#i’m going to be thinking about this and staring at it for the next 15 years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidrum · 8 days ago

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how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face.

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit.

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.”

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection.

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks. He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact.

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain.

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?”

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other.

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.”

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side.

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it.

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds

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miserycanary · 8 months ago

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WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO DO ᡣ𐭩

pairing: alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley & workcaholic omega fem!reader

synopsis: you've lived your whole life without any problems due to the status of being beta, and you liked it that way. It doesn't interfere with your work, and suddenly you're informed you're an omega? That can't be.

tags: small arguments, smut like.. actually, dumbification, slight size kink, belly bulge, hair pulling, praise, degradation, breeding kink??, daddy kink, slight overstimulation if you squint, spit kink if you live in delusions

You had a routine you religiously followed. The day starts with waking up at 4, never having trouble getting up because you always look forward to work. You leave the apartment you share with your boyfriend at 5:15— maybe later than that when Simon feels clingy and asks you to stay for that day. You’ll indulge for 5 minutes before pressing a kiss on his chapped lips, promising you’ll come home early for him which seems to satisfy him.

Now you knew something was wrong when you woke up, exhausted, and all your bones weighed like a ton. Thinking back to last night, the clock displayed 10:15 when you finally resigned to bed, even unable to satisfy Simon (which he understood), opting to cuddle with you and nosing around your neck.

Your groan woke up Simon, his muscled figure making the bed creak as he followed your figure almost dragging itself to the bathroom. “Sweetheart?” he calls out, worry evident in his voice. “I’m fine, baby. Just feeling a little under the weather. Nothing some meds won’t fix,” the reassurance slips off your tongue easily despite all the alarms in your mind begging you to rest.

Your breathing got labored as your body tried to function. Your lover seems to have taken your word for it and went back to sleep, making you crack a smile.

Finally, you managed to get ready.. at 5:40. On the way, you could feel stares pointing at you. Did you smell? ‘Did I shower? I.. forgot. No, no... I did..’ you think to yourself, putting your things down on the table and letting your legs rest. “What kind of fucking sickness is this?” mumbling to yourself. Your eyebrows furrow, cursing at the world and complaining about the medicine not taking effect.

Time seemed to go fast but unbearably slow. It seemed like you could only recognize snippets throughout the day. Next thing you know, you hear your boyfriend’s worrying voice coming from your phone. Since when did you call? Nevermind. You hung up. Your mind flashes forward and the bright shine of your laptop looks back. For quite some time, you don’t recall moving, just looking dazed. ‘Water. I need water’ You finally snap back to reality, standing up. The world suddenly swirled and you found yourself on the floor.

‘Oh, shit. I-I need to get up... Fuck, my legs won’t move'

Tears swelled in your eyes, feeling helpless as people started to crowd you. Amid the commotion, a thundering voice booms out, calling for you. “Y/N!” Suddenly, all you could feel was the cool feeling of your boyfriend’s skin on yours. His scent fills your senses. God, you could live off this. “Babe.. why are you here?” you look at him, sighing in relief when you feel his palm pressed against your cheek. “You called me, slurring your words.” His voice was so deep and rough, you thought. Involuntarily, you squeezed your legs when you felt something gush in between. Your period? No, no.. too early. Unaware, everyone seemed to catch up to what’s wrong with you. Everyone rushed to distance themselves from you when Simon held you protectively, hiding you away from everyone and glaring at those who seemed to look at you like prey ready to be devoured.

Before you lost consciousness, all you could think of was you forgot to save your document. Then the next thing you wake up to is your apartment’s ceiling and the clattering from your kitchen with heavy footsteps. You could only assume it’s your boyfriend trying to cook. “Ghost..?” you call out, voice hoarse. In an instant, he was by your side with water in hand. “Hi, baby,” he starts, pushing the glass near your lips. You whine when you can’t even move to take a sip, and he melts at that. With gentleness, he tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls your head back, tilting the glass. “Open,” he commanded, which your body seemed to obey, your mouth opening and letting the cold water relieve your parched throat. As some droplets escape and cascade down your cleavage, you moan as it momentarily relives the heat your skin radiates.

“Love...” your boyfriend starts with the tone you know he uses when it’s about something that will upset you. “You’re required by the doctor to stay home for 2 weeks,” he continues, which finally tips you off. “No! I-I have a project due in 5 days, okay? I just need some paracetamol.” Insisting, you move to get up but you feel your boyfriend’s palm on your waist pinning you down. “No, bunny. You’re staying.” You glare at him in return. A part of you was aware that he was doing this for your sake, but you were too stubborn to let him. “Ghost, stop. I’m not in the mood for any lovey shits, okay? Just let me be,” you snap. Usually, when you get this pissed, he lets you be and just rushes by your side when you inevitably pass out due to over-exhaustion. This time, he doesn’t.

His stare was firm and commanding unlike the usual. Your Simon was soft, always there to clean up your mess. He never forces you to rest nor to listen to him— even if it is for the better. “Bunny, it’s not normal sickness, okay?” he still calmly explains, brushing the stray hair away from your face but you only slap his hand away, still frustrated. Seeing that you’re getting an attitude, he sighs and kisses your temple. “Do you know what your secondary gender is?” At his question, you stare at him like he asked you if you know the sky is blue. “Fucking hell, Ghost. Of course! I told you this the moment we met. I’m a beta, okay? Can you let me go now?” you hissed, attempting to raise his heavy hand of your hand yet he persisted and pressed harder. “No, princess,” he looks away in contemplation. “I rushed you to the doctor earlier, and… your testing was a mistake. You’re a freshly developed omega and it was advised you.. naturally let your heat happen.”

There were a few beats of silence before you cackled, tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah, right, babe. As if. Can you just fucking let me go?” The news of you being an omega sounded fake— because it is, you scoff. “I’m not joking,” he mumbles with a new profound authority. After realizing he was serious, everything came crashing down on you. This couldn’t be. You loved being a beta. It doesn’t interfere with your life. You can’t be an omega. You can’t! No, it’s fake. This was a joke! Heats?? You?? No, no. That’s not true–

“Y/N! Breathe!” Simon’s voice snapped you out of your haze, looking down to see your nails pressed so hard on his skin that’s letting out droplets of blood. Sobs were robbed out of your body, refusing to accept the change in you, yelling at your boyfriend to let you go. His figure immediately wrapped itself around you, pressing your face on his chest and nuzzling your head. “Calm down, bunny. It’s fine... Just calm down,” he soothes, putting his hand under your shirt to rub circles on your burning skin, and trying to get your breathing to match his. His shirt was drenched with tears but he didn’t mind. He muttered endless praises in your ear about how brave you are, and how you’ll be fine because he’s there. Ghost is there for you.

“I’m here, sweetheart” he cooed, pressing a kiss on your ear and laying the both of you down on the bed. He covered you entirely with his figure, protecting you from the world. With a final hiccup, you lose yourself to sleep and exhaustion, settling down and letting yourself be vulnerable with him with his pheromones blanketing your senses as if he’s the only thing there.

Waking up with a gasp, a layer of sweat covered your whole body when your attention was suddenly redirected to the wet spot below you that seemed to seep into the bedsheets. Hot panic took you over and you suddenly felt ashamed. Did you pee yourself out of nervousness? Clamouring, you stumble as you try to wipe the spot away, whimpering when another sudden gush dripped down your legs which woke Simon.

“Sweetheart? What’s up with ‘ya?”

You cry, rushing to his side and throwing yourself at him while apologizing profusely. “I-I’m sorry! Baby, I’m sorry... Please forgive me. I didn’t know!”

“Calm down, calm down.. tell me what’s happening,” his voice immediately calmed you down, your hands still clenching tight on his shirt and sticking your face in his scent gland. In an instant, the strong smell of whiskey, ground, and cigar invaded your nose but you welcomed it. The aroma calms down your nerves and allows you to talk without tumbling over your words. “I-I.. peed,” you mumble in shame that surprised your lover, but it seems the situation clicked in his head and he only responded with a chuckle.

“No, baby... You didn’t pee,” he sighs, grabbing your waist and sitting you sideways on his lap, while he scoots backward to lean on the headboard. “It’s something omega releases in substitution to lube,” he starts his hand slowly peeling away your shorts, revealing your soaked panties. “This is slick,” his finger swipes along the covered lips of your pussy, a string sticking to his pad. He brings his soaked fingers near you when the smell suddenly hit him. You smell like cherry-fucking-pie.

‘Fuck, she smells so sweet. No, I need to be patient. It’s her first heat’ he thinks while he watches your eyes observe with fascination. He nosed around your scent gland taking in your pheromones that sent blood rushing to his dick. His hand pulls your panties to the side to directly flick on your clit, pressing his thumb down and circling. You whimper, holding onto his shirt as your legs instinctively close. Everything was heightened. It felt like you’d come any minute just from your clit getting pressed down.

“Spread them.” As if your body was possessed, your thighs separate, allowing Simon to completely slip off your underwear and press a single digit inside of you. The reaction was instant. Your back arches and your toes curl in pleasure, red chipped nails digging into his bicep, but he was too immersed in watching your pretty cunt take what he gives you to even care. “Good girl,” he praises, pressing his lips against your ear. Tilting your head to the side, you attempt on taking cover on his bicep, but Ghost only grabs your face, tilting it back.

“Daddy needs to hear you, princess”

Your moans got higher as he added another finger and pumped them, borderline abusing your cunt. But you needed this. How else will you take your alpha’s massive cock? Looking down on you, he melts as babbles and whines were the only things you could muster. Your body writhes in pleasure, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “S-Simon! I’m... a-ah!.. close!” Feeling your release climbing, your pussy clenches around his digits while urging him to go faster; just a little more push to your climax. A scandalized gasp was ripped out of you when he suddenly stopped completely. “No, how do you ask to cum properly?” his voice grumbles, squishing your cheeks while your face is soaked with tears. “I wanna cum, Simon. Please please please–” he cuts you off, tightening his hold on your face and pressing his thumb hard on your clit. “No, not Simon.”

