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ilium-ilia · 3 months ago

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kiss the skin that crawls

john price x fem!reader | the surrogate au | masterlist

Part Two: terms and conditions

You’re not sure why you dressed up for tonight.

A cream colored blouse and a periwinkle skirt cling to your body as a sweet zephyr attempts to rip them from your form. You feel the flow of wind drift up your skirt, down your blouse, through the fibers, all to cool your feverish skin. While you’re certain the occasion doesn’t call for it, you’ve even worn your kitten heels, though you’re beginning to regret wearing them due to the way they tend to stick in the cracks of the brick path that leads up to Kate and Lottie’s rental home.

Truly, it is a beautiful building. Freshly trimmed hedges, flowers in full bloom, slanted windows that make the entire home look peaceful, as if it’s a baronial beast resting in deep slumber—the nature surrounding you should quell your nerves, but you find perspiration lining your palms faster than you can wipe them clean on your shirt.

This is nothing—this dinner, this minor celebration—at least, that’s what you attempt to tell yourself as you approach the door. There’s nothing for you to prove; Kate and Lottie seem very happy with you being their surrogate. This is a friendly get together. A kindness they bestow upon you in thanks for giving them the one thing they cannot create themselves; the one thing they so desperately desire that’s just beyond their reach. A chance to meet the man whose baby you’ll carry for the next nine months—nothing more.

Kate answers the door shortly after your first round of knocks. She appears more or less the same as she did the first day you met her—hair pulled back into a bun, fringe covering her forehead, eyes creasing as she greets you with a polite smile. Stepping back, she welcomes you inside, and you are instantly enveloped by the warmth of a stove and the mouthwatering aroma of chicken and potatoes.

“You’re just in time, Lottie’s almost finished up with dinner,” she says with a hum before leading you into the kitchen.

Thanks to your meeting with them earlier in the week, you’re already familiar with the room—the cupboards, the counters, the sink—

—the man washing dishes.

Lottie obscures your view of John as she bends over the stove, but he towers over her by a dizzying amount of inches. Back turned to you, you’re able to see the way his scapulas dance through the cotton of his shirt as he scrubs at freshly used pots and pans, head bent forward so as to not hit his skull on the low hanging lamp hovering above him.

He’s dressed similarly to the picture you were shown of him; dark blue jeans hugging wide hips, grey cotton constricting around thick biceps—you don’t mean to stare, but you do. He’s a bear; one of the stronger men you’ve ever seen. You can’t help but think that Kate and Lottie picked a good donor.

For genetic reasons, of course.

“Oh, there you are! So good to see you, hun!” Lottie’s alluring voice bleeds through the air and drowns out the singing of the sink as she turns to you with a beaming smile. Hands shoved into oven mitts, she gestures to a small stack of plates and cutlery to your right before she turns her attention to the oven. “Would you be a dear and set the table for me please?”

Glad to have something of a distraction, you take the items into your hand before wandering off to the dining table the next room over. It’s a rather intimate piece of furniture—a small square table made of birchwood and only four matching chairs. No room to hide or run. Eye contact unavoidable. Near mandatory. You try not to think about it as you line plates up along the seats, forks, spoons, and knives even in their rows, napkins folded into pristine squares.

As your hands grip the back of one of the chairs, your mind starts to whisper. A question blooms deep in your cortex, what are you doing here? Fight or flight. Survival of the fittest. Convinced your brain cannot tell the difference between death and a simple dinner, you push the notion out of your head as Lottie begins to present the dishes along the table and everyone takes their seats.

Pot pie, gravy, corn, green beans, pitchers of water, cups of ice—it’s a proper meal, something Lottie certainly went above and beyond to prepare. Despite your anxiety, your stomach still constricts in hunger, finally having grown upset at you for skipping lunch because your nerves simply made your throat feel too tight. You find yourself stuck to your chair, hands unmoving from your lap, when you look across the table.

John sits in your direct sight now, and you hate so much to admit it, but the pictures you’ve seen of him don’t do him justice. The tincture of his eyes are more vibrant in person, a deep blue—darker and sings louder than the deepest parts of the ocean you’ve witnessed on London’s docks. If you strain hard enough, you realize you can catch the faintest hint of fresh tobacco and sandalwood—earthy, fresh, like petrichor in summer, or the forest in autumn.

“Well, go on then,” Lottie urges, excitedly waving her hands. “Eat up! I made plenty for everyone.”

Unusually taciturn, you continue to sit with twitching fingers as you figure out where to start. For a moment, the table is still. No one stirs. No one dares to reach for the food everyone so obviously craves, they sit with shifting eyes, curious quirks in their lips—

—John is the first person to move, and he does not travel where you expect him to.

Arm reaching across the table, he steals your plate from its mat. Blinking, you stare up at him with parted lips—mouth forming a silent question—as you watch him begin to dish your plate for you. Wooden spoon taps against fine china as he supplies a sufficient amount of food before he curiously presents the plate to you with raised brows.

“More?” he asks.

Swallowing, you shake your head. “No, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

He then goes on to do the same to everyone else before serving his own plate. Stunned, you find yourself enraptured by him. Chivalrous and quiet—things you don’t often find in men these days—it’s hard to look away from how his fingers dwarf his cutlery as he devours the meal. In order to smother the tickle of thoughts in the back of your mind, you find yourself following suit, desperately welcoming any distraction.

Dinner goes about as well as you expect it to. Delicious food (Lottie had talked up her main dish so much and had delivered so wonderfully), small talk, vague inside jokes between Kate and John that you don’t quite catch; it’s oddly formal. Stiff, like the skin of domestic life doesn’t quite fit over their bodies; like they don’t know how to truly act when they aren’t doing business.

When the main course is finished, Lottie reveals that she’s made a peach cobbler for dessert. Freshly warmed, she presents the treat to you topped with vanilla ice cream, and you can hardly hold back your hum at the cinnamon that melts on your tongue. John chuckles and makes a comment about how she’s going to fatten him up, and you try not to stare too long when he pats the soft layer of his lower stomach.

This dinner is going to kill you, but you tell yourself the payment is worth it.

“Alright. Should we talk specifics, then?” Kate prompts once you’re halfway through your cobbler.

Quirking your head, you realize she’s glancing back and forth between you and John, eyes studious. Humming, John wipes his mouth and facial hair on a napkin before nodding and diverting his full attention to Kate and the conversation she’s attempting to kick up.

“Specifics?” you repeat.

“About your surrogacy and the baby,” she confirms.

Embarrassment washes over you in a thick wave that clogs every vein in your body. Of course that’s what she meant. What else are you here for?

“Yes, right. Well—erm—do we have appointments then?” you question.

Kate’s eyes flicker to the man across from you. “That’ll be up to you and John to schedule.”

Something in her tone has your palms beginning to sweat again. There’s a disconnect somewhere in your psyche—something that you can’t quite make sense of. Still, pretending to be put together, you nod as if you’re following along with what she’s implicating.

“Easy enough,” you say, mustering as much confidence as you’re able to. “Is there a clinic that you’re corresponding with? A doctor we should be working through?”

“Clinic?” Lottie’s confusion cuts through the conversation like a hot knife through butter, and the fallout has your throat constricting.

“Yes. You know, for the embryo transfer and procedure?” you explain.

“There won’t be any need for that,” Kate says casually.

Everything crumbles. This idea of being a proper surrogate, the carrier of a child—it hits you with the force of hurricane winds, towering waves, a slap to the face. The ice cream that sits upon your cobbler has turned into liquid, but your stomach no longer craves anything as decadent as that.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a nervous titter. “Are you… are you wanting me to have sex with John?”

“How else are we supposed to get the baby in there?” he asks with a sonorous chuckle.

You realize just how deep you are in this situation—so far beneath the waves that your screams wouldn’t even bubble at the surface. Out of the kindness of your heart, you were willing to help Kate and Lottie with this next step in their life, but you’re not sure you can chew and swallow down what you’re being presented with now. Having sex with a stranger. Putting more skin in the game than you ever expected.

“It’s easier this way,” Kate explains after a moment's silence. “It’s less invasive, more natural on the body, less risk of rejection and miscarriage. Frankly, my two main priorities are ensuring that both you and the baby are healthy throughout this entire pregnancy, and this gives us the best chance at that.”

Palms flat on the table, you try to steady yourself even though the world feels like it’s moving beneath your very feet. Your gaze flickers from Kate to John—who sits with a polite smile as if it can obscure the way he’s being presented like a stallion for breeding—and then to Lottie who looks eager to hear your reply. So many eyes on you, piercing through you, pinning you in place, ready to flay you open.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Kate reminds. “We understand if you need more time to think about it.”

“No.” The word bleeds between your lips like spring water from the earth, fresh and clear, moisture dawning on a new day. “No, that’s fine. I was just caught off guard is all.”

Fingers tapping anxiously against the table, Lottie leans forward, eyes glistening like dew drops on blades of grass. “So you’ll do it?”

Before you lies a scale. Your options are weighed; take their offer, have a one night stand with a stranger, have a child, and walk away much richer, or leave and continue your life the same way you always have. Struggling, living in a crumbling home, with the dreams of earning the life you’ve wished for since you were a child far out of your reach.

The answer is clear—you’ll never find an opportunity like this again.

“Of course. Yes, this is no problem at all,” you smile.

Lottie nearly leaps across the table to smother you in her arms, but instead she reaches out and takes your hands into hers. Moisture lines her eyes, and you see the way the corners of her lips quiver as she thanks you, thumbs squeezing tight into the back of your hands.

With everything squared away and the evening growing into night, you and John assist the Laswell’s in cleaning up after the meal. Back on dish duty again, he cleans all the plates and cutlery while you dry the lingering droplets of water off with a teatowel.

Standing next to him has put you in closer proximity than you’ve ever been, though you know the distance between you is rapidly closing. That sillage of tobacco and sandalwood washes over you again as he hands you a cup to dry. Out of everyone that you could have been paired to conceive a child with, you’re glad it’s John. There are certainly worse choices in the world.

“I apologize if I came off a bit strong earlier,” John says as he rinses off a plate. “I was under the impression you were already made aware of everything.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” you assure. “I was just more confused than anything else, but now that everything is out in the open it’s… easier to comprehend, I suppose.”

“I’m clean, if you’re worried about it at all. Could even show you the test results, if you’d like,” he adds.

Chuckling, you take the final dish from him and begin to dry it as you shake your head. “That’s quite alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

Once you’re finished with your task, you hand the dish to Lottie so it can be stored away with the others before you turn your full attention to John. Despite his broad and roughened exterior, he looks at you tenderly, as if he’s beholding some soft creature. Swallowing, you hand the towel out for him to dry his hands off with, and you try not to stare at the darkened hair on his fingers and the backs of his hands.

“So… I suppose we should set up an appointment for our… coitus,” you say stiffly.

John chuckles. He always does. His eyes brighten as he tosses the towel over his shoulder as the two of you iron out the fine details. A date that works. An exchange of phone numbers. By the end of it, things begin to manifest into something so tangible you’re left with a spinning head, yet you persevere with a smile nonetheless.

“It was lovely meeting you,” John says softly as he extends his hand to you.

Returning the gesture, you reach for him, ready to shake hands, but he captures your fingers instead. Thumb running over your knuckles, he raises them to his mouth where he presses a soft kiss against your skin, facial hair tickling your metacarpals in the process. Heat courses through you as you stare at him, eyes focused on his lips locking against your body as if he can’t wait to get a taste of you.

“I’ll see you soon, love.”

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#ilium writing #jp ilia #ktstc #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #female reader

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alwaysurvalentine · 5 months ago

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marry me (if I ever get the nerve) - st fic

Based on a prompt from my @steddiebingo 12 Days of Christmas card: 'proposal'

wc: 2.4k | cw: none

enjoy! 💛

One.

A crowd is blocking the pathway when Eddie and Steve round the corner. Steve cranes his neck to see around the crowd and then scoffs.

“What, what is it?” Eddie’s trying to see through the people in front of him, but every time he shifts, they do too.

“Someone’s proposing in the middle of the park. Can’t even imagine how embarrassed she feels right now. Can you imagine?”

Steve continues to rant, one hand waving in the air while he vents and the other one tugging Eddie along the edges of the crowd to get past.

Marriage has been brought up between them before, an idea that seemed nice but somehow far away. Even without saying it, Eddie knew it was something that Steve wanted. It’d been an easy plan from there: save up money for a ring, pop the question, and then marry the fuck out of Steve Harrington. So far all Eddie had done was start saving for a ring.

He stumbled upon the perfect ring just last month, a simple gold band with the option to engrave the inside. Right now he can’t decide what he wants to put there, but he figures he’s still got some time to think about it.

“Like what if she wants to say no? He’s basically put her in a situation where she has to say yes and then go back on that answer later.”

There’s genuine distress in Steve’s voice at this stranger having to deal with this. Eddie squeezes his hand and offers a placating smile. Up ahead is the cafe they’d been heading towards in the first place. For once there isn’t a line and Eddie lets go of Steve’s hand just to open the door and bow.

“My love.”

All of the tension building up in Steve leaves him with a roll of his eyes and he smiles when he steps in before Eddie. Even though Steve wasn’t a fan of the couple they saw, Eddie sends a quick thanks because now he knows.

Absolutely no proposing in a crowded public place.

Two.

Light always finds Steve. No matter the time of day, if there’s a ray of sunshine, it’s shining on his boyfriend. It’s one of the first things Eddie noticed about him when they started dating. Now is no exception, sun peeking through their blinds to shine on Steve’s face.

Steve has barely moved from where he left him this morning, mouth slack with a line of drool leading to a small spot on his pillow. Eddie sets the tray holding their breakfast down for a moment, leaning over to swipe the drool away with his thumb. He rubs his hand on his pants and then rests a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Steve’s eyebrows furrow when he wakes, eyes blinking open just to squint shut at the light.

“C’mon, I made breakfast.”

Steve yawns and smiles softly, rubbing at his eyes. Eddie grabs the breakfast tray again, orange juice sloshing in the glass but not spilling with the movement. The small smile on Steve’s face turns into a full blown grin and he smooths over the blanket when he sits up.

The plate of breakfast smiles back at him, bacon curving up towards two eyes made of eggs. A gentle hand takes his wrist and Eddie’s tugged down close enough for Steve to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Thanks, baby.” Sleep still paints Steve’s words, a roughness there only because of their activities from the night before. An image of Steve on his knees, eyes half lidded and tongue hanging out of his mouth flashes into Eddie’s mind. He’s quick to dismiss it though, trying to stay on task.

Afterall, this breakfast is serving a purpose. Today is going to be the day that Eddie proposes to Steve. All he’s got to do now is pull the ring out of his bedside table and ask the question. Just a small, intimate setting for his Stevie.

He leans toward his dresser drawer right as the phone starts to ring.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh, hi Eddie. Is Steve there?” Max is on the other end of the line, voice tight.

“One sec.” Eddie passes the phone over easily and mouths that it’s Max on the other end.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Judging by the face Steve makes at something Max says, this proposal is about to be pushed to another day. When Steve shifts the tray off of his lap and scoots out of bed, Eddie knows he’s right.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you called. Give me fifteen and we’ll be there.” Another pause and Steve flashes a grimace in Eddie’s direction.

“You know he would understand. Okay, okay, yeah, it’ll just be me. See you soon Mayfield.”

Guilt covers Steve’s face when he turns to Eddie. He tosses the phone back onto the bed and pulls jeans over his boxers.

“Sorry, Max needs me to help her with something real quick, but I’ll be right back after that. Rain check on breakfast in bed?”

Disappointment curls in Eddie’s stomach but he nods anyway. “Of course, no worries. Is Red okay?”

Just as much as the kids are Steve’s in all the ways that matter, Eddie’s adopted them too. If one of them is in trouble, he wants to know.

“Yeah, just something going on with her mom.”

“Why don’t you bring her back here? I can make some more breakfast and we can all do brunch and watch trash TV.”

Steve closes the distance between them with a few quick strides, pressing a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. His hands come to rest on Steve’s hips, keeping him close so he can steal a couple close mouthed kisses before Steve leaves.

“That would be great, I love you.” Another kiss and then Eddie lets him go so Steve can brush his teeth before heading over.

Might need to recruit Robin to help make sure proposing doesn’t get interrupted.

Three.

Tuesdays are date nights.

Eddie doesn’t know if it was on purpose, but the first date he and Steve went on was a Tuesday and now it’s just become tradition. It’s the one day of the week that the gremlins know to let them have their night.

Tonight, Eddie’s even got Robin helping to run interference. Obviously he had to run this plan by her. They both figured while he’ll be popping the question, doing so over a candlelit dinner without getting on his knee was still lowkey enough for Steve to let it pass.

(Robin also tried to argue that Steve would be fine with a massive proposal because the only answer he’d have for Eddie would be yes. Her puppy dog eyes aren’t nearly as lethal as Steve’s, so he hadn’t caved.)

Eddie had asked Steve to dress up for dinner tonight for a reservation made at The Grillhouse. They don’t always do fancier dinners, more than happy to dance around the kitchen together instead. Steve had asked what the occasion was and squinted skeptically when Eddie stuttered that he had big news he was excited to share. Despite all of his practice as a DM, he still can’t lie to save his life. Luckily, Steve had dropped it and shifted the focus to a story from work.

Now Eddie finds his palms sweaty, empty plates sitting between them. This is his window.

“Stevie?”

His boyfriend tilts his head to the side, humming quietly to show he’s listening.

“I brought you to dinner saying I had some big news to share. But really, that news couldn’t be possible without you.”

Steve’s face softens and he reaches across the table to take one of Eddie’s hands. They sit like that for a moment, Eddie swallowing before reaching into his coat pocket to grab the ring.

The pocket is kind of deep and all he feels is fabric so he digs in a little further. Still, all he feels is the cotton lining against his fingers.

And then he realizes.

He forgot the ring.

He forgot the ring. What is he supposed to tell Steve now?

“I’ve decided to send some of me and the guys’ tapes to some producers.”

The smile on Steve’s face is bright enough to challenge the sun and Eddie knows he’ll be sending out those tapes this week just so that he hasn’t lied to the man in front of him.

“Holy shit!” A couple of people swivel their heads at the sudden exclamation but Steve doesn’t pay them any mind, raising his glass to Eddie. Never one to leave Steve hanging, he’s quick to lift his own glass for Steve’s toast.

“Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you!”

Hot tip: don’t forget the ring.

Four.

Steve’s bopping his head as he walks through the kitchen. Everyone’s just cleared out of the apartment after spending the night. He hasn’t been able to convince Steve to play D&D, but it doesn’t mean his boyfriend doesn’t love any opportunity to host. Every couple of weeks their apartment is flooded with the full group, pizza for dinner and then Steve pulls out all of the stops for brunch the next day.

There’s a pile of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink and a couple of pans left to cool on top of the stove, but like always - Steve’s turned on the radio first. Which works perfectly with Eddie’s plan.

He’d called the radio station earlier in the week and asked them to play their song so he could propose to the love of his life. The girl on the other end had squealed at the request and let Eddie know she’d email with the time they’d be able to put it into the show.

When he glances over to check the time, he’s surprised to see that there’s only a a couple of minutes to wait until their song is queued up. He’s got just enough time to run upstairs to grab the ring and then he’ll finally be able to ask. Steve’s just grabbing the pans off of the stove to move them towards the sink when Eddie steps out of the kitchen.

It seems oddly quiet when Eddie makes it downstairs. Maybe it’s just because of how loud it was last night and this morning.Mumbled cursing welcomes him back into the kitchen and Eddie sees the reason behind the quiet. Their radio is currently cradled in Steve’s hands, eyes locked in on the different dials like it’ll suddenly start working if he looks disappointed enough.

“Steve?”

The look of horror on Steve’s face has Eddie chuckling as he walks over.

“I broke the radio.” Genuine heartbreak colors Steve’s words and Eddie takes the radio from his hands with a smile.

“That’s okay, looks like it got some water on it. Did something splash out of the sink?” Steve nods, eyes focused on the radio in Eddie’s hands.

From what Eddie can tell, they might have to just replace the whole thing, somehow Steve’s managed to get the entirety of the speakers wet. His proposal might’ve been foiled again, but at least he gets a huff of a laugh when he rolls up his invisible sleeves to wash the dishes, bumping Steve out of the way.

Alright, maybe the radio thing was a little complicated, time to regroup.

Plus One.

“Wayne, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

His uncle just laughs from his side of the table, coffee cup lifted to his mouth despite the steam rising above it.

“No, I mean it. I’ve tried proposing to him so many times but I keep messing it up!” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and has to stop for a moment when a ring tugs on his curls. The chipped mug in Wayne’s hand gets set down and he leans back, eyes squinted in a smile while he looks Eddie over.

“Alright, let me get this straight. You wanna propose to your boy?” Eddie nods. “Why don’t you just ask him, plain and simple?”

“Oh, yeah, just ask him plain and simple. Because that’s totally easy. Have you met him?”

Wayne raises a brow, unimpressed at Eddie’s dramatics.

“I just want it to be perfect, Uncle Wayne. What if this is like the universe telling me not to do it? Everything keeps going wrong…”

Another sip of coffee and then Wayne leans forward, elbows on the table. “Listen here, you love him?”

“Of course I do.”

“And he loves you?”

Eddie can feel the blush when it spreads across his cheeks.

“He tells me all the time.”

“Then I think no matter how you ask him, the only answer he’s going to say is yes. Knowing you two, you could just slide the ring on his finger and Steve would have the wedding planned in a week. What’s really holding you back?”

Damn Wayne for knowing him so well.

This answer doesn’t come as easy, dread building in Eddie’s gut while he tries to figure out the best answer. If he voices this and Wayne agrees, he’ll probably never recover.

“C’mon, spit it out.”

“Whatifhedoesn’tthinkI’mworthbeingstuckwithfortherestofourlives?”

Another unimpressed stare, lips pursed at Eddie’s quick speech.

“Just, what if he doesn’t think it’s worth it? Being stuck with me forever?”

“Eddie, listen up, and listen good. No such thing as being stuck with you. I can tell that he adores you, knew as soon as I saw the two of you together. Just because your old man,” and Wayne pauses when Eddie’s head snaps up, “chose to ignore the gift you are, doesn’t mean other people will. I’ve been lucky enough to see you grow from that scrawny kid angry at the world to the man I see now. You’ve got your own family now, one you built all on your own, and not a single one of them feels like they’re stuck with you. Y’hear me?”

Eddie wants to feel embarrassed at the tears in his eyes, but instead all he feels is warmth all over - loved. He jumps up and scoots into Wayne’s side of the booth, throwing his arms around the older man’s neck just like he did as a kid. When he backs up, Wayne’s eyes look a little teary themselves.

“Alright, let’s go, I gotta get ready for work.”

(When they get back to the trailer, Eddie opens the door to his own makeshift family crowded around the living room. It takes a moment to take it all in, streamers hanging from the ceiling, balloons all over the floor, and then Steve on one knee with a ring held out.

It’s an easy yes.)

#steddie fluff #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #Wayne Munson is Eddie's dad #got stressed about proposing writing this #sorry to my future partner but you're getting breakfast in bed with a ring and that's all I got #valentine writes

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just-aake · 8 months ago

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A Feline Connection Part 3

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha gets a temporary roommate and ends up learning about what you’re hiding from her.

Warnings: light angst, violence, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 6888

The quinjet touches down on the Compound’s landing pad, bringing Natasha back to the familiar surroundings after yet another frustrating mission.

She stomps down the ramp, intent on heading straight to her room, needing to recuperate from the weariness of yet another surveillance operation gone wrong.

The USB drive she collected from the target at your apartment building held information about potential weapons locations, but every lead she followed turned out to be a dead end—empty warehouses and useless intel.

She will need to re-evaluate everything she has to figure out where she went wrong, but for now, she was too exhausted to think about it.

Stepping into the elevator, Natasha presses the button for her floor. As the doors slide shut, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from the speakers.

“Welcome back, Miss Romanoff. Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the lab.”

Natasha groans, tipping her head back against the elevator wall. The last thing she wants to do is deal with Tony right now.

“Tell him to wait,” she mutters. “I just got back.”

A moment of silence passes, and Natasha allows herself a sigh of relief.

But the peace is short-lived, as Tony’s voice suddenly blared through the speaker.

“Now, Romanoff! Get down here now! Your—hey! Don’t touch that, you little—”

Natasha frowns at the abrupt cut-off. She couldn’t help but wonder who he was yelling at this time.

Curiosity wins over her exhaustion, and she presses the button for his floor instead.

When the lab doors open, she is greeted by the sight of a frazzled Tony waving his hands angrily at a small dome-shaped force field on the table.

“How do you like that?” Tony grumbles, glaring at something inside the dome. “This is what happens when you keep touching things that aren’t yours.”

Natasha steps closer, raising a brow when she sees who he is talking to.

Inside the force field, Widow is pawing at the barrier, her annoyed meows insistent and filled with frustration as if she is arguing back with him.

“Really, Stark?” Natasha says, crossing her arms with an unimpressed look. “You’re fighting with a cat?”

