got out of a toxic relationship, definitely a little forlorn at the prospect of the wakeup call being infidelity, but she was smiling. smiling. as if she had some kind of master plan that was falling into place.

but that can’t be right. you. her best friend. is understandably upset, torn by that scumbag leech’s betrayal. now is not the time to be cheesing. and you’re still on mute, probably halfway through the amount of tears one can cry in a lifetime, while she chomps on a pepped up apple-stick.

“want me to come over?” she asks, mouth full and voice muffled by the half-chewed fruit snack, but sympathetic all the same.

“just wasn’t expecting it, y’know?” your sobs have mostly slowed, but there’s still those uncontrollable little hic!’s that make you squeak as you rest your head on her chest. would it be skeevy of her to say she did? that she could smell the mess he was going to make from a mile away?

“i know.” she murmurs anyway, lidded tawny eyes dropping to your flushed profile as nimble fingers rake through your hair in a gesture that’s almost pacifying. “ugly men get a gorgeous girlfriend and don’t know how to act. he’s the only one to blame.” her voice trickles into something soft as she tries to comfort you.

she keeps combing through your hair with gentle hands, ignoring the snot she can feel bleeding through her shirt as your glossy eyes absently drift over the cheesy sitcom playing on the tv. she barely catches the canned laughter of the programme, eyes too busy trailing the occasional tear that slips from your red-rimmed depths.

there’s a blanketed silence between you, the kind of contentment that doesn’t need words. shoko’s heart beats steadily beneath your cheek. grounding. her lissom palms slide from your crown to your nape. fingers trace light stripes down to your shoulder, trailing soothing circles over the thick material of your sweatshirt. a barrier.

“you got anything to drink here?” she hums, gaze breaking from your profile to follow your vacant stare at the too-bright screen. “might help you feel better.” she feels selfish for suggesting alcohol, but she needs a smile from you tonight. at least one. and she has a knack for cracking better jokes when she’s just a little tipsy.

“yeah. got some open sake in the fridge.” you mutter after a beat, shakily sniffling against her one last time before raising your head. she pats you once before getting up, sauntering off in a way that almost catches your exhausted attention. you watch the subtle sway of her hips as she walks with something you chalk up as being passive interest. not because she has a nice butt.

you’re tired. overtired. fresh out of a maelstrom of a relationship, and in need of comfort, your brain is rousing with less than appropriate thoughts of a girl who’s closer than family. but that’s wrong. shoko is your ride or die, your best friend. you don’t even want to entertain thoughts of messing things up because of some unchecked sentiments.

before you can dwell in those unsolicited fantasies any longer, shoko returns. two full glasses in one hand, a substantially emptier bottle in the other. “mmh. this should do the trick.” she sighs with a grin, setting the dwindling rice wine down on the coffee table before slumping beside you. graceful enough to avoid any spillage.

“thanks.” you mumble as she hands you a glass, taking a steady sip before leaning back against the plush pillows lining the couch. “i needed this.” no more hiccups, but your cheeks are still flushed. lashes clumped with drying tears. puffy eyes, and a voice that still sounds too wet. but when you turn to shoko, she’s already watching you. eyes darting around your face like you’re something she needs to explore.

“c’mon.” she abruptly pats her thighs with a free hand. “put your feet up.” she smiles, bringing the glass to her lips as she waits for you to make a move. you’re friends. it’s normal. so you swivel around on the couch, doing as you’re told, calves coming to rest on her lap.

her eyes are drawn back to the poor acting on screen while her palm warmly splays over the bridge of your foot, lightly working up your shin. you’re left dazedly considering her, observing every micro expression that plays on her pretty face as she pretends to not notice you staring

“you’re so soft.” shoko muses quietly, caramel hues flitting down to the skin bared by your sleep shorts. and she knows exactly what she’s doing when she decides to trail her fingers across the smooth surface in a way that’s ticklish enough to make you squirm and almost spit the sake out.

“shoko—!” you hiss, throat burning from the sudden rush of your gulp. “don’t do that.” you continue, coughing. but it’s a struggle to take you seriously when you're still so nasally and swollen. despite the coy smirk on her face, she concedes, stroking you with a firmer touch. you melt.

“no, seriously.” she turns to you, taking another swig of rice wine before leaning back further against the couch, pulling you against her in a way that makes you yelp. “what moisturiser do you use?” she grins, rubbing over your legs with a comically exaggerated fervency that draws a giggle from your lips. perfect.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” you sass back, feeling a lot lighter than before as you playfully kick your legs up, making her laugh softly in response. you both settle, placid in the quiet joy of each other's company. and then you feel it. filthy and hot and burning, clawing up your throat, making spent tears sting your eyes again. for a totally different reason.

you like her. you really like her. more than a friend should.

maybe it’s the cruel realisation of those unwarranted feelings, or the way she just looks at you too warmly, but you down the almost full glass in one go. the taste does little to push away the scorch of guilt rising up your throat like bile. before she can lower her hand and continue touching, you swing your feet off her lap.

“you okay?” she turns to you suddenly, a little startled in the way her sleepy eyes widen just a fraction. you set the glass down with a clink! before rising to your feet. she follows you with her eyes, confused by you pulling away so suddenly. she thought you were finally cheering up. this sudden distress doesn’t look good on you.

“yeah. fine.”

harsh. clipped. not fine. it brings a furrow to her brows and a pang of hurt to her chest. you make a quick escape to the kitchen, only bewildering her more as she mentally checks off all the things she could have done to upset you. was asking for the moisturiser too much? she sure hopes it wasn’t.

“you’re saying that.” she mutters dryly, half expecting you to ignore her, let alone respond. so she has a final gulp of the sake before following after you. spotting you hunched by the sink, face held in your hands. she steps beside you, palm hovering over your shoulder as if evaluating the risk of you smacking her hand away.

“still thinking about it?” she asks as if she’s on thin ice. and you hate the pity in her voice. yes, your heart’s still sore from the pain of betrayal, but it’s simultaneously breaking for a whole other reason. nothing to do with him. everything to do with her.

you respond with a nod that’s barely any movement, feeling your palms grow wet with a fresh line of tears you didn’t even realise had begun to slip. she sighs and pulls you into a side hug, lips pressing against the top of your head in something that’s not quite a kiss, but just as comforting. just as affectionate.

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay.” she murmurs, soothing. and you really want to believe her when she handles you like you’re delicate china, gently manoeuvring you to rest your chin against the crook of her neck because you might just shatter if she’s too quick.

and then it comes. messy and tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“i think i like you.”

voice muffled against her shoulder, heart pounding in your lungs. and she stills for a moment, arms stiff around you as if she’s considering. you hold your breath like you’re waiting for the sting of rejection, for her to pull away. you don’t expect her to play dumb.

“we wouldn’t be friends if we didn't like each other. would we?” but you can feel the sapped bob of her throat as she swallows a little thicker, struggling to keep the tilt of nerves out of her voice as she bluffs naïveté. she keeps you close. maybe she pulls you closer. you’re too dizzy to decide.

and maybe you can just play the fool and blow it off, blame it on the headache of heartache and the just chugged sake storming through your system. but that feels like a cop out. a cheap excuse. more lies, more secrets. it’s not what you need. and it might be a mistake, it might ruin everything you’ve built with her over the years, but you need acknowledgement. closure.

“you know what i meant.” you huff, pulling back to look up at her in all your snotty glory, a muted sliver of the sass shining through the cracks, even in your sadness. she holds your gaze. and it’s there. that tenderness that brings warmth to her wearied eyes.

“i know.” she whispers, eyes closing for a moment and a small smile curls her lips. she takes one of your hands, tepidly lacing your fingers with her own before wrapping you in an embrace you immediately reciprocate. in relief, hugging her back just as tight.

“i think i like you, too.”

a/n: i wish shoko was real

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ihrtpaige · 1 day ago

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DELICATE. teaser!

⠀☆ SYNOPSIS. pop sensation spencer mckenzie's life has long been flipped upside down when she finds herself in a mild internet beef with paige bueckers— but it's not like it's her fault. paige started it when she called her music "overrated" (like, who says that? about the daughter of a fellow uconn legend, no less.); she left spencer with no choice but to clap back. what she doesn’t expect is for paige to respond by tweeting an offer to take her on a date as her public "apology", or to run into her in–person at an event a week later, or to end up falling so damn hard. now spencer has to decide, fast: is she ready to let paige in and be in love again, or will she let the demons of her past take this away, too? after all, the whole world is watching.

warnings. mentions of past cheating, mentions of a past friendship breakup and betrayal

notes. not a prologue or anything like that! just a snippet from the first chapter. i have to proofread one more time and make a few revisions, and then i'll have the whole thing up asap! stay tuned!

taglist. @wosolipa, @syraxsbigfanfr ( tysm for the interest and support ♡ if you'd like to be added just comment or send an ask! )

word count. 553

los angeles, california.

this is utterly pathetic, spencer knows, but she can’t bring herself to care.

she digs her spoon further into her fudge brownie ice cream, scooping up a hefty chunk before shamelessly shoveling it into her mouth. she doesn’t care if any of it drips onto and stains this designer–italian–whatever sofa, either. after surviving what officially has been the worst year of her life— publicly humiliated, cheated on, and, surprise! the other woman is your best friend— she feels she’s earned the right to spend her couple days of downtime wallowing.

she’s halfway through the pint of ben & jerry’s and a few hours into a buffy the vampire slayer binge–watch when her phone buzzes against her leg.

leela 🫶 : sis have u seen this?? leela 🫶 : it’s about you 💀

the notification sound chimes again, followed by a link. spencer narrows her eyes, already prepared to see another brain–dead take on her personal life or completely made up blind item when she clicks on it.

it’s a tiktok, some promo thing the dallas wings did with their players ahead of the season. “this or that: music edition”, the colorful text on the screen reads. whoever’s behind the camera goes up to several of the players, asking them to choose between different artists— drake or kendrick, taylor or beyoncé, that kind of thing. spencer’s brain is already half–way checked out before she hears:

“okay, spencer mckenzie or taissa rey?”

because of course. just messy.

spencer told her self she wouldn’t engage with content comparing her and her former best friend anymore— it’s stupid, self–destructive, and just bad for her brain— but it’s honestly still vindicating to see so many of the players pick her. she actually feels her chest tighten, a little. sometimes, she gets so caught up in negative headlines and the drama of it all, she almost forgets that there are people that still like her. still choose her.

and then the video cuts to her.

paige bueckers.

national champion, uconn golden girl, dallas wings star, ridiculously hot paige bueckers. of course, spencer’s seen her before— years ago at her dad’s camps when she would tag along everywhere he went, at games when she still had the time to drop in and catch them in person, all over her for you page in what has to have been hundreds of unabashedly thirsty edits more recently. and if one or two of said edits happen to be saved in her favorites folder, that’s between her and tiktok hq.

she looks good in this video, too, with her hair pulled back into a low bun and blue eyes catching the lighting in the gym just right, lips already curved in a half–smirk before she hears the question. her toned arms are on full display in her wings practice jersey, biceps inadvertently flexing as her arms cross over her chest.

for some reason, spencer finds herself holding her breath as she awaits the blonde’s answer, hand suspended mid–air, still holding a spoonful of ice cream.

but paige doesn’t even hesitate before going: “taissa, easy.” she nods definitively. “that spencer song is lowkey overrated.”

the video is onto the next topic before spencer can even fully register it.

she stares at her phone screen, blinking dumbly. sits up. rewinds. watches it again.

and again.