With that, you finally realized the key to your release. “Daddy, please. I wanna cum, please. P-put your fingers in again. Daddy, please” you whine, a hand releasing his bicep to place itself on his nape, pulling him down so you can messily press a kiss. Satisfied, he plunged 3 fingers in, forcing your cunt to take it. “There we go. Was that so hard, princess? Was it hard being polite to daddy?” he teases, pressing down on your sweet spot. His tongue licks around your mouth, sucking on the wet appendage and letting his saliva trickle down into yours.

You felt so tight around his digits, and the thought of how you’ll feel around him made his cock ache. The hard-on pressing against your lower back which lifted as the coil inside of you snapped. He watches with adoration as you soak his fingers and the bedsheets, a sense of accomplishment bubbling up inside his chest, making precum dribble out of his tip and stain his sweatpants. “Good girl,” the praise slips off his tongue absentmindedly as he sneaks a hand behind you, untying his pants and pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Still high from pleasure, he manhandles your body to the position he wants. Pushing your body forward so your face is planted on the sheets with your hips resting on two-stacked pillows. Amid pleasure, you got brought back when overstimulation ran through your nerves, feeling Ghost’s cock fill you up, inch by inch. You didn’t even realize when he had taken his bottoms off. The only thought running through your head was him, his smell, his overpowering pheromones, and his cock. God, his cock was driving you crazy.

“Babygirl, you need to loosen up,” he orders, slithering a hand under you to swirl around your clit. “No!.. oh! s-sensitive!” you whine, sobbing onto the pillow. “I don’t care, sweetie. You had your fill, now daddy needs his. Won’t you be a good girl and help me? I promise I’ll reward you,” he mutters, his chest pressing on your back. Driven with the need to be good for him, you let your cunt relax to take him in.

Slowly rutting his hips, he tries to thrust more of his cock inside of you. “Slowly, baby. Breathe for me. There we go. Perfect,” he groans, pressing his forehead on your nape when he finally felt himself completely buried inside your hot, wet cunt. “Such a perfect pussy. You want to make me proud, don’t ya?” You only whine in response, then a loud moan ripped out of you when you felt a subtle bulge on your stomach which got pressed down onto the pillow under the weight Ghost was putting down you. “Fuck, you’re so small, aren’t ya? Such a perfect cocksleeve. What a behaved slut for me.” Without a warning, he snaps his hips, thrusting in and out of you without mercy; like a carnal animal with the intent to just breed. God, this is heaven. This is where he’s supposed to be. With you, inside of you.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, ma” he moans, your voice matching his. “Ah-ah-ah! Fast! Too fa— oh! Too fast,” you sobbed yet it felt so good. Every sense of yours was drowning with the thought of your mate, of Simon. You were so lost in pleasure, hands sprawled out on the sheets and gripping, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming pleasure. Ghost only clicks his tongue, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you back, filling you to the brim again.

“Daddy was too lenient on you huh? Maybe I need to keep you here. You won’t ever need to use that pretty head of yours, worrying about nothing, sweetie. I’ll do everything for you, okay? Your alpha will do everything for you.” You feel him pull back with the tip catching on your rim. As if given a break, you take a breath but suddenly everything was knocked out of you when he bottomed out with one thrust.

“F-fuck, you feel amazing. You just need to be good to me, okay? You just need to be a good mama for our children, stay at home, and let me use your pretty pussy when daddy needs to relieve stress” Pinning your waist down, it was like he actually sees you as a personal cocksleeve, using your body for his own release.

Thrusting faster, Ghost’s moans start to pitch higher, his hand tangling itself in your locks to pull your face from the pillow. Locking lips, he moans louder while pressing down on the bulge in your stomach, helping him get closer from the fact you’re so small— so easily to manhandle and to use freely. Maybe he should actually just keep you here. You won’t need to work. No need to stress that pretty head of yours over trivial stuff. He just needs you to stay with him.

The thought of you being swollen with his baby and staying inside the apartment waiting for him was the final thing that sent him to the edge. His tip spurting out cum filled you up to no end, kissing the entrance of your womb as he buried himself as deep as possible. Your hands scramble to hold onto something, afraid to get lost in the pleasure; scared of being a slave to the mind-numbing pleasure. You dig your nails on his thigh, sobbing and moaning in pleasure as his release triggered another of yours. Feeling so full, Ghost finally stopped cumming and lets you go. His spent body collapsing alongside you in exhaustion. Silence ensued between you guys, basking in each other’s presence. After a while, he got up to grab a towel to clean you up, knowing you’d be insatiable once your omega instincts completely settled.

Feeling his lips kiss your temple, his rough yet sultry deep voice (or maybe that’s just your love for him talking) telling you to relax made you purr. As you watch him take care of you, scrubbing down both yours and his spent off your body got you thinking. Maybe this is where you’re supposed to be. Doing nothing but behaving for your lover, keeping Ghost happy.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: AHHHH!! It's my first full-length fanfic which happens to be my very first explicit and descriptive smut. Please be gentle with the criticisms!! Also, do you guys want a König version? Please comment if yes.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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saltofmercury · 2 years ago

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Pairing: König x reader

Plot: Someone breaks into the house at night while you and König are sleeping.

A/N: Had a random idea about what would happen in this scenario.

“The Break in.”

Over three break-ins had happened over the weekend. All unfortunately 4 blocks away from your apartment. Break-ins didn’t scare you. You felt like your apartment complex was in better condition than most of the apartments surrounding the neighborhood. In addition to that, you weren’t too concerned because you were tucked away for the weekend with König.

You didn’t think a person who saw him would even attempt to do something, especially at his own house.

König, on the other hand, was worried sick.

“Maybe you could stay here for a couple more days. It wouldn’t be a bother, honest.”

You didn’t like the sound of it. Breaking into his routine which he then would be uncomfortable with. You knew how he liked his space. He needed a couple days to recharge, be with himself, and then come back to you.

You remember how antsy he got when you overstayed your welcome one weekend. He kept finding excuses to be alone.

“I’m going to read in my office. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“I’m going to the gym for a workout. I'll be back soon.”

“I know you want to finish your show, I’ll be watching the game in my bedroom.”

It wasn’t until you were getting the shower that he had crept up and asked shyly if you needed company.

You laughed.

“Oh now you want my company?”

He traced his finger along the bathroom counter looking down.

“I never said I didn’t want your company, we just always shower together.”

So you knew keeping yourself here would only have him finding excuses in his own house to find privacy.

König would deny this. He loved your company, he loved waking up next to you with your legs on top of his. Seeing your toothbrush next to his on the counter. He loved seeing your products lined up on the bathroom shelf next to his. Your clothes piled on his dresser, your bras hanging on the doorknobs in his bathroom, or scattered around the floor after hastily getting to devour each other in bed. Small little pieces of you throughout the house reminding him you were home.

Sure he liked his space, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t distance himself from another room for him to recharge and come back to you.

He was adjusting rapidly to you being around him all the time. He wanted you around all the time.

Which is why he wanted you to stay here, in a house, where someone could protect you.

König never told you the missions he was on. You sort of preferred that way. He would just tell you the gist of the mission. He was very careful about not scaring you away with what his real job was. He was good at what he did, but he preferred to keep what he was out on the field away from you.

Calmly, while watching you, he gave you just enough to not try and scare you.

“It was a room of about 15 people. I was first one in.”

You stared at him. You knew he was hiding the real him. “Mercenary” was the word he used, however he never described the things a mercenary did.

There was nothing scarier knowing König was a shark at sea but there could be a bigger fish that would one day end it.

Part of you was glad he could protect you and himself from anyone and anything given his training and ruthless alter ego out on the field, but another part of you was worried someone out there would be quicker or one step ahead of him.

You packed your overnight bag with your dirty clothes.

“Where are you going?” He stepped out of the bathroom watching you collect your clothes.

“Home, I have a lot of work to catch up on and do laundry.”

“Okay we bring your laptop back here and we can start a load of colors here.” He replied so casually.

You laughed.

“Although that is tempting, it’s fine. I’ll be back this weekend.”

He didn’t like hearing that.

“Baby please, you know how dangerous it is around where you live right now. Just stay one more night. I’ll go pick up your laptop and —“

You cut him off:

“It was 4 blocks away, König. It wasn’t even my apartment. I know I’ll be safe.”

“Well I don’t care if it was in another town, I don’t like the idea of you staying alone when someone is out there like that.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t like the idea of someone robbing houses when your job is ten times scarier?”

He leaned against the bathroom doorway, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Exactly. What if this guy is like me and he’s out there attacking houses because he knows how to do it so well that he’s not getting caught?”

You rolled your eyes

“I'm sure a trained military man is out there robbing houses for fun.”

“y/n!” He stopped you. “This is serious, would you want to run into me?”

You smirked, stood up, and went over to him.

“Yes I would actually, because I know your weaknesses.”

You gently ran your fingers down his stomach.

“I would know how to take someone like you down so easily.” You whispered.

You stood on your tip toes and kissed his chin.

He didn’t like the idea of you flirting when speaking about your life. With that, he took your bag and shoved it into the top shelf of the closet.

“You’re staying here and that's final. I’m not going to risk anything.”

He ended up taking you to your apartment, telling you to get extra clothes, your laptop, and anything else you needed. You settled back into his house again.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You asked one last time.

“Of course not. I can never have enough of you.”

You both had dinner, showered, and got in bed.

He pulled you against his chest and held you close.

“Thank you for staying here. It gives me peace of mind. I enjoy your company.”

You blushed, leaned in for a kiss, and mumbled “if it’s not bother then okay…”

You settled into the night routine you both had. He watched a show on his iPad, while you read through a book before both falling asleep.

It was around 3AM when you heard the speakers in the living room turn on. Your eyelids still closed, you searched for König with one arm. An empty space in bed. You sat up, fear crawling up your throat.