Tony turns to her, relief evident on his face as he grabs her arm and drags her closer to the trapped feline.

“Finally! Get your girlfriend’s pet out of my lab before she destroys something important!”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Natasha corrects with a roll of her eyes.

Ever since Clint had accidentally stumbled upon one of the flirty texts exchanged between you and Natasha, the teasing from the team had been relentless.

Despite the playful banter, you already made it clear that you weren’t looking for anything more than friendship right now, and Natasha can respect that.

That’s not to say her current feelings toward you have disappeared, but she can be content with having your company as a friend.

At least that’s what she tells herself.

Tony waves dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, sure. Just get that little troublemaker out of here.”

Natasha turns her attention back to Widow, who is now lying on her back inside the dome, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

Widow lets out a soft, adorable meow in greeting, prompting Natasha to place her hand against the surface of the force field with a small, amused smile.

In response, Widow stands and raises her paw, mimicking the motion and meowing softly.

“How did she even get in here?” Natasha asks, wondering if you are still nearby.

“She took the elevator,” Tony replies flatly.

Natasha shoots him a skeptical look, but he points to the cat defensively.

“I’m serious! FRIDAY didn’t detect the little sneak until the elevator arrived on my floor. I walked in to find her scratching one of my suits.”

Widow meows indignantly, offering Natasha a cute, pleading look as if to refute Tony’s accusations.

“Don’t fall for it, Nat. She’s trouble,” Tony warns, glaring at the little creature.

Shaking her head, Natasha disengages the force field and gives Widow a quick scratch behind the ears before turning to him with her hands on her hips.

“You’re overreacting, Tony. She’s practically harmless.”

At that moment, the sound of shattering glass fills the room.

Natasha turns to find a broken coffee mug on the floor, its contents spilled into a small puddle. Looking up toward the table, Widow is perched nearby, her paw still raised, clearly responsible for the destruction.

Tony glares at the two of them and points toward the door.

“Out.”

Sighing, Natasha scoops up Widow just as she is about to jump onto another table.

The cat lets out an offended yowl, but Natasha ignores it as she notices a small, folded piece of paper attached to the cat’s collar.

“What’s this?” Natasha mutters.

Tony glances over before looking away, uninterested.

“Don’t know, don’t care. She tries to scratch me whenever I go to grab it. Now, out of my lab.”

With Widow in her arms, Natasha exits and makes her way to her room.

Each time she reaches for the paper, the cat playfully swats at her hand, trying to nibble at her fingers.

“Hey, no biting,” Natasha chastises, lightly tapping Widow on the nose in reprimand.

After reaching her room, Natasha sets the cat down on the counter and pulls out a treat from the drawer.

She’s been stocking treats for the cat, just in case.

Widow’s eyes light up at the sight, and she begins to move towards it, but Natasha holds it just out of reach.

“Ah, no, I’ll give you this once you let me grab that paper.”

After a brief moment’s standoff, Widow releases a meow of surrender and tilts her head, allowing Natasha to retrieve the note. She offers the treat to the cat, who eagerly devours it, while Natasha’s other hand unfolds the paper.

Please take care of Widow for a couple of days There’s a backpack with everything she needs up on the roof Thanks, I owe you one, Miss Black Widow🖤 P.S. Tell Stark his west perimeter needs better security

Natasha couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the last line.

She glances at Widow, who, after finishing her snack, is now comfortably lounging by the window, soaking in the sunlight.

“Looks like you’re staying with me for a while.”

Widow gives a lazy meow, completely at ease and utterly content in her new favorite spot.

Natasha smiles at the cat fondly, but it fades as she re-read the note.

Something didn’t feel right.

Taking out her phone, she calls your number, only to hear the automated message indicating that the call couldn’t go through.

Her frown deepens as she opens your recent text conversations—filled with photos of Widow and late-night talks—but nothing suggests you’d been planning for something where you’d need to leave Widow with her.

This must have been a sudden decision.

She quickly types out a message:

“Everything okay?”

The notification appears immediately:

Message not delivered.

Natasha’s concern grows as she stares at the screen, a sinking feeling settling in her chest.

As if sensing her unease, Widow hops down from her sunny perch and nudges Natasha’s leg with her head, purring softly as she rubs against her.

The simple gesture pulls Natasha from her thoughts, offering a moment of comfort amidst her rising concern. She bends down, stroking the sleek fur along Widow's back in silent thanks.

"Well, you don’t seem too worried," Natasha mutters, her voice low in consideration.

Widow yawns in response, her back arching as she stretches lazily.

The sight pulls a faint smile from Natasha, though it’s tinged with lingering apprehension. As much as she tries to dismiss her concern, the uneasy feeling still clings to her.

Glancing once more at the note, Natasha tells herself it’s probably fine. After all, you said it was only for a couple of days.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Later that night, Natasha steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the quick shower. She absentmindedly dries her hair with a towel as she moves toward her bed, but upon reaching it, she pauses, her hands finding her hips as she takes in the sight before her.

At the foot of her bed, Widow is curled up, comfortably settled into the blankets, her little body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep.

Natasha huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“What’s the point of making you a cozy bed if you’re just going to sleep on mine?” she asks lightly, though her words are more affectionate than scolding.

Widow, seemingly fast asleep, doesn’t stir at her words—at least, not right away.

For a brief second, Natasha catches the subtle twitch of the cat’s ears, causing her to smirk knowingly and shake her head.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that act again," she mutters, stepping forward and scooping the small cat into her arms.

Widow’s eyes snap open, narrowing at her in protest. A soft, indignant meow escapes as she squirms, clearly displeased at being caught pretending.

She gives a half-hearted swipe at Natasha’s face, but Natasha easily dodges the playful gesture with a quiet chuckle.

“Nice try,” Natasha teases, holding Widow up to meet her gaze.

Turning, she carries Widow over to the small, cozy bed she had arranged earlier near the window—a cushioned basket lined with a soft blanket, positioned to catch the warm morning sunlight.

“This is your bed,” Natasha says, setting Widow down on the plush surface.

Widow sniffs at the blanket curiously, circling a few times before settling into the cozy space. She let out a tiny, contented meow as if acknowledging the effort Natasha had put in.

Satisfied that her new roommate has been adequately situated, Natasha heads to her bed.

However, before she can take a step, a sharp, insistent meow echoes through the room.

Natasha turns back to find Widow staring at her expectantly, her golden eyes locked on her.

“What is it now?” Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow.

Widow’s gaze shifts to the backpack you had left behind, filled with all her essentials.

Another meow follows, this time directed at the bag.

Curious, Natasha moves to the backpack, kneeling to unzip it. As she rummages through the contents—food, toys, grooming supplies—her fingers brush against something soft, tucked away in one of the inner pockets.

Pulling it out, Natasha blinks in surprise.

It was a small plush toy—a miniature Black Widow doll, complete with the signature red hair and black jumpsuit.

“Seriously?” Natasha mutters to herself, an amused smirk forming on her lips.

She wishes your phone was receiving messages so that she can tease you about this. It’s cute how you keep denying being a fan of hers.

Widow immediately perks up at the sight of the toy, her eyes wide with excitement.

The moment Natasha places the small plush near her, the cat pounces on it with a delighted meow, her paws wrapping around it as she hugs the soft toy to her chest.

“Guess I’m your favorite Avenger, huh?” Natasha says softly, smiling warmly.

Widow responds with a tiny, satisfied purr, her eyelids fluttering shut as she snuggles into the plush toy.

Natasha lingers by the window, watching the little feline drift off to sleep, her heart warmed by the scene.

Once she is sure Widow has fallen asleep, Natasha returns to her bed, sitting at its edge.

The exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on her, but something about the sight of Widow contently hugging the tiny plush toy had brought her a slight sense of peace.

“At least one of us will have a good night’s sleep,” Natasha murmurs, glancing at the peaceful little ball of fur curled up in the basket.

Stretching out on her bed, Natasha lies back against the cool sheets, her body grateful for the reprieve.

Yet her mind refuses to relax.

The day’s frustrations, the failed mission, and the nagging worry about your sudden departure churn restlessly in her thoughts.

She closes her eyes, hoping for the oblivion of sleep, but knowing it wouldn’t come easily.

Eventually, the darkness behind her eyelids pulls her under, but her rest is far from peaceful.

Like always, her dreams are plagued by old memories—flashes of the Red Room, the harsh lights, the sharp smell of gunpowder and sweat.

She sees faces, blurred and indistinct, and hears the deafening sound of explosions.

Blood on her hands.

Her body feels heavy as if trapped, unable to move as the chaos envelopes her.

With a sudden start, Natasha wakes, shooting up in her bed.

Her heart pounds in her chest as her breaths come out in short, uneven bursts. Sweat clings to her skin, and for a moment, she is disoriented, her mind still lost somewhere between the nightmare and the safety of the Compound.

After a moment, the quiet room comes into focus around her, familiar but oppressive in the suffocating stillness of the night.

With a tired sigh, Natasha wipes a hand over her face, trying to shake off the lingering images of the nightmare and regain her composure.

Then, a soft sound reaches her ears in the quiet—a gentle rustling.

Natasha turns her head next to her.

Widow sits by her side, watching her intently with wide, concerned eyes.

The little black cat tilts her head slightly, her ears twitching as if sensing Natasha’s turmoil.

“Hey,” Natasha whispers, her voice rough with exhaustion. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She reaches out a hand, but pauses as the nightmare resurfaces—a memory of her hands bloodied.

Natasha hesitates, pulling her fingers back, but before she can retreat fully, Widow nudges forward, nuzzling against her hand with a comforting purr that reverberates softly in the stillness of the room.

The warmth of Widow’s fur under her hand grounds Natasha, pulling her back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts.

The cat presses closer, gently kneading the bed near Natasha’s arm, before moving into her lap.

For a long moment, Natasha sits there, frozen, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Widow’s tiny breaths. The calm presence of the cat was unexpectedly soothing, quieting the turmoil in her mind.

Widow’s purring intensifies, almost as if she’s trying to wrap Natasha in that sound, as if she understands something is wrong.

Seeing the cat’s lack of fear and hesitation, Natasha exhales shakily, finally running her hand down Widow’s back in slow, gentle strokes.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs, more to herself than to the cat. “Just a bad dream.”

Widow doesn’t move, though, curling up closer against Natasha’s side, her little body a source of warmth. She lets out a soft, contented meow that vibrates with understanding.

It’s as though she is telling Natasha that it’s okay not to be okay.

A small smile tugs at Natasha’s lips.

She hadn’t expected this quiet comfort from something so small, yet here it was, easing the weight of her fears and being a soft presence at her side.

“Thanks,” Natasha whispers, running her fingers through Widow’s fur. “I needed this.”

Widow shifts slightly, snuggling closer to her as if accepting the gratitude.

The room, which had felt suffocating just moments before, now seemed a little more bearable.

Natasha leans back onto the pillow, her fingers still idly stroking Widow’s fur, the rhythmic purring lulling her back into a sense of calm.

This time, when her eyes drift shut, the darkness doesn’t feel quite as oppressive.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits on the couch, her posture relaxed but her mind miles away as she absently scrolls through her tablet. Reports, articles, and data streams pass her eyes as she picks at the remnants of her sandwich. Every lead for the mission had taken her nowhere, leaving her more frustrated than ever.

As she finishes off the last bite, a headline catches her eye.

“String of Break-ins Across the City: Police Diverting Resources to Combat Surge of Robberies”

Her fingers pause mid-scroll, and her brows knit together in suspicion. Clicking on the article, she skims through the details.

Over the course of several nights, high-end neighborhoods had been targeted by a series of well-coordinated robberies. The police were scrambling to refocus their efforts, diverting resources to protect the wealthy districts while struggling to find the culprits.

Noticing something familiar, Natasha pulls up the coordinates of the locations she had previously investigated—the ones that were supposed to link to the weapons she was chasing.

As she compares the areas of the robberies with the sites she had scouted, a pattern begins to form.

The break-ins and her failed leads overlapped in strange ways, both of them strategically avoiding a particular zone.

Her suspicion deepens. It can’t be just coincidence.

She glances over at Widow, who is happily munching on her food, blissfully unaware of Natasha’s growing unease.

The little black cat has kept her company whenever thoughts of your sudden disappearance bother her.

She still hasn’t been able to reach you, which only worsens the feeling that something is wrong.

Natasha was close to asking FRIDAY to track your phone, but the part of her that respected your privacy hesitated.

But now, a possible explanation about your whereabouts forms in her mind.

Before she can let the idea settle any further, the sound of the elevator doors opening breaks her concentration. Tony’s voice echoes into the room before he even fully steps out.

“Ugh, the cat’s still here? It’s been over a week. At this point, I’m gonna have to start charging her rent.”

Widow lifts her head from her bowl, her yellow eyes narrowing at Tony. A string of irritated meows escapes her, sounding oddly accusatory.

Tony gasps in offense. “Is she mocking me?”

Natasha doesn’t bother to respond to his complaints, having grown used to their ongoing squabbles over the past week.

Instead, she turns her tablet toward him, her mind still focused on the new lead forming in her head.

“Tony, you sent Peter to check out the docks recently, right?”

Tony pauses his glaring contest with Widow, glancing at the tablet before leaning back against the couch with a nod.

“Yeah, the kid didn’t see any weapons being moved in. Why, you got something?”

“Just a hunch,” Natasha replies, standing up with a quick stretch. “I need to check something out, but I need you to watch Widow for me.”

Tony’s face twists in horror as he immediately shakes his head, raising his hands in protest.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. You take her with you. I am not cat-sitting.”

Sighing, Natasha bends to scoop Widow up from the floor, cradling the small feline against her chest. She runs her fingers under Widow’s chin, giving her a soft scratch.

“I can’t take her. It could be dangerous.”

Tony eyes the cat warily, keeping his distance.

“Where’s Wanda? She loves this furball.”

“She’s on a mission,” Natasha answers, stepping closer and holding Widow out toward him. “Like everyone else.”

Tony crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his sides, stubbornly refusing to take the cat.

“Well, I’m busy too.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed.

“It’s only going to be an hour or two. Besides, you owe me, Stark. Remember Pepper’s birthday?”

Tony frowns in silence for a moment before groaning loudly in reluctant acceptance.

“Ugh, fine! But only because I don’t need her bringing that up again. Give me the cat.”

Widow, sensing the impending hand-off, squirms in Natasha’s arms, her tiny paws scrambling as she tries to burrow against Natasha’s body in protest.

Her soft, pitiful cries grow louder, almost as if she were begging Natasha not to leave her with Tony.

“No, no, no,” Natasha murmurs soothingly, running her fingers along Widow’s back. “It’s only for a little while, I promise.”

But Widow wasn’t having it.

She clings to Natasha, her tiny claws gripping her shirt, her cries growing more desperate.

Natasha sighs, trying to pry the cat away gently, but Widow is surprisingly strong for her size.

“See?” Tony says, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Even she doesn’t want this. You can’t force this on me!”

Natasha gives him an unimpressed look, clearly unmoved by his dramatic refusal.

“She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

With one final nuzzle to calm the cat, Natasha manages to transfer Widow into Tony’s reluctant arms.

The moment the cat lands in his grasp, she goes completely still, her narrowed eyes locking onto Tony with an expression that could only be described as disdainful.

“I’ll be back soon,” Natasha promises, giving Widow one last pat on the head before grabbing her jacket and making her way to the door.

Tony sighs dramatically, holding the cat awkwardly at arm’s length.

“You better be. And if she scratches any more of my stuff, we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Natasha chuckles softly but doesn’t look back. Her mind is already back on the case, the unease gnawing at her as she steps into the elevator.

Something about the break-ins, your disappearance, and the misleading intel she had been chasing feels connected in ways she couldn’t yet explain.

It was too perfect, too coordinated. And Natasha knows better than to believe in coincidences.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha pulls up near the docks, parking her car a few blocks away to avoid drawing any attention.

The dimly lit warehouses loomed large in the night, and her eyes scanned the scene for any movement or signs of activity.

Despite the late hour, there seems to be an unusual number of people milling around—far too many for a regular night shift. The men guarding the entrance didn't look like typical dock workers either; they were too alert, too stiff.

Looks like her instincts were right about something suspicious happening here.

As she tries to figure out her approach to investigate, a slight movement from the passenger seat catches her eye.

The half-opened duffel bag in front of her shifts ever so slightly.

Natasha blinks, her brow furrowing as she stares at the bag, almost unwilling to believe what she knew was coming.

With a sigh, she reaches over and unzips the bag entirely.

Sure enough, Widow’s small head pops out from where she had been hiding, her yellow eyes blinking up at Natasha with a soft, innocent meow.

“At this point, I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore,” Natasha mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She leans over and gives the cat a quick scratch behind the ears.

“After all, you’re a professional, aren’t you? Just like her.”

Widow purrs, seemingly proud of the comparison, before hopping onto the passenger armrest.

Before Natasha can react, the cat swats at the buttons on the door, and the distinct click of the car door unlocking fills the air.

Natasha immediately presses the lock button again, shaking her head in exasperation and amusement.

“She trained you a little too well, you know that?”

The cat blinks at her, meowing insistently as she paws at the window, eager to assist.

Natasha knows there is no point in leaving her in the car—not when Widow is clearly more than capable of finding her way out.

With a sigh, Natasha relents.

“Alright, what’s the plan?”

Moments later, Natasha crouches in the shadows near the entrance to the docks, watching as the guards patrol the area.

Widow had slipped away almost as soon as they arrived, disappearing into the darkness with the kind of stealth that only a cat could manage.

Natasha stayed low, blending into the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move.

Suddenly, one of the guards at the gate straightens, his eyes darting around the area.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” his partner asks lazily, barely glancing up from his phone.

“I don’t know,” the first guard replies, his frown deepening. “But it sounded like it came from over there.”

“Well, go check it out, genius,” his partner mutters, shoving him in the direction of the noise.

The first guard grumbles but complies, his flashlight cutting through the dark as he wanders toward the distraction—away from Natasha’s position.

A faint smile tugs at her lips.

Looks like Widow is already making her move.

With the first guard distracted and the second engrossed in his phone, Natasha moves quickly, slipping past the gate and deeper into the docks.

She hugs the walls, her movements swift and silent, her senses on high alert.

The deeper she went, the more obvious it became that something was off.

The workers moving around the docks weren’t just loading and unloading—they were guarding something.

As she rounds a corner, Natasha freezes.

Ahead of her, two men stand by an open warehouse door, crates and boxes stacked high inside. She crouches behind a stack of barrels, her eyes narrowing as she listens.

“Are we sure we should be moving all of this tonight?” one of them asks, his voice low. “What if the cops show up? It’ll look suspicious.”

“Relax,” the other voice answers. “The boss has that girl keeping the police distracted with those break-ins. They’re so focused on protecting the rich neighborhoods that they won’t even think to check the docks. We’ll move the weapons through here without a hitch.”

Natasha’s blood runs cold as the realization hits her—these were the people using you.

Her fists clenched in anger. She had to put a stop to this, but just as she prepared to move, a sharp, startled yowl pierced the night.

Her heart leaps into her throat as her eyes snap toward the sound.

Widow’s small figure was caught in the grip of one of the guards, dangling helplessly as he held her by the scruff.

“Hey, isn’t this that girl’s cat?” the man remarks, shining his flashlight directly at Widow’s face.

Widow hisses in defiance, her fur standing on end as she swipes at the man’s hand. The man yelps in pain as her claws scratch deep.

“Damn cat!” the man snarls, his temper flaring. With a vicious motion, he flings her violently to the side.

Widow hits the warehouse wall with a sickening thud, her small body letting out a sharp, pained cry as she crumples to the ground.

In a flash, Natasha is on her feet, closing the distance between herself and the guard, her vision blurred with rage.

Without hesitation, she delivers a brutal kick to his ribs, sending him crashing against the warehouse wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious before he could react.

The other guard barely had time to register what was happening before Natasha was on him. A swift punch to his jaw dazes him, and a well-placed elbow to the side of his head knocks him out cold.

Breathing heavily, Natasha turns to where Widow had been thrown. The small cat was now on her feet, limping toward her, clearly hurt but still alert.

Natasha curses under her breath in regret as she rushes to Widow’s side. She scoops the cat up carefully into her arms, cradling her close.

Widow meows weakly, pressing herself against Natasha’s chest, her small frame trembling slightly.

Natasha runs her hand gently over Widow’s fur, her touch careful and deliberate as she searches for any signs of injury.

Her fingers still when they brush over a small, raised patch of fur—a spot she hadn’t noticed before.

It didn’t seem like a wound from the impact when Widow had been thrown against the warehouse wall. It felt old, as though it had been there for some time.

Shaking off her confusion for now, Natasha lets out a small sigh of relief.

Widow’s injuries seem mostly minor—a few bruises and a limp, but nothing too serious.

The cat meows softly, leaning into Natasha’s comforting touch to reassure her that she is okay.

Glancing over her shoulder at the crates stacked inside the warehouse, Natasha knows she can’t afford to stay. More guards could be closing in, and with Widow hurt, she couldn’t risk a full confrontation.

Making a quick decision, she pulls out a few small, hidden trackers from her gear and discreetly attaches them to several of the boxes.

Now, at least, she’d be able to track the weapons’ movement.

With Widow nestled securely in her arms, Natasha slips through the shadows, her movements fluid and silent as she navigates between the towering crates and through narrow alleyways.

Every sense was on high alert, her focus sharp, her only goal to get them both out safely.

“Hang on, girl. I’ve got you,” she whispers, her voice low and reassuring as she cradles the cat close to her chest.

Throughout the entire ride back to the Compound, Natasha keeps Widow pressed protectively against her body, her arms wrapped around the small creature as though shielding her from the world.

The lab doors slide open as Natasha rushes inside, her eyes scanning the room for Tony. She finds him in the middle of a frantic search, tossing tools and devices around, clearly looking for something.

“Stark!” Natasha calls, her voice sharp with urgency.

Tony jumps at her voice, spinning around with wide eyes, hands raised defensively.

“I can explain!” he says quickly. “I put the furball down for one second, and the next thing I know, she’s...” His eyes fall to the cat cradled in Natasha’s arms, and he sags in relief. “...with you.”

Natasha shoots him an unimpressed glare as she moves toward one of the examination tables. She gently sets Widow down on the surface, stroking the cat’s fur as she tries to comfort her.

“FRIDAY, can you scan her for any injuries? We ran into some trouble,” Natasha requests.

“Certainly, Miss Romanoff,” the A.I. responds immediately, and the sensors on the examination table light up, preparing for the scan.

Widow perks up, her curiosity piqued by the glowing lights beneath her paws. She paws at the surface, her small meows filling the lab.

“I’d just like to point out, for the record, that I did warn you about leaving her with me,” Tony grumbles, grabbing a tablet from the nearby counter to check the scan results.

“Just tell me if she’s okay,” Natasha deadpans, crossing her arms.

Tony scrolls through the vitals displayed on the tablet, muttering as he does so.

“Calm down, Romanoff. I’m sure your girlfriend’s cat is just–”

Tony’s words abruptly cut off, and Natasha’s attention snaps from Widow to him.

His face had gone still, his usual smug expression replaced with a deep frown. He stares at the tablet as if seeing something he couldn’t quite believe.

Before Natasha can ask what is wrong, Tony reaches behind him, grabbing a device off one of the nearby tables.

Without warning, he tosses it toward Widow, and within seconds, a force field dome activates around the cat, encasing her in a barrier.

Widow yelps in surprise, jumping slightly before pawing frantically at the shimmering barrier.

Her yellow eyes go wide, and she turns to Natasha, letting out a distressed cry.

“What the hell, Tony?” Natasha barks, stepping forward to deactivate the force field.

Tony’s hand shoots out, stopping her.

“Don’t, Nat,” he says, his voice low and serious. “She’s dangerous.”

Natasha’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? No, she’s harmless.”

He shows her the screen and reveals grimly,

“There’s a bomb inside of her.”

Natasha freezes, her frown deepening as Tony’s words sink in.

Her eyes shift to Widow, who is now meowing pitifully, her paw pressing against the invisible force field as she looks at Natasha with wide, confused eyes.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha lies on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her mind processing the recent discovery.

Sleep was out of the question—not for the usual reasons this time, but because her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

Everything was slowly falling into place, but the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest.

Earlier, Tony had confirmed it. Hidden beneath Widow’s fur was a small, foreign device—a bomb. Surgically implanted and designed to detonate remotely, it was rigged to explode if tampered with.

“So that’s what they’ve been using to control you,” Natasha whispers to herself, her fists clenching at her sides as the gravity of the situation settles in.

It wasn’t just about you—it was about keeping Widow alive. You had been trying to protect her this whole time.

Her gaze shifts to the corner of her room where Widow’s bed lay empty, the small plush toy resting on top of it.

Widow usually cries out for that toy before she goes to sleep, but now she is locked away in Tony’s lab, trapped inside the force field as a precaution.

Natasha’s heart ached at the thought of the frightened cat, isolated and alone, with no understanding of the threat she carried.