“overrated?” she mutters aloud.

#fic ; delicate.#paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #wlw #wlw smut #asap meaning when i get these few assignments out of the way lol

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drabbles-mc · 9 hours ago

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Knock First

Bucky Barnes x F!Thunderbolts!Reader

For Week 1 of Hot Bucky Summer: "Mind your own damn business" & "embarrassment"

Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, allusions to smut, language, tower fic, vague mentions of reader having powers

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: hot bucky summer is BAAACK baby!!! had so much fun writing this. thank you as always to @buckybarnesevents for hosting this event every year!

Privacy at the tower was practically nonexistent these days. No one should have expected anything different, though. You were a team of people who didn’t really have much of anywhere else to go. The tower wasn’t really supposed to be a permanent residence, but no one was in much of a rush to find places of their own. Yourself included.

Knowing what you were dealing with, you had learned to accept the fact that your alone time could get cut short or interrupted at any minute. It wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, but you’d been stuck in much worse places. This place was the closest thing you’d had to a home in a long time, and it came with its own dysfunctional family dynamics included.

While you were accepting of the living arrangements, and managed to accept them without too many complaints, Bucky wasn’t handling it quite as well as you were. He was also at the tower now that he was in New York instead of down in DC. Whenever he complained you’d send him a random apartment listing, and for as much as it bothered him he continued to do it. Lucky for you there was no shortage of listings in the boroughs to send him.

The lack of privacy bothered Bucky a whole lot less before the two of you had started sneaking around together. Thinking back on it, you realized that you two only managed to stay away from each other for about a month after he started living at the tower with the rest of you. You could’ve sworn it was longer, but maybe that was just because it wasn’t as though Bucky had ever really fully thawed out his warm and fuzzy side even now. That didn’t particularly bother you either.

It especially didn’t bother you in moments like this, when Bucky was holding the side of your face with one hand while the other was sliding down your chest, your shirt already discarded on the floor. He hovered over you as he kissed you. Warmth bled into your body from his as he kept you caged between him and your mattress. You could hear it better than most, how quickly his heart was beating as he slotted the two of your bodies together.

There was the ticklish brush of his beard against your jaw and then your neck. You tilted your chin up to give him better access, digging your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle the moan you felt creeping up the back of your throat. Unable to stop yourself, you slid your fingers through Bucky’s hair, giving it a small tug of encouragement.

His low hum of appreciation sent vibrations down your entire body. The sensation caused you to arch into him, a shuddered gasp slipping from between your lips as he slid the strap of your bra down off your shoulder.

The word yes was right on the tip of your tongue as his hand that was previously holding your face landed on the button of your jeans. Before you could say it, though, you heard the sound of the doorknob twisting. You tried to get yourself upright, knowing that someone was about to walk in, but you didn’t get very far nor did you communicate to Bucky what you thought was about to happen. All the words were caught in the back of your throat, trapped there by the way Bucky’s teeth were sinking into the sensitive skin there.

Bucky heard the creak of the door open, but even if that hadn’t gotten his attention there was only half a second between that sound and the gasp that Bob let out, immediately followed by him stammering and stuttering, trying to get through an apology of some kind.

If it had been in Bucky’s wheelhouse of powers, he would’ve sliced Bob clean through from top to bottom with just a look. Luckily for all of you that wasn’t the case, but the look on Bucky’s face still made Bob want to dissolve into a puddle on the floor.

You had never seen Bob’s face turn such a deep shade of red before. He clearly hadn’t meant to walk into your room. His was the next door down in the hallway, and you were willing to bet that he’d had his nose buried in the book in his hands which lead to him walking into your room instead of his own. A series of honest mishaps but that didn’t do anything to assuage the anger that Bucky was currently feeling. Blood was rushing quickly through his veins for an entirely different reason now, one that had you trying to hold him back from getting up off the bed.

Bob was nervously looking down at his book, and then up at the two of you, and then back down at his book again as he tried to assure you both that he didn’t see anything. Which you had no choice but to laugh at because he was technically still seeing it, even as he was trying to say he wasn’t.

“I won’t say anything. Well, because there’s nothing to say. Because I didn’t see—”

Bucky cut him off, harsh but simultaneously saving him from trying to come up with the rest of his soliloquy. “Shut the fucking door, Bob!”

His eyes popped wide open, like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind even though you knew all he wanted to do was leave and forget that this had ever happened. “Right. Right.”

The second his hand landed on the doorknob, Bucky spoke up again, more exasperated now than angry. “With you on the other side!”

Your attempt to stifle your laughter was hardly even half-hearted. There was no pretending the entire scene wasn’t comical, Bob’s face somehow managing to get even redder as he went and put himself on the other side of the door. With a laugh and a flick of your wrist you pushed it shut behind him, scooching him out the rest of the way in the process. Once he was out, you allowed yourself to truly break down into laughter at what had just happened.

Bucky sat upright, maneuvering himself so that he was sitting with his legs hanging off your bed. Running his fingers back through his hair he huffed. “It’s not funny.”

You were still laughing, which was enough of an argument to his point without you even saying anything. Using one arm to prop you up, you slid your bra strap back into its rightful place. “It is, though.”

He gestured towards the door. “Didn’t think that a little warning would’ve been—”

You scooted closer to him. You’d managed to stop laughing but the humor hadn’t left your voice yet. “I was a little distracted—sue me.”

“If he goes and tells everybody…” he trailed off, meaning to make it sound like a threat but the tone wasn’t hitting quite right.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Bucky looked at you with an expression that clearly showed how little faith he had in your statement. “I thought the kid’s heart was going to explode in his chest for a second there. I think we’re gonna be alright.” Bucky was grumbling, like you wouldn’t be able to hear him just fine even when he was speaking under his breath. Leaning into him, you hooked your chin over his shoulder. “That’s the risk you run when you’re sneaking around.”

“He has no reason to be barging in here.”

“Well, yeah, that obviously wasn’t on purpose.”

There was a pause, and while you couldn’t get the best look at Bucky’s face from your current angle, you had a feeling that he was mulling over your point. You hoped that the sound logic, combined with the fact that you were ready to finish that the two of you had started if he was, would be enough to stop him from getting up and going after Bob. What happened didn’t have to be a big deal if Bucky didn’t make it one.

About five more seconds went by and just when you were thinking that Bucky was going to fall back into bed with you, he shifted his grip on the edge of your mattress and went to stand up off the bed.

“I’m just gonna—” he was halfway to standing when you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards you.

He was strong, but so were you, so your pull did cause him to stumble back a step. Looking back at you, annoyance was still etched into his features. Only difference now was that some of it was for Bob, but some of it was for you too.

“Is that really what you wanna spend your time doing right now?” You gave another light pull on his hand.

“What if he says something?”

You laughed. “What do you think he’s gonna do? Text the group chat saying he caught us making out and he saw, like, half my boob?”

Bucky had years of practice in keeping a straight face, but even so you knew deep down that he wanted to laugh. Something about hearing it spelled out like that made him realize, at least a little bit, how ridiculous he was being.

“Fine.” His concession came with him collapsing back onto the bed with you.

It took him no time at all to be right back on top of you again, but you still couldn’t help but to nettle him a little bit with, “Wow, don’t sound so excited about it.”

You caught his eyeroll right before he leaned in to kiss you. Neither of you bothered enough by the events of the conversation after to let it keep distracting you from what you’d set out to do in the first place. One more flick of your wrist and the lights shut off.

It wasn’t until early the following morning when you finally left your room again. Bucky had gone back to his own space the night before once the two of you were done, but you’d had no reason to leave your mini-sanctuary. So you didn’t. You’d slipped into a relatively unbothered sleep until the sunrise started coming through your window.

When you stumbled your way into the kitchen, there were hardly any lights on. There were enough windows to make up the difference, though. Rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes, you saw that the only other person there, presumably the only other person awake at such an early hour, was Bob. He was sitting at the counter, a bowl of cereal and milk in front of him. His spoon was halfway to his mouth as he continued to read the same book he’d had in his hands last night.

You broke the silence, and by extension his concentration. “How is that book, anyway?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice, not having heard you come in. The spoon dropped back into the bowl. Luckily the droplets of milk that made it over the side didn’t seem to get on the pages he was looking at. He looked at you, but could only manage to hold eye contact for a moment before staring down into his cereal. His cheeks were already turning color.

“It’s, uh,” he cleared his throat, “it’s good.”

You smiled and nodded. “That’s good.” Turning around, you stepped over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. Your head was practically tucked inside the thing as you contemplated what you wanted to make for your own breakfast. With your back still to him, you said, “Figured it must be a pretty immersive read if it’s got you walking into the wrong bedroom.”

The choking sound that came next let you know that he’d clearly tried to take a bite of his cereal while you weren’t looking at him. A couple more coughs and he managed to get out, his voice a little strained, “That was an accident. I prom—”

Carton of orange juice in your hand, you finally turned around to face him. “I know it was, Bob.” You chuckled as you grabbed a glass for yourself and filled it. “If I thought you were some kind of perv, I wouldn’t have let them put my room right next door to yours.”

He managed a weak smile, face still red from a mixture of embarrassment and coughing. “Right.”

Even though it grew quiet between you, you could tell from the rapidity of Bob’s heartbeat that this probably wasn’t the end of the conversation. He was just working up the courage to ask or say whatever it was that was on his mind. You were in no rush—he could take all the time he wanted. You kept yourself busy grabbing eggs from the fridge and finding whatever other leftover goodies in there you could to make something reminiscent of an omelet.

There was the clinking of Bob’s spoon against his bowl of cereal, and you were glad that he couldn’t see the smile on your face. He would’ve asked why you were smiling and you didn’t really want to tell him that you found his nervousness to be a little bit endearing. He wasn’t the one who was doing anything wrong. He wasn’t the one who had been keeping secrets. By that logic he had nothing to be nervous about.

His now-empty bowl scraped along the countertop as he pushed it away from him. Clearing his throat, he said, “So…you and Bucky…?”

You chuckled. All that time to think and yet those four words just about summed it up. You nodded, facing the stove still instead of him. “Yeah, something like that I guess.”

Bob nodded even though you weren’t looking at him. “Wow. I didn’t, uh, how long’s that been…”

You shot him a good-natured smile over your shoulder. “Long enough that I’m surprised you’re the first one to catch us.”

He smiled nervously, and the darkening hue of his cheeks had you wondering just how red his face could get. “Oh.”

He’d only met your eyes long enough to see that you smiled at him before looking back down at the book in front of him. It was evident that he wasn’t actually taking in any of the words written out, but it was easier to stare blankly at the pages than it was to stare at you.

Returning your attention to the stove, you said, “You know, it’s going to be really difficult to work on a team together if you can’t make eye contact with me.”

“Oh, uh, I’m not—I’m fi—it’s fine.”

Sliding your finished omelet out of the pan and onto a paper plate, you shut off the stove and put the frying pan into the dishwasher. Plate still balanced in one hand, you used the other to pull the drawer open and grab a fork. Bob was looking quickly back and forth between you and his book as you moved, his hair falling in front of his face every time he looked down.

You situated yourself on the opposite side of the counter, but directly in front of him. Paper plate right by the edge, you leaned forward and braced your forearms against the edge of the counter so you could eat. Cutting into your omelet, you gave it a couple seconds before speaking up again. It felt like Bob needed time to recover from every exchange now.

Once you finished your first bite, you said, “Out of everybody involved, you have, like, the least amount of reason to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he said, the color not yet fully gone from his face.