König was already up and placed himself by the doorframe, a bat in hand, mask covering his face, and shoes on.

Had someone come inside the house? Another crash, scratches on the floor, and some scrambling.

König looked back at you, told you to stay put.

“Do. Not. Leave. This. Room.” He said it low, his accent had come out. He looked at you, but you didn’t recognize this König. He stood different, sounded different. You felt your stomach turn, the hair on your neck rise.

Where did he get the bat from?

Now you were scared. You weren’t ready to see this kind of person he was.

You heard his calculated footsteps as he checked the hallway bathroom and guest room, slamming open the doors so hard and loud they bounced against the walls. He continued to stomp all the way down towards where the sound was.

You suddenly felt safe, how thorough he was checking all the rooms and how bravely he went into each room announcing himself with just his body. You were now glad you stayed with him.

… then out of nowhere, you heard him laughing. A loud, boisterous, breathless laugh.

You shouted from the room “Who is it?!”

You hear him drop the bat, the bat clinking on the floor. Footsteps followed closer to the door.

“Not who schatz, but what.” His voice had come closer. Standing there, he was holding a small baby raccoon. The raccoon was being held up by his neck with one hand, and his other hand placed underneath him.

You screamed —“Becareful! We don’t know where it’s been!”

König tilted his head at you and then mumbled “it’s only Monty’s baby.”

Monty?

König went to the backyard and placed the small raccoon outside. He came back into the house, washed his hands, and walked into the room.

What just happened?

“What was that?!” You were confused, at a loss for words.

He settled himself back into bed and pulled you close.

“Monty is the raccoon that lives in the backyard. She had babies.”

You looked up at him still confused.

“All this time you’ve been staying here and you haven’t seen Monty and her family?” He asked innocently.

“I’ll tell you all about them.” He turned the light off.

What was happening? Was this a dream?

Part of you was still confused but you settled in and relaxed anyway. The other part of you was secretly relieved that because of him, you felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

#könig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig modern warfare #könig cod #könig imagine #könig mw2 #könig x reader

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year ago

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Steve’s parents leaving him home alone more and more after the Fall of 1983. Half the time they don’t even tell him in advance, he just finds out from a note left on the kitchen counter and $10 to cover pizza.

Steve waking from a nightmare, friendless, alone (let’s pretend he and Nancy didn’t get back together), and hungry. The fridge is empty and Bradley’s Big Buy is closed for the night. He tries to go back to sleep but his stomach won’t relent so he reluctantly gets dressed and drives 15 minutes to the 24 hour McDonalds in the next town over.

The same McDonalds where Eddie works the drive thru headset at on the weekends. He’s not exactly fond of the job and finds dozens of ways to make it more entertaining — like coming up with terrible nicknames for the company.

Steve is taken aback the first time the static drive thru speaker welcomes him to “McCrap-lds.”

It makes him smile for the first time in weeks.

Neither Steve nor Eddie recognize each others voices as they banter back and forth. Steve ask for recommendations, Eddie makes fun of him but gives in.

When Steve pulls up to the window he expects to meet the funny drive thru employee but he’s greeted with a tired middle-aged women instead. Apparently Eddie lost window privileges after an incident. Steve doesn’t ask questions.

When he wakes up from another nightmare a week later, he returns to the McDonalds and engages Eddie in more easy banter before ordering his food.

It becomes a habit — one he keeps up for the entirety of the summer of 1984.

Steve and Eddie never meet face to face but that doesn’t stop them from venting, joking, and sharing their McDonalds recommendations through a shitty drive thru speaker.

Then on the first day of senior year, Steve is in line for the terrible cafeteria food (it makes McDonalds look like a Michelin Star meal) desperately craving chicken McNuggets and sweet and sour sauce when he hears a familiar voice. He turns quickly, eager to finally learn who the mystery guy responsible for making him laugh at 3am in a McDonalds parking lot is only to find Eddie “the Freak” Munson waltzing across lunch table going on and on about how conformity is killing kids.

Steve’s in shock. How could the sincere and hilarious guy he’s been shooting the shit with all summer be The Freak?! But then Eddie’s foot catches on a lunch tray and he topples ass first to the floor. When he pops up he takes a dramatic bow and makes a joke — one that sends Steve into uncontrollable laughter.

Yep, Eddie “the Freak” Munson is McDonalds guy.

And Steve knows exactly what he has to do.

He figures out where Eddie’s locker is and then excuses himself two minutes before the dismissal bell so he can get himself into position. When Eddie saunters over to his locker at the end of the day, Steve is waiting for him.

“Think it’s time I cash in on that free sundae you promised me a few weeks ago.”

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded for a moment, mind reeling as he process what Steve is getting at.

“You, Steve “the hair” Harrington are the McDonalds guy? My McDonalds guy?”

“Well I’m certainly the McDonalds guy,” Steve says taking a step closer. “Buy me that free sundae first and then we can discuss me being your McDonalds guy.”

#this is so dumb but the idea won’t leave me head #should I make this a proper fic? I may have started but I need to know if it’s worth it #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington/eddie munson #Steve harrington fluff #eddie munson fluff #alternate first meeting #meet cute #Dani writes #stranger things #stranger things fic

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sixosix · 11 months ago

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STAY, TOO | AETHER

desc you were afraid that aether would break your heart, but that all flew out the window the moment he got sick and demanded only you take care of him

notes wc 2.8k, FLUFF FLUFF bit of angst with reader’s mindset but happy ending i swear on my asia server genshin acc + this draft had been in my docs since 10/15/2023. its a miracle that i decided to pick up on it again and actually finish it !!!!!!! enjoy fellow aether kissers

Evenings were always eerily silent; because of that, your thoughts were loud. Not in the way that screamed—no, it was much worse. It was his voice that whispered, that made you shiver and reach out for something that never existed.

You didn’t know if you were dreaming or if you were awake and letting your mind wander away to a familiar face. Your mind always ended up back to him, no matter how much you tried to stray away. No matter who you talked to, he haunted you. Who you kissed, his face flashed in your mind. You wanted to curse his name out—it was his fault you were like this. It was his fault for deciding to come into this world and rid yourself of your defenses, left helpless to his whims.

“Um, Y/N?” A hand moved to your shoulder.

You jumped out of your seat, heart racing as his grinning face dissipated from your mind. You turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here, Sucrose?”

“It’s past midnight,” Sucrose murmured, her expression nervous, but apparently, she was too worried to leave you be. “I saw light from your window and thought you fell asleep…”

You didn’t even know if you were—everything before felt like a distant blur. Your eyes darted back to your desk, and then your face paled at the sight of a grinning face staring back at you. How long had you been mindlessly doodling Aether’s face? You quickly snatched them away from Sucrose’s view.

“I—I’m fine. Sorry, I did fall asleep.”

Sucrose’s bottom lip jutted out. “This has been happening for too long now. You’re not fine.”

What were you supposed to say to that? You were so hopelessly infatuated with someone who was ruining your life and possibly your job with Mr. Albedo. That would be a fast way to get yourself fired.

Sucrose sat on the chair beside you, her expression determined. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that serious, Sucrose,” you stammered. Hopefully, the candles were dim enough to hide how flustered you were. It was more embarrassing than serious, really.

“Is it the Traveler?” She knew how to strike hard for someone with such an innocent face.

When had it not been the Traveler, honestly?

“Ugh…” That was a yes for her, apparently.

Sucrose smiled in relief. Her eyes darted around your face, studying you. “What’s wrong? Was he affecting you that much?”

“Yes. Disturbingly so. Like, seriously, it’s disturbing me.”

Sucrose’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “How?”

“It feels like swallowing a crystalfly whole and feeling it flutter around my stomach whenever I even think of him.”

Sucrose’s face turned serious. “What have you been doing to the crystalfies we’ve been collecting?”

“Never mind,” you muttered. “I’m fine, Sucrose. I promise, okay?”

You weren’t. Sucrose must’ve thought the same, too, because Lisa barged into your office the next day.

“What else are you expecting? For him to notice your wallowing and say something about it?”

Lisa’s sweet, melodious voice sounded torturous now when she was poking at all the things you were desperately trying to keep hidden. You sink against your seat, feeling a lot like a scolded kid, caught red-handed skipping chores—skipping responsibilities, hoping to stay oblivious for a bit longer.

“He already said something,” you grumbled, finding it difficult to meet the mage’s sharp eyes.

For someone who sounded as gentle as a mother to her only child, Lisa’s disappointment made you feel a lot more shameful than if she were to chide you in the middle of Mondstadt’s streets.

“A week after we met. He told me he likes me,” you continued.

Lisa’s jaw dropped, a funny expression you’ve never seen on her before. “A week after you met? Let me get this right—”

You groaned, “Lisa, trust me, I know—”

“—Our dear Traveler confessed to you ages ago. When was it when Aether helped us with Stormterror? He’s in Fontaine now!” Lisa looked a little frazzled, her eyes wild. You were expecting her to chide you some more until you saw how her entire expression was sparkling. This felt foreboding, somehow. “He keeps visiting to see you! After all these years of you foolishly rejecting him—”

“I didn’t reject him!”

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, but isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

You were not rejecting Aether. You didn’t outright tell him you’re not interested because you are. He had been haunting your thoughts since you first laid eyes on him, returning from battle, cold breath billowing from his mouth, a pixie by his side, his hair aglow gold, Festering Desire in hand—and, oh, you desired him. It reached a point where Albedo himself had to ask if you wanted a check-up from how much you were burning with want.

Aether had grinned at you so brightly, and you damn near melted on the spot, even in the unrelentingly bitter weather of Dragonspine.

You found yourself liking him for more than his quite literally alien nature, his out-of-this-world body, and his abilities that had your hands itching to reach for a pen and paper to write down everything about him and figure out what the hell he was. Instead, you started falling for him as just Aether. His boyish smile, his witty jabs, his glimpses of personality.