Unable to bear the thought any longer, Natasha stands, grabs the plush toy, and makes her way to the lab.

As the doors slide open, she spots Widow curled up beneath the shimmering barrier, her small body trembling, ears flattened against her head.

A soft whine echoes through the room, and Natasha’s heart breaks a little more.

Steeling herself, Natasha approaches the table and deactivates the force field.

Widow lifts her head slowly, blinking as she adjusts to her newfound freedom. Her wide, yellow eyes search the room before they find Natasha.

With a small, reassuring smile, Natasha holds out the plush toy.

“Come on,” she coaxes softly, her voice filled with an apologetic tenderness. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Widow tilts her head, hesitating for a moment before letting out a tiny meow. She moves toward Natasha, nuzzling her hand in forgiveness.

Natasha feels a rush of warmth, the tension in her chest easing slightly as the cat accepts her apology.

A little while later, Natasha finds herself on the rooftop of the Compound, the cool night air soothing her restless thoughts.

Widow was curled comfortably in her lap, contentedly gnawing on her plush toy under the vast, open night sky.

Natasha’s fingers idly stroke through the cat’s fur, her thoughts wandering to what comes next.

The situation was far more serious than she’d imagined, and it was clear the only way to move forward was to find you.

Her thoughts drift to you as they always do, wondering what you were going through—how much you must be shouldering by yourself.

Suddenly, Widow pauses her playing and stands, her front paws rising to rest on Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha turns her head slightly to the side to look at the cat. She is about to ask what she is up to when your voice breaks the silence from the other side.

“Staying up late, as usual, I see.”

Natasha jumps, her body tensing as she whips her head around, heart pounding in her chest.

You were standing dangerously close—too close—and the sight of your familiar smirk made her pulse quicken even more.

The warmth between you seemed to radiate in the cool night air.

Widow wastes no time, immediately hopping over Natasha’s shoulder and into your waiting arms.

You chuckle softly, cradling the cat against your chest, fingers brushing through her fur.

“Hello to you too,” you murmur warmly as Widow nuzzles into you.

For a moment, Natasha allows herself to soften at the sight. There was something undeniably tender in the way you held Widow, in the gentle smile that curved your lips.

But that moment of softness quickly dissolves as her eyes land on the bandage above your left brow.

Her body tenses again as she stands slowly, brushing herself off while discreetly scanning you for other possible injuries.

"Thanks again for taking care of her," you say, breaking the silence, your gaze meeting hers. Widow is now nestled comfortably in your arms, completely at ease. “I mean it—I owe you. Anything you need, just say the word.”

Natasha takes a step forward, her hand instinctively reaching up to your face. Her fingertips brush delicately near the bandage on your brow, the touch lingering just a second too long as concern flickers in her eyes.

"How about an explanation for this?"

For a moment, you freeze under her touch, your breath catching as her fingers hovered near your skin.

The air around you feels charged, and the space between you seems to narrow further even though neither of you has moved.

Your hand rises slowly, fingers wrapping gently around her wrist as you guide her hand back down to her side.

The contact is soft but electric, sending a jolt through Natasha as the warmth of your skin ignites something inside her.

"You should see the other guy," you say lightly, trying to brush off her concern with a joke.

But the humor doesn’t quite reach your eyes as your smile fades, replaced by something more cautious, more guarded.

“I did,” Natasha responds seriously, her tone dropping as she locks eyes with you. She nodded toward Widow. "That’s what led me to find out about the bomb inside our little friend here."

Her gaze hardens, pinning you with an intensity that makes the tension between you spike.

“And I’m guessing the USB I left with that night…that was your doing too.”

Your expression falters, lips pressing into a thin, resigned line at her deduction. Eventually, you give her a slight nod.

“You’re as impressive as people say,” you compliment before tilting your head at her with a wry smile. “I guess I can’t blame the cat this time.”

Natasha’s gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes, searching, her frustration building with each passing second.

“You’ve already helped them steal the weapons by drawing attention away with those break-ins,” she says, her voice filled with a quiet, simmering anger. “So what now? Was that enough for them to leave you two alone?”

You look away, guilt flickering across your features before your gaze drops to Widow.

“It’s just one more job,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “One more, and then I’m done.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, frustration building in her chest.

"How many times have you told yourself that?" she exclaims, her voice cutting through the night with a razor-sharp edge. "How many times have you convinced yourself it’s just one more?"

You give her a glare at her words.

“Oh, please, save the lecture,” you snap, your voice rough, your heart pounding with a mix of emotion. “Not everyone gets the luxury of forgetting their past and becoming a hero. Some of us don’t get a second chance.”

Silence settles between you as the tension grows unbearable, the air heavy with unresolved emotions.

Finally, Natasha reaches out, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jacket, pulling you closer.

Her eyes bore into yours, her proximity sending a shiver down your spine as she steps closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“You think I erased my past?” she asks, her breath fanning across your cheek. “You think I just forgot everything I’ve done? I live with that every day. But I chose to be better.”

She holds your gaze, hoping to convey the truth of her next words.

“You can too,” she whispers.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the heat between you palpable. Your hand hovers near her arm conflicted between pushing her away or pulling her closer.

Natasha’s eyes flicker with something deeper, a plea hidden behind her frustration as she waits for your response.

After a moment of silence, you finally give her a wry smile, touching her arm gently.

“That’s what makes you so amazing, Miss Black Widow,” you answer, your breath shallow as her overwhelming presence consumes your thoughts. It takes all your concentration to push through with your next words as you drop your hand from her.

“But I don’t have time for hope. This is about survival.”

Natasha’s eyes soften, and she takes another step closer.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispers, her lips inches from yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze locks with hers, the charged tension hanging thickly in the air, unyielding.

You want to believe her, to let her in—but fear holds you back. You break the eye contact, looking away as the weight of your situation presses down on you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the words heavy with unspoken regret.

Natasha’s hand slowly drops from your jacket, and she takes a step back, her heart aching at the refusal in your words.

In your arms, Widow let out a soft, sympathetic meow, as if sensing the pain in both of you. She turns her head toward Natasha, her wide eyes pleading as if asking her to do something.

The sight of the feline gives her an idea.

“If you don’t want me to help you, at least let me help her,” Natasha says, nodding toward Widow. Her voice is softer now, almost a plea.

You look down at Widow, considering her words, your teeth worrying your lower lip as you think it over.

Natasha’s eyes linger at the action for just a moment, but she quickly pulls her gaze back up when she remembers the boundary you’ve placed on your relationship.

“Okay,” you finally relent, holding your hand out to her. “For Widow. That’s it.”

Natasha’s hand meets yours, the warmth spreading between your palms as your fingers intertwine, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

“For Widow,” she whispers, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken promise.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thanks for reading! Your responses on this series are so nice. I'm glad to see that you are all enjoying it.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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aerieinthenest · 29 days ago

Text

Whose Shirt?

Sylus x MC Drabble

(Will be crossposted to my Ao3 too)

“Sy, it’s too hot in here!”

The whiny voice of his beloved came echoing down the hallway adjacent to his office. Sylus had been cooped up in the dim room for a few hours, trying to get through as much paperwork as he could before he was dragged out of work mode to do something with the owner of the voice, undoubtedly sprawled out somewhere in the lounge room a few rooms away.

It was true though, the base of Onychinus was utterly sweltering in the heatwave that had set upon both Linkon City and the N109 Zone. The Deepspace Hunter had sought refuge in his den, thinking she’d be saved from the crappy cooling system in her cheap apartment building; which Sylus has offered to buy and replace numerous times, to his girlfriend’s chagrin, but the heat and the humidity that swarmed the air had infiltrated every crevice in the two cities.

The humidity in the base even had Sylus wondering if he’d even had a state of the art cooling system installed, or whether he’d dreamt the whole thing up.

With a snap of his fingers, he willed his Evol to place a decently sized desk fan to appear by the young woman lounging on his couch in the other room, already blowing cold air onto her damp skin. There was a barely audible sigh of relief before a chipper ‘thank you!’ reached his ears, pulling a soft chuckle from his lips as he returned to his work.

He’d barely typed another page‘s worth of the report he was writing when soft footsteps drew his attention to the door. There she was, clad in nothing but a sports bra and a sinfully small set of pyjama shorts to fend off the uncomfortable feeling of clothes sticking to skin; his beautiful girl, staring at him with the most adorable pout on her lips and a frown creasing her brow.

She padded right over to his desk, rounding the corner of the ornate wooden frame as he swivelled his chair around to face her, and plopped herself right into his lap. Arms winding around his shoulders, she buried her face into his neck, sighing in dejection. Sylus found himself chuckling as he steadied her on his lap, holding her gently to his chest.

“Now what could possibly be bothering you now, kitten?”

Another sigh was huffed onto his neck, the woman wriggling slightly as his fingers caressed patterns on the clammy skin on her back. “…too hot.”

“And yet here you are, in my lap, in the middle of a heatwave.” Sylus teased. “I must say, sweetie, the inner workings of your mind truly fascinate me sometimes.”

There that pouty face came again, filling his vision as she retreated from her hiding spot. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been sitting in here the whole time, you could’ve joined me at any point in the last three hours.” He reasoned, cocking his head to the side playfully. His hunter frowned deeper, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks because I’ve been swarmed with missions from Jenna.“ She explained, shifting to straddle his legs. ”And then the one weekend I can spend with you for the first time in weeks is the same weekend we get a heatwave.”

Sylus sighed, tutting. “You know that can be easily fixed, right kitten?”

“If you tell me to quit my job and come work for Onychinus one more time, I swear I will walk right out of this base and not come back.”

He roared with laughter, jostling the woman on his lap who glared at him playfully. “Alright, I concede. This time.” She gave him a pointed look that dared him to try it again, eyebrow arched high. “You’ll find in time that joining Onychinus is filled with perks, sweetie. Namely, seeing me all the time.”

“If we’re seeing each other all the time, I fear Onychinus might crumble under a negligent boss-man.” Sylus pinched her thigh at the sassy tone, raising an eyebrow of his own.

“That’s precisely why we have Luke and Kieran. We’ll just send them to do the dirty work while we lounge in bed all night and day.”

His beloved gasped in mock horror, glancing at the door while her palms covered his mouth. “Don’t let them hear you say that. They’d be heartbroken you only see them as pawns.”

“As opposed to viewing them as…?”

“Sy, anyone in your inner circle possesses enough eyesight and common sense to see you value those boys like your own.”

“Kitten, I think you’re projecting onto me now.” That earned him a pinch to his cheek. “Besides, my inner circle entirely consists of Luke, Kieran and you.”

“Well, you better make sure I keep my lips sealed then, hm?” She brushed her nose against his, eyelashes brushing his skin delicately.

Sylus leaned in out of habit, ghosting his lips over hers as she pressed herself closer to his chest. “That won’t be difficult.” He sealed his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply while she sighed from the contact.

Her lips disconnected from his after a moment, a frown on both of their faces. Sylus was not nearly close to finished with ravishing her mouth. “Kitten?”

Her fingers slid down from his neck where they had tangled in his silver strands, tracing softly down his shoulders until she reached the first button on his shirt.

“It’s too hot. Need to take this shirt off.”

Sylus leaned back, watching his hunter work diligently at the buttons.

“Sweetie, you are aware that this is my shirt?”

The devilish gleam in her eyes, coupled with the innocent smile on her face sent a thrill down his spine.

“I know.”

Based on this interaction i had with sylus today:

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #when that came up i was like EXCUSE ME?!?!#but i mean I’ll happily help you unbutton (remove) your clothes sylus…#i wrote this in an hour and a half #thanks to my friend who is a new LADS player for beta reading this!#i love sylus and mc’s dynamic in this #they’re soulmates your honour #sylus is always down for shenanigans with mc #heatwave outside? nah he’s making one inside too :3

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goldenempyrean · 8 months ago

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I'm Better With You

〚 Notes - First Addison fic so I'm just testing the waters here, Ill likely write for her in the future so feel free to send requests for her :)〛

〚 Pairing - Addison Montgomery x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You find Addison sitting in the rain after a rough surgery. You take it upon yourself to make sure she's cared for 〛

〚 Wordcount - 6,040 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“What on earth are doing standing out here in the rain like that?” The sound of your shocked voice made Addison jump out of her thoughts from the bench she had been sitting on. A bench was completely unsheltered for the pouring Seattle rain. “You’re completely and utterly soaked! You’ve gotta get back inside and dry off.”

Addison blinked up at you through the mist of rain dripping from her soaked red hair, a distant look in her eyes. "I needed some air.” She mumbled weakly, her eyes not quite meeting your own.

You shook your head softly, taking off your coat and pulled it over her shoulders, “There’s getting air and then there’s sitting in a downpour. You’ll catch your death out here.” Your hand reached down to hers and gently tugged, letting her know it was time to get up, “Come back inside.”

Addison seemed to hesitate for a short second as your hand tugged gently at hers, her body shivering as the cold rain continued to soak through her clothes. For a moment, it seemed like she might refuse, but then her shoulders slumped, and she finally let herself be pulled to her feet.

“I wasn’t thinking properly.” She murmured, voice low as the two of you stood in the doorway, the heat from inside the building seeped out and she already felt a little warmer. “I just.. I needed to get out of there.” 

You couldn’t stop your face switching from one of concern to sympathy. You’d heard from an intern that she’d been in the OR for the last few hours and if her demeanour was anything to go by, it hadn’t gone well, “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay but next time you need to get some fresh air, maybe try a beneath a shelter?”

You reached up to reposition your coat which had slipped off her shoulders a little, “Or were you purposely going for the ‘recently drowned’ look?” The joke made her smile a little, a small smile but a smile nonetheless and you took the chance to kiss her cheek before taking her back inside.

Once inside, Addison finally realised how cold she actually was. Shivers ran over her arms as goosebumps rippled over her skin. She pulled your coat on tighter as she mumbled, “Thanks for bringing me in.”

“You don’t have to thank me Addie,” You smiled and ran your hand through her soaked hair, “Do you have anymore things you need to do today? I finish in an hour then we can both head home and cosy up?” You offered, knowing what Addison needed after days like this was a hot bath, some good food and cuddles.

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief second before she nodded, though she didn’t say anything right away. She looked drained, her usual composed expression cracked around the edges. She sighed and let her shoulders slump before finally speaking, “Home sounds good, I’m done for today.” 

“I thought so, I’ll be out by 7 at the very latest. I’ll meet you back home?” 

You watched with a small, sympathetic frown as you watch Addison shuffle towards her office. She looked exhausted, you knew how taxing a long surgery could be but you know how crushing it was to spend hours in the OR only for it to end badly. Addison especially was one to feel the loss personally, she’d never show it to anyone. 

Addison always held herself to impossibly high standards, and when something went wrong, she shouldered the blame alone. She’d put on a brave face and comfort others while simultaneously desperately trying to hold herself together just long enough until she was finally alone. Then she’d let it all out - feeling guilty for what went wrong, running the situation again and again in her head in an attempt to see if she could’ve done something more. 

The rest of your shift seemed to drag, as if time itself was crawling forward with no regard for how desperately you wanted to get home. Final rounds felt like they took more time, the corridors seemed longer somehow and the hands of the clock refused to move. You knew it was all in your head but that didn’t make it any better. 

Eventually though, the seconds ticked by and it was finally time for you to leave. No time was wasted as you gathered your stuff and headed out the doors. You’d decided it would be worth changing out of your scrubs before you left but you had forgotten to get your coat back off Addie and only had a thin jacket to keep your warm. It was still raining, a little heavier and you jogged beneath the dark clouds to your car. Luckily you didn’t get too wet, just enough to dampen your clothes and hair.

Thankfully the drive home wasn’t too long. The rhythmic pattering on rain on the metal roof provided a nice background as you drove through the streets. There was a little traffic, nothing terrible and you were soon pulling into your driveway.

As you parked up, the rain fell down in relentless sheets, you dreaded stepping out into it but the knowledge you’d be welcomed to the feeling of warmth and your wife was amazing. A sudden bright flash caught your attentive followed by a loud, angry clap of thunder, “Oh great.” You found yourself mumbling and made a mental note to bring the bins in. Last time there’d been a storm you had to go on a 15-minute search to try and find your wheelie bins which had been blown away.

“No point delaying the inevitable.” You said to yourself, and swung the car door open. Instantly you were battered with rain and grimaced as you ran to grab the bins from the end of the drive and dragged them up to be sheltered beside your porch. The relief that washed over you as you felt the pouring rain ease off as you stepped beneath the roof was amazing. You were definitely going to need a shower later but first...

“Hey I’m home.” Your voice called out into the house as you stepped inside, you shook off the rain and left your wet shoes at the door. You shrugged out of your wet jacket, letting it hang on the hook near the door, and called out again, "Addie?"

The house was still quiet, the subtle hum of the heating was the only thing keeping it from silence. You hummed softly to yourself as you headed further inside. You glanced up towards the living room and felt your shoulders relax as flickering lights reflecting from inside. The soft glow of an orange lamp made you feel a little better as you rounded the corner and looked around. You could recognise those red curls anywhere. Addison was currently curled up on the sofa and it wasn’t until you got closer that you realised, she still had your coat draped over her. Her hair was still damp but not as soaked as earlier and you could see that she was staring blankly at the television, though it didn’t seem like she was actually watching anything.

“Hey, you,” You murmured softly as you knelt down to be at her level, running your hand gently through her hair. She was a little colder than you would’ve liked and now that you looked closely, her skin was still dappled with goosebumps.

Addison blinked slowly as if emerging from a fog, her red-rimmed eyes finally meeting yours. Her lips curved into a small, weak smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You're home," she said, her voice hoarse, as though she’d been on the verge of tears or had already shed them when she thought no one would see.

You smiled softly and came to sit beside her, warmth pooling in your stomach when she sat up and leant her body against you, the coat falling to the floor as she moved, “Yes, I’m home and you, my love, are freezing.” You mumbled as she involuntarily shivered, “What do you say to having a nice warm bath? I’ll run it all nice for you, I’ll even let you use my bubble bath.”

She leaned into your further before taking a deep breath and exhaling with a small sigh, “A bath sounds nice.” She sniffled quietly after a moment, nodding as you helped her to sit up again.

“Come on then darling.” Your hand extended to take her own as you gently pulled her to her feet. She shuffled close beneath you as you nudged her in the direction of the bathroom, you heard her yawn widely and excused herself quietly as she followed you which made a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. She was always adorable when she was tired.

Once inside the bathroom, you turned on the faucet, letting the water run until it was the perfect temperature. You added a generous amount of your favourite bubble bath (it smelled of strawberries) watching as the cloudy-like suds began to bubble up. Addison had been sitting in your bedroom as you got everything ready. As you put a fluffy, dark grey towel onto the heated rack, you heard the sound of small footsteps behind you. Looking in the mirror, you could see Addison hovering at the doorframe, a pair of your plaid pyjamas' in her hands.

You chuckled quietly and turned around to meet her eyes, “You stealing from me now, is that what this is?” You smiled and expected her to give a small chuckle in return but what you didn’t expect was for her face to crumble up, her bottom lip quivering as tears began to spill from her eyes. Small tears turned to sobs within moments and your eyes were wide with guilt as she broke.

“Baby- no- I'm so sorry-” Your apology began spilling from your lips as you rushed to comfort her, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed into your hold, “I didn’t mean to upset you love, I’m so sorry.” You rambled as you tried to console her, unsure if it was actually you that pushed her over the edge of the events from the day finally breaking her down.

“I’m sorry,” Addison choked out between sobs, her fingers clutching your shirt as if you might disappear if she let go. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t... I just—”

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” You rocked her gently, holding her tighter. “You’ve been through a lot today. You don’t have to hold it together all the time, Addie.”

She continued to cry, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to get the words out. “I... I tried so hard... hours... we were so close... but—” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. You knew what she meant.

The two of you held each other on the floor of your bathroom for almost half an hour, no words were spoken apart from the occasional shushing along with occasional hiccups and Addison tried to catch her breath. Once she’d seemed to be a little more stable you spoke up.

“Addie, listen to me,” You spoke gently, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so she was looking at you. Her eyes were swollen, red from crying, and her bottom lip trembled. “You gave it everything. There’s nothing more you could’ve done. You’re human. Sometimes... sometimes we lose people, and it’s not fair, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

She looked at you, her expression broken, and for a moment, you thought she might argue, but instead, she let out another shaky breath and buried her face in your chest again. You could feel her body gradually relaxing in your arms, the storm of emotions slowly subsiding, but the exhaustion was evident. She’d already been tired to begin with and this had taken away any reserves of energy she had.

"Let’s get you in the bath, okay?" You suggested gently after a few minutes, rubbing her back as her sobs turned to quiet sniffles.

She nodded, wiping her eyes as she cleared her throat, “You too?” Her voice was quiet but hopeful as she looked at you and then towards the water. It was clear what she wanted and you couldn’t hold back a small smile as you agreed.

“Of course my love, let me just grab a towel.”

When you returned, Addison let you get in first. The warm water felt amazing on every part of your body. You hadn’t really registered how tired you were yourself until then, too busy focusing on your wife and how she was. The bubbles made the room smell amazing and you breathed deeply as Addison slowly climbed in. Her body relaxed against yours, her head falling back to rest on your chest as your arms came to wrap around her. You couldn’t resist planting a small kiss to her red hair as she thanked you for getting everything ready for her.

After washing her hair and body, the minutes flowed by, you felt her relaxing more and more. Her previously tense shoulders dropped as she allowed the water to surround her, the burdens of the day slowly melting away as she let her eyes occasionally flutter closed. It wasn’t until she closed them and didn’t open them for several minutes that you decided it would be probably best to get out. The water had started to cool anyway and was better to get out now rather than risk her becoming cold again.

“You think its time to get out now, hm?” You nudged her gently to stir her awake from whatever day-dream she’d been in, “We’ll get you into those pj’s and I’ll make us some dinner, yeah?”

“Dinner sounds good.”

After helping Addison out of the bath, you wrapped her in the soft, fluffy towel, making sure to dry her off gently. Her skin was warm now, a marked improvement from earlier, though you could still see the weariness in her eyes. She took the pyjamas from earlier and held them out to you, offering them back. You took them from her hands and smiled at her, silently handing them back to her with a gentle nudge. She slipped them on and looked completely and utterly adorable.

Once she was dressed, you handed her a brush, offering to untangle the wet knots in her hair. Addison nodded silently and turned, her back to you as she sat on the bed while you carefully worked through the red strands. The rhythmic strokes of the brush seemed to calm her. You took your time, letting her find peace in the simple, repetitive motion.

“What are you in the mood to eat baby?” Setting the brush aside, you leaned down to kiss the top of her forehead.

She hummed quietly, thinking for a moment, “Pasta?” The redhead asked hopefully after a moment, “The one you make with that really good sauce.”

You knew exactly which she meant. “Pasta it is then. Are you going to just relax in here for a bit or come back and sit in the living room?”

She sniffled, and cleared her throat as she followed you into the kitchen, instead of heading to the living room like you’d presumed she would, instead she followed you into the kitchen. She shuffled herself onto one of the small stools tucked into the island and watched you curiously as you began to take out ingredients for your pasta sauce.

“Live cooking show?” You questioned with a smile, filling a pan of water and setting it to boil. You’d cooked the recipe hundreds of times. First you salted the pasta water and added a generous helping of fusilli. It was the best pasta for the recipe, not to mention your favourite.

Addison continued to watch as you cooked, shuffling occasionally as she trying to get a better view of what you were doing. Addie wasn’t a bad cook herself, though she tended to lean more towards making sweet treats and cakes rather than hearty meals. Still, it was a passion you both shared and it wasn’t unusual to see the two of you cooking together. It was something which brought you closer and you cherished the time together.

It was why you’d been able to slowly notice Addie becoming less and less engaged as time grew on. Her eyes were occasionally dropping closed and her posture seemed to slump. “Nearly done love.” You commented as she crossed her arms and fought back a shiver, “You getting cold again?” You sighed softly as you turned the simmering sauce down to a low heat.

She shrugged, “A little.”

You hummed and set the spoon you’d being using to periodically stir before you chuckled, "If I come back to my kitchen burning down, you’re taking the blame.” Before quickly heading to the bedroom, grabbing your fluffy blue robe which had been hanging on the door and jogged back to her.

“Here, darling,” You smiled, handing it out to her which she gratefully pulled it around her shoulders, sinking into the warm fabric. It was a good robe, heavy and comforting and she continued to wear it as you finished plating up your pasta.

It was delicious and hit the spot Addison twirled a forkful of fusilli, taking small bites in silence. She still looked worn, her eyes tired, but she stilled managed to eat the majority of it before she smiled gratefully and pushed her plate forward.

“Thank you love.” She murmured as you took her plate and put it in the sink. Addison was a firm believer in “I cook, you clean” but you weren’t having any of it, insisting it was completely fine and you would take care of all the mess. You’d already done the majority of it, making an effort to clean up as you went along, all there was left was the dishes.