“Okay,” you took another bite, “sure. I’m just saying,” you used your fork to point at yourself, “me,” you gestured towards the hall where Bucky’s room was, “and him should be the ones avoiding eye contact. But I have no sense of shame,” you said with a laugh, “and he takes all his shame and turns it into annoyance and angry looks so…”

Bob managed not to laugh until you made the comment about Bucky and then he allowed himself to revel in the amusement for a moment. He knew you were right, but that didn’t do anything really to make him feel any better about what had happened. He also knew that Bucky’s anger wasn’t confined to just the look on his face. He was worried about that more than the rest of it.

“Right. He just seemed pretty pissed, so…”

You shrugged and took another bite of your breakfast. “Don’t take it personally—he’s always like that.”

It got another quiet laugh out of Bob. You were both giggling to yourselves over it when you heard another set of footsteps getting closer to the kitchen. You could tell from the pacing of them that it was Bucky, but Bob seemed blissfully unaware of that fact. You let him enjoy ignorance for a few more precious seconds until Bucky came lumbering into view.

He looked back and forth between you and Bob. He caught the smiles on both of your faces, although the look quickly melted off of Bob’s when he realized who had just walked into the kitchen. You didn’t bother to try and pretend that you felt any less amused than you really were.

You flashed a cheesy grin at Bucky. “Good morning, sunshine.” Rather than return your greeting, he gave you a frown that was one part annoyance, one part exhaustion. Continuing to use your fork as a wand, you looked at Bob and gestured to Bucky’s face. “See? Told you. He’s just like that.”

Bucky didn’t look at Bob, but after another second he wasn’t looking at either of you. Back turned on both of you, he started to make himself a cup of coffee. “Yeah? What’d else you tell him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Bucky, c’mon.”

He turned back around, coffee mug in his hand. He skipped right over you and went to looking at Bob. It was hard for him to maintain eye contact with Bucky too, but for an entirely different set of reasons. He managed it, though. Managed it easier than he had with you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said, his tone flat. “Not to her, to me, to anyone. Just mind your own damn business and—”

“Come off it, Buck,” you interrupted him. “It’s not like he was snooping around.”

Bob’s eyes widened at the fact that not only had you interrupted, but you interrupted to come to his defense. He was content just to let Bucky say his piece and then try to move on without ever bringing it up ever again. He’d deal with the dirty looks and grumbles from Bucky for however long he needed. Eventually it’d all blow over. Something else would happen to steal Bucky’s annoyance. Probably, anyway.

The look that Bucky gave you told you to shut up without him having to actually utter the words. His put his attention back on Bob. “Just keep your mouth shut or—”

“Or what?” you asked with a laugh, tossing your now-empty paper plate into the garbage can. “He goes and blabs to Alexei about us, what’re you gonna do?” The ensuing silence spoke volumes, and you didn’t miss the tiny smile that was starting to creep its way across Bob’s face. “Because if I remember right, the last time you tried to get the upper hand on him, Bob beat you up with your own arm, so, you know,” you shrugged, “might wanna reconsider.”

Your rationale had both Bucky and Bob protesting, for similar reasons phrased very differently. Bob was talking to Bucky, trying to say that he had no intention of doing something like that, while Bucky was talking to you trying to explain that it wasn’t Bob who had done that. They were both right, but you didn’t care about that part. It got Bucky off Bob’s case for the time being, and it had the added bonus of giving you a good laugh.

Bucky stopped before he got himself too worked up. Taking another sip of his coffee, he turned and started to head back towards his bedroom. “It’s too early for this.”

You chuckled as he walked away, but you refrained from making any extra commentary. There would be plenty of time for that later. Both you and Bob watched him until he’d completely disappeared from view down the hallway.

Once you heard Bucky’s bedroom door shut, you looked across the counter at Bob again. “See? Not that bad. He’ll get over it.”

He looked at you, the longest he had all morning, with a sheepish smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You tossed your fork into the dishwasher. “Plus now, you know, you got something to hold over Bucky’s head like a guillotine so—”

“Oh, no,” he cut you off, eyes wide like he was shocked you’d made the suggestion. “I don’t want to do that.”

You chuckled. “I know. Which is why it’s a good power for you to have.” Swiping your drink off the counter, you made your way over to his side of it. “And, you know, for what it’s worth,” you gently rested your hand on his shoulder as you walked by, “maybe next time double-check the room before walking into it.”

His cheeks darkened again as he nodded, gaze locked back onto the counter. “Yeah, I’ll remember that.”

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic @artemiseamoon

ps i didn’t include folks who specifically had been asking to be tagged in my invisible silver linings fic, but if you’re on that and also wanna be on my general mcu taglist please tell me! xo

#hotbuckysummer2025 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #x reader #x reader fic #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc

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minustwofingers · 1 day ago

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exoplanet epilogue

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

series masterlist

warnings: one vague mention of nsfw content if you squint, probably many errors that i missed bc i didn't edit this too well

a/n: hey. been a while. hope you guys enjoy. i know this one is short. i'm going to release deleted scenes/abandoned plots that i've written for them, but i just find it exceedingly difficult to write domestic bliss because that is an experience i have not had in literal years and have decided to make that everyone else's problem. hope the 2 remaining exoplanet readers enjoy this, thanks for waiting for over a year!

word count: 1.6k

enjoy!

ex·o·plan·et: a planet that orbits a star outside the solar system.

Love is not easy for Ellie. It has never been easy, not since Riley. There was Joel, who seemed like an exception at first when they met, like a mountain of strength that could never be moved. Even in the apocalypse he seemed immortal . But then that day at the university happened, and for the first time she saw her image of him crack open and bleed out along with him.

I should know better she’d promised herself that day, all bloody fingers and sloppily sewn stitches. I need to know better.

Because if the end of the world has taught her anything, it’s that nothing lasts. Not Riley. Not humanity. And, it logically follows, nothing else that she loves.

It’s why Cat didn’t work out. Or, better said, Ellie didn’t work out for Cat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Ellie had choked out to her one night after Cat had come back from patrol, coated in blood from an infected she’d had to kill off. She’d never been able to sleep when she knew that Cat was out, even if she herself had a patrol early the next morning.

Cat had frowned, pausing the washcloth she was swiping across her bloodied face. “What do you mean? I thought what we had was good between us.”

“It is,” Ellie had said. “That’s not it.”

Cat had just given her a skeptical look.

“It is,” Ellie had insisted. “I just can’t handle worrying about you. I’m sorry. I’m a wreck every time you leave Jackson.”

“I don’t understand,” Cat had said. “You go on patrol. We’re both always fine. I’m going to be fine, babe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Ellie had glanced down discreetly at the arm Cat had just finished tattooing. She’d known that she was being irrational. But at the end of the day, Ellie had known of many people around her to die, and she herself hadn’t died yet. And then there was the immune thing, which just fed into the whole fucked up mess.

“I’m sorry,” she’d said again. “I’m really sorry.”

And that was that. Cat went back to her life as someone who was no longer Ellie’s girlfriend, and Ellie went back to moodily sulking around the house, writing in her journal about how for some reason she was always destined to be alone and that it’s better that way until Joel made her go out to see Dina and Jesse.

But it’s different with you. Love is easy with you.

It’s in everything, from the way you link your pinky fingers under the dinner table where no one can see to the way she lets you hog the blankets every night.

It’s in the flowers you bring her in the spring from your gardening shifts, the trinkets she brings you from patrols, your hand in hers as you stargaze in the dead of winter.

Weeks stretch into months which eventually, somehow, inexplicably, stretch into years. Joel’s house turns into “our” house—the recently vacated one by the meadow with the obnoxiously blue kitchen cabinets. The empty rooms turn into something with meaning. The living room becomes a shrine to the stars, the old guest room a dedication to the stray black cat that had been left behind by some family passing, and, most predictably, the bedroom a shrine to you. Or her. Depends on the day.

Ellie is actually a very good cook, which is the only reason you two don’t starve. She spends her evenings in front of the stove, spatula in hand and frown etched firmly into her face as she surveys the pan in front of her.

You ooh and aah at everything she plates, whether it be a slice of buttered toast or some elaborate cut of steak.

But she doesn’t always cook. Sometimes, for old time’s sake, Joel invites you two over for dinner. Like he did tonight.

From where she sits next to you at the dining table, she leans down into your ear like she’s going to whisper something sweet. Instead: “Are you going to finish that?” She motions to the thick slice of bread sitting untouched on your plate.

You roll your eyes, stabbing your fork into it and dropping it on her plate.

She beams back at you, and you suppress a smile as you turn back to the conversation between Dina and Joel.

“...and I told Maria that if she was going to keep putting me on the shitty patrol routes with fucking Robert, she was going to have to be okay with some attitude from me afterwards,” Dina is saying, a fork animatedly hanging from her fingers. She looks better than ever, skin glowing and eyes bright. So do you, but that’s sort of a moot point—Ellie always thinks you look good.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Well, I can have a talk with Tommy and see if he can have a word with ‘er.”

There’s a nudge at Ellie’s hand, the one that’s resting on her thigh under the table. It’s your pinky finger, edging over to hook with hers.

She nudges you back, but rolls her eyes at you so you know that she thinks you’re being a sap.

From the dim candlelight of the kitchen, she can see the ghost of dirt from the garden under your nails. You keep them short and bare now, a far cry from the pearly oval-shaped ones of the past. For a while, you tried to track down all the nail files and clear polish in Jackson to keep them looking pretty, but after Maria started exclusively putting you on gardening and baking duty, you were lucky to go a day without them breaking.

Ellie isn’t complaining. The only job that requires you to not be doing hard work with your hands is patrol, and it’s tough to tell which one of you hates the idea more. You, because you’ll be worried sick about the prospect of getting killed; Ellie, because she’s worried even sicker every time you leave the bounds without her. Patrolling together isn’t so bad, but Ellie’s never forgotten the way you screamed after she pulled that arrow out all those years ago, and she’s vowed to never let it happen again.

“We should probably get going,” you say after Dina’s finished complaining about her Maria-flavored angst. “Both of us are on morning shifts.”

“Well, shit,” says Joel. “I was going to offer you some coffee before you went.”

The walk from Joel’s to yours is short, just down the lane. Coincidentally, the only empty house that’d been ready for you two to move into was the one that overlooks the meadow by the stables. Something about it still tastes like fate, even though it’s been a year and a half since Ellie moved in with you.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow morning,” you’re telling her as you both shed your jackets and boots in the foyer. “I don’t want to be a widow this young.”

“As long as you promise me the same. I don’t want to hear that you fell into the oven while baking bread or something.”

You cross your arms and glare at her, and there’s a little kick of affection in Ellie’s chest. “This isn’t a joke!”

“I know, I know.” She’s standing in front of you in an instant, hands cupping your face as she grins at you. “But I’m immune. I’m basically, like, invincible. You don’t need to worry about me. You, however…”

As the sun sets, you let her lead you to bed. When your shirt falls to the ground, there’s still a slight mark on your lower belly where the arrow had struck you all those years ago—a stamp of sorts, a reminder of a time much more complicated and arduous. Evidence that everything that happened really did, even though it feels like ever since you’ve shown up nothing in her life has fallen into the realm of probability anymore.

Like, really. Not even straight people get their soulmate virtually delivered to their doorstep. Ellie’s won two lotteries, and only one of them has anything to do with her immunity.

You two typically fall asleep right after, night accelerating into morning with the speed lent to it by exhaustion from a hard day’s work. But this night is different.

It’s special.