And then he confessed to you—you, no one but one of Albedo’s assistants—and said he likes you, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at the time. You thought of him leaving one day, and then you just couldn’t say the yes that was chanting in your brain.

To no one’s surprise, he did leave. Not to that extent yet, but away from Mondsadt. Even in Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, and Fontaine, he invaded your thoughts as if cursing you for not saying what you were thinking. You could only wish he thought of you just as much as you did to him. Maybe he’d end up hating you, and not loving him would be easier.

“Are you kidding?” If it were so easy, you would’ve already jumped in his arms and kissed him breathlessly. “He’s—he’s not like us. He doesn’t belong here. He’d leave, eventually. Just like he always does with the other worlds.”

“Is that what’s stopping you?”

“That’s reason enough to be stopping me,” you said sharply. “He’s got millions of worlds to flirt with as he pleases, and this is my only one. Who knows if Aether is the type to even visit?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “Maybe you should ask. Communication is key.”

“Even if that was the case, I can’t handle it. I already miss him enough while he’s still in Teyvat—I don’t know how I could live with myself if I let him into my heart, and he’s a world away.”

“You’ve already let him in your heart,” Lisa said softly. “Just talk to him, alright? I’m not the only one worried about you when you drive yourself to a corner like this—especially over a boy!”

“I’m perfectly alright,” you said, ignoring Lisa’s amused smile. “I’m not losing my mind. Especially over a boy.”

You definitely were losing your mind. That boy was Aether; how could you not?

“I think it’s adorable,” Lisa cooed, cupping her cheeks and sighing dreamily. “He’s still waiting patiently. Who knew the Traveler would be so willing to wait for love?”

You wished that it wasn’t like that.

“Y/N! Are you here?”

Crap. Did you fall asleep in your office again? Might as well stop paying rent if this was going to be a recurring thing.

Once again, by routine at this point, you threw your notes that had Aether’s face inked by the edges. Memory be damned, You couldn’t let anyone see how detailed your drawings of Aether are.

“Y/N?” The voice rang out again, and it sounded more familiar now.

You went to open the door and frowned. “Lisa? It’s so early—did something happen?”

Lisa smiled in greeting, so beautifully devious with what she was about to say: “Our Honorary Knight is back in town!”

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” Were people just seeing you as one of Aether’s admirers?

“Of course not,” Lisa chuckled, patting your head. How did she look so good this early in the morning? “He’s sick and needs someone to look after him.”

You wanted to close the door. You wanted to crawl back to your desk and go to sleep, but she had that look in her eye—one that told you that you had something to do with where she was going. And you did not like where this was going.

“So?” Dammit. You really wanted to see Aether again.

“Why, who else better to take care than his dearest alchemist?”

“Albedo is everyone’s alchemist. Sucrose is everyone’s dearest alchemist.”

Lisa shushed you. Why was she so invested in this? “No, no, his. Not everyone’s.”

You felt your face burn at the thought of being his dearest alchemist. Or anything his. “Absolutely not! Wasn’t he in Fontaine just yesterday?”

“Why don’t you go ask him that yourself?”

You scowled. You weren’t agreeable in the mornings. “How did you even know about this?”

Lisa smirked, poking your nose. “Because he asked for you, specifically.”

You laughed dryly—good one.

“I won’t let you do anything you wouldn’t want,” Lisa said seriously, “but would you change your mind if I told you that it’s Aether that wants you?”

And so you ended up in Aether’s teapot, which was hanging around Jean’s office for safety. Jean only smiled knowingly when you knocked on the door and zipped straight to the teapot. You were only doing this on the off-chance that Lisa was telling the truth and that Aether demanded he didn’t want anyone else but you checking up on him.

His teapot was familiar. You had been here a few times, but you didn’t have your own room. That was too embarrassing to ask, no matter how much Aether suggested it.

“Y/N!” Aether lit up the moment you entered the room.

“Aether,” you greeted, and as much as you wanted to hide it, a smile bloomed on your lips. It was hard not to smile when Aether was looking at you like that.

He looked like a mess, with strands of hair spread all over his pillows. His blanket was only up to his hips, showing that he was out of his usual look, and wore a simple white shirt. You were grateful for that shirt; you didn’t want to end up helping Aether strip because he definitely would have suggested that.

“I’m sick,” Aether whined. “Tend to me.”

You would’ve doubted his fever, but it was worryingly hot when you reached out to check his forehead’s temperature.

Immediately, your suspicions fly out the window. Aether was burning, and you were the only one in the same room (teapot?) who should take care of him. The Honorary Knight was reduced to a fever.

You cupped his cheek and watched as Aether pressed his face closer. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yes.”

You tore your hand off. “I’ll make something to ease the pain.”

“You can ease it right now. By kissing it away.”

“Aether,” you sighed. Unbelievable. How did he still have enough energy for this while positively rotting on his bed? “Take this seriously. I haven’t seen you this sick— Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you sick. How did this even happen?”

“Stayed too long underwater,” he said.

Aether? Getting sick from swimming? You made a face, which Aether laughed softly at.

“No, seriously. It was an emergency commission. Even when I had to resurface, it was pouring. Someone was making the Hydro Dragon cry hard yesterday.” Aether’s face scrunched as he looked up at you with round eyes. “I was so cold.”

Although it sounded absurd that Aether would get a fever from that, you suppose that having to stay drenched for a long time would affect even someone like him. You couldn’t even imagine having to shiver your way back to Mondstadt after being thoroughly drenched the whole day.

You pulled the blanket further up Aether’s chest. Even if you suspected he was lying, he was trembling underneath the covers.

“Alright.” You’ll believe him because right now, it is a fact that Aether is undoubtedly sick.

You were well aware that he was and sounded like he was dying, but he looked cute, flushed, and staring at you expectantly. It felt nice to be needed by someone like him—made him feel less like a faraway dream.

You cleared your throat and looked away; you knew you looked flustered. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Why? Will you cook for me?” he asked.

You knew how to cook, but for someone who had traveled regions and tasted all kinds of foods, you would probably disappoint. Still, it wasn’t time for a competition with other chefs in Liyue or Fontaine. Aether needed food to fill his stomach.

“Any suggestions?” You hoped for nothing unfamiliar and crazy. You loved Aether, but having to fetch ingredients from oceans away was too much.

“Make it with love,” Aether said cheekily because he was a bastard who didn’t have any mercy on your heart.

And so you left the room and ignored Aether, laughing and coughing as he called after you. You had to leave either way—your chest was almost as warm as Aether’s forehead.

You decided to make a Radish Veggie Soup. You hoped Aether wasn’t too picky about his vegetables. The water was comfortably cold, enough to make you search around his cupboards for towels to soak it into. As you waited for the water to boil, you decided to check up on Aether again.

He was still lying there, but with his eyes closed now. You felt terrible seeing someone you witnessed defeat dragons battling a fever. You drew closer and placed the towel on his head. He didn’t flinch at the stark change of temperature, but he did react instantly, his warm hand clasping your wrist.

“Stay,” Aether rasped.

You bit your lip, your heart sinking. Was he dreaming about his sister? You always worried when he was feeling down because of their separation.

But then his eyes opened, and he stared right at you. “Y/N,” he said, “please stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Just this once.” Aether’s voice sounded so quiet, so unsure of himself.

You really couldn’t. You had a Radish Veggie Soup to attend to.

“I’m staying,” Aether said, and you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the bed. “I’m staying here for you.”

You frowned. “Don’t lie to make me feel better right now. That would hurt more when you have to leave.”

Aether’s face softened impossibly. “I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth—I’m not leaving Teyvat. Even if I find my sister, I’m staying.”

Seriously? Just like that? “What made you change your mind?”

You couldn’t tell if Aether was blushing or if it was his fever. “How could I leave Teyvat when I see how cute you look taking care of me?”

You threw a pillow to his face.

He swerved away and laughed brightly. “I’m joking! I’m joking—drop that pillow, please. I’m kidding. Well, sort of.”

His face was once again attempted to get assaulted by another pillow. Aether grinned as he blocked it off with an arm.

“For someone so sick, you seem awfully lively,” you said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You breathe life into me; what can I say?”

You groaned. You couldn’t deal with this today—you needed at least three business days to process this and find another reason to reject him. Yet, as you moved to get some fresh air (anything to get Aether’s stupid face out of your view), a hand abruptly reached for your wrist.

Aether’s face was close to yours in a blink of an eye. His breath was hot on your face. “I’m serious,” he said, “so if— if you feel the same way, the least you can do is stay, too.”

“I— You—” You gaped at him. That sounded like it could be a proposal. Who would’ve thought—the Outlander, the Traveler, begging for you to stay?

Aether’s gaze flicked to your lips.

“Don’t kiss me,” you said in warning. “Are you an idiot? You’re sick!”

“That’s fine. I get to take care of you when you do,” Aether said.

Your face paled. “No! I have a job, Aether—”

Aether frowned. “And I have a world to save, but that can wait. We’re busy.”

You pushed his face away, his laugh smothered by your palm. “No, we are not. I’m busy making food for your sorry ass, away from you.”

Aether’s face crumpled. “Do you actually not want to kiss?”

Not when he’s sick and snotty, yeah.

Instead, you leaned in to kiss his forehead to make up for it. It was brief and faint, but Aether looked satisfied, smiling softly when you pulled away. It would do for now.

“I’m staying,” you said. “So long as you do, too. I’ll stay with you.”

THE SOUP TURNED OUT OKAY STILL. this is just how my mom takes care of me when im sick LOL but the idea of doing it to a sick aether was too good i had to write a fic about it. also i love angst about aether being the traveler aaghgh

thank u sm for reading. as always, lmk what u think and i hope u liked it!! <3

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n #genshin x y/n

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ynsvnte · 7 months ago

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Our world collided ! — Nishimura Riki

Genre: fluff, angst-ish.. Drabble, opposites attract, friends to lovers, childhood best friends, high school au

wc: 1.2k+ (1238)

warnings: kissing (like once), pet names (pretty girl), jealousy

pairing: emo!niki x coquette!reader

Masterlist

“Okay that’s enough” Niki says while pushing your hands off his hair.