There was no time wasted as you quickly cleaned up. Wiping down the surfaces and putting away the freshly washed dishes. Addison remained seated; her eyes heavy with exhaustion but following your every motion with a quiet appreciation. Every now and then, she sipped from her glass of water, her body curled up inside your fluffy robe.

When you finally finished, you turned to her with a warm smile, walking over to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "All done, love. Now, I think it’s time we head to bed."

She didn’t object and the pair of you headed back to the bedroom, crawling under the soft sheets and getting snuggled without each other's arms. Her body pressed against yours. It didn’t take long for her breathing to even out as she got comfortable within your hold, her red hair was still a little damp but you didn’t have the heart to wake her up just for the sake of drying it properly.

Eventually you couldn’t avoid the pull of sleep for much longer, you let your mind wander off as you drifted into a soft, much welcomed sleep.

*^*^*

If only the two of you could’ve stayed asleep forever, curled up in a peaceful trance. Unfortunately your morning alarm had other ideas and blared off into the silent room, shaking the pair of you out of your slumber.

You groaned quietly as you rolled over, whacking you hand at the loud, beeping phone on your nightstand in an attempt to quell its yelling. It didn’t work, instead you just ended up slapping your hand on the wooden table. You groaned again. Sitting up properly this time, you turned off the alarm and swung your legs over the side of the bed.

Padding into the bathroom, you splashed some water on your face, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you thought back to the night before. Noticing the unusual silence from your wife, you leaned back to look into the room, shaking your head fondly when she saw she was still curled up beneath the sheets. Her red hair poking out from within.

There was no harm in letting her sleep in a little longer. You always liked to set your alarms 15 minutes earlier than necessary to give yourself some extra leeway in the mornings. However, even after you’d brushed your teeth, tied back your hair and done some light makeup, there was still no sign of Addison getting herself up.

You sighed softly and finished up in the bathroom before coming back and kneeling at the side of the bed. She had her head buried in a pillow. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the sight for a moment. With a gentle touch, you reached to stray red curls from her forehead before gently shaking her shoulder. "Addie, time to wake up," You murmured quietly as she stirred.

She let out a quiet groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Five more minutes..." she mumbled, you were expecting her usual slightly thicker morning voice, maybe even her grumpy voice. However instead what you heard was congested and thick. A sick Addie voice.

"Addie," You repeated, your brows furrowing a little as you heard her voice, "Oh , you don’t sound great, baby. You okay?”

She sniffled and nodded, “I’m fine.”

“You dont sound-”

“I said I’m fine Y/N.”

Her stubbornness was nothing new, especially when it came to work. Addison had always been driven—almost to a fault. It was one of the things you loved about her, but right now, it was frustrating. She shifted under the covers, sitting up slowly, wincing as she did. You could see the exhaustion weighing on her, dark circles under her eyes. Honestly you shouldn’t had been so surprised she woke up like this. She’d been thoroughly soaked yesterday, completely sending her body temperature out of whack. She’d never reacted well to changes like that and her defences were down, of course she’d been an easy victim for the first bug to come her way.

She was moving slower than usual, clearly feeling the effects of whatever was working its way through her body. You didn't even need to press a hand to her forehead to know she was running a slight fever; the pale tint to her cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, and the way she kept sniffling were all clear signs.

“Addie, love, you can just get back in bed sweetheart.” You murmured, following behind as she headed into the bathroom, “I’ll tell work that you’re out of commission for today. They’ll understand.”

She gave you a pointed look and closed the bathroom door. Well. Clearly getting back into bed was out of the question. There wasn’t much you could do right now apart from getting yourself ready, you’d try again once she was finished in the bathroom.

Getting dressed; you had been pulling on your shirt when you heard her sneeze three times in moderately quick succession. You couldn’t help but shake your head sympathetically. Usually, Addie would change into her scrubs at work like you did so you set out a relatively cosy outfit for her to wear, setting the folded clothes on the end of the bed.

You were just gathering up your things when Addison emerged from the bathroom looking just as pale as before, with a slight flush to her cheeks that matched the pallor of her hair. She’d wrapped her hair into a messy bun, though some strands had already fallen loose, and her eyes were puffy from congestion.

She eyed the clothes you’d set out for her, biting the bottom her lip before picking them up and beginning to change. Addison could feel your eyes watching her as she changed, not in the flirty way she’d prefer but in the worried, concerned way she’d rather ignore.

The silent tension got the better of her however and the redhead shot you a look, part stubbornness, part exhaustion. “I’ll be fine, Y/N,” She mumbled through her hoarse voice. She sniffled damply, rubbing at her nose as she grabbed her work bag. “I can’t just stay home. I’ve got back-to-back surgeries and I’m meant to be on call tonight.”

“Someone can always cover you.” You murmured in return but you knew it would hardly convince her. There was no point trying to change her mind, it would only end with her getting frustrated and that was the last thing you wanted.

She’d turned away your offer of breakfast but you’d manage to talk her into at least taking a smoothie with her. By the time you’d poured it into her cup it was time to set off so pushing aside your reluctance, you offered to drive her there. The idea of letting a very likely feverish Addie behind the wheel of a 2-tonne vehicle wasn’t overly appealing.

The storm hadn’t relented much overnight, the sky was dark and overcast, rain drizzling down as you drove to work. You occasionally stole quick glances at your wife in the passenger seat, she was slumped in her seat a little and staring out the window. You were 99% sure she was leaning her forehead against it. The sound of Addison shuffling in her seat caught your attention, your eyes cast over in time to watch as she rubbed at her nose, her expression shifting whatever itch she was trying to stave off failed and moments later she was stifling a sneeze against the back of her hand.

“Bless you, Bless you,” You repeated when she repeated the action a few seconds later, only this time she didn’t stifle and let out a small satisfied sound afterwards, “There’s tissues in my bag if you need them.”

But she simply shook her head and sniffled quietly before letting her head return to its prior position against the cool glass, “I’m fine, thank you.”

You gave her a sideways glance, but didn't push the issue. When you finally pulled up to the hospital, Addison shifted, unbuckling her seatbelt slowly. You could see the way she winced as she moved, a grimace crossing her face as she grabbed her bag. You wanted to tell her one more time to reconsider—maybe just take the morning off, at least—but before you could speak, she leaned over and kissed your cheek, her lips warm against your skin.

“I’ll see you later love,” She whispered, her voice already sounding strained, you couldn’t imagine what a day of talking would do to it.

You nodded, biting back your protests. “Please take it easy, Addie. And if you need me, call, okay?”

She shut the car door and headed inside – luckily she’d brought a coat this time. When the door closed, you took a moment to gather yourself and let out a deep sigh. Of course you loved Addison, she was just too stubborn for her own good sometimes. She knew it herself and while she made improvements from the past, it was still something she had to work on.

Grabbing your bag, you headed inside, jogging beneath the room and relishing in the warmth of the hospital as you stepped through the entrance. Changing into your scrubs only took a few minutes and you were finally ready to start your day. It wasn’t exactly easy to focus on your work when you knew for a fact your wife was somewhere in that same hospital feeling miserable and ill but you had to push the thought to the back of your mind as you began doing rounds.

Every so often you’d try and grab one of the interns she usually had following her round but they seemed to be avoiding you today, always running from one place to the next, looking more stressed out than usual.

The day hadn’t been too eventful. Originally you weren’t meant to have surgery today but after someone came in with emergency appendicitis, you found yourself in the OR for a few hours - having to correct a clumsy interns mistake. By the time you’d finished, it was already past your shared lunch hour which meant you weren’t able to meet your wife as you usually did, an act (which even though you knew you shouldn’t) made you feel a little guilty.

You’d had no word from the redhead since she started and it had worried you a little. The first place you checked was her office but you only saw her bag sitting on the desk with no sign she’d been here much today. There was no sign on her in the OR for the afternoon so when Karev had passed you in the corridor, you pulled him aside, “Have you seen Addison lately? I checked the board and she’s not in surgery.”

He shifted a little uncomfortably and crossed his arms, causing you to change your stance and raise an eyebrow, “Alex, I already know she’s ill. I just want to check on her.” Your voice was soft, revealing a little vulnerability. Luckily this seemed to have worked as he sighed and pointed down the corridor.

“Last time I saw she was coughing and spluttering over a water fountain.” He shook his head disapprovingly, “I’m presuming you couldn’t convince her to stay home?”

You matched his gesture, “You know what she’s like.” He agreed and you thanked him for the information before heading in the general direction he pointed you in, of course she was not still by the fountain. You’d just been about to page her when your ears pricked up as you heard the sound of a rough muffled cough. Turning around you made a confused face as you saw there was no-one else in the corridor. Humming, you looked towards the linen closet a few feet away.

Supposing there was nothing to lose, you walked over and pushed the door open, light flooding into the dark room. You didn’t see anything at first but squinting, you could make out the vague shape of someone of the back of the closet. Switching on the small light, your heart dropped to your knees as you saw those recognisable red curls. Addison was slumped on the floor, her fever-flushed face resting against the rack of sheets.

“Oh sweetheart,” You murmured in the smallest voice as you closed the door, locking it before kneeling at her side. Raising a hand to her forehead, you brushed away damp strands of hair. Beads of sweat were lining her brow and you sighed as you recognised the undeniable heat of a high fever radiating from her skin.

It was hard to believe she had been trying to power through her shift like this. Brushing her hair back again, you gently squeezed her shoulder. "Addie, hey sweetie," You murmured softly, trying not to startle her, “Wake up for me beautiful girl.”

She stirred sluggishly, blinking up at you with glassy eyes. "Mhh?” She mumbled something you couldn’t quite work out and sniffled thickly, hardly having time to wake up before she ducked into her arm with a damp sneeze. It sounded harsh and obviously hurt from the way she winced afterwards.

After murmuring a bless you and handing her a tissue from the packet you’d slipped into your pocket, you asked, “What are you doing napping in a linen closet baby?” You knew that she could have easily slipped into an on-call room and slept there so it wasn’t hard to work out that her linen-closet nap wasn’t intentional.

Addison accepted the tissue and rubbed it beneath her red tinged nose, sniffling as she tried to sit up a little, her head still spinning as she blinked against the overhead light. “I just... got dizzy. I needed to sit down for a moment.” It was clear she was out of it, her answer sounding more like a question as she spoke and a few moments later, you were rubbing her back in worriedly as she racked forward with a horrible, harsh cough.

“You sound terrible baby.”

She shook her head weakly, clearly trying to muster some strength but failing miserably. "It’s not that bad. She tried to insist. her voice cracking before she broke into another round of painful-sounding coughs. You winced just hearing it.

“That’s new,” You murmured, concern and worry seeping into your words, “How long have you been coughing like that sweetheart?”

She seemed to think for a moment and sniffled thickly, coughing again before mumbling “Just a few hours.” Your wife cleared her throat with an agitated sound and let her head fall back against the rack making you bite your lip with worry.

Without another word, you quickly stood up and grabbed the small digital thermometer from your coat pocket. It wasn’t something you normally carried, but with flu season hitting hard, it had become a necessity around the hospital. Kneeling back beside her, you pressed it against her temple.

Addison closed her eyes, too exhausted to protest. After a few moments, the thermometer beeped, and your stomach dropped as you read the number.

“Poor girl, you’re nowhere near well enough to be here. Come on, we’re going home.” Your tone held no room for arguments and well, Addie didn’t really have the energy to be stubborn anymore. She felt too terrible and all she really wanted to do now was to go home and crawl back into bed where she should’ve stayed to begin with.

Finally, Addison nodded and you wrapped your arm around her waist as you helped her up off the floor. She stumbled and swayed a little so you kept your hold tight as you got her out of the closet, “You still dizzy?” She nodded and walked slowly, the both of you taking your time as you headed down the corridor. Stopping off at her office, you grabbed her bags and coat, wrapping it around her before quickly jogging to your office to grab your things. Changing could wait. All that was important now was getting her home

You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to the chief explaining the situation, knowing he’d be sympathic. You slipped your phone back into your pocket, your focus fully returning to Addison. Her breathing was shallow, and every step seemed like an effort, but she leaned into you, grateful for your support. Her body trembled slightly, whether from the fever or exhaustion, you couldn’t be sure. What mattered most now was getting her home, out of the fluorescent hospital lights and away from the sterile walls that she'd been pushing herself to work within for far too long.

Before long, you were helping Addison back into your car, putting your bags on the backseat before closing the passenger seat down. She was coughing when you slipped into the passenger seat and you instantly reached across to rub her back. She cleared her throat and looked over at you.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” Her voice sounded so hoarse but you knew exactly what she was saying regardless, “I know I should’ve come home sooner. I’m sorry.”

You smiled, shushing her softly, “You don’t need to apologise, we’re going home now that’s all that matters. We’ll have you feeling better soon, okay?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

As the pair of you drove home, you could see Addison begin to drop off as her head periodically bobbed forwards, her eyes beginning to close on their own accord.

It wasn’t long before she had fully given into her exhaustion. You couldn’t help but feel relieved now that Addison was finally safely nestled in your passenger seat, her exhausted body leaning fully against the door as she slept against the window, her mouth open a little as small, stuffy snores rose from her. She’d definitely be out of work for the next few days, likely the week so you made a mental note to call at the pharmacy on your way home. It wouldn’t be long before you got her home, ready to tuck her up into bed and dote on her every need.

Yes, you’d taken care of her last night and you were more than happy to do it all again.

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤROSLYN * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where a storm is happening and Y/N is afraid of thunder, making her seek comfort in her best friend's brother arms, Matt.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　thunderstorm.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Nick's room was a welcoming haven for Y/N. The walls decorated with frames and posters and the rustic wooden furniture provided a feeling of security and comfort. She had spent countless nights there, in his soft, cozy bed, surrounded by the familiarity of her best friend.

However, that night, the tranquil atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the distant roar of thunder. Y/N curled up under the sheets, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She has always been afraid of storms, ever since she was a child. The thunderous sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning in the black sky left her petrified with fear.

With each thunderclap, she could feel the anxiety building up inside her, squeezing her heart like an iron fist. Her body shook involuntarily, and she struggled to control her rapid breathing. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her, leaving her unable to move, as if she were trapped in an endless nightmare.

Y/N knew she needed to calm down. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the frightening sound echoing through the top floor window. The girl took a deep breath, trying to find some inner peace, but fear continued to envelop her like a relentless shadow.

Deciding to seek comfort, Y/N reached out into the darkness, searching the comforting warmth of the boy beside her. She tried to shake him gently, whispering his name in an urgent tone. However, Nick remained motionless and sunk into a deep sleep, only a light mumble escaping his throat.

Frustration and despair began to build within her. She couldn't face this storm alone. The girl tried to curl up against his back, but her body exposed to the room had no effect in calming her down, Nick remaining oblivious to her silent call, lost in distant dreams.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, fighting back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over. She felt so small and powerless in the face of the force of nature outside. The sound of thunder seemed to grow louder, echoing in her mind like a relentless reminder of her vulnerability.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N got up from the bed, determined to get help. She knew exactly where to go.

Sneaking out the white door and down the stairs, careful not to make any loud sound, Y/N arrived at Matt's bedroom door, knocking softly on the wooden surface. She waited for a moment, her heart beating nervously in her chest as her right leg bounced incessantly in anxiety until she finally heard a sleepy murmur coming from inside the room.

The door slowly opened, revealing Matt's silhouette on the threshold. His eyes were downcast and sleepy, his brow furrowed in confusion and anger at being woken up, but his expression immediately brightened upon seeing Y/N standing there.

"Y/N, hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" Matt asked, his voice soft and concerned as his eyes took in the way her body was shaking.

Y/N swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. She moved slightly closer to Matt, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, seeking the comfort she so desperately needed.

"I... I can't sleep with this storm, Matt. I'm so scared, and Nick won't wake up." The girl confessed in a shaky whisper, her chest burning with embarrassment for waking him up with something so... trivial. "I'm sorry for-"

Without hesitation, Matt wrapped Y/N in a comforting hug, interrupting her sentence while pulling her closer and holding her firmly against his chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders with just the right amount of strength. He could feel the tremors that ran through her body, almost sensing the palpable fear that consumed her insides.

"It's okay, sweet girl. I'm here now." Matt whispered, gently stroking the girl's hair with his right hand. His presence was like a balm to Y/N's grief-stricken soul, slowly dispelling the shadows of her fear. "Come on."

The boy took a few steps back, eventually pulling her along before slowly closing the door. He kept his left arm firmly around her shoulders as he straightened his posture, beginning his slow steps towards his unmade bed.

With his free hand, the brunette pulled the duvet down before gently guiding Y/N to the mattress, helping her lie down on the side he didn't sleep on. He adjusted the strands of her loose hair so that they were not on her face, watching her eyes blink slowly in sleep, her eyelashes trembling with each thunderclap.

Matt quickly walked over to his own side of the bed, laying down on the still warm surface, right where he was previously lying, before pulling the duvet up, tucking it tightly around Y/N's body so that not a piece of her skin covered by thin pajamas would be exposed to the freezing air.

He laid down on his side and rested his head on his pillow, extending his left arm - which was against the mattress - and, with his free hand, gently pulled Y/N, encouraging her to get closer. The girl quickly got the message, pressing her cold body against Matt's warm one and laying her head on his outstretched bicep, her legs shrinking and her knees pressing against the boy's abdomen, a sigh of relief escaping her nose almost instantly.

Matt encircled her torso with his right arm, bringing her closer - if that was possible - and lowering his face, sealing Y/N's forehead with his lips tenderly, conveying a sense of safety and protection that she so desperately craved. The brunette caressed the warm skin of her face with the tip of his nose gently, whispering small words of affection and reassurance, muffling the sound of thunder against Y/N's ears while his hands caressed the back of her shoulders.

As the night progressed, Y/N gradually felt calmer and more serene in Matt's arms. The sound of thunder still echoed in the distance, but now she was no longer alone.

"Thank you, Matty." Her voice, now sleepy and low, came out of her mouth in a whisper, her eyes gradually closing as the sound of slow breathing and rhythmic heartbeats that echoed from the his larger body acted as a natural tranquilizer for her.

"Anything for you, petal."

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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Imperfections

Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy festive nonsense

Leon squints at the small piece of paper, trying to decipher the name upon it. It’s not the handwriting he’s struggling with, more the fact he probably does need reading glasses and he hates to admit it. He looks around, making sure no-one is looking in his direction and holds it aloft, trying to find the perfect spot where the blurry squiggles will finally transform into a name.

A name he knows all too well, it turns out.

Yours.

You’ve been working for the department just shy of a year – a new recruit in February – and had been partnered with him on a fair few missions. He’d underestimated you at first, mistakeably deemed you too sweet a thing to be wrapped up in this sort of business, but you’d shown him your mettle from the off and especially when things had got dicey – held your own, got the job done, saved his ass a couple of times and all usually with that beautiful smile on your face.

God, Kennedy, he chides himself, smitten or what?

He folds up the slip of paper, sticks it in his wallet for safe-keeping and his mind begins to whirl - what in the hell is he going to get you?

Secret Santa at the DSO – a bit of holiday nonsense put forward as a suggestion to ‘boost morale’ and apparently the President had loved it, has thrown together a whole Holiday Mixer around having the exchange. Everyone working here isn’t depressed due to a lack of Christmas spirit, more the state of the world itself and the dark depths they’re forced to confront…

But, hey, Leon S Kennedy will do as he’s told as far as the President’s concerned, and so he’d stuck his hand in the Santa hat when it had been thrust in his direction, full of his colleagues’ names.

There’s rules – has to be in government-officiated fun – gifts to be exchanged at the Holiday Mixer in a week’s time and, to try and avoid an influx of gift cards and novelty socks, it must include a handmade element, with a $25 limit.

“So,” you plonk yourself down on his desk - right on a pile of manilla folders that were left there earlier for his upcoming briefing and he’d yet to tackle - and lean in, “who’d you get?”

He sweeps his hair out of his eyes and sits back a little in his chair to take you all in. “Uh-uh, that’s against the rules.” You roll your eyes at that. “And since when has Leon Kennedy been a stickler for the rules?”

“I just don’t wanna be on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Fine.” You pout, crossing your arms in fake annoyance. “I won’t tell you who I got either.”

“Good, cos I don’t remember asking... And don't make an old man joke."

“Wasn't gonna." He gives you a look and you can't help but smile. "Okay, but seriously - I get the handmade rule, I do,” you shuffle back a little more on his desk, making yourself comfortable as you get to your point, “but what I don’t get is why it’s mandatory to participate in the whole thing.”

“It’s not really mandatory. We’re a small operation – you don’t participate, you’ll show up on the President’s radar for not being a team player. You know he’s all about that.”

“Well, make us do a team building exercise - build a bridge out of newspaper, do trust falls or something besides try and be crafty.”

Leon scoffs. “I’m not doing a trust fall with you – not after last time.”

You open your mouth to reply – that was most definitely not meant to be a trust fall, Leon had just straight up fell - when Hunnigan pops her head around the cubicle, not even surprised to see you sitting on his desk, and gives the two of you a polite smile.

“Kennedy – intel briefing set for 1200. You prepped?”

“Sure am.”

Hunnigan eyes the pile of folders she clearly remembered placing on his desk first thing this morning, the exact ones which are nestled underneath your thighs.

“Uh-huh… Conference room seven. See you there.” She turns on her heels and departs, and you feel Leon’s hand ghost your thigh.

You look down, a little startled – sure there’s been flirtatious touches here and there, a time where you would’ve bet that month’s pay check that he was gonna kiss you after a particularly close call but swerved for your cheek at the last moment – and realise he’s tugging at the corner of a folder.

“Whilst I won’t deny that you’re an awful pretty paperweight, mind if I get back to work now?”

You slide off – managing not to take the folders down with you - and mock a salute. “Yes, sir.”

The briefing is dull, which should be a good thing, really. No current BOW threats on the radar, though the threat level remains at orange. Leon can’t remember the last time they lowered it to yellow, so it seems a pointless system to him but he still throws in his two cents when called upon. He’s got another few weeks of desk duty to get through after Alcatraz after his medical - knows he’s not getting any younger and that’s why it’s taking him a little longer to recover after quite the beating.

Dismissed from the briefing, Leon swings by your desk on the way back to his, only to feel a little silly when he’s disappointed at the lack of you at it. There’s a shoebox sat on your desk though, lid taped on with a few rounds of parcel tape, but overall it looks a more than just a little worse for wear - crumpled corners and scuff marks all over the cardboard.

“Snooping, Kennedy?”

He can’t help the smile when you come to his side, your laptop tucked under your arm – must’ve had a meeting of your own. He holds up his mug, waving it from side to side in demonstration. “Was gonna see if you wanted a coffee, actually. That package looks a little suspect to get through the security check, right?”

You place your laptop down beside it and frown, before reading the return address. “Oh, no. It’s just some things that I asked my ex to send on. I forgot them in the move, only realized when I went to put my tree up last week…”

You trail off as you move the box towards you ever so slightly and there’s a horrible clinking sound that makes your stomach sink.

You grab a biro, jamming it through the tape lined around the edge as a make-shift knife and tentatively pull off the lid, bracing yourself for what you might discover within. Whilst you had safely stored them away in layers of bubble wrap, each in its own bo, he seems to have dumped them all out into the shoe box, one layer of bubble wrap on the bottom, another on top and they’ve obviously cracked together in transit, resulting in the shattered mess before you.

“Shit.” He comments, softly, watching as you pick up shards. “What are they?”

“My grandmother’s baubles.” Your voice goes flat as you pick up pieces of what once were precious memories and his heart aches. “She was a really talented artist before the arthritis got bad… Used to paint these and sell them at Christmas fairs.”

He’s silent as you continue picking through the pieces. There’s one that seems mostly intact, a smaller one but after further investigation there’s a big chunk missing from the side and you drop it back down in the box in defeat. Leon lays his hand on your shoulder then, seeing how you almost deflate in front of his very eyes, and he hopes to give you a reassuring squeeze – to let you know he’s here, he's always here for you, even if he’s not going to say it aloud. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” But he knows it’s not by how tight your voice is. You’ve never got emotional in front of him before, not even when you’d been injured had you let that stupid, gorgeous smile falter. “I… I have to head out. I’ll see you later.”

You place the lid back on the shoebox and shove it off the desk. It lands in the waste basket with another awful sound of broken ceramic.

“Whoa, wait, don’t you wan-?” He begins to protest but you shrug his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head and now keeping your eyes downcast.

“Sorry, I really have to go.” He swears you just about jog out of his sight, no real destination in mind.

Leon doesn’t see you the rest of the day, though he swings by your desk a few more times when he gets up to stretch his legs. The maintenance team will be in later – dispose of the shredded paperwork, wipe down surfaces empty the waste baskets… so he doesn’t think twice when he picks up the shoebox as he leaves, holding it tightly in the crook of his arm as if it were the broken pieces of your heart.

Later that evening after dinner, he sits on his sofa, changed into his sweats rather than stuffy shirt and suit trousers, a soda on the table in a heavy-bottomed glass – doesn’t drink anymore, isn’t worth it, but he still likes the weight of a good glass in his hand – with his laptop perched on his knees.