It’s about to be the same day you parted ways, back in the meadow up north so many years ago. The one where you screamed out for her as the scanner glowed red, where you had to be physically dragged into the helicopter. Somehow she knows she’ll dream of it again, like she does every year when this day rolls around.

You looked younger then, Ellie realizes as she looks down at you. You’re asleep and none the wiser, mouth slightly agape. There’s a few fine lines in the corner of your eyes now. An etched path where the skin of your cheeks meet when you smile. She can’t see them now, but she knows that there’s a gray hair or two somewhere on your head. You’d pointed it out to her in horror just a week or so ago, citing bad family genes that cause graying before 30.

But while you’re scandalized by the thought of going gray, Ellie is enthralled.

Riley will never get smile lines. Sam will always have the chubby cheeks of a child.

But you—you get to grow old. Somehow she’s known this in the back of her head for some time now, but seeing the physical evidence of it, proof that you’ve made it this long, soothes her tired soul in a way she didn’t know was possible.

So when she finally sleeps, she doesn’t dream of anything.

final a/n: and that's a wrap! after over a year of me stringing you guys along, i've finally completed exoplanet. this has been such a wild ride and a lot of stuff has happened since we last spoke. i'm excited to be back. thanks for reading <3

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine

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tortillamastersblog · 1 day ago

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Where Light Bends Wrong - Part 10 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: mentions of murder and blood

Summary: You’ve kept your secret buried and your power quiet, until Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore and turned your whole world upside down.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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Sneaking out was easier than anticipated because I didn’t actually have to sneak out. I simply asked Iris if I could take my break earlier because Weems was looking for me, and since she's the shift manager, she agreed.

Which is how I ended up where I am right now, half walking, half jogging through the forest with Thing perched on my shoulder, tapping directions to where he last saw Wednesday.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and through the branches of the trees above me, I can make out the way the clouds darken ominously. The air is also heavy with the smell of rain, and I curse myself inwardly for not grabbing an umbrella or at least taking a jacket with me since I’m only wearing that ugly tan polo shirt from the café.

Right here, Thing taps after a few minutes and I come to a stop amidst some dense trees. There’s no sign of Wednesday except some broken twigs on a bush, so I close my eyes and tune into her steady heartbeat. She’s not too far from here, so I reopen my eyes and make my way toward her with Thing still perched on my shoulder.

“Hey, man, I uh…I wanted to thank you for not telling Wednesday about the book,” I say, glancing at the appendage on my shoulder. “And I’m sorry for accusing you of taking it and throwing me under the bus.”

Thing shifts to tap on my collar bone. All good. It’s the least I could do after you saved Wednesday’s life. Twice.

I offer a thankful little smile and continue walking until I eventually brush a lowhanging branch aside, revealing the ruins of the old meeting house.

“There,” I mumble when I see the outline of Wednesday inside the ruin.

Thing taps a thank you on my shoulder before jumping off and scurrying through the leaves toward Wednesday.

I follow, although a little more cautious because I don’t know how Wednesday will react when she sees me.

“There you are,” she says when she sees the hand. “I was starting to think you’d been swallowed by the ground.”

Thing signs something which makes Wednesday's eyes snap up and land on me right as I step through the rotting wooden doors.

She tilts her head and just stares at me for a moment before stating, “For someone who claims they don’t want to be involved in stuff, you sure show up a lot when no one asks you to.”

“I know,” is all I say which seems to surprise her. She frowns and crosses her arms, about to make me elaborate, but then a twig snaps behind her and she spins around.

My eyes also dart to the homeless man who’s suddenly standing there, having appeared out of nowhere. His greasy blonde hair sticks to his forehead and the side of his face, and the wild, almost feral look in his eyes makes me realize he’s on drugs.

“What are you two doing here?” he snarls, taking a threatening step forward which makes me step up next to Wednesday just in case. “This is my place! Get out!”

He’s more desperate than angry, but if you ask me desperation is even more dangerous and I nudge Wednesday and say, “Come on, let’s go,” but she doesn’t budge.

She just crosses her arms and says, “Thing, a hand here?” which makes Thing scramble into action.

The man frowns at the sight of a severed hand crawling toward him, but doesn’t react until Thing is suddenly choking him.

“Oh my God.” I don’t know what to do or how to react, so I just watch with wide eyes as the man stumbles out of the meeting house, trying to pry Thing off his neck.

“Get off! Get off me!” he exclaims and only once they’re a good distance away does Thing release him.

The man limps off, horrified and groaning, and I turn to Wednesday with a raised eyebrow.

“Was that really necessary?” I ask which makes her narrow her eyes.

“Would you rather have him stab us with a hypodermic needle?” she shoots back and even though I’m invulnerable and nothing would have happened if he’d tried with me, I can’t say the same about her, so I just sigh and cross my arms.

Wednesday averts her eyes and starts looking around the place. Thing joining us a moment later, and together he and I watch Wednesday until I can’t stand the silence any more. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

She examines the old fireplace for a moment longer before turning around and saying, “I’m looking for clues. I–”” She bites the inside of her cheek–” I had a vision. During the Poe Cup when I touched Joseph Crackstone’s crypt. There was this girl and she said something about me being the key.”

I frown and watch as she takes off her backpack, pulling out a book which I recognize as one from the Nightshades’ library.

That must have been the one she was looking for…

She opens it to reveal the full drawing of the vision Rowan’s mother had. She’s taped the single page she had before back into the book, right next to the other half of the drawing, which now that I’m looking at it in full, is even more disturbing that just the one half she already showed me.

She’s not alone in the drawing. No, she’s facing off against a pilgrim with some kind of staff.

Crackstone.

I know it’s him. Everyone who lives in Jericho or goes to Nevermore knows who he is. After all, he’s basically the founder of this town.

The question is just, how is that possible?

Joseph Crackstone has been dead for almost four hundred years now…

Also, why would she be facing off against him? That doesn’t make any sense. Is the drawing even depicting a conflict, or is it something else entirely? I have absolutely no idea.

I bet that’s why she switched assignments with Enid, to find out more about him.

I tear my eyes away from the book and look back at Wednesday who’s watching me carefully for my reaction.

When she doesn’t see outright rejection in my face, she shuts the book again and slips it back into her bag, saying, “I saw a painting of the girl from my vision in the replica of the meeting house in Pilgrim World. She was right where we are now, so I’m trying to find some clues as to who she was and what she meant when she said I was the key.”

“You’re trying to trigger a vision,” I state the obvious which makes her nod.

“That was the plan, yes, but there’s nothing here,” she says, sounding a little frustrated which, even after everything that’s happened between us, makes me feel for her.

First we witness a literal murder that’s being actively covered up, and now she’s supposedly destined to destroy the school and it’s all linked to some long-dead pilgrim. Also, to make matters worse, she has to rely on her visions to get more information, and if I’ve learned anything during my time going through all kinds of books in the Nightshades’ library, it is that visions can be super inaccurate and misleading.

Thing taps, Can’t you just touch something? Which makes Wednesday shake her head as she takes off her backpack and sets it down on the ground.

“No, I can’t. My visions seem to happen spontaneously,” she says, walking around again and looking at the charred remains of the old meeting house.

Thing signs something that I don’t quite catch because I’m looking around as well now while keeping an ear out for anyone lurking close by, but we’re alone. However, what he signed must have struck a nerve with Wednesday because she glares at him and says, “I’d rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice.”

I smile a little and mumble, “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” which makes her scowl at me, so I quickly raise my hands in mock surrender and add, “Just kidding.”

Thing moves toward a beam on the ground and scratches at it suggestively, almost as if saying just try which makes Wednesday scoff.

“You want me to prove it to you?” she asks sarcastically before dramatically pressing her hand against the beam next to her.

Nothing happens, so she moves onto one of the more intact walls, repeating what she just did, only with both her hands now.

“Nothing,” she states the obvious with a deadpan expression.

Thing and I share a look as she keeps going around the ruin, touching things dramatically in an attempt to trigger a vision.

It’s honestly quite amusing because I didn’t think she could be this dramatic, especially when she pretends to have a vision when she picks up a Taco Bell bag a squatter must have left behind.

But then she moves onto what used to be the main door, and the second her hand grazes against it, she goes rigid and her head snaps back the way it did in the forest when she found Rowan’s glasses.

“Oh crap.” I dart forward and catch her before she can fall, but this time her body doesn’t stay rigid the way it did before. No, the second I touch her, she sags against me with her eyes closed, almost as if she just passed out. “Thing?” I ask, a little freaked out, but the hand just shrugs and taps, She’s fine. Give her a moment.

I look back at Wednesday’s relaxed face and frown when I see her eyes rapidly moving beneath her eyelids.

A minute passes, and then two, and I look at Thing again, who seems to get restless as well.

“How long do her visions usually last?” I ask, adjusting my grip on her.

Not that long. He signs. But she just started having them, so I don’t know what’s normal.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, and when another minute or so passes and I feel the first drops of rain on my forehead, I gently pick Wednesday up. Part of the meeting house's roof is still intact by the fireplace, so I carry her there before sinking onto the leaf covered ground and leaning back against the wall with her still in my arms. Her head lolls so I adjust her until it’s resting against my chest. It’s definitely better for her, and will be more comfortable when she wakes up, but her breath is now hitting the side of my neck, making my ears heat up involuntarily.

If she were awake right now, she’d surely push me away, maybe even chop off my arms because they’re wrapped around her middle, but she’s actually starting to shiver slightly and I don’t want her to get too cold. The rain gets heavier with every passing second, and soon thunder rumbles right overhead, but Wednesday is still not waking up.

Thing is on my knee, overlooking Wednesday and touching her wrist every now and then, also worried about the girl.

“I don’t like this,” I admit quietly when her lips turn a pale shade of blue. “What is happening?”

I don’t know, Thing signs, checking her pulse again.

I shiver as well since the café’s polo has short sleeves and the wind, which is turning chilly, blows a chunk of the rain in our direction. But then, almost as if on cue, my fingertips start tingling, and warmth spreads through my hands and up my forearms.

I frown and look down, only for my eyes to widen when I see a faint golden glow traveling up my arms through my veins.

Wednesday, still unconscious, lets out a shuddering breath right against my neck and sinks more against me, but unlike before, I’m too focused on my hands and arms to really notice.

What is this?!

Feeling Thing shift makes me flinch because for a split second I forgot he was here in the first place, but he is, and he’s seeing this, whatever this is.

“No, no, no.” My heart starts racing and I will my powers to retreat, but nothing happens. My veins just keep glowing steadily, pulsing softly in time with my ever increasing heartbeat.

I go to unwrap my arms from around Wednesday, to get away, but then Thing grabs onto my wrist and I freeze.

It’s okay, he taps as tears well up in my eyes.

“No, I can’t– You can’t—”

He tightens his grip. Stop. Don’t go. She needs you.

“But–” My powers, my secret, my entire life–

No buts. I know, he taps and my heart almost stops, but then he goes on. You’re an Ægiryn. One of the last of your kind.

“How do you–?”

How do I know?

I nod, my breathing shaky. He knows. He knows what I am.

He lets go of my wrist to sign, I was there the night Rowan was killed. I saw your eyes when you grabbed him.

“You were there?” I ask breathlessly even though he just said he was. Still, he taps a yes and I blink in confusion, processing.

“So you’ve known all this time?”

Yes.

I relax ever so slightly. “But you didn’t tell anyone?”

No.

“Why not?” I ask quietly. “I mean, Wednesday’s been curious about me all this time, and you’re her family, so why–?”