“What—no I’m not even close to being done..!?” You complained, hoping he’ll let you continue to let you play with his hair. The current situation being that Niki’s hair being into pigtails along with some of your hair bows attached. You thought it was cute..while he thought the opposite. “It’s hurting my scalp, take these off me now..” he demanded.. you noticed the slight pout only his face. Making you chuckle.

“I’d rather not..” you say, squishing his cheeks. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling it away from him.. “I warned you..” That’s all you heard until you felt the wall against your back.. you close your eyes at the impact until a few seconds past and you open them seeing Niki infront of you kneeling down to reach your height.. your heart sped up from him being this close..

“Umm…” you say hoping he would (not) back away. Niki gets closer noses barely centimeters from touching each other.. you breathe hitched. Niki notices this, smirking.. you could feel your face getting hot. You felt like he was going to kiss you.. that’s until he pulls his face away from yours.. laughing at your reaction.. “Why so shy..hmm?” He asked while smirking.. you glare up at him, clearly embarrassed.

But that won’t stop him from teasing you. “I’m not shy..just..surprised..” You said your gaze softened..you glance up, he’s staring at you.. you look away before walking away from him..disappointed.. Niki sighs at the sight of you walking away.. “Did I really make her upset?” He asks himself, wondering.

The school day was near the end.. you looked up the clock.. 15 more minutes left and then you can leave. You’re lucky this time you don’t have class with Niki. As you only have 2 with him and lunch period. You got distracted, letting time fly by quickly. You check the clock again..so so so close only 2 minutes.. you just go ahead and start packing up your things..within those 2 minutes the bell finally rings dismissing all the students for the day. You past students trying to avoid bumping into Niki ever since what happened earlier. You really had your hopes up, expecting him to like you after all these years of being friends and yet…nothing. You quickly pick up your pace and walk out the gate.. you usually walk home with Niki as your both next door neighbors having your moms be best friends back in their days. You don’t see him anywhere, not bothering to wait too..you just start walking home..alone which is rare.

You’ve made it home taking off your shoes and tossing them out of your way. You set your bag down. Walking to your room. Opening the door you rush towards your bed, jumping onto it. Letting the cool sheets hit your face. Your aching body feels better when the feeling of your bed hits it. You rest a bit before leaving your room seeing what’s there to eat. While you wait for your mom to come home.. you find some kind of chips and decide to snack on it.

You make your way over to the living room..you can see through the sheer curtain.. something catches your eye.. two figures walking.. side by side. You walk a little bit closer seeing its Niki.. and another girl.. you don’t know her..never seen her either.. you frown at the sight in front of you.. “that should be me” you thought.. you noticed he still had the bows you used on him from earlier.. clipped to his bag. You take one more look before you see them both entering his house.. you just too push whatever just happened out of your mind.

Hours later..you couldn’t stop thinking about Niki with another girl aside from you? You knew he was earlier scared by girls no matter who it was except for you of course.. the unknown girl left about an hour ago you look out your bedroom window seeing the light in Niki’s on. You see the cup and strings from your window from the outside.. that’s how you and Niki used to communicate.. you resist using it.. thinking it seems foolish.. but you decided to anyway.. you open up your window.. a gust of wind blowing your hair out of your face.

You pick up the cup.. tapping into it 2 times remembering the code you both set up a long time ago. You weren’t expecting him to answer.. a few moments of silence passed you debated to go back inside or try again, before tapping your finger twice again.. you hear his window open up.. you look up seeing him.. in a basic black tee.. yet he looked so good. Moonlight shining his skin.. giving it a youthful look. Niki was in the same daze as you admiring your face.. doe eyes.. staring straight right at him.. plump lips he wishes to one day kiss. Niki slowly picks up the cup speaking into it.

“Need something..?” He says, your throat goes dry.. it’s like you never talked to him before. You clear your throat.. “Umm—can I get my hair bows back..I’m using it for tomorrow..” you made that up..it was the only believable one to get an excuse to talk to him.. “oh I don’t know if I can throw it at you..” “no I mean can I come over just for a bit..” you say.

You can see his reaction slightly confused but agreed anyway. You take a short trip to his house..going through the back door like it was your own home. You go up to his room. You knock before he opens the door for you. Niki is met with you and your hello kitty pajamas.. and hair in 2 braids decorated with bows. “Hi..” you said slowly.. Niki moves aside allowing you to enter. You keep your gaze low, but from a far you can see your bows.. you quickly grabbed it.. “That’s all?” Niki asks..

“Yes..wait actually yea.. no I mean no….i still have something to ask” Niki close the door, sitting down on his bed.. “yeah?” You get embarrassed to ask this but you continue on.. “Umm..I was wondering who that girl was..that you know you were walking with earlier..” you said avoiding his gaze completely. You hear him chuckle lightly.. “that..oh well..she just wanted to hang out..knowing her intentions..but don’t worry I don’t like her..” “why would I be worried if she likes you or—“ Your voice slowly fades away when you realize Niki's face is close up to yours. “There’s no denying it..I can see right through you..” you knew you were already blushing by now. “Not that I would want you to deny it..because..I so happen to feel the same..” he added smiling at you. You never see him smile. Always having a blank face for most part. Niki holds your jaw bringing your face closer to his before colliding your lips together. Lips against lips. His soft lips against yours. The kiss was tender..slow.. moments later he pulls away.. “Now pretty girl, care to cuddle..” he offered, holding his arms out.. you smiled at him.. “Of course”

Author’s note: get a little inspiration from the book I’m reading rn which is if he had been with me RAHH 🦅 back with my writing haven’t written for Niki in so long along with sunoo WHICH I NEED TO DO ASAP! Crazy how this was in my drabbels for 2 days while my hee one is a month and it’s not coming out anytime soon 🙄💀

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siilvan · 10 months ago

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OHHHHH MY GOD I’M SO IN LOVE I CAN’T BELIEVE IT NRD I LOVE YOU 🩷🫶🩷

Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder belongs to @siilvan and she is a unique character, because she has this multiverse, in which she is paired with two polar characters. So her story is always a bit tragic to me, because in every story there is this bitter taste of the love (from another story), that can never happen.

Masterlist

OCs Masterlist (Zhar and Riot so far)

#*slamming fist on table* SHE’S SO PERFECT YOU ABSOLUTE ANGEL #and she’s hot too hey 👀 you did her *justice* in that department #AND YOU WENT THROUGH THE TORTURE OF HER TATTOOS YOU GODSEND I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU 😭😭😭#and the description….. *sobs*#i’ve joked about her standards in the two universes being so opposite #and while yuri is 100% without a doubt her canon ship – i literally can’t include him in stuff where she DOESN’T end up with him #even in her universe with him— there’s definitely this odd bond that she and makarov have because she always tried to see some good in him #<- girlie thought ‘i can’t fix him but maybe i can help him want to fix himself’ and was unfortunately very wrong #but AUSIFMFWKWHDJSLWH #BESTIE I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU WAAAAAAAAAAA 😭😭😭😭#i’m going to be thinking about this and staring at it for the next 15 years #sylph.blogs

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barefoothighlander · 1 year ago

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never going back again - 01

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), violence, depiction of wounds, blood loss, mention of scars

next part masterlist

a/n: this poll won so here's the first part, enjoy

Ghost pulls himself from the rubble, the sound of the blast ringing in his ear, his whole body hurts but he can’t pinpoint where, he brings his hand to feel over his chest before looking down, definitely bleeding, he struggles pulling his weight out from under the rocks.

“All teams this is Ghost how copy?”

It’s radio silence,

“All teams this- ah” He winces as his headphones crackle, a small spark hitting his ear. They must’ve broken in the impact, his body blown back at least 15 feet from the blast, he manages to pull himself from the debris, wincing every time he stretches his stomach. He stands, moving to grab his side arm as his vision blurs, he looks down, a pool of red forming where he had just laid. He needed extraction, and fast, he looks around, clocking his location before advancing through alleys trying to make his way to the safe house.

He manages makes it out of the city in under an hour, stumbling over rocks and pot holes, his vision straining due to the loss of blood. In the distance he makes out a small cottage, assuming that was the safe house he limps towards it. He scans the area trying to find any sign of life before making his way to the door, knocking in a pattern that would signal it was him. He’s braced against the doorframe, his head hung in front of him as the door opens, he makes out a woman’s figure and a small gasp before collapsing on the deck and passing out.

You stand in your door way utterly shocked, the last thing you expected was a giant man wearing a skull mask, covered in blood, collapsing on your doorstep. You’re taken in a blind panic, your fight or flight in full force, you kneel down, your fingers pressing against his neck, he’s breathing and you can feel his heartbeat, you glance behind him for any sign of who might’ve done this, there’s no one there. You lock your arms under his shoulders, struggling to drag him into the house, knowing there was no way you could lift him to the couch so you let him lie in the walkway.

You rush to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit, kneeling back at his side trying to locate the origin of his bleeding, he’s completely passed out but you still mutter a quiet sorry as your hands pull his shirt up, his chest covered in the thick red fluid, you grab gauze to put pressure on the wound, its lengthy, not from a bullet.

You curse yourself, trying to remember the order of things, you breath deeply pouring some alcohol into his cut, his eyes strike open as he tries to sit up in panic.

“I’m sorry! I had to clean it, just, just lay back”

He’s moving around, glancing at his surroundings till his eyes fall to your form, your clothes stained with his blood as your gentle hands press on his abdomen.

“I’ll be quick”

He stares at you, then nods slowly.

“Okay”

Your hands make quick work of putting in a few stitches, noticing that he barely winces from the pain and wiping away any excess dirt or blood from the cut.

“Are- are there any more cuts?” Your eyes scan over his form,

“I don’t know”

You nod, “Can I check”

You wait for his permission, he undoes his vest allowing you further access to his chest, you push his shirt up further, his form is littered with scars, some old and white, some new and pink.