The cursor blinks in place before he slowly types in the search bar.

How to fix a broken ceramic bauble.

He’s good with his hands from weapons maintenance, can handle delicate stuff, so why couldn’t he glue some bits of ceramic back together into a sphere?

He scrolls down the search results – various how-to articles and videos. He reads through a few, learns that it can depend on such factors of where the break occurred, if it’s clean break or not, how thick the ceramic is and, after all that, there’s the danger it could look like a kid put it together for their mom at kindergarten with a pot of PVA glue and got bored halfway through.

He’s not put off, though, as he continues his scroll until something bright and gold catches his eye…

Kintsugi?

Huh. Sounds… promising.

He does a test first. Practice makes perfect, and he’s determined he will make them as close to perfect again as he can… once he’s sure he’s got the hang of it. He buys a box of six ceramic baubles from a nearby department store, whacks one off the table edge gently until it shatters into reasonable-sized pieces, then sets about setting it back together with the kit he’d bought online – paid for express next-day delivery as well, no time to sit and wait around for 3-5 working days, longer in the Christmas build-up.

You’d not mentioned the baubles the next day in the office or how you’d rushed off, just came and sat on his desk with a coffee, had the usual back and forth banter but he can tell you’re a little flat, the light isn’t quite reaching your eyes as it once was and he hates it. You’d been excited for Christmas – even brought in a Christmas mug on the 1st of December – but it’s all been extinguished, now a DSO-logo stamped black mug in your hands.

It takes him the entire box over the next few evenings until he’s confident enough to tackle one of your prized possessions. Each bauble is unique – swirling patterns of pastel colours on all-white ceramic, but he treats the pieces like a puzzle as he slowly divides the piles into category of each bauble – four in total – and gently works out which piece belongs to which. There are bits that aren’t going to be a clean seam but he’s prepared for this in his practice rounds, still a little shake in his hand as he finally puts two and two together.

He likes the meaning behind the practice - embracing imperfections, not trying to hide the cracks or broken bits, but instead highlighting it, making it a feature with bright and beautiful gold. Lord knows he isn’t perfect, far from it, and he will never be the man he was before Raccoon City. A few years ago, when he was at his darkest, he would’ve described himself as beyond repair – too smashed up to ever be whole again.

Slowly but surely, he’s began to piece himself back together, embracing the fact that whilst he’s not quite whole and might never be, held together by his friends, his will and some glue and now your presence in his life giving him a little bit of sparkle.

He shakes his head, leans forward and switches off the made-for-TV Christmas movie.

Friday evening is here before he knows it and, frustratingly, an intel mission he’s on runs a little long – gets caught up in traffic. He needs to swing by his apartment to pick up your gift and needs to get changed while he’s at it – the dress code quite clear. He enters the hotel ball room in a shirt, suit jacket and trousers, sans tie, an over an hour and a bit late, carrying the gift bag as carefully as he would a baby or a bomb. The mixer already seems to be in full swing - there’s half a dozen round tables, discarded wrapping paper scattered across the tops of them as well as empty champagne glasses and he realizes he must’ve missed the gift exchange.

“There you are! I thought you were a no-show.” You tease, appearing at his side a little too quick to not have been waiting for him. You’re looking beautiful in your black cocktail dress, the one that hugs all the right places and your hair half up and half down, held in place with a red bow.

“Duty called. Did I miss the exchange?”

“Eh, kinda. It wasn’t a whole big thing. The President’s not coming – double booked himself, so everyone’s just been awkwardly exchanging gifts and downing more and more free drink.”

He tugs at the ribbon hanging down off your shoulder ever so gently.

“Well, you certainly look as pretty as a present. Please tell me you didn’t panic and gift yourself…”

You ignore him, loop your arm through his instead and guide him over to an empty table – there’s a large queue at the open bar and hopefully a few more minutes of privacy before making endless small talk – and encourage him to take a seat. As he does, you crouch besides another chair and fish for something underneath, pulling out a red and gold gift bag, an embarrassed smile as you hold it out to him.

“Merry Christmas, from your Secret Santa.”

He raises an eyebrow but still accepts the bag, placing it on the table. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Why?”

“You’re my Secret Santa?”

“Can you at least hold in the disappointment until after you open it?” You pout.

“No, I mean… I got you. We got each other.”

“What? That’s… weird.” You sit down heavily in the chair, looking a bit bemused. “What’s the statistics on that even happening?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to demand a re-count.” He rolls his eyes and holds out his own gift bag. “Ladies first.”

You smile, brushing your fingers with his as you take it, before placing the gift bag down on the table and see four small cardboard boxes nestled within. You take out the first one and unfold the tabs, carefully, before removing the piece of red tissue paper he’d nestled on top.

What lies below it makes your heart stop.

It’s your grandmother’s baubles, or one of them, now held back in one piece and held together with threads of beautiful gold.

You look at him and then back down at the bauble.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.”

“Leon, I…”

He sees the tears in your eyes as you take out the remaining boxes with a shaking hand, lining them up on the table and revealing each one in turn.

“I hope they aren’t an insult to your grandmother’s memory.” He blurts out after sitting in silence, unsure of what to make of yours. “They were just about to be tossed and so I took them, did some research on repair techniques and, well…”

“Did you do this?” There it is – the smile, the real smile that lights up your eyes.

“What, you think this old dog can’t learn new tricks? Everything’s on the internet these days.” He shrugs off – he won’t tell you the hours he spent, the headaches he got from squinting as he pieced parts together. Hell, he’d do it all again if he had to.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. I… I can’t believe you did this for me. I… I just, I mean…”

He places a hand on your knee, gives you a soft smile.

“There’s a lot I’d do for you, you know, if you’d let me.”

There’s a moment as your eyes meet that you feel perhaps your cheeks have gone as red as the bow on top of your head and quickly try to deflect, nodding your head at his unopened gift bag.

“You should’ve let me go first - this is going to be such a disappointment in comparison.”

Leon gives your knee a squeeze before he peers into this gift bag, digging out a small gift box. He places it down on the table and tugs off the lid to find there’s a beautiful ridged glass nestled in red tissue paper, heavy-bottomed – you know his preference all right - but there’s something within the glass too. A mass of what appears to be red and green yarn, a little loop of black string at the top… He picks it up between two fingers.

“It’s…” He trails off, looking at the colours. “It’s certainly festive.”

“Okay, I can’t knit but I tried and that’s the important thing here, right?”

“No, no, it’s… cute.” He smiles. “And the glass – I love it. Just my style.”

You bite your lip, looking a little flustered and unsure, but he assumes you’re still feeling a little emotional over his present… until you try and yank the yarn from his hands.

“Hey!” He gets to his feet out of instinct of being attacked and clutches whatever it is closely to his chest.

“Look, if you just give me it, I can try some other craft thing. Just I was in a pity party all week and I stayed up all night doing that and it shows.” You get to your feet then, trying to weasel through fingers into his to retrieve it. “I can’t leave you with that, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s mine.”

You don’t give up your attempt to wrestle it back, though Leon’s grip never falters. “You don’t even know what it’s meant to be!”

“Sure I do. It’s…” He retaliates, whipping it quickly above his head and yours – too high for you to snatch out of his hands despite your heels – and squints once more, comparing it against some of the festive décor in the hall.

“Oh.”

“It’s so dumb.” You begin your protest again, now trying to grab it from above your heads. “I just tho-” Leon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you forward firmly against his chest, before he finally drops his other arm and cups your cheek, knitted mistletoe still in his fingers and kisses you firmly on the lips, swallowing down the rest of your sentence. He can’t help but grin as he feels you relax into his embrace, pressing your palm now flat against his chest. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, poking ever so gently to seek permission and-

“About goddamn time, Kennedy!” The shout of an inebriated agent causes the two of you to pull apart and you feel flustered by both the overdue kiss and what feels like the eyes of the entire DSO on the two of you.

Leon takes it all in his stride though, keeps a warm palm right on your lower back as he smiles and nods at whoever the hell it was that had interrupted, before pressing a sweet, solitary kiss to your cheek.

“Now, seeing as I’ve got this mistletoe, how about we go back to my place and try it out a little more, beautiful?”

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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thebunnednun · 9 months ago

Text

Build a Boyfriend 🧸🩷

Pairing: Shy! Pro Hero! Mirio Togata x Build a Bear helper! Pastel Goth! Reader

Summary: Mirio takes Eri to Build a Bear and falls for the pastel goth helping Eri pick out a new cuddle buddy. After some intervention from the guys he stumbles into her registrar to find ur even prettier up close and thinks he missed his chance with you.

Until he finds your note.....

TW: Cuteness overload

On with the show!!~

The workshop was buzzing with the low hum of families, children, and the occasional burst of laughter as small hands sifted through shelves of soft, plush animals. The inside of the store was a bright kaleidoscope of colors—soft pastels, warm yellows, and gentle blues—all blending together to create a welcoming, cheerful environment.

Display stands were stacked with teddy bears, bunnies, and a whole host of other creatures waiting to be brought to life by eager kids.

At the heart of it all, the sound of stuffing machines whirring and squeaking filled the air, punctuated by the chatter of customers and employees. Soft pop music played overhead, further adding to the lively yet calming atmosphere.

A few young children were gathered near the sound booth, picking out voice boxes with silly phrases to stuff inside their soon-to-be cuddly companions. Others ran up and down the aisles with parents trailing behind, trying to keep up.

Mirio stood at the front of the store with Eri, his hand gently resting on her head as she stared wide-eyed at the rows upon rows of plush animals. Her large, curious red eyes scanned the store with wonder, her small hands clutching the hem of her dress, shifting slightly as she took in the world of soft toys around her. Mirio, ever the doting older brother figure, smiled down at her, eyes sparkling with excitement for her.

It was sensory overload for her, truely. And while he felt bad about it, Mirio would rather Eri get the full experience of picking out her snuggle buddy than choosing it fo herr. He wanted this to be a gentle push into feeling more secure and independent for Eri.

Plus, he just wanted to spoil her.

“Alright, Eri, feel free to look around, okay?” Mirio said brightly, crouching down to meet her gaze, his grin wide and reassuring. “I just need to pop to the restroom for a sec. But don’t worry—Shinsou’s on his way, and I’ll be right back.”

Eri nodded shyly, her gaze shifting from Mirio to the endless selection of stuffed animals. He gave her a gentle pat on the head before standing up and sending a quick text to Shinsou, letting him know where they were. After giving Eri another smile and checking the time, Mirio quickly made his way toward the back of the store, disappearing into the hallway.

Eri, now left to her own devices, wandered through the aisles slowly. She kept her hands close to herself, unsure if it was okay to touch anything. She passed by shelves filled with fluffy bunnies, tiny bears with sailor hats, and even some superhero-themed plush toys, her steps hesitant and light.

Meanwhile, you were working the floor, wearing your red apron over a pastel goth outfit that contrasted sharply yet charmingly with the colorful ambiance of the store.

Your black, ripped jeans paired with the soft lavender of your belt, along with streaks of pastel blue and royal purple in your hair, stood out against the otherwise bubblegum, playful environment. Your outfit was a perfect blend of soft and edgy, a subtle rebellion that felt at home in a store that encouraged creativity and individuality.

As you helped another customer pick out accessories for their bear, you spotted Eri, her small form almost lost among the towering shelves. She seemed unsure of where to go or what to do, her wide eyes darting from shelf to shelf as if searching for something familiar.

“Hey there,” you greeted softly, approaching her slowly so as not to startle her. You crouched down a bit to her level, keeping a respectful distance.

“Are you looking for someone special today?”

Eri blinked up at you, her eyes a little wary but not frightened. She nodded, pointing toward the top shelf where a fluffy white bear sat. It was out of her reach, and you could tell she didn’t want to ask for help outright.

You smiled warmly, standing up and walking over to a nearby ladder. “Let me grab something real quick, and then you can do the honors.”

After propping the ladder in place, you climbed up to grab a toy "grabber" from a top shelf—a long plastic tool that could be used to reach high items. You offered it to her, the soft click of the mechanism echoing slightly as you showed her how to use it.

“Here, why don’t you give it a try? You can get the bear all by yourself,” you said, handing her the grabber with a gentle smile.

Eri hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching nervously around the grabber’s handle. But after a moment, her determination kicked in. She extended the tool toward the bear, eyes focused in concentration as she squeezed the handle and caught the plush animal.

With a small, triumphant smile, Eri pulled the bear down, holding it carefully in her arms as though it were fragile. You gave her a little cheer, nodding in approval.

“Great job! That’s a cute one,” you said softly, watching as she hugged the bear close to her chest, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Do you want to make it extra special? I can help you with the heart ceremony.”

Eri looked up at you, curiosity filling her eyes. She nodded, and you led her to the heart ceremony station, where the soft plush hearts were kept. You gently explained the steps, making sure to give her the space to do everything herself, guiding her through the motions.

“Rub your heart in your hands for warmth,” you said with a kind smile, mimicking the action with your own plush heart. Eri followed suit, her small hands rubbing the heart together.

“Pat your heart for your friend's heartbeat forever, rub them on your head for smart thoughts, and rub them on each other so they know you're best friends.”

As you continued through the ceremony, Eri became more engaged, a light giggle escaping her lips as she touched the heart to her elbow when you added with a playful grin, “And don’t forget to tap your elbow so your new friend will always be funny!”

Eri’s eyes lit up with the little details, and she smiled brightly as she hugged the heart to her chest before placing it inside her new bear.

Behind her, in the shadow of the store’s entrance, Mirio watched quietly, a warm smile creeping across his face. He hadn’t expected to see Eri so at ease, especially in a new place. The way you respected her space, never crowding or overwhelming her, made his chest swell with gratitude. He was about to step forward when he felt a familiar presence behind him.

“What’re you staring at?” Shinsou’s voice broke the moment as he approached, giving Mirio a teasing look.

Mirio turned with a grin, his blue eyes bright as he spotted Shinsou approaching. Shinsou, dressed in his usual casual wear—a dark hoodie and jeans—stood out among the bright colors and vibrant energy of the workshop. His messy purple hair framed his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Mirio with a raised brow.

“Just watching Eri have a good time,” Mirio replied, motioning toward the heart ceremony station. Shinsou’s eyes followed, his expression softening slightly when he saw the little girl happily finishing up the ceremony with her new plush bear. She was beaming now, her earlier hesitancy gone, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and joy.

“Looks like she’s having a good time,” Shinsou muttered, his tone more affectionate than usual. He had grown attached to Eri in his own quiet way, often showing up to hang out with her when he could.

He wasn’t the type to get openly sentimental, but moments like this made him feel lighter.

Mirio clapped a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, his grin widening. “Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it’s not your scene, but Eri likes having you around.”

Shinsou shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well you know I can’t say no to her.”

As they stood there, watching Eri carefully adjust her bear’s fur you approached with a gentle smile. Spotting Mirio and Shinsou near the entrance, she gave them a nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention back to you.

“Does your bear have a name yet?” you asked softly, crouching down again to meet Eri’s eye level. She looked up at you with that same small smile, thinking for a moment as she hugged her bear tighter.

“Yes,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a sense of pride in her choice. Mirio watches with some confusion as Eri whispers it to you.

“That’s a perfect name,” you said with a warm chuckle, standing up and adjusting your apron as you prepared to ring her up. “Let’s get him all set up, then.”

Eri followed you toward the shelves with outfits, clutching Lemi in her arms as she gazed around the store one last time. You noticed how she kept glancing toward Shinsou and Mirio as if checking to make sure they hadn’t disappeared. They both gave her a reassuring wave from across the store, and she visibly relaxed, her steps becoming more confident.

You glanced up from the shelves, your eyes briefly meeting Mirio’s. He stood near the entrance, staring at you a little longer than necessary, his broad shoulders outlined by the glow of the afternoon sun. He had that goofy grin, the one that lit up his entire face, but there was something more behind it, a quiet admiration in his gaze.

Just as you return to checking on Eri, a figure sidled up beside Mirio. Shinsou, with his shit eating grin, elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes, man,” Shinsou teased in his usual deadpan tone. “Why don’t you just go over there and say something?”

Mirio blinked rapidly, his grin faltering for the briefest moment as his face flushed a deep pink. “W-What? No, I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, right,” Shinsou cut in, rolling his eyes. “I could practically hear your heart pounding from across the room.” He gave Mirio a little push toward you and Eri, who was carefully adjusting the tiny outfit on her new bear, completely oblivious to the commotion behind her.

“Go on, big guy. She’s right there.”

Mirio stumbled forward, awkwardly regaining his footing with a sheepish laugh. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he approached, Shinsou trailing behind him with a lazy, amused stride.

You stepped in front of Eri protectively the moment you saw the two boys approaching. Instinctively, you put yourself between her and the newcomers, your body tense as you sized them up, ready for anything. But before you could say a word, Eri’s face lit up at the sight of her two of her favorite boys.

“Mirio! Shinsou!” she squealed, her eyes bright with excitement. She hopped up and down on the spot, holding her newly made bear in front of her like a prized possession.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, but you stayed close to Eri, watching the interaction carefully. Mirio’s flustered expression softened as he knelt down to Eri’s level, his smile warm and familiar again.

“Hey Eri! Who’s this?” he asked, motioning toward the bear in her arms.

Eri beamed, a little confused, and pointed up at you. “She’s my new friend.”

Mirio leaned in, squinting at you with a faux-serious expression. “New friend, huh? Looks like a tough one,” he said, his voice light. You huff and laugh before he stuff his hands in his back pockets and rocks before he then pokes the bear gently and then adds with a sincere tone, “You’re so cool, Eri!”

Eri giggled, hugging the bear closer and you nod, “She is!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the warmth of it spreading through you. Eri seemed so comfortable with him, like a big brother and his quiet, teasing friend.

“So,” you began, looking between the three of them, “is this your brother?” you asked, gesturing toward Mirio, though you couldn’t quite keep the teasing edge out of your voice.

Mirio laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, no, not exactly. But I do look after her,” he explained, his eyes softening as he glanced at Eri. “She’s special to us.”

You nodded, your heart warming at his response. “That’s sweet. You seem to care about her a lot.” Just as you were about to hand Eri back over to Mirio, the workshop’s door swung open once again.

The air in the room shifted as a tall, scruffy figure walked in, wearing his signature black scarf draped loosely around his shoulders.

Aizawa, with his ever-tired eyes and a slight slouch in his posture, made his way toward the group, his wallet already in hand. His gaze flickered between you and Eri, who immediately perked up at the sight of him.

“Dad!” Eri called out, her small voice carrying across the room.

Aizawa’s tired expression softened at her excitement, and he gave a small nod before turning his attention to you. “I see you’ve made a friend,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. He held up his hero license for your reassurance. “I’m her guardian.”

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing as you realized your earlier assumption. “Great, these guys are nice but I couldn’t release her to them without a parents' permission,” you stammered, bowing your head slightly. “I just wanted to make sure she was with someone safe.”

Aizawa’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “No need to apologize. You did the right thing by being cautious. I appreciate how well you’ve treated her.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a sense of relief washing over you. Eri, still clutching the golden teddy bear, grinned up at Aizawa, clearly happy to see him. Mirio, ever the optimist, gave a thumbs-up toward you.

“See? You’re great with her,” he said, his usual enthusiasm returning.

Aizawa ruffled Eri’s hair gently, glancing over at you once more. “Thanks for helping her. She doesn’t trust people easily, but she seems to like you.”

Eri nodded vigorously, hugging the golden bear tighter. “I do!”

You could have been knocked over with a feather with how happy you felt making that little girl smile and help her create a core memory.

The moment settled into a quiet comfort, the soft hum of the workshop around you, as Aizawa stood by Eri’s side, and you felt a quiet sense of connection with the little girl.

She has a good family here, no doubt about it.

You chuckled softly to yourself as you grabbed the small wooden step stool tucked near the counter. With a fluid motion, you brought it over to Eri, who eagerly clambered up onto it. Her tiny hands reached up toward the counter and placed her new bear, who sat proudly.

The excitement in her eyes was contagious as she carefully took in the action of you scanning the bear and filling in the information Aizawa gave you into the database before sliding her friend back into her hand, giving the bear a quick once-over as if to make sure nothing was out of place.

“Look! Isn’t he cute?” Eri beamed, holding the new playmate out for Aizawa and Mirio to inspect. Mirio, still a bit flustered from earlier, managed to nod, though words seemed to escape him. Shinsou, as usual, wasn’t going to let that slide.

“Come on, big guy, she’s waiting for some praise,” Shinsou said with a raised brow, nudging Mirio with his elbow.

Mirio blinked, looking between Eri and the bear as if his brain had short-circuited.

“Y-Yeah! She’s adorable!” he finally managed to say, his voice a little too loud in his eagerness.

You smiled at the scene, turning back to Eri. “Alright, let’s fill out these ‘adoption papers’ for him, okay?” You handed Eri a small form—a fun, simple sheet for her to fill out with her little buddies name, favorite activities, and promise to care for her new friend.

Eri took the sparkle pom pom pen with a determined nod, sitting cross-legged on the stool as she began writing carefully.

As Eri focused, her soft voice floated up toward you. “Just like with me!” she said brightly, her small hand gripping the pen a little tighter.

The words sent a wave of silence through the room. It was as if time itself froze. Mirio, Shinsou, and Aizawa all exchanged looks, the weight of her innocent statement hanging in the air. The unspoken gravity of her situation, how she was adopted by Aizawa after everything she had been through, washed over the group.

You, on the other hand, had pieced it together when you saw the two walk in and seen how nervous Eri seemed with touch. Hence why you offered her some alternative instead of being more hands on like your coworkers.

For a moment, the noise of the workshop dimmed, replaced with a quiet reverence of her writing.

Before anyone could respond, the door burst open, and Izuku came stumbling in, dripping wet, his breath ragged and his wild hair sticking to his forehead. It was immediately clear what had happened—he’d just been thrown into the fountain outside.

Again.

“I-I’m okay!” he wheezed, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Eri’s solemn face broke into pure delight at the sight of him.

“Izuku!” she cheered, waving enthusiastically, her spirits immediately lifted. She proudly signed the adoption papers with a flourish before handing them to you.

You smiled warmly, taking the papers from her and carefully boxing up the teddy bear. “Alright, your new friend is all set,” you said, handing Eri the box, which she clutched to her chest protectively.

Before anyone could fully relax, Monoma and Bakugou came charging into the room, both out of breath and clearly mid-argument.

Monoma was the first to speak, of course. “Just so you know, he—” he pointed dramatically at Bakugou “—backhanded Izuku into the fountain.”

Katsuki snarled, glaring daggers at Monoma. “Tch, for once it was an accident! I was trying to punch you.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” Monoma scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Would my fist up your ass make it better?” Bakugou barked, clenching his fists as the two squared off, their bickering quickly escalating.

Aizawa sighed deeply, massaging his temples. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath before excusing himself from the registrar desk. He stepped between the two boys, his exhaustion palpable.

“Enough,” he said flatly, voice laced with authority, but it didn’t stop them from grumbling at each other.

Shinsou, watching with a smirk, took this as his cue. He gave Mirio a subtle nudge forward, his hands resting casually behind his back as if he hadn’t just shoved the older boy in your direction. Mirio, unsteady and blushing all over again, stumbled toward you, barely managing to stay upright.

“Guess you’re up,” Shinsou said with a sly, Cheshire grin before trailing after Aizawa, clearly entertained by the chaos.

You raised an eyebrow at Mirio, who now stood awkwardly in front of you, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. His usual confidence had all but evaporated, leaving him standing there, fidgeting under your gaze.

You continued packing up a few more supplies, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly. Mirio, still trying to recover from Shinsou's teasing, stumbled up toward you, his large frame knocking gently into the edge of the registrar desk.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” he blurted, immediately looking down at you with an apologetic smile.

You glanced up, amused by his flustered state. “No sweat. Nothing's broken, so we’re all good.”

You waved off his apology with a casual grin before returning to your packing, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly.

“So,” you began, trying to ease the tension with a playful smirk, “is getting pushed around by 'Shinsou' part of the usual dynamic, or is this a special occasion?”

Mirio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, I think he’s just having fun at my expense today,” he admitted sheepishly, his smile returning, albeit a bit more bashful than before.

Eri, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to step up beside you, clutching her newly boxed bear and watching you curiously. She tilted her head, her brows furrowing as she observed both you and Shinsou in the distance.

“Are you… emo? Like Shinsou?”

Mirio tensed beside you, his eyes going wide at the question. He shot you a nervous glance, as if expecting you to be offended. But instead, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, light and genuine, filling the space between you all.

“Emo? Nah, not quite,” you said, still chuckling. You ruffled Eri's hair lightly with the pen before pointing to the purple and blue streaks running through your own. “But I get why you might think that. I’m actually a pastel goth.”

Eri's face lit up with curiosity, her eyes widening as you untied your apron and did a playful little spin in front of her. “See?” You gestured to your outfit—ripped black jeans, a pretty lace pastel top in your favorite shade, and the rainbow chains that connected from your belt to your pockets that added a splash of color to your otherwise dark base palette.