It wasn’t my secret to tell, he cuts me off before tapping my knee reassuringly.

I frown, not exactly convinced yet, but then again, if he had told Wednesday, she wouldn’t have thrown that knife at me, or tested my reflexes. Also, why would he lie now when he kept his mouth �� or should I say fingers– shut about me in the library.

“I… Thank you,” I breathe a moment later, blinking my tears back.

He obviously knows what’s at stake for me as Ægiryn, and I’m more than thankful that he’s not going to spill my secret.

He curtsies in acknowledgement, and I let out a shuddering breath. My heart is still racing, but I’m feeling lighter than before.

I look down to see Wednesday’s eyes are still closed, and only when I get a whiff of her smell do I realize how close we actually are.

Yes, I felt her breath on my neck right before my powers decided to make an appearance, but I’m actually realizing what position we are in right now, and even though it should be freaking me out because I know we’d never be like this if she was awake, I can’t ignore the way warmth, similar to the one in my veins, spreads through my chest.

It’s almost like the pendant is still around my neck, radiating said warmth, but I know it’s not, which makes me wonder if my pendant was actually acting up all this time, or if it was just reacting to something that was happening inside me.

I swallow dryly, and push away the thought of a certain bond again, and instead focus on my arms.

I’ve never actually seen my powers do what they’re doing right now, so it’s actually very fascinating to watch.

Thing, who senses I’m once again calm, watches too as the rain pelts down around us. That is until he taps, Look, and points at my hand.

I let my eyes drift down my arm and feel my breath hitch slightly when they land on what he’s pointing at.

The veins in Wednesday’s pinky finger, which is the only part of her hand that is touching mine, are also pulsing a faint shade of gold.

I shift my hand away and watch as her veins return back to normal before hesitantly brushing my fingers over the back of her hand. The veins there light up gently before fading again and I throw Thing a questioning look.

Just then, I hear a twig snap over the sound of the rain though, making me freeze and try to pick up on any more sounds.

It stays quiet, but I sense that we’re not alone, so with a growing sense of urgency, I uncurl my arms from around Wednesday and shift her off me. Chills immediately shoot up my spine from her lack of warmth, but I stand up anyway after making sure she’s comfortable against the wall.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Thing, but he just twists in answer, almost like a person would when shaking their head.

I notice my veins are still glowing, even though it’s by far less noticeable than when I held Wednesday. I don’t dwell on it though, and focus on that feeling of something or someone nearby instead. I can’t pick up on any more sounds over the rain and Wednesday’s heartbeat though.

And then, speaking of the devil, she wakes up with a gasp, which once again redirects my attention entirely. I turn around to find her wide eyed and for a moment she looks at her hand, the one I was touching just a moment ago, before turning to Thing.

“I saw her!” she exclaims. “The girl from my visions.” She looks at me and slowly gets to her feet. I step closer when she wobbles a bit, ready to lend her a hand, but in the end she manages without me.

By now, my arms have returned back to normal, but I can still feel some of the warmth in my veins and in my chest.

“Her name is Goody Addams,” Wednesday goes on, her eyebrows furrowed, “and I believe she’s my ancestor from 400 years ago.”

“What does she want? Did she say anything?” I ask, shivering again when a particularly strong burst of wind whips a bunch of rain our way.

Wednesday goes to answer, but then a twig snaps somewhere close by again, loud enough for even her and Thing to hear this time.

“We should go,” I mumble, unease creeping up my spine. But Wednesday being Wednesday brushes me off and steps into the rain, completely unfazed that she’s soaked instantly, and looks through a gap in the rundown wall.

I hear a frantic heartbeat moments before an animalistic snarl cuts through the sound of rain, and then Wednesday stumbles back from the wall where I can make out the eye of the monster that killed Rowan.

“Shit. Run!” I grab her bag and Thing, darting into the rain and grabbing her sleeve and pulling.

It snaps her out of her stupor and I shove her in front of me, toward one of the old side doors that hangs off its hinges.

She pushes through first, and I follow, hyper aware of the monster on the other side of the old meeting house. It doesn’t seem to want to follow us, because it hasn’t made a move yet, but it’s still scaring the shit out of me. So much so that I don’t pay enough attention when I push through the door myself.

My hand gets caught on a rusty nail that’s sticking out of one of the wooden slats, making me hiss in pain and curse under my breath.

There’s no time to lose though, so I dart after Wednesday with her bag hanging off one shoulder and Thing clinging to the other.

Thunder rumbles above, and after a couple yards, I’m completely drenched as well, but I keep running after Wednesday, making sure to look behind us every now and then for a trace of the monster, but it’s seemingly vanished into thin air.

We run until we get to a muddy path in a clearing. There’s no sign of the monster anywhere, so deeming it safe, Wednesday stops and turns, her eyes searching the edge of the forest behind me before they land on me again.

“You okay?” I ask, panting, not from the exercise but from the adrenaline.

“I’m fine,” she says, quieter than usual.

It’s in that moment, with her looking like a wet dog, dark hair clinging to her pale forehead and drops of water caught in her lashes, that I realize how human she actually is at the end of the day. She hides it behind all her snark and attitude and cold shoulders, but she’s just like everyone else, and it’s in this moment that I also realize one thing I never thought possible, which is the fact that she’s scared.

Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s scared. Not necessarily because by some miracle we just managed to escape that monster, but because she has no idea what that drawing she saw means for her future. She doesn’t want the school to be destroyed, or for innocents to get hurt, and most of all, she doesn’t want to be the cause of it.

Wednesday Addams might be a lot of things. Cunning, ambitious, morbid, and yes, sometimes a little tactless, but she’s not a killer, or some kind of fanatic who would watch the world burn for their ideals.

“Are you?” she asks, stepping closer with furrowed eyebrows.

“Hmm?” I blink, not sure I heard her right.

“Are you okay?” she asks, with a tiny hint of exasperation in her voice, but it’s not as sharp as usual.

“I– Yeah…” I’m a little surprised she’d even ask, but then again, a lot of unexpected things have happened today and this one doesn’t take the cake.

She eyes me for a moment longer, her dark eyes seemingly looking through me, and for a moment I think the grip she has on her emotions is slipping because I feel something warm radiating off her that didn’t used to be there.

It’s gone in an instant though when Thing signs something on my shoulder and Wednesday’s eyes drop to my hand.

“You’re…bleeding,” she states, which makes me frown.

“What?” I lift my hand and gape at the sight of a trail of blood slowly but steadily dripping down my fingers from a deep cut on the back of my hand.

The nail…

“I…” I trail off, watching how the rain mixes with the blood, washing it away enough to reveal how the cut is already healing.

It’s unnaturally fast, and within moments, it’s completely closed, leaving behind a pink scar that’s also fading fast with every heartbeat.

I have no idea what is going on with me, but suddenly the last little shred of security I had left vanishes like sand running through fingers.

I’m not invulnerable any more. Or am I? Without thinking I crouch down, almost making Thing fall off my shoulder, and pick up a jagged looking rock.

“What are you–?” Wednesday’s eyes widen and she reaches forward almost as if to stop me when I drag the sharp edge of the rock over my forearm, but then she drops her hand again when she sees the motion didn’t even so much as leave a scratch.

I try again, but nothing happens, so I drop the rock and flex my hand, seeing that even the scar the nail left behind is now gone.

How is that possible? One moment I’m bleeding, and the next not even a literal cannonball could kill me.

I look up to maybe get some answers from Wednesday, but she’s staring at the ground where I dropped the rock.

I follow her line of sight and mumble, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” when I see what she’s seeing.

The monster left paw prints in the mud, which means it must have come this way, but what’s worse is that when you follow the trail with your eyes, even through the rain, you can see how they shift from paw prints to footprints. Human footprints. Which means–

“The monster’s human.”

I meet Wednesday’s gaze, momentarily forgetting all about my temporary vulnerability.

“You know what that means, right?” she asks and I nod solemnly.

We’re no longer dealing with just a monster. We’re dealing with an outcast. Someone hiding in plain sight.

She needs you.

You’re an Ægiryn.

Her name is Goody Addams.

You’re bleeding.

The monster’s human.

I tighten my arms around my legs, and continue running my thumb over the pendant in my hand while staring out of the window at the dark courtyard and the forest beyond the school grounds.

Shortly after Wednesday and I discovered that the monster is an outcast, we ran into Xavier who claimed he’d been looking for Wednesday since he was worried about her being in the forest alone during the storm. He had no clue I’d gone after her too, which, of course, he didn’t hesitate to voice.

I just ignored him though, too preoccupied with what happened before he showed up. I did hear him confirm the fact that Rowan is dead though and that someone was impersonating him via a text he apparently got from Rowan about a snowboarding trip, but other than that, like I said, I didn’t pay him much attention.

I kept catching Wednesday looking at me with a little frown, but she didn’t say anything neither about her vision, nor about my bleeding. We just collectively trudged back to school in silence while the storm cleared up and the rain stopped.

We were all soaked when we got to Nevermore and Wednesday and Xavier both changed before making their way back to Jericho for the statue unveiling, while I texted Weems and asked if I could cut my assignment short, claiming I was overwhelmed by all the people.

She agreed like I thought she would, since I didn’t mention anything about my excursion into the woods with Wednesday, which is how I ended up where I am right now, perched on my window seat.

I took a shower earlier to warm up, briefly hearing a commotion in Jericho which I’m guessing had something to do with the statue unveiling, but ever since that and grabbing the pendant from the wooden box under my bed, I haven’t moved.

I know I must have been sitting here for hours now, but the memories and events of the day have rendered me paralyzed.

Not only does Thing know what I am, he didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Wednesday. And what was it that he tapped when I panicked and wanted to let go of her? She needs you?

Wednesday Addams doesn't need anyone, much less me of all people. I’ve been trying to avoid her like the plague ever since she threw her knife at me that one time, but now it feels like things have changed between us.

Not only was she as surprised as I was about my getting physically hurt, but she didn’t ask about it either. For once, she didn’t let her curiosity get the better of her, and I have no idea why.

I’ve also come to the inevitable conclusion that no matter what I do, no matter if I stay away from her and keep my secret, or if she somehow finds out about what I am after all, she’s in danger and that thought makes my chest constrict.

Not because we’re friends, because frankly we’re anything but that, but because even though this is Wednesday we’re talking about, I can’t in good conscience just stand by and watch her get hurt. It’s just like how I couldn’t stand by and watch her get crushed by that gargoyle on her first day.

I’m in this whole murder-mystery mess as much as she is. And I know with my powers and my seemingly once again restored invulnerability, I’ll be able to make sure she doesn’t get hurt trying to find the answers to all her questions.

That is if she even still wants my help, since every time she’s indirectly asked for it until now, I turned her down.

And then there’s this whole thing about the book being gone…

My door flying open makes me flinch and drop my necklace, and I’m quick to get up and pick it up again, balling it up in my fist before looking at whoever just barged in.

To no one's surprise, it’s Enid. And she looks like she’s been crying.

“I can’t believe I actually believed him,” she says, wiping her cheeks while pacing in front of my bed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid me.”

I’m betting this has something to do with Ajax because who else could she be referring to, but the moment she burst into my room, her emotions hit me like a tidal wave, and I’m already drowning in my own thoughts.

“I really thought he’d show up. I mean, he was dropping all these hints and–”

“Enid!”

She shuts up immediately and stares at me wide-eyed. I’ve never snapped at her. Not like this. But my hands are literally trembling with emotion, hers and my own.

I can’t do this.