“It doesn’t look like there’s any more on your chest” You let out a sigh of relief

He blinks slowly,

“But um, you lost a lot of blood and I don’t have any antibiotics, I can call for some help”

“No, no cops”

“What about doctors”

“No, no one can know I’m here”

“Are you in danger?”

He huffs a laugh, he’s drenched in blood and wearing a skull and you think he’s in danger.

“I’ll be fine, I have to go” He tries to stand up but stumbles, your hands moving to try and hold him up as your palms dig into his flesh.

“You can’t walk”

“I can manage”

“Please just, you can rest here” You look up at him with worry in your eyes

He looks to you

“I live alone, there’s really not much for miles around, no one will find you”

“You really shouldn’t tell those things to a stranger”

“If you wanted to hurt me you would’ve” You huff a small laugh, eyes staring up at him, “Just rest a little”

He glances around the space, it’s cozy, feminine but cozy, lots of blankets and small lights.

“Do you have tea?”

A small smile forms on your lips, “I do”

You help him to the bathroom so he can rinse off, leaving the door open a crack in case he needs help with anything before you go to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and grabbing two mugs. You hear the shower turn off a few minutes later, turning your attention to the doorway and your throat dries. He’s stood arm braced against the frame, his skin glowing with droplets of water, his modesty only covered by a small towel.

“Any chance you have clothes I can borrow?”

You’re staring at him,

“Oi”

You blink your eyes at him, pulling back from your thoughts, “Yeah sorry, um, I’ll grab them” You run into your bedroom, rummaging through your drawers for anything that would fit him.

“Here these are my boyfriends, he’s smaller than you but they should fit” You hand him a pile of clothes,

“Boyfriend? I thought you lived alone”

“Ex boyfriend” You stutter, “Just never came back for his stuff”

“His loss”

You laugh lightly, allowing him the space to move back into the washroom to change, you lean against the wall,

“So what’s your name?”

He hesitates for a moment,

“Simon”

You whisper the name to yourself, the letters dancing on your tongue as he steps out,

“Not bad” You say glancing over his now clothed form

“Yeah, cheers”

You smile, moving to the kitchen to hand him a mug of tea,

“You’re very kind, I won’t be here long”

“It’s alright, company’s nice”

“Pretty good with stitches, you get a lot of bloody men on your doorstep?”

You laugh, “No just, know how to sew I guess”

Simon nods, sipping his tea, not waiting for it to cool,

“Any chance you can tell me how you stumbled to my door?”

“Um, got lost”

“Ah I see, lost” You make air quotes with your fingers,

He sets down his mug, “Lucky is more like”

“Lucky?”

“Could’ve accidentally stumbled somewhere worse”

“And by worse you mean..” You squint your eyes, he tilts his head slightly staring back at you, “You’re very secretive Simon, has anyone ever told you that”

“Never”

You smile at his words, fighting back a small laugh as you continue to drink your tea, paying attention to the way he squirms in his seat when he hurts his wound.

“You can stay here if you need, really”

“I don’t mean to put you out”

“It’s fine, get your bearings and you can head out whenever your assassin group needs you”

“Assassin group?” He’s amused by your assumption,

“Just, trying to figure you out, hoping I was close”

“Close enough”

“And on that note, the couch is all yours” You stand from your seat, placing your mug in the sink before moving to leave the kitchen, “You know where the bathroom is, everything else is pretty easy to find so, I’m just behind those doors” You point toward the sliding door of your bedroom.

“Thank you, I’ll be out by morning”

“Right” You nod, turning back to him quickly, “If you find a small cat, that’s Goliath, don’t mind him”

“You named your cat Goliath?”

You furrow your brows, “Thought it was funny, goodnight Simon” You nod to him and walk towards your room, sliding the door shut before getting ready for bed.

Ghost makes his way toward the couch, keeping an ear out for any noises outside the house, still nervous he could've been followed, he feels strangely safe within the walls of your cottage, he knows he shouldn't. He doesn't know you, you don't know him, and yet you helped him, gave him shelter and stitched his wounds, he'd never known such a simple kindness before, always seeing the worst in people but you were different, like a glowing ray of sun in his dark mind.

It doesn't take him long to fall asleep, another anomaly considering it usually took him hours of tossing and turning to finally sleep, eventually he'd blame it on his injury and the fact that the couch was insanely comfortable compared to his issued cot.

He woke in a full panic the next morning, darting his gaze around his surroundings, remembering where he was and who he was with, it took him a moment to settle his heartbeat as a clatter came from the kitchen, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, knowing he was relatively safe.

You peak your head around the corner, cringing at the amount of noise you were making, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you"

"S'alright, should've been up hours ago anyway"

"You hungry?"

"No, I should be going anyway" The smell from the kitchen wafts through the living room, grabbing his attention

"You sure? I made too much anyway"

He winces as he pushes himself from the couch, "Why not"

Your smile lights up your face making Ghost pull his gaze from you nervously, his eyes moving toward the floor as he makes his way toward you.

"Sit"

He obeys your command, watching you point toward a chair with a spatula in your hand, chuckling to himself at the sight of you, apron-clad some flour swiped across the front.

"Do you want syrup?"

"Please" Truth be told the man had a major sweet tooth, most people would assume he drank black coffee and ate bitter chocolate but in reality he loved sugar more than anything, always giving into his urges.

You place a plate of pancakes in front of him,

"Wait" You stop him from eating for a second, leaning forward to draw a small smiley face on top with whipped cream, giggling as he tilts his head at you.

"Thanks" He waits for a few moments, giving you time to sit down with your own plate before picking up his fork, he holds the utensil in his hand, staring down at the food.

"You aren't hungry?"

"I am, it's just, my mum used to make pancakes like this" His tone is light as he leans back in his chair slightly, thinking about his family.

"She sounds nice"

"She was"

Your smile drops, "Oh, I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"You said was"

He didn't even realize, so used to internally recalling memories to choose his words differently, shaking his head lightly at you, "Thank you". You can't see his face behind his balaclava, but his gaze softens letting you know he took no offence to your statement, giving him a tight-lipped smile before digging into your food.

You finish a few pancakes before sanding from the table, Ghost's eyes watching as you move around the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out a small bowl, filling it with food, shaking the dish to catch the attention of your cat.

"He comes and goes, usually he's back for breakfast, I swear he'd do anything for some food" You joke, sitting back down in front of him, "Any progress on your ear thing?"

Ghost swallows his food, shaking his head towards you, "Unfortunately no, I need to replace one of the pieces to get it to work, not sure where I'll find one"

"There's a bunch of tech stuff in one of the drawers in the other room, I don't know what any of it does but you're welcome to look through"

"That could help, thanks"

You reach for his empty plate but his hand pushes yours away, your fingers tensing at the contact, "I'll clean, least I could do", he stands from the table, collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. You blush slightly at the gesture, tapping your fingers against the table a few times before standing.

"I have some chores to do but I'd like to check your stitches after"

"I'm sure they're fine"

You sigh lightly, leaning against the counter next to him as he rolls his sleeves up, your eyes drifting toward the ink on his forearm as the muscles tense, "Just, let me check them" You look up at him through your lashes and his mind blanks for a moment, lost in your eyes, the way you look at him like he's a person, not a monster, completely unfazed by his outward appearance.

He says nothing, just nods lightly, turning back to the task at hand, you smile to yourself at your small victory,

"I'll just be outside, don't burn anything down"

"I'll do my best" He watches you breeze through the front door, huffing a deep breath once you closed the door, suddenly aware of his surroundings and what he was doing, washing dishes in a stranger's cottage, he looked so out of place in the house, everything was soft and warm while he was dark and rigid.

He watches you through the window, you float around the property moving around the small garden outside, tucking your hair behind your ear as you kneel beside a bush of vegetables, carefully picking them one by one, tossing them into a small basket and continuing.

"Shit" He tugs his hands from the sink, the now scolding water burning him, he must've zoned out cause the steam from the sink was now filling the room, wiping his hands on a towel before turning the taps off, rubbing his skin slightly to soothe them. His attention is turned to the small black mass leaping onto the counter,

"You must be Goliath"

The cat just stares back at him with its large eyes, meowing loudly at the sight of the stranger, Ghost presses his hand to his chest, "I'm Simon"

Goliath meows, moving toward his bowl of food, leaning down to eat.

"He won't bite"

Ghost turns his head toward the front door, you're leaning against the frame, a basket of produce on your hip, "You can pet him, he won't bite"

"I'm not really an animal person"

"I don't believe that"

"Why not"

"Just doesn't seem true" You place your basket on the table, moving towards Goliath, stroking his fur lightly as he purrs, "He loves it, go ahead" You step back, urging Simon to pet him.

He raises an apprehensive hand, lightly tracing his fingers down the case back,

"You can use a little more pressure"

He looks to you, "I don't want to hurt him"

You smile, "You won't"

Simon flattens his hand, running his palm over Goliath, smiling slightly when the cat purrs in response to his touch,

"He likes you"

"How can you tell"

"He bites people he doesn't" You bite your lower lip to conceal your laughter, Simon's eyes widen as they look at you, pulling his hand back from the cat as you giggle.

"You're lying"

"Guess we'll never know" You nudge your head toward the living room, urging him to follow. He sits on the couch, shuffling a little as you sit next to him, he can feel the heat from your skin, you're close enough that he can smell your shampoo,

"May I?"

He nods as your hands gently tug at the bottom of his shirt, he leans back to help you, your eyes scanning over his form,

"How's it look" His eyes watch you

"Good, not my best work but, you'll heal"

You turn to face him, your fingers still feather-light on his skin, "Can I ask a question?"

"You can, I might not answer it though"

"The scars"

"From my job"

"Do you get stabbed for a living?"