“And these are my favorite!” You lifted one foot to show her your dip-dyed tennis shoes, a soft gradient of pastel shades fading into the white canvas. “I made these myself.”

Eri’s mouth formed a perfect “O” of awe, her small hands reaching out as if to touch your shoes. “Wow! How did you do that? They’re so pretty!”

You crouched down to her level, smiling as you explained the process. “Thank you, sweetie! It’s called tie-dye. You take plain shoes or clothes, tie them in different spots, and then dip them in different colors of dye. You can get all kinds of patterns that way! Want me to show you?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, already imagining the possibilities.

Throughout the exchange, you didn’t notice the way Mirio was watching you. His eyes followed your every movement—how you spun effortlessly, the way you smiled so warmly at Eri, how you explained things with ease. His heart raced in his chest, he gulped, trying to shake off the strange, intense nervousness crawling up his spine.

Mirio couldn't understand why it suddenly felt so hard to breathe, why his palms were sweating. Every time he tried to speak, his mouth dried up even more, like a dessert made out of sandpaper topped with crunchy peanut butter.

He desperately wanted to look away, but his gaze was drawn to you, like a magnet pulling him in despite his mind screaming at him to just fade into the wall and disappear.

Still, Mirio couldn't help but stay, silently rooting himself to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him. The way you connected with Eri, the easy laughter between you—it was like a warmth that had settled into the room, and though it made him flustered, he didn't want to leave.

You were still kneeling, explaining the basics of tie-dye with a smile, using your phone to show her how she could create something similar. Mirio stood stiffly, watching you with wide eyes, and though he was usually the picture of calm confidence, today was different.

His nerves kicking up in full force.

He wanted to speak, maybe even add something to the conversation, but his brain couldn’t form the words. It was as if the more he watched you interacting with Eri, the more his thoughts and nerves tangled themselves into sweaty knots.

Still, you kept the conversation flowing naturally, completely unaware of the inner turmoil Mirio was going through.

"It’s all about experimenting and having fun with colors,” you said, showing Eri how different patterns could form.

Eri nodded eagerly, fascinated by every word, while Mirio stood beside you, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like a deer in headlights, but every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like someone turned the temperature in the room up a few degrees.

Mirio blinked, snapping back to reality just in time to notice Shinsou staring at him from outside the store.

Shinsou’s eyes held a mischievous glint, as he subtly gestured toward you with a small nod of his head. Mirio followed the motion, his mind catching up with the situation. His heart skipped when he realized Shinsou was egging him on, pushing him toward you in a way that was just as playful as it was serious.

Behind Shinsou, Fatgum and Kirishima were rolling up to join the growing group, both exchanging easy grins. Fatgum seemed relaxed, his large frame towering over the others, eating some mall pretzels, while Kirishima waved enthusiastically, clearly trying to disarm the chaos that was unfolding.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stood a little farther off, arms crossed, his usual weary expression in place as he muttered something to himself.

“Herding cats is easier than dealing with them,” Aizawa complained under his breath, side-eyeing Bakugou and Monoma, who were still bickering like two kids fighting over sub vs dub anime.

Izuku was caught in the middle trying to remedy the situation, still damp, as Monoma had his hands up in a dramatic display of innocence, while Bakugou looked like he was one second away from cold blooded murder.

Tamaki, ever the quiet one, had appeared in the background, looking completely lost in the flurry of activity. His wide, nervous eyes darted between his friends, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

But when Shinsou leaned in and whispered something in his ear, a faint blush immediately crept up Tamaki's neck, turning his face a deep shade of red. He turned and gave Mirio a hesitant but determined “game face,” his sharp, elfin ears twitching slightly as he forced himself to give a thumbs-up of encouragement.

Mirio’s heart warmed at Tamaki’s attempt to cheer him on. A bright smile broke out on his face, a silent thank you to his friend. With Tamaki’s confidence-boosting thumbs-up and Shinsou’s teasing still hanging in the air, Mirio’s determination grew. He squared his shoulders and turned back to face you, taking a steadying breath.

But when he looked at you again, he nearly forgot how to breathe entirely.

Eri had somehow found her way into your arms, comfortably perched on your hip. Her small fingers were gently poking at your ear piercings, her wide, innocent eyes full of fascination as you let her touch the little hoops and studs. You were watching Mirio now, meeting his gaze with a calm smile that made something inside him turn to mush.

'Fuck.'

It was like all the noise in the background—the bickering between Bakugou and Monoma, the faint grumbling from Aizawa, even the shuffling footsteps of students in the distance—faded into nothing.

“Uh…” Mirio started, trying to find his voice, but his throat felt impossibly dry again.

“Are they gonna be okay?” You nodded slightly toward the commotion behind him, where Bakugou’s voice had risen several notches as he squared off with Monoma.

Just as you asked, both Bakugou and Monoma shouted something unintelligible, their voices overlapping in a chaotic burst of sound. You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but nodded as if nothing was amiss.

Mirio rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape as he grinned awkwardly.

“Yeah...they’ll be fine.” He tried to sound confident, but his mind was a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. He noticed, more than ever, how close you were standing, with Eri resting in your arms like she belonged there, her small hands still occasionally fiddling with your piercings.

The way you cradled her so naturally made something stir inside him—a mix of admiration and awe.

His heart started pounding again, the way it had before, but this time it was louder, more insistent. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the little details about you. The way the light in the room softened around your face, casting a gentle glow on your skin. The hint of colors in your hair, the soft purples and blues catching in the air like a breath of wind.

And that smile—warm, inviting, and effortlessly beautiful. It made him feel like he was standing in the middle of a sunlit field on a perfect summer’s day, the kind where everything was alive and vibrant, and you were the brightest thing in it.

You weren’t just pretty. No, pretty was too small of a word to describe how you made him feel. You are beautiful.

'Breathtaking.'

Not just because of how you looked but because of your whole aura. It was like you radiated this light, this quiet strength, that made people around you feel safe and welcome. It was in the way you held Eri so gently, like she was the most precious thing in the world, and the way you spoke with such ease, your words always soft yet full of warmth.

Mirio could swear he saw the rest of his life in your eyes at that moment. He imagined laughter, quiet moments, and endless afternoons spent in the kind of peace only you seemed to carry with you. It hit him like a wave—this overwhelming sense of admiration and something more, something deeper, that he wasn’t sure how to name yet.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him for a moment. “You okay there, Mirio?”

Your voice broke through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Mirio’s cheeks flared with heat, and he quickly rubbed the back of his neck again, this time laughing a little too loudly.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good!” He forced out the words, his smile still bright, though a bit shaky. “Just... you know, keeping an eye on those two,” he added, motioning again toward the argument that was now simmering behind him.

Kirishima had dropped his bag of hair dye in favor of holding onto Bakugou’s middle, whose hands were crackling faintly, while Izuku stood in front of Monoma, bandaged arms spread as Monoma looked like he was enjoying talking shit way too much.

Aizawa was laying into them for doing this again in public as Shinsou was holding up Tamaki who looked like he wanted to pass away from the onlookers and Fatgum is trying to divert the attention while also handing out fliers to his favorite restaurant in the mall.

“Yeah, they totally have it under control.”

You glanced in their direction before looking back at him, your lips curving into a smile that sent his heart racing all over again. “Seems like you've got your hands full.” You poke Eri in her belly and she squeals before holding onto you again.

Mirio chuckled, nodding in agreement. “You have no idea.”

Just then, Eri tugged gently on your sleeve, drawing both your attention. “Can I see the shoes again?” she asked, her voice small but eager.

You smiled down at her, giving her a little nod. “Of course.” You shifted her in your arms and then lifted one of your feet, showing her the soft colors of your tie-dye shoes again. She giggled, reaching out to touch them, her fascination with the colors and patterns not yet fading.

And as Mirio watched the scene unfold—the way you moved so effortlessly with Eri in your arms, the soft way you spoke, the ease with which you brought light into the room—he couldn’t help but think,

‘Yeah, I’m a goner.’

Mirio blinked, his mind momentarily lost in the haze of his own thoughts as he watched you. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he noticed your lips moving, the soft curve of them drawing his attention. For a second, all he could focus on was the way they shaped each word, the gentle rhythm of your voice fading into the background.

He didn’t register what you were saying—just that you were talking to him.

Then, as if shaken from a dream, Mirio blipped in surprise, his eyes widening as he coughed awkwardly. “Oh! Sorry! I—uh, what were you saying?” His voice cracked a little, his embarrassment clear as he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what’s up with me today.”

You chuckled softly, a sound that made Mirio’s heart skip a beat. There was no judgment in your eyes, just warmth. “It’s okay,” you said, your tone teasing but kind. “Are you okay, though? You seem a little… distracted.”

He forced a smile, though his heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m good now. Just—” Mirio stumbled over his words for a second before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I think I just spaced out for a bit.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, clearly unconvinced but playful. “Well, as long as you're not running on empty or something.” You flashed him a smile, and Mirio couldn’t help but return it, feeling the tension ease a little.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, making light conversation. You asked him how his day had been, and he asked you about yours. The small talk flowed effortlessly, and despite the occasional flustered moments on Mirio’s end, the interaction felt natural. You told him a funny story about one of your coworkers accidentally scanning a customer’s face instead of their item, and Mirio laughed, his usual cheerfulness slipping back into place.

He was starting to feel more like himself again, even as he struggled to keep his thoughts from wandering back to how much he liked your smile and how warm and good your voice is.

He could listen to you read the phone book for all he cares!

As Mirio lingered, his gaze darting between you and the door, he finally cleared his throat, summoning a bit of courage. "You know," he started, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, nervous way, "you’re, uh… pretty good with Eri. I bet you could make a career out of making people feel special."

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as you leaned against the counter.

"Oh yeah? Does that include you?"

Mirio froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat before he quickly stumbled over his words. "W-Well, I mean… you’re already good at that too." His cheeks flushed pink, and he tried to recover by flashing you one of his signature, bright smiles. "I guess I’m just lucky to be on the receiving end."

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned in a little. "Is that so? Mm, I’ll have to make sure to treat you extra special next time, then."

Mirio’s face heated up further, but he managed to chuckle nervously, scratching his head. "I, uh… I wouldn’t mind that."

Suddenly, a small voice piped up from below. Eri was tugging at Mirio’s sleeve with a sweet smile on her face.

"Are you two flirting?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide and curious.

Both of you blinked in surprise, exchanging a quick glance before bursting into laughter. You crouched down to Eri’s level, gently ruffling her hair.

"Maybe a little," you teased, glancing up at Mirio, whose face had turned a deep shade of red.

Mirio bent down too, his hand resting on Eri’s shoulder. "Just a little," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "You caught us." Eri giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "I like it. It makes you both smile."

You and Mirio shared a look again, warmth spreading between you as her innocent words sank in. Smiling, you reached out and gave Eri a playful poke on the nose. "Well, we’ll just have to keep smiling for you then, won’t we?"

Eri perks up at that and looks at you with something you can’t place. But she leans into your face to close her eyes and hug you tight. You return the hug, your cheek against the crown of her head and let your warmth radiate into her.

Mirio’s heart swelled at the sight, his smile soft and sincere. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice a little quieter now.

"We will."

Outside the store, the once-heated argument between Bakugou and Monoma was finally winding down. Their voices, which had been loud and chaotic earlier, were now quieter, only a few muttered grumbles echoing in the distance. Aizawa reappeared shortly after, looking more exasperated than before but clearly relieved that the chaos had subsided.

He approached the counter, tired eyes flicking over to Eri, who was still happily holding the box containing her new teddy bear. “You all set, kid?” he asked, his voice softening ever so slightly when addressing her.

Eri nodded eagerly, hugging the box tighter. “He’s ready to go home!” she declared with a big smile.

You smiled at the sight, already scanning the item at the register as Aizawa fished around in his pocket for his wallet. As you rang up the bear, your fingers discreetly punched in a few extra numbers on the keypad.

Mirio, standing just off to the side, happened to glance over and caught the brief flash of numbers. He furrowed his brows slightly, noticing that you’d keyed in what looked like a discount code. Before he could say anything, you turned to him with a wink and a sly smile, your lips curling at the corners in the most mischievous way.

You handed the bag you placed the packages in to Aizawa with a casual grace, as if nothing unusual had just happened. “Here you go,” you said, leaning down slightly so Eri could see the bag. “Take good care of him.”

Aizawa gave you a nod, his expression as unreadable as ever, though there was a slight glint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. He turned to Eri. “Ready to go?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, still cradling her new friend. But before they left, she looked up at you with wide eyes. “Thank you for helping me adopt him!” she chirped happily, her excitement contagious.

You smiled back, giving her a little wave. “Anytime, Eri. You and your new friend take care of each other, okay?” She nods and holds up the box to the frazzled group of boys before tugging Aizawa with her to go show them.

As Aizawa and Eri made their way out of the store, Mirio stood there for a second longer, watching the interaction with an odd mix of admiration and butterflies. You turned to him once more, your smile lingering, and for a brief moment, he swore the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“You like kids, huh?” Mirio finally asked, his voice light with amusement as he raised an eyebrow.

You gave him another wink, the same mischievous glint in your eyes. “What can I say? Perks of the job.”

“Mirio come on!”

“I’ll be right there!”

The blonde waves to you before racing out of the store (almost hitting his face in the glass doors too) before rejoining the group outside. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of excitement and warmth. Mirio stands off to the side, watching you as you got back to work, expertly tying your apron into a neat bow around your waist, your fingers deftly maneuvering the fabric.

There was a lightness in the air, a hint of magic lingering in the moment, and he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Eri’s excitement.

“Hey, how did it go?” Shinsou nudged him playfully, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Mirio chuckled, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks a little pink. “Oh, you know, just normal stuff,” he replied, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies dancing in his stomach.

The boys—Izuku, Kirishima, Monoma, Bakugou, Tamaki, and Fatgum—quickly gathered around, their curiosity piqued. “Did Eri get her new friend?” Izuku asked eagerly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Eri piped up, bouncing on her toes. “I did! His name is Lemi!” she declared proudly, clutching the plush bear to her chest. Mirio felt a rush of emotion at the name; it felt personal, like a little piece of her heart wrapped in the soft fabric.

“Lemi? That’s adorable!” Kirishima exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look. But then Eri faltered, her expression shifting as she realized she hadn’t dressed him yet.

Just then, Aizawa approached, his expression mildly bemused. “You can come back another day to dress him,” he said, and Mirio, without thinking, immediately volunteered, “I’ll take her!”

Eri’s face lit up, and she eagerly opened the box for everyone to see, her excitement palpable. “Look!” she exclaimed, revealing Lemi nestled among other items.

Bakugou, who had been watching with a critical eye, leaned in. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, crossing his arms with a hint of suspicion.

Aizawa paused, confusion flickering across his face before he reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a small collection of outfits. The group gathered closer as he spread the items out on a nearby table in the food court, their eyes widening in amazement.

“Are those…?” Kirishima began, his voice trailing off as they all realized the outfits were mini versions of their hero costumes.

Mirio felt his heart swell with pride and warmth. He glanced at Eri, who was practically glowing with joy, her eyes shining like stars. When she spotted Mirio’s hero costume tucked inside, she squealed in delight.

“Look! It’s just like yours!”

With an infectious smile, she hugged him tightly, and in that moment, Lemi echoed a familiar phrase: “You’re so cool!” Her joyous squeak made everyone burst into laughter, and as she dropped the bear in surprise, Bakugou lunged forward, catching it just in time.

“Careful!” Bakugou grunted, a mix of irritation and fondness in his voice. The group shared a knowing look, the camaraderie palpable.

Izuku gently took the bear from Bakugou and squeezed its tummy. “Wow, it talks!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. Lemi chimed in again, this time explaining that the voice must have come with the bear.

Mirio’s heart raced as he pieced it all together, realizing you must have been the one holding the voice box when he first approached Eri. A warm smile spread across his face at the thought of you crafting this magical experience for her.

Just then, Aizawa pulled out a note from his pocket and handed it to Mirio. There was a hint of a smile on his usually stoic face. “This is for you,” he said, his tone teasing yet encouraging.

Mirio took the note, his breath hitching slightly as he swore he could feel the warmth from your fingertips had left for him.

As the teasing continued, Mirio felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, the excitement now mixed with anxiety. The note felt heavier in his hands, and he was unsure how to handle the sudden attention. With a quick glance at Tamaki, he decided to pass the note to him instead, hoping his friend might read it without the weight of all their curious eyes on him.

Tamaki accepted the note with a shaky hand, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. He cleared his throat softly before unfolding it, his cheeks already turning a deep shade of red. As he read, the whispers and laughter around them faded, all eyes drawn to him.

Mirio watched anxiously as Tamaki’s eyes widened, a hint of disbelief crossing his features. “U-um…” he stammered, before glancing back at Mirio, his voice barely above a whisper. “S-Sorry,” he managed to say, quickly handing the note back with a beet-red face.

“What does it say?” Izuku urged, leaning in closer, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Tamaki, flustered, mumbled, “It’s… um… really nice.”

Mirio took the note back, heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and began to read aloud:

“Hey! :D Mirio, right? Thanks for being so wonderful today! I really enjoyed spending time with you and Eri. You’ve got a really cute smile! If you’re not seeing anyone, let's hang out soon! If you ever want to chat or need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’d love to hook Lemi up again. ;3

Looking forward to seeing you and your Eri<33! — Your local Pastel Goth

x-678-999-8212

It was a simple thank you, but at the bottom, your number was scrawled neatly, making his heart leap.

Eri watched him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “What does it say?” she asked, her tiny voice full of curiosity.

“It’s a note from the lady,” he said, unable to hide the grin on his face. “She said we can plan more fun days together.”

The boys exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and teasing delight washing over their expressions. Eri squealed with excitement, her little hands clapping. “She thinks you’re wonderful!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Look at Mirio, all blushing!” Monoma laughed, while Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk.

Mirio’s heart raced, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tried to play it cool. “It’s just a note,” he stammered, but the grin on his face betrayed his feigned nonchalance.

“Just a note? Dude, that’s definitely more than just a note!” Kirishima chimed in, clapping him on the back with enthusiasm.

Tamaki, still blushing, looked down at his feet, mumbling, “I-I think she likes you…”

As the teasing continued, Mirio couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness blooming inside him. The nervousness ebbed away, replaced by excitement at the thought of seeing you again. Eri’s bubbly enthusiasm and the camaraderie of his friends made it all feel so much brighter, like everything was finally falling into place.

Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “You’re such a dork,” he teased, earning a playful shove from Kirishima.

Fatgum chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You boys better watch out. Mirio’s got a secret weapon now,” he said, gesturing to the note with a grin.

As the playful banter continued, Mirio felt a swell of happiness. The bond he was forming with you, Eri, and the rest of the group felt like a bright beacon in his life. He couldn’t wait for the next mall adventure, knowing that you would be a part of it.

“Let’s get home before your classmates burn the dorms down.”

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

As the day wound down and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the window of Aizawa’s living room, Mirio found a cozy spot on the couch with Eri nestled against him. The warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a comforting blanket, Eri’s small fingers clutching the note you’d written, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to claim her.

Mirio, still buzzing from the day’s events, felt the soft rhythm of Eri’s breath against him, her little body rising and falling in a peaceful slumber. He couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with affection for the girl who had quickly become so dear to him. The note rested on his chest, a tangible reminder of you and the promise of more moments to come.

Just then, Shinsou, lounging nearby, couldn’t resist the urge to capture the scene. He quietly pulled out his phone, careful not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. The sight of Mirio, looking blissfully content with Eri curled up beside him, was too precious to pass up. With a mischievous grin, he snapped a quick picture, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face for just a moment.

“Adorable,” Shinsou whispered to himself, stifling a chuckle as he looked at the picture. Mirio stirred slightly but didn’t wake, a gentle smile still gracing his features. The room was filled with a sense of warmth and safety, the bond between them solidifying in the simplicity of the moment.

As Mirio drifted further away, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. It was a day well spent, and he couldn’t help but look forward to what tomorrow would bring for them all.

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table where Eri, Mirio, and Shinsou were happily digging into a stack of fluffy pancakes. Eri’s eyes sparkled with delight as she drizzled syrup over her stack, the sweet smell wafting through the air.

As they chatted and giggled, the sound of shuffling feet approached. Aizawa emerged from his room, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, just as Yamada bustled in, carrying a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

“Good morning, Shouta!” he called cheerfully, setting the plate down in front of him.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Aizawa asked, his voice still raspy from sleep as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eri beamed up at him, her cheeks stuffed with pancakes. “I slept great! And guess what, Mr. Aizawa? Mirio called that lady from the store last night to set up a playdate at the park today! We’re going to hang out together!”

Mirio’s face instantly turned crimson, his cheeks matching the color of a ripe tomato as he fumbled with his fork. “I, uh... it’s not like that!” he stammered, his embarrassment palpable. Shinsou, sitting across from him, stifled a laugh behind his hand, a smirk spreading across his face as he watched Mirio squirm.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just be safe, you two. And remember to keep an eye on Eri,” he added, glancing pointedly at Mirio, who was still blushing fiercely.

“Of course!” Eri chirped, her excitement infectious. Mirio, despite his flushed face, couldn’t help but feel a rush of joy at the thought of seeing you again. He grinned, the anticipation bubbling within him as he tried to play it cool.

“Yeah, we’ll have a great time!”

Meanwhile, on your end, you were sprawled across your bed, heart still racing from the phone call. Your face was buried in your pillow as you squealed, muffling the sound of your excitement. He really called me! He really called me! you thought, replaying every detail in your mind, savoring it like your favorite song.

You remembered the moment his number flashed on your phone screen. Not knowing who it was, you picked up with a casual, "Hello?" but inside you were buzzing with nerves, especially when you heard his voice crack a little as he started talking.

"H-Hey! It's Mirio... I hope I'm not calling too late," he said, his voice warm but tinged with a kind of awkwardness that made him even more endearing. You could practically see him rubbing the back of his neck, just like when he’d been standing in the store earlier.

"No, you're fine!" you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you pressed the phone tighter to your ear. You had just finished working around midnight before heading home to eat a grilled cheese and shower before climbing into your black strawberry print sheets.

Did your bones ache? 100% absolutely, no doubt about it. But you really liked the afflictions of his voice and it beats the boyfriend asmr you listen to sometimes to fall asleep.

"What’s up?"

There was a pause, and you could hear him exhale, almost like he was gathering courage. "I, uh... Eri wanted to go to the park tomorrow, and I thought maybe... if you’re not busy, you could... join us? If you want. No pressure! I mean, it’s just a park. A public place. With, you know, swings and stuff... so, uh..."

You giggled softly, letting him off the hook. "A public place, huh? That sounds very safe. I'd love to come along."

He sighed in relief, but then there was a moment of silence before he awkwardly admitted, "I... actually realized I never got your name. Kinda... embarrassing, huh?"

You grinned, teasing him just a little, "Oh, so you called me without even knowing my name? Bold move, Mirio."

He chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, I guess so! I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it was talking to you today. You’re, like, really easy to talk to. And, uh..." He hesitated again, and you could feel the shift in his tone, his vulnerability coming through.

"You’re really pretty, too. That’s... part of it. You’ve got this energy, you know? It’s just... it feels good to be around you. So I figured I’d take a chance."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a wave of warmth spread through you. You teased him again, just lightly. "Oh really? Well, you’re not too bad yourself. I’ve gotta say, you did look pretty good today with the sun shining over you like that."

'I wanted to bite your lips when you smiled.'

There was a bashful laugh on the other end of the line. "You think so? I felt so nervous talking to you, I thought I might trip over my own words."

"Well, you did great," you replied softly, feeling your own nerves start to settle. Talking to him was surprisingly easy, despite how flustered you both were.

You thought back to the way he had smiled earlier, how his eyes crinkled in the most charming way when he looked down at Eri, and how, for a moment, you'd feel a little flutter of nerves yourself. Thank God for Eri being there to smooth over the tension. You found yourself wishing you had asked him for a hug before he left.

'No,no,no, that would be weird! AGH!'

As you lay there now, hugging your pillow, your mind wandered back to how close he’d stood to you, and that same flutter of nerves returned. You dropped the pillow from your face and sat up, grinning like a kid. Your heart was still racing, but this time it was all excitement.

“Can’t wait,” you whispered to yourself, the smile lingering on your lips as you hopped out of bed to get ready for tomorrow’s ‘play date’—if that’s what you could even call it.

You had a gut feeling it would be more than just that.~

I'm whipping up a part 2, what do you all think?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic and a Aizawa Fic.

Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

124 notes · View notes

terras-domain · 1 year ago

Text

Hell for Most, Heaven for Me

Prisoner Y/N / Sister JiU (Kim Minji - Dreamcatcher)

Tags: VIOLENT STORY (murderer background y/n), prison au,prisoner y/n (reader), nun JiU, rough sex,losing virginity, dub con, sex in VERY inappropriate places (please do not do this ;-;), hint of breeding I guess

Words: 3.8k

terra's note: helloooo terra here. This one was in my mind to do for so long, I wanted to make it but I was so worried if this is allowed or nah, cuz well, for some reasons. And an extra note I kept losing my works here and there i have no idea why ;-; But anyways, I hope this I a good read for you and as always, hope you have a nice day and love you all <33

"I hereby sentence you to 10 years of life in prison, and no parole" were the words echoing through my mind, after being convicted with murder. The bus, the last vehicle I'd probably ride for another 10 years, taking me to my new home. Looking through the dusty window, I could see the cold breeze blowing east, trees bending to the right, pointing to the gigantic grey building, lacking in life in joy. "Have a good look inmate. That's your new home" the guard, sitting across the bus, looking into my eyes, knowing the emotions I'm feeling all too well. He's sent plenty of people like me here.

Get in, check into your 5 star suite and wear your fancy orange jumpsuit; that was the process I was brought to, registering myself as the new inmate in a jail I don't even want to remember the name of. Dragged like a dog towards my cell, the guard slammed the door shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "Enjoy your stay, maniac." A stern voice echoes the area, the guard laughing as he walks away, making me curl up on my bed. The murder, the death and crimes I did, as much as they were right to call me a monster, it was deserved. Seeing my own wife cheating with my brother, nothing in my life could prepare me for that. The kitchen knife was just conveniently close to me, it took me less than a second to have it in my hand, and another second for it to be covered in their blood. I've lost it, yet I couldn't care any less. "Fuck that bitch."

Morning arises, the guards will usually brutally beat a bell to wake us up, forcing us to hard labour, often times picking up trash on the streets whilst supervised by them. "Quit slacking, y/n! You think I'm blind?" One of the guards yelled, her voice could easily break my eardrums, it hurts. What hurts more is the fact she's a woman, the same damn species that bitch, that cheating bitch was. I clicked my tongue, looking back and was on the brink of snapping, but my conscious got the best of me. "Yes ma'am." I obediently nodded, surrendering as I continued my community service, being a mere slave to the law. I was restless, my body could barely contain the anger. A sight of a woman in itself infuriates me. Getting a little rest in the restroom, washing my face was a right call. Looking into the reflection in the mirror, staring at the wet face of a man who's fallen down a rabbit hole of hatred. My eyes darken, my body slowly shrinking yet swollen, it just didn't make sense. "What am I doing?"

My restlessness needs answers, or at least, something to sooth myself. After community service, the guards let us have our own private time, wandering around the prison to do what you want. I stumbled upon the prison's church, seems like a good place to recuperate. It's like they always say, when in doubt, find God, or I hope they do. Entering the small room, it looks nothing bigger than 4 of my rooms, and my room looks like it was designed to fit a rat. There's probably not many visitors around here, it's a home for criminals. I sighed as I sat on one of the multiple free benches, crossing myself as I began to pray. My wish to find myself inner peace, my wish to fully heal myself from my sins, and most importantly my wish to have courage to forgive what has happened in the past. My prayers were going smoothly, but it was quite bothered when I heard footsteps. "Who the fuck goes to church, whilst being an inmate?" I monologued, looking behind myself to see the figure that was walking in the holy space, and that's when my eyes felt revived, seeing something so beautiful, my mind went blank.

"Welcome child. What brings you here?" Her voice alone made me lose my tension, it felt as if I was on a cloud. I was too stunned to speak, my mind couldn't process her beauty, let alone process human words to speak. "Forgive me, is everything okay? Or-" she paused, stuttering as if she's afraid of the next words coming out of her gorgeous lips. "...are you mute per chance? I know some sign language to communicate if so." She eventually found her best words to form a sentence. Looking from her expression, it seems like she's trying her best not to offend me. Unlucky for her, my mind cleared out the clouds of delusion, behind that beauty, lays a species of humanity I would despise till my grave. "Oh no! I'm not disabled or anything. I was just, spacing out..." My eyes wide open, the sight of a maniac is what could describe my face right now but my voice sounds ever so lovely, as if my past self was doing the talking, the goody two shoes that let myself marry such a wicked bitch. My eyes scanned through the curves of the nun in front of me. Despite her body well covered, I could see how curvy and hot she is, not too thick but she definitely is an eye candy. "Oh I see. Well forgive me for bothering your prayers child. I was not here to disturb your conversation with Him. May your prayers be replied and may your life finds itself towards the right path." She gives a short bow, before moving towards the pillar, the symbol of what I believe is the place where she usually carries out her religious speech, that is if anybody is going to her speeches. What's more important though is her walk, the way her hips move left and right, showing how curvy her ass is. I couldn't hold it, my mind doesn't want to keep imagining. It wants to live it.

My legs starts to move, marching towards her from behind as I grabbed her from the back, my left arm wrapping around her midriff whilst my right on her ass cheek. "ngh- what are you doing?! Do you know where we are right now, inmate??" She questioned, her voice sounds timid as my arms venture around her body, feeling the smooth cloth of her body hiding the treasures underneath. "I prayed for lots of things, sister. Seems like God answered the call pretty soon~" I grinned, my arm groping her ass, making me grunt from pleasure, oh how long have I waited to touch a woman's ass. That bitch of a wife wouldn't let me for months, eventually I found out that cheap slut's ass is for other guys. No worries, I'll take this nun's big ass now and fuck it the way I like it!

It was heaven for me, two days in prison felt like forever, and that forever bores me. With this bitch of a nun in my hands, I can do whatever I please. "No- Aaah! Please stop, this is not the place for such vulgar actions," the woman pleads. But unfortunate for her I don't take orders from women any longer, not anymore. Rubbing my cock underneath my pants while she grunts and tries to move away. Makes me want to have her even more. Despite my joyous time enjoying the body of the hot nun, there's always things that makes things complicated. "Y/N? Where are ya? You gotta get back to your cell!" A voiced shouted from a distance. It's the guards, I thought. I had to let the nun go, letting her pure body free this time, but I'm damn sure this isn't over. The guard steps in the holy space, seeing me stand in front of the nun, smiling at her. "Y/N, your times up, get back to your cell!" He ordered, before shifting his gaze to the curvaceous woman. "Sorry Miss Minji, he's new. I guess he spent too much time praying huh?" He giggled, completely oblivious to the fact I was groping her before he crashed the party. "It's okay, sir. The inmate was just....asking me some questions. It seems he is just starting his journey to find God." She explained, and obvious lie for the both of us, but to that stupid bastard of a guard had no idea. "Oh, I see. Well hopefully this rascal doesn't bother you too much, Miss Minji." The guard laughed it off, in his face reflects confusion as he took his baton and smacks my head, making me start walking out to head back to my cell. "Now that's enough learning for today Y/N, back to your little mansion you go!" He exclaimed, making me take my steps back towards my cell.

In my own cell, my legs are crossed while I rest on the crusty old mattress. Sure it feels like I'm laying on a rock, but in my mind I couldn't felt more relieved. In my mind is only Minju, I didn't even think a second of my late wife, the horrible woman that made me commit the crimes I do today. In fact, that crime is the sole purpose I have this opportunity, and I couldn't miss it for the world. "Minji....you will be mine!"

JIU POV

Getting home to my convent, my mind simply could not brush away the thoughts of y/n. He was a sinful man, and what he did couldn't be said any worse. But for some reason, my heart is racing, it screams for more of that. Is that what sexual pleasure means? Being a holy child of God, I was never interested into indulging myself into such filthy acts, but that was too much for me to resist. Resisting in bed that night I made sure to lock the rooms of my own room, hoping the rest of the sisters to not find me in this state, in heat and about to perform such sinful acts. My body naked without a thread, as I look down, my shaven pussy dripping wet. I gulped, my thoughts conflicting between each other, but eventually it was no longer in my head. I start to slowly touch my clitoris that made me instantly let out a moan. "Aaah~!" I covered my mouth, turning down the volume of my sexual voices as I touch myself, wishing nobody will see me. My fingers kept moving on its own, now penetrating into my pussy, fingering myself. I could yelp and scream, but my hand muffled the sounds to ensure it doesn't reach anybody's ears to listen. My fingers slide in and out of my pussy, touching myself as my body tingles, it couldn't last any longer. "nghhh- noooo...aaah!" Eventually my body gave up, spurting cum all over my mattress, making me moan out load for a few seconds as my urges got the best of me. I panted, looking around my room, nothing really catches my eye, only the fact my body was so into the pleasure of getting groped and touched by a dangerous criminal who so happens to hate women. But somehow with all those issues regarding him, I want to see him again, and I want all of that again.

Y/N's POV

Days gone by, and that hot nun just couldn't leave my mind. How I want to absolutely ruin her and use her as my own personal toy, I just couldn't stand it. Unfortunately, this isn't a lavish life where everything goes my way. Prison life is as horrible as it sounds. Humiliating tasks to complete, food that even rats wouldn't dare to touch, and to top it all off, the annoyance from the shouting yappers they call guards just makes life so tense. Luckily enough, I made acquaintance with a guy that sells cigarettes for some dirty money, and it's my only pathway to maintain my sanity in this new life.

With a blunt between my lips, my footsteps move towards the holy room, a place where it's expected to find the hot chick in prison area. Creaking the door open, I could see her stood in the room just as expected, cleaning the church area. Putting out the spark on my cig, I threw it to the nearest trashcan as I drop my footsteps towards her. "Missed me, Sister Minji?" I smirked, as my footsteps echoes the room. No reply, not surprised by that. I would expect her to actually make me leave or call the guards on me to make me go back to my cell. "What you did the other day....was a sin, my child." She responded after a minute of silence. She didn't flinch nor make a step back, making it more inviting for me to come closer. As we reach closer, only an inch apart of each other, holding her shoulders as I caress them a bit. "My wife was a complete asshole, Minji..." My voice speaks out, almost like a whisper to her ears. "...and I need you, to repent her sins." As I finished, my hands pulled her in, attaching my lips on hers. Kissing her deeply, my mouth tries to get a reply from the nun, hoping she opens up a bit more. "Mmmh...nghhhh~" Minji sounded her restrains, trying to resist. Eventually however, her lips part ways as she opens up, giving me a chance to make out with her deeply. "Mmmmh~ just like that Minji. Such a good girl" I groaned, enjoying my mouth on her innocent lips. After a while of making out, I pulled away and looked into her eyes, giving her space to breath. "God, please forgive me for my acts." Her face blushes, looking down, ashamed of her acts. "God won't hear nothing from you today. Might as well just use that mouth for something better."

I held her tight and guided her to fall to her knees. With zero resistance from Minji, it was easy for me to put her down. "You wanted this, don't you?" I grinned as I undo my pants, letting down the lower half of my jumpsuit to reveal my hardening boner. "It's not like that. I-I" she was hesitant. It was obvious in those pretty cat-like eyes her mind is going back and forth trying to get an answer. Unlucky for her, no is never an answer here. My cock is already out, twitching on her face as I rest it on her smooth pale skin. And I need her innocent body to relieve all the tension building up in me. "Suck." I ordered, but her small face shook in rejection, making me sigh in disappointment. "Guess I have to do it myself huh?" I grabbed the back of her scalp, gripping it hard enough to make her yelp in the bit of pain as I stuff her mouth with my cock, pushing it as deep as I possibly can in one push. "Nghhhh~! Accckk..!" Minji screamed, muffled by my member between her pretty lips yet echoes through the room. The muffled gags and chokes excites me, making my cock grow bigger in her tight throat as I plunge in deeper. Despite being her first time doing oral sex, taking it rough the first time too, she's doing well to stay awake. Even though tears running down her eyes and her face filled with her own spit and precum, the sight is such a beauty, it made me enjoy the whole process of my hips moving back and forth skullfucking her innocence out.

A few moments of thrusting in and out of Minji's face, I finally decided to pull out, letting her have time to breathe. "Bwaaah.... aaaah, goodness." She gasped for air, trying to gain her conscious, then moving away as she expected my little game is over. "Oh Sister Minji, where do you think you're going?" I grabbed her small forearm, stopping her movements. Her eyes widen, shocked from the revelation, and her tight body was immediately brought to one of the benches in the church, where I made her hands on the seats, bending her over. If it were up to me, I would've torn her garments apart and ravish her. But that would probably cause trouble for me with the guards, so I just took off her maxi and reveal her curved ass, only covered by her white panties, stained with her own wet juices. "Look at you~ so wet down here already~" I giggled as I gave her a firm spank, making her grasp the bench and scream out a moan. "I- It was too much for me to resist." She responded, her voice sounded so fragile and submissive, making my cock throb in excitement. My hand pulled down her white panties to her ankles. Now her untouched treasure fully exposed to me, I couldn't resist the urge to give a touch on her wet entrance. My soft touch on her pure innocence made her let out a sensual moan, resulting in a big grin on my face. It's a sign she's giving in. I keep exploring, increasing my pace on her touch-craving pussy, circling around her wet clitoris, where she constantly twitched and grunted from the sensation. "Aaaah...y/n..." Her voice sounds more sensual as her body looked weaker and could barely last. That's when I start to go rough on her again, pushing my index and middle finger inside her pulsing walls. Immediately as my fingers pushed in, she immediately screamed and moaned, enjoying the sensation as her body vibrates from pleasure. "OH GOSH Y/N NOOOO!" Her reaction only prompted me to go faster. "You like it, don't you? Being a slut in God's holy space? Showing off how much of a slut you are~!" I teased, my fingers reaching as deep as they could, while her moans escalated. "No...please do not say that...it is- aaah!" The moment she started to talk back, I immediately went faster and rougher, touching her sensitive parts to cause her to create a scene in the church with her moans echoing through the room. "No- nghhhh... I can not hold it any longer! Forgive me My Lord....I'm, kyaaahhh!" Her screams ignites her climax, cumming on my fingers and wetting herself as her juices drip down her thighs.

"Haa...haaahh" The gorgeous lady panted, laying on the bench as her mind process the depurification of her body unfold in such a holy area. But her eyes kept staring at mine, not with anger nor grudge, but confusion. As if she's having a war between herself, trying to pick up words of what she might decide to do after all this. I kneeled down, my eyes level to hers as I gave her a rub on the scalp. "Tell me, Sister. What is it in your mind?" I asked, as my cock throbs, waiting for more action. Minji gulped, her mind racing around looking for a decision. Or maybe she already does, yet too shy to ask. "P-please...please have sex with me more, Y/n." She muttered, sparking joy and lust within me. "Then in position, bitch!" I ordered, giving her face a firm smack to show her where she stands now, nothing more than a little slut for me, my entertainment in my 10-year sentence. She nodded obediently, her back now on the bench as she spread her legs to show her soaked cunt. And oh God, what a sight, a religious woman completely offering her pussy to a prisoner like a cheap slut she is, nothing makes me happier. I stroked my cock as I get closer to her pussy, slowly sliding my tip in. I looked at Minji's face looking at how she's taking my tip, since this is her first time. "Aaaah.....it's so big y/n" She whined, but eventually got used to my size as her breathe starts to ease out. "Seems like you're ready for the next step." I was never planning on going easy on this ass, and I won't change my mind. My hips immediately buck back and forth, fucking her tight cunt as hard as possible. "Aaaah! Wait no ngaaaaah you are- God too rough!" Minji screamed, feeling my cock plunging in and out of her tight virgin pussy, no mercy for her first time. "Fuck do I care, Minji? You wanna get fucked don't you? Then fucking take it!" My hips got into a faster pace, going rough on her with no sign of mercy, making her scream. Although her screams were getting louder, she didn't seem to want to stop. Her arms on my shoulders, holding on me tight.

With her arms now on me, it gives me a good excuse to hold her tight and carry her up, holding her tight body whilst my cock stays inside her sweet cunt. "Fuck- you're clingy aren't you?" I grinned as I humped her body upwards, making Minji move up and down my cock, with gravity helping drag her body down to take every inch of me. "Nghhh- forgive me y/n....I can't resist it any longer. I need your penis even more now!" The way her lips moved while she speaks, it turns me on, it drives me crazy. I brought ourselves near a wall, making the slutty nun's back face the wall. It gives me an easier pathway to thrust, fucking this bitch as rough as I want while holding her by her ass cheeks. "Aaaah~! Y/N it feels so good, gaaaah~!" her moans felt like music, a sensation I longed for so many years after my wife turned into the cheating bitch she was. Those memories can now be buried, a new sensation arises, with this tight slut being mine, and mine only. My lips now crashes onto hers, kissing her deeply whilst she took my hard cock in and out easily now after a lot of rough strokes. "Mmmmh~! Fuck- Minji, I wanna cum...I wanna cum in your fucking pussy!" I grunted, my cock couldn't hold it any longer as my shaft yearns to unload itself. "Wait no- that's too dan-" without waiting her to finish speaking, I already reached my limit, my cock starts to let loose, shooting ropes of cum deep inside her pussy, filing up her womb. "Aaaaah...kyaaaah!" Minji held me tight, accepting my rewards and my sign of marking, an officiation to being my slut. It wouldn't be enough to mark her insides, my mouth aims towards her neck, kissing and sucking on it before biting on it, my fangs leaving a purple mark, a hickey as a sign of ownership. My member took her time to finish, emptying myself in her womanhood. I panted, barely feeling my legs as I quickly walked towards a nearby bench to sit, with Minju still on top and my cock still inside her. I didn't want to say a word, and so does she. Our only exchange of communication were our lips kissing, tongues clashing between on one another. Our eyes interlock as we know from this day forward, heaven felt so distant, it's beyond reachable. But this sensation, for now, is our heaven.

#kpop smut #kpop nsft #female idol smut #dreamcatcher smut #jiu smut #kpop x male reader

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eu0n1a · 3 months ago

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yandere college au izuku has a surprise quirk. guess it!

Izuku frowns as he scans the classroom,

his heart sinking when...

he sees who he is partnered with for the group project.

It’s not that he hates the guy; it’s just that his thoughts are consumed by you.

meanwhile, you’re focused, scribbling notes, completely unaware of the way he watches you.

but izuku knows he can resolve this simple problem with a little nudge.

as the professor wraps up her directions, he feels a surge of determination and gets up from his seat. this is his chance.

“hey, professor!” he calls out, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest. she looks up, her expression curious. “i have a question.”

he gently places his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes lock onto his, and he notices the way her gaze softens, as if she’s entered a trance.

“You don’t mind if I switch partners, right?” his tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of authority that makes it sound less like a question and more like a gentle command.

the professor replies with a dreamy voice that belonged to a woman hung to his words; "of course, i wouldn't mind, midoriya."

"gosh, sorry. i talked to the teacher and she wants us to change partners," he explains to the student he was originally paired with, feigning an apologetic smile. the same old excuse, but it works flawlessly, as it always does.

now that he’s closer to you, he feels a rush of excitement mixed with anxiety.

“i guess we’re partners now. I don’t know why she did that,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but the blush creeping up his cheeks betrays his true feelings.

his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit he can’t shake off.

after switching places closer to you he said, "i guess we're partners now. i don't know why she did that." a blush on his face, his fingers fidgeting.

he hoped this group project would never end, it would mean more precious time with you after all!

as the project unfolds, he finds every opportunity to inch closer to you, not just physically but emotionally.

each interaction is meticulously calculated.

Just a week of talking he suggests; “let’s go to the arcade together,” he suggests, his voice bright with enthusiasm. he watches your eyes light up at the idea, and he feels a thrill of satisfaction.

then it develops into: “tell your parents about me; you can’t wait to let them meet me, right?” the words slip out smoothly, and he can’t help but smile at the thought of your family getting to know him. It feels like a step closer to what he desires.

shaping your mind into what it is meant to be; “when you’re with me, you feel happier and more alive than ever before,” he continues, his voice low and earnest. he hopes you can feel the sincerity behind his words, that they resonate with you on a deeper level.

“i’d love it if you could decorate your room with things that remind you of us. it’ll make you feel closer to me,” he adds, his heart racing at the thought. e

ach suggestion is a thread woven into the fabric of your growing connection, each moment building upon the last.

izuku knows there are limitations to his quirk; he can’t outright hypnotize you into falling in love with him.

but for now, he believes that these small, subtle influences will lay the groundwork for something more profound.

he yearns for the day when he can look into your eyes and see the warmth of affection reflected back at him.

#yandere #yandere fic #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere deku #college au #fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere bnha #yandere izuku #dark romance #dark fantasy

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kjhbsies · 1 year ago

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Preview: The Disaster Zone

Roomate!Abby Anderson x reader

Synopsis: Living with the hottest girl wasn't that bad, right? Except that she was completely straight and has a boyfriend you hate.

note: if you want to be tagged in this fanfic, please let me know in the comments down below!

full fic

Sweat prickled from your forehead, trickling down your face, and across your neck and you almost yelled in frustration at the feeling of getting overstimulated over everything. You sighed irritatingly, trudging your way outside of the apartment you just viewed.

One week before the class starts and you still haven’t got a place to live and stressful is such an understatement to say. No, it’s much more than that. You never thought that finding a decent place to stay for two semesters wasn’t hard but no — it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the needle was just a reasonably priced apartment with no angry roommates.

You grumbled, laying your head on the couch of your bedroom. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through the listings of the apartments available, feeling the stress building with each rejected option.

But to your luck, you stumbled upon someone’s ad. It was a nice, cozy place that was perfect in size for two people. Her name was Abby Anderson, her last name was quite familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you heard it. Her place looked promising enough, and the reason she was finding a roommate was that she couldn’t pay all the house bills by herself. Under that, there was a deadline — which was supposed to be today, so you mindlessly hit the ‘call’ button with no second thought.

“Hello?” Abby’s voice came through the other line, her voice was deep and businesslike.

“Hey, uh, I saw your ad for the apartment,” You replied while nibbling through your fingertips.

“Oh, great. Are you interested in visiting it?” She asked, her tone was still cool and detached.

“Yes, please, I need it so bad.” You bit your lips while nervousness came through.

“Alright. Let’s set up a time, then. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll send you the address.” She said before hanging up quickly.

You stared at your phone for a minute, finding the interaction a bit… awkward. A sense of relief washed over you as the thought of finally finding a place to stay for the whole academic year was done, but something about Abby made you feel anxious. Her coldness scared you for a second — even if you just talked to her for a couple of minutes.

But no, you promised yourself that this was the last time you’d reject a place because of a bad roommate. So you don’t have a choice but to go.

Arriving at the address, you knocked at the door thrice. Seconds later, you saw the Abby Anderson. You gulped, taking in her features. She was tall, stoic, and… unimpressed. She was wearing a simple black shirt that perfectly hugged her toned body, making you gawk mentally. Her eyes bore into yours, looking at you from head to toe. Something inside Abby’s mind twitched as she did not expect how good you looked. But she immediately strayed away from that thought, minding no attention to it.

“Thanks for coming. I apologize for my appearance — I just got off the gym.” She says in a neutral voice, opening the door wide open. “Come on in.”

“It’s fine.” You said before stepping inside.

The apartment was bigger than you expected — much bigger than the photos she uploaded. The furniture was complete and the choice of its design was very intricate and extravagant — you wondered if she bought it all with her money. Maybe she spent her money buying decorations which is why she couldn’t pay the house bills.

The huge windows perfectly let the sunlight in, casting a warm glow through the whole place. You admired how neat it was, and how everything was in place. Not even a small piece of trash in sight. As Abby showed you around, pointing out every amenities and quirks of this place, you couldn’t help but admire her silently.

“So what do you think?” She looked back at you suddenly, making you snap out of a trance.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I like it.” You shot her a smile. “This was much better than all of the places I’ve checked.”

Abby nodded, taking your answer without further comment or questions. I looked away, feeling nervous at the closeness between you two. With the whole three hours of you and her in just an enclosed space, Abby did not look at you. Something about your presence makes her uncomfortable and she did not know what that is.

But then she looked at you for the second time, taking a couple of minutes to stare at your features without you knowing. Abby did not know why it was so hard for her to accept that you were pretty. No, you were something more than that. And she did not know what that was, or what was doing to her that was making her heart churn.

“Damn it,” Abby looked away and cursed under her breath.

You snapped your neck to stare at her. “What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. It seems like you are interested. Are you open to discussing the other details?” She said, gesturing at the couch.

And just like that, the deal was done.

And oh, that was one month ago.

You and Abby are still living with each other. But all of your admiration for her was over.

She has a whole-ass boyfriend.

And she’s straight as hell.

Now, you hate each other to the core.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby angst

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httpvomitello · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to request something. Our BAYVERSE boys (separately) meet April’s best friend. Over time, they fall in love with her. Although she’s kind and sweet, she’s also somewhat reserved and prefers that the guys don’t come to her house too often—not because she’s rude, but because she “wants to avoid her nosy neighbors seeing them.”

However, one night, the guys show up at her house unannounced and only see a little boy or girl who, upon seeing them, screams for their mom in fear. The reader rushes over, scared by the scream, and when they see her, her “secret” is revealed: she’s a single mother. She had avoided mentioning it or letting the guys come over when her child was around because she wanted to avoid the risk of them making her feel bad about how the child’s father used her and abandoned her when she got pregnant—or worse, rejecting her child. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but she and her child have already endured a lot of humiliation from others in the past due to the man who used her and left. She just wanted to avoid the risk and the pain of going through that again.