The monster, the murder, the book…

I exhale shakily and close my eyes, backing up until my legs hit the window seat. I sink down on it and bury my face in my hands, feeling the pendant press against my cheek since I’m still holding onto it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling guilty for snapping at her. I fight back the burning feeling of tears in the back of my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No.” I hear Enid sniffle and then she’s sitting next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “I shouldn’t have burst in here like that. Are you… are you okay?”

My heart aches at the worry in her voice, her own problems seemingly forgotten for the time being.

I want to say I’m fine, apologize again for snapping at her, but for the first time in a long time, I just can’t because I’m not fine, so I shake my head.

“No, I’m not, Enid,” I admit, and the weight of that confession is what finally makes the first tear roll down my face when I lower my hands and open my eyes.

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Hiya! Just wanted to pop in and thank everyone for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging. Your engagement means the world to me and keeps me motivated <3

Anyway, hope you guys liked this part. Also if there are any typos, I’m sorry. I sometimes don’t catch them all when I proofread.

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308 @trashcannotbealive @gloriousvariant

#x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday netflix

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guiltyandashamed · 1 day ago

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hiii!!! could you do brothers + side characetrs with an mc who is famous on devilgram? like ever since they came to RAD they became super popular online :D thanx!!!!

headcannons: devilgram-famous MC (brothers + side characters)

From the moment you arrived in the Devildom, Devilgram became your outlet. You posted everything, your outfits, your food, funny observations about Devildom life.Your page quickly gained traction. Now you have brand deals, fans, and even the occasional paparazzi moment at RAD.

Lucifer

At first, he brushes it off. "If it doesn't interfere with your academic performance, I have no reason to be concerned."

Then he sees how successful you are—Sponsors reaching out for promotion or looking to get into business with you. He makes sure you aren't getting exploited, are promoting the right people, and maintain a respectable image.

It's helped you elevate yourself professionally, and he respects your hard work ethic when it comes to taking your position seriously.

Slightly more possessive in public when you're approached by admirers. A gentle hand on your back. A subtle glare that makes fans back off without realizing why.

Mammon

Loudly and immediately obsessed.

Starts posting with you constantly. Tries to leverage your fame for duo sponsorship deals “Get rich together, ya know?”

Deep down, he’s insanely proud. Shows your posts to his modeling friends like, “See that? That’s my human.”

But also gets jealous when fans get too flirty in the comments. Starts hearting every comment that mentions your relationship, even if you’re not officially dating.

Obsessed with fan edits of you. Tries to hide that he watches them, but you can see it in the reflection of his sunglasses.

Leviathan

Has an existential crisis. “You’re more popular than I am on Devilgram… you’re living the normie dream…”

Starts watching your follower count rise like it’s a real-time leaderboard. Gets nervous when you surpass his favorite stars.

Softens up when you post a photo of you two gaming together, calling him your “best coach.” You even tag him. He stares at it for hours.

Gets extra shy when fans recognize him in your videos.

Feels somewhat jealous that tons of people admire you, besides him. You comfort him, “All they see is a person on a screen. You get to see the real me,” which makes him smile and nestle a little closer.

Satan

At first: indifferent. “Social media isn’t exactly my scene.”

But once he realizes how cleverly you use your platform, highlighting Devildom culture, normalizing interrealm relations, he’s genuinely impressed.

“You’ve created a kind of social bridge. I respect that."

Gets incredibly flustered when you post a 3-second video of yourself with a cat. The public seems to go crazy over it, he does too.

Gets very defensive if anyone posts rude comments. He’ll never say it out loud, but you once caught him trying to trace a troll’s IP.

Has a folder on his D.D.D. titled “Their Best Posts.” You pretend not to see it.

Asmodeus

He's thrilled. “You’re famous? Oh, we simply must collaborate!”

Loves being seen with you, you're both beautiful, you both have fans, and you both know how to pose for the camera.

He understands attention better than anyone else, and he knows how intoxicating and isolating it can be.

Offers to help you with skincare routines, posing tips, PR strategy, partly because he wants to help, partly to stay close.

He also gets more clingy in private. “They all want you, darling... but you’re mine tonight, right?”

Beelzebub

He doesn’t really understand the whole Devilgram fame thing, but he gets that it makes you happy. That’s all that matters to him.

At RAD, when fans swarm you, he calmly stands between you and the crowd, not to block them entirely, just to make sure you’re safe and not overwhelmed.

He especially likes your food posts. Thinks it's cool that other people like to see food too.

You’re never just a screen persona to him. You’re someone who laughs with him at breakfast, helps him find rare protein bars, and brings him quiet peace in a world full of noise.

“I don’t care how many followers you have. You’re already important.”

Belphegor

Acts like he doesn’t care. “Tch. So what if you’re popular now? That doesn’t mean anything.”

But he watches from the sidelines more than you think. Lurking in the tags. Scrolling when he can’t sleep.

The moment you start getting approached at RAD, his mood dips. He doesn’t like strangers looking at you like they know you.

Despite the sharpness, there's a vulnerability underneath. He’s afraid of being left behind, forgotten in the blur of lights and fans.

He won’t admit it out loud, but he clings harder when you’re alone together. “Don’t let them take you away from here. From me.”

Diavolo

He thinks it’s fantastic. The Devildom needs more human-devil cultural exchange, and you’re a living ambassador.

His support is big-picture. He encourages you to use your platform wisely and offers official RAD sponsorships or protections if needed.

However, when he sees how people crowd around you or speak to you overly familiar, there's a flicker of protectiveness.

“You're doing wonderfully, but remember, you're not obligated to be available to everyone.”

Occasionally invites you for PR events or asks if you’d like to co-host a Devildom-wide livestream. Always gives you the option to say no.

Barbatos

He’s largely neutral outwardly, but very aware behind the scenes. He monitors your online activity and fan interactions like a hawk, purely to assess threats.

Subtly reroutes suspicious or overzealous fans before they get close. You may never know how often he's intervened.

He offers you quiet reminders: “It’s wise to schedule rest periods. Even stardom mustn’t replace self-care.”

Helps you manage time between your obligations and online work. If you have a shoot or sponsorship, he’s already rearranged your RAD schedule to accommodate it.

He doesn't compliment often, but when he does, it’s precise: “You handled that interview well. Controlled, charming, and sincere. Admirable.”

Solomon

Oh, he thinks it's hilarious, and impressive. “Guess I’m not the only famous human in the Devildom anymore.”

Loves to tease you: “Should I start calling you 'Your Influencer Highness'?”

But he also offers practical help. He’s seen what fame can do to people, and he quietly checks in if your confidence falters.

“Fame’s a fun illusion. Just don’t forget who you are when the lights are off.”

When fans push too far, he’s not above sending them a politely cursed message.

Simeon

Supportive in a very grounding way. “Your success is lovely to see, but more lovely is the kindness you still show.”

Watches your rise with a gentle fondness, like a proud mentor or older brother.

Offers advice if you ever feel overwhelmed by the attention.

Helps you sort through fan mail, especially when it becomes too much. Keeps you emotionally anchored.

He makes sure you still have private, sacred spaces where you can just be yourself, with no cameras.

Mephistopheles

Incredibly bitter that you're more popular than the RAD newspaper he runs. “So you take selfies and suddenly you’re Devildom royalty?”

Has tried (unsuccessfully) to get you to guest-write an article for the paper to boost his own traction.

Occasionally shows up in your tagged posts looking way too smug.

While he pretends it’s all business, he gets quietly flustered when fans ship you two.

Thirteen

She's amused by the whole thing. “You? A Devilgram star? Never thought I’d see the day.”

She makes fun of you constantly for being famous, but secretly watches every story.

Teases you like: “Careful, don’t trip over your fanbase on your way to class.”

If you ever feel down because of rude comments or pressure, she’s the first to call it out.

“Want me to rig their phone with exploding hexes? No? Just say the word."

Doesn’t treat you differently and likes that you are still you, despite the fame.

Raphael

Skeptical at first. “Why do so many people need to see what you ate for breakfast?”

Doesn’t understand the appeal of social media, but respects that it makes you happy.

Has to learn to be okay with the attention you get, he's the type to walk just a little closer when fans crowd you, not possessive, just… present.

If you ever express that you're tired of the pressure, he listens seriously and offers calm advice.

“Then take a step back. You’re not obligated to be seen constantly to be real.”

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dreamweave01 · 5 hours ago

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I need Raph being insecure about his Krang half and doubting Kendra’s love for him because of it. (”how could she love a monster like me? I dont deserve her…”)

I need Raph accidentally harming Kendra when he has a panic attack or something.

I need Raph being afraid and certain that Kendra os gonna be scared of him because of it; hate him, be mad at him, cut ties with him. (Donnie is ready to attack Kendra if she breaks Raph’s heart.)

But Kendra isn't mad. She's only worried (and a bit shaken).

Im a sucker for angst 😭

(no pressure, Do whatever you want; this is your au and I have no say in it)

- Paranormal Anon

And this is why the turtles have to be careful what they watch for movie night. Dang those triggers.

I'm completely unashamed to admit that I just spent several hours working on this instead of working on anything else I was supposed to. Who woulda thought Kendrael angst would hold me in a death-grip?

I think timeline-wise this would happen some time after the next arc. I like how I tell myself I'll stop jumping ahead of where I'm at in the story, and then ideas like this get thrown at me from out of the blue and suddenly I'm incapable of thinking about anything else /pos

Aaand now it's time for rambles ->

What I really liked about this thought was that it allows me to show a side of Raph that he absolutely hates about himself.

Everyone has this side to them that they bury deep inside, never to see the light of day, and for big Red over here, it's his natural tendency to lean towards 'fight' in a fight-or-flight response.

Really, it has nothing to do with the Kraang and everything to do with the ninja training as a kid. He and his brothers were born with the intent to be soldiers, and while yes, Splinter did everything in his power to give them a wonderful childhood - and did a darn good job too might I add - learning how to defend yourself led the turtles to trust their abilities to fight.

Now you could say, "But DW, what about in the movie when Raph told them to retreat blah blah blah-" That was a specific situation that called for specific actions. If there had been any chance they could've won that fight and if Splinter hadn't been injured, I'm willing to bet Raphael wouldn't have called for a retreat.

My point is, these boys are fighters. They take on a problem head-on, and unfortunately, that natural tendency is center stage of Raph's trauma.

The Kraang turned him into a soldier, their personal pet that didn't hesitate to follow orders.

None of it was Raph's doing, none of it was even close to being his fault, but the thing that terrifies him the most is that he'll lose control and hurt the people he loves. Again.

That 'again' makes it even worse, because he knows he's capable of it. He knows he could kill them because he has before, there's no doubt about it in his mind. Yes, he's the sweetest most gentlest giant in the world, but that doesn't take away the fact that he's a mountain of battle-trained muscle and has the power of a freight train, if not more. So he does everything he can to keep that fighter inside of him under wraps at all times, refuses to even risk letting that side of him see a glimmer of the light of day.

But he's not perfect, and there are moments like the one above where he's so heavily triggered into that fight-or-flight response, he goes into a tunnel-vision and doesn't even realize what he's doing because at this point, it's instinctual for him to defend himself. It always has been.

And when he snaps out of it, that's when the fear takes him, that overwhelming guilt that feels like it'll swallow him up whole.

And poor Kendra! She knows that Raph and his brothers have been through a lot - Mikey's mentioned things here and there to the rest of the friend group - but seeing in person just how hard it was? Exactly what Raph's experiences have done to him?