"Something like that" His hand covers yours, dwarfing them as he pulls his shirt back down, "Nothing to worry about"

"They look serious"

He cans esne the worry in your tone, changing his own to reassure you "I'm fine love"

You nod, staying quiet for a moment before realizing that his hands are still holding yours, you move to tug them away but he grips them, holding them close as his eyes linger on you. He scans your face for a second before releasing your hands, shifting his gaze away, suddenly nervous as his hands move into his pockets.

"The drawer is just there"

"Huh?"

"The um, the drawer with the tech stuff, it's just there" You point gently toward the stack of cabinets on the other side of the room, he nods in understanding, crossing the room to search. His fingers sift through the wires, pulling some out to inspect them, tossing others to the back, his eyes land on the exact one he needs, staring at the wire.

"Find anything that works?"

He thinks for a moment, his fingers tossing all the wires back into the drawer, "Not in here"

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

5K notes · View notes

roanniom · 1 year ago

Note

Um for Eddie positions

On your back with your legs over his shoulders

Or laying on your stomach. Like you were laying on your side in bed and he comes in to cuddle up and can’t help himself

Or he bends you over the back of the couch

Or him holding you up against the wall because he can’t wait to get to the bedroom

Or with you sitting on the bathroom sink trying to get ready in the morning

Or on the edge of the pool during a midnight swim

Sorry I’m newly single and reminiscing

Omg never apologize for sending me beautiful, hot thots like this!!! I love them.

I think the idea of Eddie holding you up against the wall because he can’t wait to get to the bedroom is WILD.

Impatient

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

“Eddie,” you huff against his lips when he finally migrates his sucking, biting kisses down your jaw to your neck, giving you a second to breathe. He’s tugging at your layers and beginning to discard them haphazardly right there in the living room.

“Princess,” he replies into your skin, mimicking your tone and breathlessness. You chuckle and in spite of your next words you thread your fingers deep in his hair.

“Eddie, let’s go to bed.”

He’s shaking his head before you finish your sentence.

“Can’t wait. Need you now.”

“Impatient much?”

You start to laugh again but all the humor is replaced with blind lust when you’re shoved against the wall. His hard body is against yours, confined erection pressing and rutting into the apex of your legs.

“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. You wanna be sexy as hell and tell me I gotta wait to go all the way to the bedroom to fuck you. Nah. No dice.”

“The time it took you to say that we could have—.” You don’t get to finish your teasing contradiction because his mouth is on yours and his hand is pushing up your skirt. He finds you wet, exactly as he assumed he would, and your moan spills from your mouth into his.

When he begins fingering you in earnest and you can no longer keep up with kissing him back, Eddie pulls a few centimeters away to watch the way you crumble against the wall.

“Wanna go to the bedroom now, princess?” he asks, smug because he knows the answer. You do your best to stare daggers at him but it’s in vain because your brows are furrowed and your eyes are rolling back with pleasure.

“Just fucking fuck me already, Munson.”

“Somebody’s impatient,” Eddie chuckles. But he yanks down his jeans and pumps himself a few quick times before lining himself up with your dripping entrance.

You both moan, all humor and teasing gone the second he sheaths himself inside of you.

It’s hard and fast as Eddie works himself up to a good rhythm. It’s been a while since he’s had you quick and dirty against a wall, but there’s something so fucking hot about the fact that you’re only a few steps away from the front door.

“Holy fuck, can’t believe you would have deprived me of this pussy,” Eddie whines after a few minutes of sweaty, panting, skin-slapping silence.

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t already threatening to roll back into your head.

“The room’s like 15 feet away, how’s that deprivation? This is an apartment, not a mansion!”

“I can’t hear you over how good you feel, shit.”

Already so turned on from being fingered, you’re on the edge very quickly, which is good for Eddie because he’s beside himself.

Your head lols to the side against the wall while Eddie bangs you into it. You watch him take his pleasure and squeal delightedly when he reaches down to play with your clit, prioritizing your pleasure as well.

“Fuck I’m close.”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” Eddie grunts.

“You’re just saying that because you’re waiting for me to cum so you can,” you say cheekily.

“You bet your ass I am. Almost busted my load just rubbing up against you.”

“Romantic,” you huff, but he sees how your eyes glaze over and feels your pussy tighten even more.

“Prince Charming for you, only, princess.” He grins and kisses your neck. That’s what does it, if you’re being honest with yourself. You cum hard, seizing around him and feeling him cum only seconds later (he’d been hanging by a thread).

~*~

—

—-

#issa’s flying night #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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athenamikaelson · 5 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 2

Word Count- 3k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, canon spoilers

Vampires exist. So don’t werewolves and witches, the supernatural. This is what Elena had told me on the way back to Mystic Falls after our adventure with the 3 cannibals. No, not cannibals, vampires.

Flashback

“It’s true, Y/N. Vampires, witches, and other supernatural creatures exist. Those people who took us were vampires,” She motions to the two men in the front seat, “Stefan and Damon are aswell, but you don’t have to worry about them they won’t hurt you.”

“We’ll see.” The dark-haired one says out loud as he glances back at me skeptically. The look made me want to throw up but since my stomach didn’t have any more food to throw up I just stared at him nauseously.

“Damon, stop it,” Elena glares at him from the seat next to me, “You will not hurt Y/N, ever.” Elena continues her glaring at the man as he turns over his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry about Damon,” Elena whispers as she grabs my hand, “I’ll explain everything you need to know.”

“Yo, you good in there,” Theo’s voice calls from the other side of the bathroom door, “I need to do my hair before school and you know I need at least 25 minutes!”

I let out a deep sigh and tried to wipe away the tiredness from my eyes. After I got back last night Theo bitched me out for leaving him stranded at the party, without a license he had to walk himself home. When asked where I went off to I made up some lie about sleeping over at Elena’s. Theo was skeptical since he knows the closest person I have to a friend is the 67-year-old librarian at Mystic Fall’s library, but he’s more brawn than brain so he didn’t think much more of it. I hated lying to him, With Theo and I being so close and age we never kept things from each other, even though he’s a pain in my ass there’s no one in this world I love more than him. After our father and mother divorced that bond only strengthened.

“Ya I’m fine,” I open the bathroom door and Theo’s usual calm facade breaks for a moment as he looks at me, “What the fuck happened to you? you look like you got into a fight with a squirrel and didn’t stand a chance.”

I roll my eyes at his remark and push past him to my room. As I grip the door handle a hand grabs my upper arm.

“Hey, I’m joking,” I turn to see Theo staring down at me worriedly, “Seriously though Y/N, what happened you look like you haven’t slept in years?”

I can’t argue with his observation because I know what I look like since I just spent the last 15 minutes staring back at myself in the mirror. I was too tired last night to take a shower so I just used a washcloth for the blood on my face and chest, then passed out. Or at least tried to, my dreams were vacated by thoughts of what is truly hiding in the shadows, now that I know what is out there.

“I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

I try to get Theo to understand that I don’t want to approach this subject any further and thankfully he takes the hint. Within a split second the worried look drops and is replaced with a judgy look.

“Fine, but you’re going to need to change whatever it is you’ve got going on here,” He motions with his hands to my Hello Kitty T-shirt and matching pajama pants, “If I’m seen with you like this my social status will take a massive hit.”

My eyes roll and I shove a fist to his shoulder, earning a mocking gasp from him.

“I’m taking the day off today, I only had two periods today anyway. I’ll still take you and drop you off, be in the car in 15 minutes, or else you’re taking the bus.”

Theo shoots me a horrified look and gasps, “And make me sit next to those peasants! You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

—-

Eight minutes later we’re in my car driving to school. One thing I can always count on with Theo is that he will never do anything to tank his reputation. When we moved here a few months ago I was worried he’d have a hard time making friends and fitting in but that was my mistake. Theo is the most extroverted extrovert I have ever met and has a way of making people fall over and do anything he wants with a flash of a smile. Where he got the charisma I got the brains. I would never admit it out loud but sometimes I’m jealous of just how many people truly liked being around him. My only friend is the librarian and the only reason she hasn’t run away from me is because it’s her 9-5, and she can’t leave.

I pull up to the front of the school and Theo finishes putting the finishing touches onto his hair. As he steps out a group of football guys all wave and acknowledge him.

“My practice gets out at 4:30 tonight. Don’t forget me this time,” Theo leans down and looks at me with a pointed look.

“I’ll be there, I give you my word.”

“Great,” Theo smiles at me and reaches his hand over for a fist bump, “Later nerd.”

I bump his fist with mine, “Bye loser.”

—-

As I pull into my driveway, I hear my phone chime go off. Glancing down at the screen I see an incoming call from Elena Gilbert. My brain tells me to ignore it and go back up to my bed and hide away from the world until I’m at least 43 years old, but my body has already made my thumb swipe to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N! How are you doing this morning,” Elena's voice comes from the other end, I hear the sound of a car in the background making me realize she must be driving, “I honestly didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Honestly I debated not to,” I tell her honestly.

“Um, well,” She pauses for a moment, “I know you’re probably very confused, and I don’t know if you want the company or not but I’m going to go do something and was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

I frown slightly at the question, “Why?”

Elena lets out a sound of confusion, “I just thought you might want to know more, or at the very least you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not what I’m doing I promise you, Y/N. If you don’t want to come that’s fine by me, but I just want you to know you have a friend out there to talk to about this if needed. If you change your mind I’ll text you the address.”

I hum in acknowledgement and after a moment the call goes dead. I sit in my car for the next 20 minutes going through my head all the things I could do. I could do what I wanted to do before and hide out and be alone, or I could help Elena…. Hiding out seems like a great idea. As soon as my hand reaches the car door handle I’m reminded of how Elena defended me yesterday and fought for me and a loud groan escapes my lips. Fuck. I sit back, pull up the address she texted me, and pull out of my driveway. If I’m kidnapped again I’m going to be so pissed.

—-

I pull my car into the spot next to Elena’s car in the middle of the woods. Yep, I'm getting kidnapped. What teenager hangs out in the woods next to a graveyard? I pull out my phone and dial Elena’s number. It rings for a moment before I get a response.

“Y/N? Is everything ok? Are you hurt?” Elena’s frantic voice comes from the other end.