It's really hard to see someone you love and care so deeply about going through something so unbelievably horrible.

But she knows a thing or two about guilt, the fear of hurting people again, and you better believe she's going to do everything in her power to show Raph that nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could ever push her away from him.

She will always love him, no matter what he looks like, what he's been through, what he does.

Guys, this is why I love them, agh, they're so precious-

#rottmnt #rottmnt separated au #rottmnt au #woven ties au #rottmnt wt!au #rottmnt raph #rise raph #wt!raph #rottmnt kendra #rise kendra #wt!kendra #rottmnt kendrael #rise kendrael #wt!kendrael

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thedyingliiight · 1 day ago

Text

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙍𝙏𝙑...

slight NSFW, arguments and fluff mentions!

(@headdinthewall) — REQUESTS ARE OPEN

IN THE RELATIONSHIP…

- he is your walking and talking fact teller, he’ll tell you the most irrelevant things even before you both go to sleep.

‘did you know that a black hole the size of a grape could swallow the WHOLE milkyway?’

‘no i didn’t, but that’s kind of crazy.’

‘right?!’

‘arthur, babe, go to sleep.’

- when you first met arthur he was very quiet but once you got comfortable with one another, he never shuts up.

- museum dates are a must.

- regarding PDA he's relatively awkward in front of other people, the most he'll do is a hand on your lower back.

- behind closed doors he's all over you, following you around just to wrap his arms around your waist and place his head on your shoulder.

- when he's drunk, he's very bold, he'd definitely try and kiss you in front of everyone.

‘ugh. i just wanna kiss you, y/n/n.’

‘you already have, a million times.’

‘oh. i love you.’

‘i love you too, arthur.’

- to which, the boys would not shut up about and would wind him up about it for months on end.

- he is the best at making you laugh, you could be having the worst day ever and he could say anything remotely stupid and you're creasing.

- his sleeper build sends you crazy, like a rabid animal (same babe same).

‘y/n you’re dribbling.’

‘sorry.’

‘no you aren’t.’

‘no you’re right, why does he look so fucking good?’

- he's the biggest softie ever, he wouldn't hurt a fly.

- HOWEVER, if he's slightly tipsy and sees you talking to another guy, the looks he gives are deadly, and the grip he has on you is also deadly.

‘jeez, mate, if looks could kill you would’ve killed that guy by now.’

‘yeah, well, he’s flirting with y/n, chris.’

- in general, he trusts you enough to know any other guy is not a threat but if they are purposefully hitting on you, he can't help but let them know you're 'his'.

- he's your carer when you're on your period.

- he would happily go to the shops at midnight if it meant you were as comfortable as possible.

- he's an empath for sure.

- he's very big spoon coded in my eyes, but he could never say no to resting his head on your chest.

- he's amazing with kids, specifically your siblings (if you have any).

- when you're both settling down for bed, he'll go into random rambles about different thoughts: most of the time it's random things about dinosaurs or science.

- he always refers to you in the conversation when anybody asks him about weddings or kids in the future.

‘when i get married, i want y/n to-‘

‘oh so you’re gonna marry me now?’

‘well obviously.’

IN ARGUMENTS…

- he listens, and doesn't judge. (sometimes)

- he doesn't raise his voice at all.

- he's always very calm which contrasts to you and your crashouts.

‘you never fucking listen to me! it’s driving me crazy.’

‘y/n, chill. i am listening, i promise.’

- you find his tone more intimidating when he speaks normally, rather than stern or frustrated.

- he always always apologises, even when you know you should be apologising.

‘i’m sorry.’

‘don’t be, i was the one that started shouting for no reason.’

‘yeah but sti-’

‘no. arthur. i am sorry.’

- will go to arms length to make it up to you.

- his communication skills are on top so he always expresses how he feels without any problem in arguments.

- he will never let you go to bed until he is sure he is fully forgiven.

NSFW!!…

- he's very gentle.

- he's in control but only if you say so.

- he enjoys you being on top but is always too shy to admit it.

- when he's drunk that's usually when he becomes very very dirty.

‘sit on my face.’

‘jee- what?’

‘i said what i said.’

- usually quite quiet, but when you are on top, he is as loud as anything.

- will constantly ask if you're okay.

‘is this okay?’

‘you’re doing great. i’m gonna take this off now, is that okay?’

‘are you alright?’

#arthurtv #arthurtvxreader #arthur frederick #headcannons #ifyouweredating #arthurtvheadcannons #arthurhill #georgeclarkey #jamesmarriott #willne #chrismd #italianbach #sidemen

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nataliasquote · 8 hours ago

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Honesty pt.8 | n romanoff

don’t pretend to know me

honesty masterlist

summary: college parties, college boys, and one very angry Natasha

warnings: mentions of a fight, injuries

pairings: enemies… (natasha romanoff x o!c), best friend yelena

wc: 3.7k

note: okay… so the next chapter is 9.2k words long… so this one is a little shorter as I couldn’t split it easily :)

-⧗-

How she ended up here, Kaia had no idea. A senior house party wasn't on her agenda during the first month of college, but she wasn't about to turn it down. Hovering tightly beside Yelena, she followed the crowd of people into the house which already had music and lights blaring as they entered.

She didn't consider herself to be dressed in proper 'house party attire', with her hoodie and dancewear, but everyone else was either in sports uniform or covered in mud, so it didn't really matter. This party was very much an impromptu gathering.

Yelena and Wanda took the whole thing in their stride, chatting to a couple of football players about tactics and other things Kaia had no interest in. She smiled occasionally and tried to follow the conversation but her attention inevitably wandered elsewhere.

Her sudden shift in attention was a rookie error, and Yelena and Wanda had disappeared by the time she regained her focus. Now she was stranded.

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a familiar face or an exit that she could escape from. But all she came across was a couch that had been pushed against a wall, so she made a beeline for it, trying not to walk into any of the human walls that were the football players.

Kaia pressed herself into the corner of the couch as much as she could, wishing she was as small as possible. Parties were something she needed to mentally prepare for before she could fully immerse herself, and a football/ soccer social night meant she was completely out of her comfort zone.

Her phone buzzed.

20% battery remaining.

She cursed to herself. There went her only form of distraction for the night. Yelena was officially nowhere to be seen, leaving Kaia torn. One part of her was happy for her best friend, taking it all in her stride. But another part wished she wasn't so extroverted so they could just go home. Kaia didn't want to leave without her.

Bodied brushed against her kneecaps as she crossed her legs over each other but no one took much notice of her. Until a tall figure stopped beside her, their black T-shirt the only thing in Kaia's eyeline.

"Is this seat taken?" A low voice spoke, and Kaia couldn't ignore him. She looked up and caught his gaze, shaking her head.

"No, it's ok, you can have it. I was just gonna leave-"

He let out a gruff laugh and sank down onto the couch. "You can stay, it's alright."

Kaia froze midway in her efforts to stand before sinking back down against the fabric, suddenly very interested in the ring on her index finger.

"Not your scene, huh?"

Kaia froze. Was he actually talking to her? "Hm?"

"I said not your scene?"

"Oh," Kaia grimaced, embarrassed that he had to repeat himself. "Yeah, I'm not much of a soccer or football girl."

"What kind of girl are you then?"

She finally looked over at him, meeting his gaze before scanning his face quickly. He seemed friendly, his smile warm and inviting. Didn't look like the kind of guy looking for anything sinister.

"I'm dancer," she replied, waiting for a comment that usually followed a statement like that.

"That's cool. I'm Steve, by the way."

"I-" she stopped herself before she could say 'I know'. "I'm Kaia. Kaiiarina, but everyone calls me Kaia."

Steve smiled and Kaia swore his blue eyes lit up even more. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thanks," she smiled. Several people walked past with cups in their hands and Steve couldn't help but notice her gaze as she watched them.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Kaia shook her head and then paused. "Fuck it, yes please."

Steve stood up, holding his hand out for Kaia to take, which she did. They both wandered over to the kitchen and he poured their drinks, just simple vodka and coke for Kaia whilst he took a beer.

"So what brings a dancer to a football party? You dating one of my guys?"

Kaia couldn't help but laugh as she looked down at her cup. "Oh no, I'm very much single. But my best friend is on the soccer team, so we came from the field."

Steve looked over her body, leaning back against the countertop. The way she was stood emphasised the lean muscles in her legs, shorts leaving endless tanned skin on show. But Steve's head wasn't the only one she'd turned walking into the party.

"Who's your friend?"

"Ye-" Kaia didn't even get a chance to speak before the blonde in question waltzed into the kitchen, yelling something over her shoulder with a beer bottle clutched in her hand.

"Hey sexy," she called out, crossing the cold floor and sliding an arm around Kaia's waist. "Chatting up the juniors already?"

Kaia rolled her eyes. "We're just talking Lena. But this is Steve-"

"I know who you are. You dated my sister before she dumped your ass."

Steve's eyes went wide, quickly flicking over to Kaia who was busy staring into the brown depths of her drink. "You- you're Natasha's sister?"

"The one and only." Yelena grabbed a new bottle and pulled the cap off with her teeth, spitting it into the sink. "And you're the one flirting with my girl?"

Kaia thumped her in the chest, hard. "Yelena-"

"Kaia told me she was single..." Steve trailed off, looking awfully confused. The poor guy didn't understand Yelena's jokes, not many people did.

"I am, she's just being weird." Kaia tried to ignore how tight Yelena's grip was on her waist. It was clear what she thought of Steve.

Steve nodded, not fully convinced. But Kaia's breathy laugh caught his attention and he admired her softly, taking in her features.

"You up for a round of beer pong?" Yelena asked, nodding over to the blonde guy who was slightly fixated on Kaia. "I need the satisfaction of beating you to boost my ego."

"Your ego is already suffocatingly large, Lena," Kaia mumbled around before sipping her drink with a smirk. Yelena would have slapped her but she knew it was true. There really was nothing that could pop the bubble of her ego.

"Careful Yelena, beer pong happens to be one of my many talents," Steve quipped, wiping his hands, damp from the bottle's condensation, onto his jeans. "I've had more practice than you too."

"Oh we will see about that, jackass."

There was already a rather large crowd forming around the designated beer pong tables and Yelena and Steve slotted themselves in at either end, joining the pre-formed teams.

Kaia hung back behind Yelena, watching as she rolled her shoulders and aimed the ball as precisely as she could. But it only bounced off the rim and onto the floor, eliciting a disappointed cheer from the gathered crowd.

Steve's throw was more precise, landing directly into the cup and making Yelena scowl. She muttered a curse in Russian before downing the drink, pulling a face at the taste.

"That is not beer!" She whined, peering into her cup. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. Kaia laughed to herself and quickly filmed Yelena's reaction, saving it to her memories.

A couple more rounds passed, Yelena's team now in the lead. The blonde had become more competitive, sleeves rolled up to the tops of her biceps and she flexed them as another ball landed in the cup. Such a poser, Kaia thought to herself.

In her relaxed state, she was suddenly taken by surprise as a hand snaked its way around the her wrist and tugged her away. She barely had time to make a sound before she found her body pressed against a wall and a familiar face glaring back at her.

"What were you doing talking to Steve earlier?" Natasha hissed, green eyes dark as she stared at Kaia menacingly. The younger girl gulped, snatching her wrist away.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Come on Lenkova, you know better than to lie." Her voice was dangerously airy and Kaia felt her mouth go dry. "What were you doing with him?"

"We barely talked Natasha. He just came to sit on the couch with me and offered me a drink." She looked down at her now empty cup, Natasha's eyes following. "I wouldn't cross you like that."

The redhead sniffed and stepped backwards, as if she'd only just realised how close their bodies were. With Kaia pushed up against the wall and their torsos almost touching, it was far too close.

"I better not see you around him again," she warned. "I mean it. He's off limits." She turned to leave but Kaia spoke up.

"Just because you're the dance captain doesn't mean you get to dictate my life. What I do outside of your rehearsal hours is none of your business." Kaia's voice was raised with an unnatural bout of confidence that surged from the sore spot that Natasha had hit. The redhead froze in her spot, not quite believing what she was hearing.

But she didn't fully turn around. Her head turned to the side as she spoke, a more threatening display of power that made Kaia wish she hadn't open her mouth.

"I know this is all a game to you, Kaiiarina, but some of us actually have to put in the work." Natasha slowly turned around, hands placed firmly on her hips. The chatter around them had died down as queen bee Romanoff had made her presence known. "So yes, I do get to tell you what you can and can't do if it will have an effect on my team." A few steps closer and Natasha was now almost within touching distance. "Some of us actually have to struggle a bit first, but I don't suppose you'd know about that. Not all of us can rely on a pretty face and daddy's money to get us by in life."

Kaia saw red. Natasha of all people knew about Kaia's home life and how rocky it was. She hit a low blow and by the smirk on her face, she knew it too. The brunette's hands began to shake and she dropped her cup, pushing her way through the crowd but not before smacking her shoulder against Natasha as she passed. Yelena yelled after her best friend but Kaia was too blinded by anger to even register her words.

She disappeared out of the side gate, missing Natasha slide over to Maria who watched the whole display fall apart.

"Didn't even have anything to say to prove me wrong," she said smugly, looking at her best friend. But Maria didn't share the same victorious expression. Her eyes were still locked on the gate, lip pulled between her teeth as she processed what had just happened. Natasha was stubborn, but had this little display just cost them one of their best dancers? She seriously hoped not.

As Maria debated rushing after Kaia, Natasha had her own issues to deal with. But this time they were in the form of a seriously angry, blonde Russian who was storming towards her sister, knuckles white from her grip around the bottle neck. Natasha had never been scared of Yelena before. Until now.

"You better give me one good reason why I shouldn't make your nose match your hair right now," Yelena seethed, nostrils flared and fists clenched as she approached her sister. But Natasha just rolled her shoulders and brought up her fists.

"You sure about that?"

-⧗-

Kaia had no idea how she made it back to her dorm, but somehow she woke up in her bed as Yelena burst through the door. It was pitch black so Kaia flicked on her light and gasped as she saw the state of her best friend's face.

"What the fuck happened to you?" She whispered, scrambling down from her bed and rushing over to Yelena, who only pushed her away.

"I'm fine, are you ok?" Yelena scanned Kaia's face with concerned eyes but the brunette only nodded.

"I'm ok, but Lena, what did you do?" She gently hooked her finger under the blonde's chin and tilted her face to the light. A nasty looking bruise was already starting to show on her left cheekbone and it was evidently clear that she had some form of split lip. "What happened?"

Yelena sighed, tugging her face out of her friend'a grip and turning to the fridge to grab an ice pack. "Nothing, just leave it. You should be asleep anyway."

Kaia rolled her eyes. She loved Yelena, she really did, but this stubbornness was infuriating. She wished that just once, that girl would accept help. Just once.

Digging through her medical supplies, Kaia pulled out rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad. "Sit, now." Yelena began to protest but saw the stern look and decided not to argue. Kaia had the scary Russian gene and knew how to use it on Yelena. "Did you get into a fight with Natasha?"

The blonde winced as the alcohol stung her cuts. "It wasn't a proper fight. She just..."

"Just what?"

"What she said to you," Yelena said tentatively, searching in Kaia's eyes for any giveaway that those words still hurt. But there was nothing, which wasn't as reassuring as it should have been. "Her smug expression, I couldn't take it anymore. And she was asking for it, really."

Kaia stayed silent for a moment, just focusing on cleaning Yelena's face and knuckles. Her head was a scrambled mess even before the fight and now she didn't know what to think.

"Look Yel," she started, throwing the cotton pads out and replacing her products. "I appreciate what you do for me, but I don't need you to fight for me. It's only going to make things worse."

"But you just walked away! You basically handed it to her," Yelena protested, watching as Kaia climbed back into bed.

"Because I didn't want to say or do something I might have regretted. Yes, I could have said something, and you know damn well I'm going to think of all the comebacks now instead of sleeping. But my point is, I'm not here to fight. I came to college to dance, and if Natasha has the power to take that away from me, I'm just going to back off."

Yelena hated how docile Kaia was being. She'd stood and taken Natasha's torment for years but had never stood up to her before tonight. It frustrated the blonde to the point where she didn't know what to do.

"You're just letting her walk all over you Kaia." Yelena pulled herself up onto her own bed, having stripped out of her clothes so she was just in her underwear. Pyjamas weren't important right now. "When are you going to stand up for yourself?"

"Lena, just drop it. Please."

"But Kai-"

"I said drop it! Enough." Kaia turned to face the wall, blanket pulled up to her chin with a clear signal that she was done with the conversation. She didn't close her eyes, only staring at the white painted brick, listening to the rustling as Yelena got into bed and flicked off the light. The air was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the atmosphere only hours before.

It wasn't long before Yelena had drifted off to sleep, but Kaia was still wide awake. Natasha's words played on loop in her mind, no matter how hard she screwed her eyes shut and begged for them to stop.

Sleep came hours later but it didn't last very long. By the time Yelena's alarm went off at 9am, Kaia was nowhere to be seen. Her bed was made and her backpack was missing. But Yelena knew her schedule, they didn't have class on Fridays.

Kaia, however, needed a distraction. Which is how she ended up in the coffee shop on campus, Wanda sat directly opposite her, yawning loudly.

"Where did you go last night?" Kaia asked, sipping on her iced coffee.

Wanda had her straw in between her teeth and paused, blushing hard. "I may have... slept with a guy?"

Kaia gasped, jaw dropping open. "Who? Wanda! You're unbelievable."

"I don't know! I didn't get his name!"

Kaia was in total disbelief. "You did not strike me as a mystery one night stand type of girl."

"I didn't think I was, if I'm being honest." She sheepishly grinned and looked at Kaia who was trying really hard not to drop her head into her hands. "But it was good, I think? I don't remember much but he-"

"Ok, I don't need to hear about your sex life, thank you." Wanda smirked and shrugged, tired eyes wide thanks to the caffeine she was consuming. "But I'm happy for you."

"What did I miss? Anything interesting happen?"

Kaia suddenly became very interested with the ice in her drink, swirling it around her straw so it clinked together. Her blatant avoidance sparked interest with Wanda who leaned forward, chin on her hands.

"Does it have something to do with that junior you were eyeing up on the field?"

"I was not eyeing him up!" Kaia exclaimed, suddenly very aware of how loud her voice was. She sunk into her chair, shoulders hunched. "And no- well, yeah, kinda."

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "Well now you just have to tell me."

"It was nothing, just a misunderstanding."

The Sokovian was not convinced. "Between who?"

Kaia just shrugged, seemingly uninterested. The hustle and bustle of the people around them caught her attention for a moment and she watched the baristas take orders, cheery voices carrying high over the general chatter.

Wanda's phone buzzed and she checked it, a gasp escaping which made Kaia look.

"Natasha just added an extra rehearsal this week. Tonight, 6 'til 10." Wanda groaned, whatever social plans she had now out of the window. "Someone ruffled her feathers, that's for sure."

Kaia felt guilt form a pit in her stomach. She knew her outburst was the cause of this, and now everyone else was being punished because of her. She watched Wanda texting before pulling her own phone out, fingers hovering over Natasha's contact.

"It was me."

"What was?" Wanda asked, eyes still not leaving her screen.

Kaia gently pushed her friend's phone onto the table, forcing her gaze back to herself. "Natasha freaked out at me for talking to Steve." Wanda's eyes went wide, the drama fuelling her love of gossip. "But I said something stupid and now she's getting back at me through this."

"What did you say?" Wanda asked, leaning forwards so her chin rested on her palms. "I want all the details."

Kaia shook her head. "There's not much to say. I didn't stick around long enough to hear anymore." She skirted around the subject, not wanting to get into the depths of her dysfunctional home life with Wanda. "I'm sorry, I need to fix this."

"Don't apologise, it's just Natasha being petty. It's not like we can't handle an extra rehearsal, right?"

"Yeah, I guess-" Kaia was cut off by her phone ringing, and with one glance at the contact name, she quickly excused herself with an apologetic smile.

"What do you want?"

"Are you ok? I'm sorry about last night-"

"I'm fine Lena, really. I just hate seeing you like that."

"I only wanted to help, Kai, and god knows you would never do anything-"

Kaia clenched her teeth. "Yelena, if you just called me to argue more, I'm just gonna hang up. I don't need this from you."There was a moment of silence on the line and Kaia rolled her eyes. "Ok, whatever."

"No, Kai wait. Come back to our dorm, please? I'm sorry."

Kaia looked over at Wanda who was switching between drinking her coffee and texting. "I'm with Wanda right now-"

"She won't mind!"

"You don't get to make that decision Yelena."

"Please, just come back?" Yelena was never someone to beg or plead, except with Kaia. She valued her opinion and attention higher than anything else in her life. "Kai?"

"I'll be there in ten."

The young Russian grabbed her coffee and quickly apologised to Wanda, who was more than happy to let her go. Her softness towards Kaia was comforting and the gentle squeeze of her shoulder as they parted ways allowed the brunette to relax her body. She needed every relaxation technique to work before she saw Natasha again tonight.

The walk across campus was short, but the pleasant weather had brought more students outside, crowding the stoned pathways and entrance halls. Kaia pushed past them all, coffee in hand, until she got to her dorm room door.

The faint sound of music drifted under the doorway and she took a breath before opening. Yelena was sat on her chair, a box of strawberries and a jar of Nutella laid out on the desk in front of her.

"Hey," the blonde spoke, mouth creasing into a small smile. Kaia's eyes scoured her face, wincing slightly at the now dark purple bruise encasing Yelena's cheekbone.

"You look like shit." She set her bag down beside her bed and hopped up, feet dangling as she observed her best friend. Yelena seemed nervous.

The blonde girl snorted, tilting her chin back. "Nice to see you too." She grabbed the goodies and hopped up beside Kaia who shuffled over. "Nat came by earlier."

The chocolates coated strawberry halted on its journey to Kaia's mouth. "What did she want?"

Yelena gave her a look. "You, obviously." Her sarcasm was not appreciated. "No, she wanted to see how I was. Apologised and everything."

"Jeez Yel, how hard did you hit her?"

"She got better punches in than me. Walked in without a single mark today."

"You bruised her ego though." Yelena looked at her confused. "She put a rehearsal into the schedule tonight and I know I'm the reason why."

"Maybe she'll apologise?"

Kaia scoffed, almost choking on her strawberry. "Yel, please don't be stupid. Remember who we're talking about."

"Just trying to see the bright side."

Kaia stuck her finger in the jar of chocolate sauce and licked it thoughtfully. "Can we just have a movie day today? I don't really feel like going anywhere before tonight."

"Sounds good to me," Yelena beamed. "You know I love you, right?" She stated after a small pause.

Kaia nodded, pouting at her best friend being soppy. "And I love you. Even when you act like an idiot."

"Especially when I act like an idiot."

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x o!c #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader

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