“What? No, I’m here. Where are you?” I turn around in a circle trying to catch a glimpse of the brunette girl but see nothing but tall barren trees.

“Oh! I didn’t think you’d come, I’ll be up in a second.” She hangs up the call as I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, come up from where? My question is answered when brown hair makes an appearance as Elena walks up a stone staircase leading to who knows where. As she notices me a small smile spreads onto her face and for a moment I get the urge to smile back, but suppress it back down and just nod at her in acknowledgment. She walks over to me and before I have a chance to react she’s wrapping her petite arms around me in a hug. What’s with all the hugging?

“Thank you for coming,” She releases me, “before I take you down though I should warn you it might be a little weird.”

Her warning makes my heart start to beat faster and a sense of nausea surfaces, I really have to invest in some Tums.

“Weirder than being kidnapped by three vampires, which I guess now are actually real?”

Elena processes the question over for a moment before shaking her head slightly, “I guess not as weird as that, no.”

“Come on,” Elena motions me to follow as she guides me down the stone staircase. I tighten the small sweater over myself once I realize I’m still in my pajamas. With each step down I fear I’m walking into something that’ll make me regret getting out of bed this morning. But all I’m met with at the bottom of the stairs is a small stone room covered with dirt, in the center the stone opens up to darkness and I fight the urge to strain my neck to look in.

“Did you bring me a snack?”

A tough female voice calls from the black abyss. Fuck, I really am getting kidnapped, aren’t I? I’m just about to run right back up those stairs and floor my Toyota Corolla out of this bitch when Elena speaks back to the voice.

“You’re not going to lay a finger on Y/N,” Elena looks at me as she walks over to the hole in the wall and sits down patting the spot next to her, “It’s ok Y/N, as long as she’s in there and we’re out here she can’t touch us.”

I frown in confusion as I drag my feet to where she’s sitting but as I walk from behind her I stop and stare at the woman slumped over in front of Elena. Or not Elena? What the actual fuck is happening!

“Elena, why the hell does she have your face, wait do you have a twin” I motion to the spitting image of Elena in front of us. She looks identical to Elena, wearing a dark mini-dress that looks like it would be easier to burn it rather than clean it at this point.

“Don’t insult me like that.” The clone throws me a dirty look.

“This was the weird thing I was mentioning earlier,” Elena explains, “This is Kathrine, she’s my doppelganger.”

“Correction,” Elena’s dopple-whatever jumps in, “She’s my doppelganger, I’m the original she’s just a cheap copy.”

Ok…bitchy much.

Elena just rolls her eyes as if she’s used to this treatment, “It’s a supernatural phenomenon I guess where every few hundred years someone that looks just like us is born. Kathrine is the vampire that turned Stefan and Damon a hundred years ago.”

I try to nod along but with all the information I’ve learned in the past 24 hours my mind feels like it’s going to explode.

“Is she stupid or something?” I whip my head to Kathrine at the remark.

“Fuck you bitch.”

Kathrine raises an eyebrow at my retort and shifts her shoulders upwards, “Fine, not stupid,” She slints her eyes at me, “Just slow.”

My anger rises at her insult and I am about to open my mouth to go tell this bitch off but Elena raises her hand in a stopping motion.

“Don’t listen to her Y/N, she’s just trying to provoke you,” Elena sends Kathrine a dirty look, “It’s what she does.”

I nod my head along and realize that these two don’t seem to like each other even though they share the same face.

“So is this some bonding session,” I question Elena, “What are we doing here?’

“I came here to ask Kathrine questions about why I was taken yesterday, and why Elijah seemed to have known you from somewhere.” I watch Kathrine’s posture change slightly at the mention of the suited man. Appears she’s not a fan of the man either. I sigh as I sit down on the dusty ground next to Elena, and can only sit there disgusted as she pours something thick and red into a little cup. Once the stench hits my nose I realize she’s pouring blood.

I go to ask her what the hell she is doing but stop as she uses a stick to push it over to Kathrine. I disturbingly watch as the dopplebitch grabs the cup with her pale hand and brings it to her chapped lips. The red from the blood paints her lips as her mouth opens slightly and I catch a glimpse of two white sharp teeth protruding from her gums.

“Finish the story,” Elena urges Kathrine as she flings the cup back to Elena. Kathrine adjusts her posture as she taps her chin in thought.

“Right, now where was I?”

“You were mentioning how you betrayed Rose and Trevor by killing yourself for your freedom, and ever since you’ve been on the run,’” Elena stands up and says as if it’s not the wild-ass sentence I’ve ever heard, she pauses for a moment in thought and I watch as a realization washes over her, “That’s why you’re here isn’t, to bargain your freedom to Klaus?”

Kathrine follows suit and stands up facing Elena, “Mmm. Five hundred years on the run I figured maybe he’d be willing to strike a deal.”

I shake my head in confusion, “Wait, who’s Klaus? I thought Elijah was the scary cannibal guy everyone was afraid of.”

“Klaus is an ancient vampire who wants to sacrifice me,” Elena replies staring down at me, she must notice the look of utter confusion on my face because she tells me she explain that later.

As I have no idea what the hell is even going on I just listen and watch as the two “not-twins” discuss the Klaus guy and the ingredients for the curse. Ingredients that happen to be actual people might I add. Caroline who I found out is now a vampire and not just some loud blonde girl that sits behind me in my French class, some special stone, Elena as aforementioned, and Theo’s football captain Tyler Lockwood, who surprise surprise is a fucking werewolf. Self-reminder to keep Theo away from him.

“Better you die than I,” Kathrine tells Elena as she questions how she can just hand over all those innocent people. Elena shakes her head in frustration and then glances at me.

“Is Y/N a part of it,” Elena gestures to me and questions Kathrine who picks a piece of invisible lint off her shoulder. Kathrine takes her time moving her eyes from the wall in front of her to look me in my eyes. Where Elena and Kathrine may be almost identical it is the eyes that make them different. Where Elena’s eyes are kind and welcoming, Kathine’s are filled with nothing but malice and something much darker.

“Why would she be? She’s human, and I already have my vampire,” Kathrine sends me a cold glance, “If Caroline doesn’t work out though, you can always be a backup, I guess.”

I shiver at the cruel chuckle she lets out, and Elena walks in front of where I’m sitting.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Yesterday I watched as Elijah’s whole demeanor changed when he saw Y/N. He looked at her like he had known her his entire life.”

A small shift in Kathrine’s face appears for a split second before it’s gone. The cruel look in her eyes is now gone and replaced with something much different. Realization is what I can only think of as she runs her eyes over me as if seeing me in a different light. The corner of her lips tightens as she glances at me with an unexplainable look.

“He’s going to destroy you.”

That’s all she says as she picks herself up and strolls back into the darkness. I watch her back retreat as Stefan’s voice comes from behind me. I don’t focus on anything as Kathrine’s words repeat in my head. I must’ve been standing there looking into the abyss for too long because a hand on my shoulder shocks me.

“Hey, don’t overthink what she said,” Elena shifts me to look at her, “Elijah is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Elena’s right,” Stefan chimes in from behind her, “Kathrine has never told the truth a day in her life, whatever she told you was just to rattle you.”

I nod my head as I take a step away from them and towards to staircase.

“I think I’m going to head home. I have some things I have to do,” I lie about the last part, I just want to get out of here before another panic attack decides to make an appearance.

Elena nods and tries to send me a comforting smile, “OK. Well, can I call you later?” she asks almost hopefully. I just nod my head slightly as I turn around and make my way up the stairs.

—-

The entire drive home my mind is filled with thoughts of everything that’s happened in the past day. Curses, kidnapping, and the supernatural. Jesus Christ, this sounds like a bad TV show. I try to focus on the road but Kathrine’s last words to me keep ringing in my head. My breathing starts to quicken as I realize what that look in Kathrine’s eyes was. Fear.

TAGS- @promptly-mercy @superblyspeedydragon @yoyoyoyooy44

@reidsworld

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javierpena-inatacvest · 14 days ago

Text

Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.”

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade.

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less.

“Hurricane’s coming.”

“Bomb’s dropping.”

“World‘s ending.”

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic.

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense.

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning.

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last.

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?”

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself.

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.”

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed.

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.”

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back.

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding.

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood.

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.”

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home.

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound.

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon.

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up.

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours.

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down.

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you.

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under your breath.

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had.

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions.

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like.

You know he’s right.

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.”

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.”

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game.

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention.

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?”

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf.

“Hey!”

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you.

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming.

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat.

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold.

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-”

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!”

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.”

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them.

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.”

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?”

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you.

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.”

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small.

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Frankie.

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right.

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.”

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name.

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?”

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him.

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed.

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort.

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks.

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.”

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment.

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which.

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.”

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke.

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade.

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours.

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football.

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you.

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you.

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task, to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales.

You weren’t ever going to let him down.

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you.

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.”

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?”

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.”

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend.

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them.

“Fine. She can stay.”

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi.

“Nice work, Kenz.”

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest.

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind.

Frankie, Present

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there.

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place.

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t.

“Hey, Mamá.”

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-”

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.”

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?”

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.”

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-”

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.”

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago.

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there.

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey.

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come.

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all.

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person.

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for.

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad.

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too.

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!”

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!”

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.”

“Perfect, you look just like him.”

“Frankie!”

“Kidding, kidding!”

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same.

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters.

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it.

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you.

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now.

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is.

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi.

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass.

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.”

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth.

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?”

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you.

“Fine. What flavor jello?”

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.”

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left.

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.”

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.”

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering.

“Your dad only eats jello?”

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.”

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before.

“Um, w-why?”

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better.

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it.

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from.

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.”

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.”

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back.

“Your dad sounds nice.”

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?”

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know.

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.”

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building.

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys.

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.”

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.”

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?”

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.”

“Are they as bad as mine?”

“No. They’re worse.”

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say.

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

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