Hello, hello! Soo, I decided to do it in separate parts, because that way it will be easier to read. I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. Leonardo landed silently on the rooftop of your building, glancing down at the soft glow of light from your apartment window. It was late, but the others had finally convinced him to check in on you.

You’d been distant lately—kind but reserved. Leo understood boundaries better than most, but something about the way you always avoided having them over to your house tugged at his thoughts. You weren’t rude about it, just… firm. And while he respected that, he couldn’t help but feel like you were keeping something from them.

“You’re overthinking again,” he muttered to himself, leaping down to the fire escape. The light spilling through the curtain drew him closer.

Before he could knock, the faint sound of a child's laughter reached his ears. He froze.

Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he gently rapped his knuckles on the glass. The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a small, terrified scream.

“Mommy! Monster!”

The panic in the voice sent a wave of guilt crashing through him. He stepped back instinctively, heart racing. The sound of hurried footsteps followed, and you appeared at the window, eyes wide and startled.

When you saw him, relief flashed across your face, but it was quickly replaced by something else—an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

You slid the window open. “Leo?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his voice low and calm. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I—uh—just wanted to check on you.”

Behind you, a little girl peeked out from behind your legs, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixed on him. She clutched your hand tightly.

You turned, kneeling beside her. “It’s okay, Violet. He’s a friend of Mommy’s. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Leo’s heart clenched at the sight. The girl—your daughter—hid her face in your side, trembling slightly. He took a small step back, giving her space.

“I’m sorry,” you said, standing up and motioning him inside. “Come in, but… keep your voice down, okay? She’s still a little shaken.”

He climbed through the window carefully, his movements slow and deliberate. Once inside, he stood awkwardly, unsure where to look.

Your living room was cozy, with toys scattered here and there, and a faint aroma of something sweet lingered in the air. It felt… homey.

You guided Violet to the couch, sitting her down gently. “Stay here for a minute, okay, sweetheart? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded hesitantly, her eyes darting back to Leo as you led him into the kitchen.

The moment the door closed, you turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Find out what?” he asked softly, though he already knew the answer.

You sighed, crossing your arms protectively. “About Violet. About me.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You hesitated, leaning against the counter. “Because… I didn’t know how. People judge single moms all the time. They assume we’ve made mistakes, that we’re damaged goods. I didn’t want you—or the others—to look at me like that.”

Leo’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “We’d never think that about you.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling slightly. “You say that now, but I’ve heard it all before. People pretending to understand, pretending it doesn’t matter, but then they change. They look at Violet like she’s some kind of burden. I couldn’t risk that—not for her and not for me.”

Leo’s chest tightened at the pain in your voice. He could see now how much this secret had weighed on you, how deeply you had wanted to protect your daughter.

“Do you really think I’d be like that?” he asked quietly.

Your eyes met his, uncertainty flickering in them. “I don’t know. I wanted to trust you, but… I’ve been wrong about people before.”

He nodded slowly, taking in your words. “I understand why you’d feel that way. But you don’t have to hide this from me—or any of us. You’re an amazing person, and from what I’ve seen, an incredible mom. Violet is lucky to have you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words were genuine, unshakable, and they struck a chord deep within you.

“She’s my whole world,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t want anyone making her feel like she wasn’t enough.”

Leo smiled softly. “She’s more than enough. And so are you.”

The tension in your shoulders eased, and you let out a shaky laugh. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Good something, I hope,” he said, his tone light.

You nodded, a genuine smile breaking through. “The best something.”

From the living room, Violet called out hesitantly, “Mommy?”

You turned toward the door. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Leo stepped aside as you went to check on her, but not before glancing at him over your shoulder. “Thank you, Leo. For being… you.”

As you disappeared into the other room, he leaned against the counter, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d always admired your strength, but tonight, he saw a whole new side of you—and he was more certain than ever that you were someone worth fighting for.

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #f!reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse raphael

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sqvishii · 1 year ago

Note

Ok Everyone talking about Silver cheat the reader or the reader cheat Silver. But I want to up the ante of pain and angst:

Imagine a reader (for this scenario fem Reader) being Silver's wife. That they both live in the kingdom of thorns having a happy and comfortable life. Although the reader could not return to his world, she was at least able to build a life in TWST with his current husband

So Silver, being one of the main guards of Mallues and the son of General Lilia. In some way or another he is someone who has a certain degree of power in the kingdom due to his position and lineage. So it certainly wouldn't be unusual for someone ill-intentioned to want to get something from Silver (either by stealing or getting forbidden information from the Draconia family or even Lilia) The point is that said person had Silver in his sights as he was technically "the least powerful" (Mallues being the king, Sebek being half-fae and Lilia being a former war general). Whether for any reason they manage to discover the traitor (Silver's work)

But said person manages to escape and is now searching for the Kingdom. The ill-intentioned person, wanting to take revenge on Silver, decides to take away what he loves most. So upon hearing rumors that Silver has a wife who some claim has no magic. The traitor finds the house and murders the reader.

Silver along with other guards are patrolling and looking for the traitor. But he has the feeling that something bad is happening so he tries to call the reader and try to inform her about the situation. But no one answers...even though he has dialed almost 25 times, his wife does not answer his calls. Panic-stricken Silver runs towards his home. Only to find his house damaged and his wife dead on the floor.... Silver gives a cry of pain that echoed throughout the forest. Silver who didn't rest until the damn thing was found

When the traitor is captured by orders of the king and his right hand is executed to death. The now widower who discovered that when his wife was murdered she was newly pregnant ...Now she is buried in the back of Silver's childhood home. Now the happy little home is only inhabited by a lonely knight who never remarried or had a family. Sometimes the home is visited by three faes who take care of their lonely human. 💔

Silver, who at the end of his days never took off his wedding ring and was buried next to his deceased wife's grave. Centuries later the small abandoned house but curiously the graves are still cared for and always have small flowers around them.

STOP THIS ANGST

will the both of you still meet in the next life?

silver wished, his last days were nearing as he stood above your grave, a fresh batch of your favorite flowers in his hands.

silver vanrouge and you. such a beautiful relationship bloomed between the both of you in which silver just couldn't help but fill his journal whenever he spent his days with you.

you made him so happy. so in love like a lovesick puppy who awaited your every order.

he remembered when the shyly held your hand during the first month the both of you were dating in night raven, lilia always chuckled at the two of you and always teased him about it.

now, you're gone.

and heavens did it hurt.

it hurt. extremely; the worst part? you were pregnant with his children.

he knew you were going to surprise him with the news once he got back home, that lopsided grin on your face as you excitedly jump into his arms, he was always there to catch you.

how badly he wished he went home when that gut feeling hit him.

instead of the sight of you with that giddy smile, your radiance and basically just you in general,

he saw you, laying on the ground as the bloody pool underneath you had spread around.

writting the last page of his journal with his signature, he buried it near your grave, how badly he wanted you to read it, how badly he wanted to see that smile on your face and the blush that burned on your cheeks once you saw the years he took to finish that journal for you.

but the least he could do at the end of his life was to have himself buried near you.

years have passed and the house was already withered. despite that, the poeple who walked by could only be left confused at the sight of the flowers growing in between the two graves.

a new era set in stone, silver had heard of a book about a man who spent his life writing his journal dedicated entirely to a single woman, he heard the story was pretty heartbreaking, really.

the plot was basically the man, being in college and finding the one he loved, a woman who was magicless, years passed and he becomes one of the main guards of a fae kingdom, though a traitor was among them.

that said traitor killed the woman without the man knowing, and the plot continues. though, silver had read only a quarter of the book.. he felt like he already knew what happened, as if he was the said man in the book, ironic.

having to be dragged along with his father and brothers to a museum, he could only find himself staring at a portrait, a man whos features looked exactly like his.

'silver vanrouge.'

..huh. weird. same name, too. apparantly, this was the man in the said book he read a few days ago.

.. he could only wonder who was the woman he fell in love with.

searching around the museum without lilia knowing, he eventually found the portrait that was actually just next to the mans. whoops, he didn't notice.

there was a lot of people looking, in awe of the beauty of the painting. he was too, the woman was breathtaking, no wonder the man had fallen in love with her.

going to the front, he saw a girl who looked exactly like her.

"..-ver? silver?"

".. [name]?"

lilia and malleus could only fist bump in the background, finally reuniting the long lost lovers once more.

#!! squish writes #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver twisted wonderland #silver twst #silver x reader twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #silver vanrouge twst #silver vanrouge twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge x reader

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auspicioustidings · 1 year ago

Text

Closed

Teashop AU

Summary: You get sick, Price gets serious. Words: 2.2k TWs: death of a loved one

“Lieutenant I have a perimeter alarm, go have a look will you?”

Price only got a gruff sound of agreement as Ghost headed out. Owing to it being off the radar their base wasn’t on official records and didn’t have any sort of posted guards. If anything the building probably looked more like a mildly eccentric manor in the middle of the woods, so it wasn’t entirely outside the realms of possibility for folk to stumble upon it none the wiser.

It had only ever happened twice in the past 5 years since they had started using it and both happened within the last 2. Not really a coincidence given that’s around the time Faodail had opened. Not that any of them were complaining, they could redirect a few adventurous walkers away every so often if it meant they got to visit their favourite civilian in their favourite little teashop.

He needed to pay a visit soon. Had it really been two weeks since any of them had seen you? Work had just been so busy and none of them had made the time because they were exhausted. As far as he knew there hadn’t been any out of town visitors either. It must be calm and quiet for you without a bunch of rowdy military folk rampaging around. The thought made him smile. Maybe he should take you on a holiday to give you a full break. Since opening you had worked every day, even the day the shop was closed he knew you were busy getting deliveries, restocking and testing out new recipes.

“Captain!”

Oh Price did not like that tone on his Lieutenant at all. He snapped into work mode, loosening off his shoulders to be ready for a fight as he jogged to meet Simon half way, finding him just coming back into the base. Gaz and Soap came barreling around as well, both ready for whatever they were about to face. Ghost looked, well, like he had seen a ghost.

“Report.”

“It’s George.”

“Dungeons and Dragons George?” Soap asked, relaxing ever so slightly.

George was a fixture at Faodail, bringing his group to play once a week. He came in a second time a week with his boyfriend as well (a relationship that had been built on months of very bad matchmaking attempts by you before Kyle had stepped in to help). Nice guy, totally harmless but for the obvious crush he had on you. His boyfriend was clearly fond of you and found it very cute.

“The shop is closed.”

There was a moment of quiet while everyone tried to make sense of what they were being told.

“This isn’t usually the day it’s closed right? Maybe they just need to do maintenance” Gaz said, trying not to overreact to something so small.

But then why had Dungeons and Dragons George tracked down the base to tell them if it was something so small? You had never shut the shop. It had been open when you had rolled your ankle and could barely walk, it had been open when a snowstorm had wiped out the power and you had to heat water over the fire and bundle everyone in blankets, it had been open when you had such a bad toothache that you were openly crying while making tea (it had been him and Soap there when it had happened and oh boy they had not handled it very well).

“It’s been closed for a week. He said last week they didn’t seem well, and then when he went in on Sunday the place was closed. Agnus brought the doctor around, she said they’ve gotten pneumonia while already fighting off the flu.”

Simon said it very carefully. He had to. He knew that while this was obviously causing him a great deal of worry, it was nothing compared to what Price was feeling. His Captain looked like his heart had stopped. The fury that came over him was sudden and frightening as he silently barged past and to the truck, yelling at George to go home.

Simon gave the Sergeants a look and a shake of his head that said not to ask before they all went after him, climbing into the truck without a word.

–

You could not remember ever being this ill. Everything hurt, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t sleep for coughing and when you coughed it felt like your ribcage had caught fire. At the start you had kept working, masked up with gloves. Then on day 4 you had woken up and barely been able to move.

By the time you had walked from your little cottage to the shop you could barely see straight. The sign was flipped to closed and you had staggered back to bed and not left for more than stumbling to the bathroom since.

Agnus had walked right in, taken one look at you and called for the doctor. You didn’t fully remember the conversation with the doctor, only that she gave you medicine and strict instructions to contact her immediately if it got any worse. You wouldn’t say it had, but it hadn’t gotten better. At least Agnus was keeping you fed even though you really did not want to eat any of the soup she fed you twice a day. She didn’t stay long which you were thankful for, she shouldn’t really be in the room with you at all in case she got sick.

It was the only way you were judging time at the moment, so when you heard someone in the room you assumed it must be evening if she was here to make sure you ate your soup.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell us?”

You cracked an eye open to find John Price crouched by your bed, his rough hand gently pushing back the hair that had become stuck to your forehead and cheek. He seemed so sad.

“Wrinkles” you croaked, meaning to say a full sentence around that but not managing as you brought your own hand to the furrow in his brow to try to smooth it out. It took such an effort.

“Yeah, wrinkles” he said, sounding somewhat choked himself.

Even though you sort of hazily remembered telling him he’d get sick, it hadn’t stopped him from staying with you. He fed you, made sure you took your medicine, bundled you up in his arms. You thought you heard movement around the house, other people. There were voices in the doorway to your room sometimes, comforting ones, ones you recognised as yours.

–

“You’re taking the piss darling.”

You rolled your eyes. Sure the tea probably tasted spicy as all hell with the amount of ginger in it, but it would do him wonders. Predictably, Price had got the flu. Nowhere near as bad as you had gotten, but despite some teasing from his team he seemed more than content to stay in your bed and be looked after even if he was mostly better by now.

It was strange not working for so long. Now that you were on the mend and rebuilding strength you thought you’d be desperate to get back to it, but honestly it was nice to have the break.

“I told you not to stay with me and you didn’t listen, so drink up.”

He rolled his eyes, took another sip and then put the cup down on the bedside table so he could throw his arm out at a frankly alarming speed and drag you down into bed by the waist. It wasn’t that Price wasn’t a touchy feely person as such, but since he had arrived when you were ill he had developed Johnny levels of affection, always as close as he could get to you.

“Not a superior officer on this planet that could order me to stay away from you,” he said, wrapping himself around you and burying his face into your chest.

You played with his hair, feeling such a burst of fondness for him in that moment. You suspected there was a reason he was being like this, but you didn’t want to force him to tell you so you tried the subtle approach.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry…”

His chuckle tickled your chest. Ok, so maybe you were very bad at trying to be subtle and it had very much come out sounding like you were desperate to know just why he was so worried. You never had been any good at hiding how you felt.

“She’d have really liked you. Would have kicked your arse for not telling us you were sick right enough, but she’d have liked you.”

You could feel tears pushing at your eyes already. He had lost someone and it just broke your heart to think about. You knew in principal that his line of work meant he must have lost so many people, but the way he talked about this one seemed different.

“Her family moved in beside mine when I was 10 and I hated her. She always beat me in any game we played and was the loudest, brashest brat I had ever met.”

“So you fell in love with her” you said with a smile, hearing it in his voice.

He sighed and moved his head so he could lay facing you, just looking into your eyes.

“Hard and fast. She laughed at me the first time I asked her out on a date and the whole thing was a disaster. It rained, the restaurant was overbooked and the cinema projector broke down. We wound up at a McDonalds” he said, the nostalgia clear on his expression.

“The plan was always for me to work my way to a desk job. I didn’t want to be in active duty forever, just long enough to make a difference before getting into something safer and starting a family.”

“What happened?”

“She got sick. It happened fast, started with the flu and just got worse. I didn’t make it home in time to say goodbye.”

“Oh John, you must miss her terribly” you whispered, knowing you were crying but not able to do much about it.

He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“All the time. I didn’t have a reason to get that desk job. Didn’t really want to be home for long either, there wasn’t anything here for me.”

He thought that there was something here for him now. It had been in the back of his mind for a while now, the idea of a future beyond the job. Since he had lost his girlfriend all those years ago, he had just worked knowing as a fact that he’d die in service. But now that certainty was gone. Now he imagined growing old in a little cottage by a charming teahouse. He imagined getting you all to himself for some years before one by one the others would join.

He hadn’t told anyone, but around a year ago he had started buying up the land surrounding yours, eventually connecting up to the base. He could admit to himself now that in his heart he knew he wanted to make more space for the family that had been built around you.

“Take a holiday.”

“Hm?”

“Take a holiday with me. Let’s go somewhere warm for a few weeks and soak up the sun.”

You were taken aback by the suggestion. It sounded like a dream, but it was something more serious than stolen kisses and visits to your shop. You had never really thought for too long on what exactly this all was. You loved these people you had been lucky enough to meet. They didn’t seem to mind that you shared your affections between them so you had just let it develop. Did John want that to change?

“I can see your pretty little head working overtime luv. The others will want to take you places too, I know Alejandro just bought a vineyard near his hometown so I wouldn’t be surprised if he steals you away for a while. Should by rights be Soap getting to take you away first, but I outrank him so he’ll need to get over it.”

“I… the shop…”

“You were thinking about hiring help anyway.”

You were thinking about hiring help. You loved the shop and you wanted to work in it for the rest of your life, but it was hard going and you had the money now to afford to get help. Originally you had thought you’d probably find someone in the nearby town, but as if by magic (more likely by sneaky soldiers) you seemed to keep finding CVs from people with military backgrounds around the shop. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think Mr Sanderson sounded like he’d be a perfect fit for Faodail.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

The kiss he gave you then was toe curling and if it hadn’t been for the fact he was still a little under the weather you did not think you would have been able to leave the bed, but you somewhat dizzily clambered to get out of his hold and tumbled onto the floor rambling about how he needed to finish his tea.

His laugh followed you to the hallway and you were so flustered that when Johnny immediately caught you and pressed you into the wall to steal kisses of his own, you could do nothing but completely give in and relax into him.

Maybe getting sick wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

#mhairiwrites #price x reader

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aliceorenemies · 3 months ago

Text

Shelter

3k words Content Warnings for Light Horror, Dubcon Transformation, Threats, Violence

It always seems to rain on the one day you don't check the forecast. By the time the downpour reached its apex, you were just far enough to make turning around seem pointless. So, onward it is. Running steadily, trying your best to ignore the holes in your shoes letting the flood in. Trying to ignore the burning in your legs as the rest of your body absorbs the sky-born numbness.

It's hard to make out in the inclemency, but you see a small point of respite from one of the nearby shops; an overhang that gives you just enough room to catch your breath. Your brain, deeply in survival mode, urges you to ignore it. What good would it do you to rest right now? The storms going nowhere, you're not getting any warmer. But... something tugs you towards it, the tiniest hope of a reprieve. You skid to a stop in the shelter of the awning, heaving lungfuls of frigid air.

You're safe now. Just relax.

The thought feels odd to you, but it's not an unreasonable one. You wouldn't call a storm like this necessarily dangerous. Then again, fight or flight always made your head feel funny afterwards. Eventually you start observing the area, trying to place exactly where you are, and how much further you'll need to run to make it home. Based on the other shops you can see, you're maybe 20 minutes from home, 15 if you can really push yourself. The thought fills you with dread, causing you to slump against the shop door behind you.

... It is a shop, isn't it? You don't recognize this building at all, now that you think about it. The nearby buildings are mostly familiar to you, you pass by them nearly everyday. Where you're standing though, it feels like you've never seen this place before. Curiosity gets the better of you as you try to warm your sodden flesh.

You couldn't quite see the sign from underneath the awning, but a dim interior was visible through the small window on the door. An odd assemblage of goods littered around haphazardly; bottles, jewelry, stationery, antique tools... toys? Definitely some kind of shop. More toys than you'd expect from a shop like this. It feels silly but maybe you could find an umbrella in there? You're here already, it wouldn't hurt to look inside. An umbrella would make the journey home even easier.

Icy fingers clasp around the doorknob, somehow warm despite the surrounding chill. A foot takes you across the threshold, a bell above the door chimes. An almost intrusive thought strikes you as you close the door behind you-

Dripping water everywhere, be sure not to make a mess.

Your feet feel oddly heavy at the thought. Best to stay in the entryway. Still, you don't want to just leave without something to keep the rain off you. You're just about to call for some help when someone rounds a corner.

The figure is dressed daintily in blacks and whites. Her ankle-length dress, long sleeves, and abundance of frills and lace make her feel like she stepped off the cover of a storybook. She... at least you assume she's a girl based on attire. The lack of lighting makes her face indiscernible to you. She performs, to your amateur understanding, what you would describe as "the best curtsy you've seen in your life." Poised, practiced, precise.

"Hello, dear customer. Welcome to this humble-" she stops dead as her eyes finally raise to meet yours.

A flurry of emotions washes over her face. Joy, confusion, apprehension, trepidation, and then suddenly she's right beside you at the entryway with the lightest touch upon your shoulder.

"This o- sorry. You should go. Please." Her voice barely rises above a whisper.

You can finally make out her face at this range. She's pale, so pale, nearly bloodless, was her face drained from fear, is that just makeup, what is that ticking noise coming from her?

"I... what? I'm sorry, I thought you'd have an umbrella or something. I have money, I can pay," you fumble for your wallet, not completely soaked yet, producing a few damp bills. "I'm just so cold, I'll stay right here, I won't make a mess I promise."

She pushes your hand away, the brief contact with her skin sends your mind reeling, even with how cold your skin is, hers feels even colder and so smooth and- "The cost is too high, please. It may already be too late if you..."

She catches you just staring at her. Her eyes widen as yours remain stuck in place. You feel like you could look away from her but why would you? She's talking to you and you should be listening. If she asks you something, you should answer. Listening is the first step to beco-

She shakes your shoulders vigorously, pulling you from the haze of thought that was starting to coil around you. "Stop that. Stop it!" Her words are choked and trembling, but never rise above a whisper. Her fear seeps back into you, the calm heartbeat of a moment ago ratcheting higher and higher.

"Listen. Obey. Don't Lie." she whispers and suddenly the haze returns feels good you must listen you must- "How do you feel right now?"

The words seem to slowly bubble up from within you, taking their sweet time to escape from your lips. "... Calm... Relaxed... So... Sti-"

Her finger presses on your lips, shushing you. "H-how..." You're distantly aware that she just choked back a sob. "How did you feel a minute ago?"

The first question felt so easy to answer, but the second has you reaching deep, deep within your head for a response. The haze feels so solid on the edges of your brain, sinking in more and more. But... you see it. The answer. You hook a finger into it and rise rise rise to the surface.

"A... I... was. A-afraid. I was. Afraid." This time, the words scatter the stillness inside you, slowly but surely.

"Yes, yes! Please, grab hold of that. Don't let it go. Focus on it as hard as you can, and then you need to run, run right n-"

"My oh my, a visitor?"

The new voice seems to bring a silence upon the world for a moment, before the rain pattering against the door fills the empty space again.

The girl in front of you freezes. Eyes full of terror.

Your eyes flicker to where that voice should be standing but... like thread that won't quite slip into the eye of a needle, your eyes glide past each time you try to look at her. There's clearly still someone there, they're tall at minimum, wearing long flowing clothes, the voice was a woman's, why can't you just-

“Oh, a poor thing coming in from the cold. You need help, don’t you?”

Her voice carries this strange resonance that lingers between your ears for so long, it’s so nice to listen to. So calming. Weren’t you supposed to be doing something though? Oh, of course, she asked you a question.

“Y-yes. Yes, um, I do need help. Can I please buy an umbrella, or something, Miss?”

That word simply danced upon your tongue. As you say it, both eyes looking upon you widen. Dread and desire, in perfect mirrors of one another. The girl steps away from you stiffly, moving out of her path, hands folded perfectly in front of her.

A finger alights upon your chin. She’s next to you now, you barely noticed her move, and yet she’s here and she’s close and you think you’re supposed to be afraid right now but why would you be? Why feel so tense when you could just relax? The barest suggestion of pressure forces your eyes up to hers, finally you’ll be able to see her, finally you can-

…

Her hand disconnects from your skin. Wasn’t she… weren’t you looking at her? Trying to recall what just happened sends your mind spinning away in a fruitless pursuit. She’s Miss is walking away now, while you remain frozen in place.

“Certainly, dear, I have just the thing for you. Doll, pour the poor thing some tea while I fetch something for it. A drink will make you feel so much better.”

And with that, she vanishes around the corner, deeper in the shop.

The girl slowly returns to movement, and begins collecting things from a nook in the wall. Your feet finally begin to take you forward into the shop proper, and to a table that was definitely present a moment before, you’re sure of it. It’s decorated so quaintly, a lace tablecloth, a candelabra in the center, chairs and settings perfectly spaced about the table. You even see a few ragdolls sitting limp in their chairs about the table. It then finally clicks for you.

A lovely tea party.

For lovely dolls.

Although, no one at the table but you seems to be smiling.

A tray bearing a tea set is placed before you by the girl. It sets out one saucer, then another. One teacup, then another. It lifts the teapot gently, and pours for you into the first cup. Your sluggish reaction time prevents you from immediately grabbing it, as it then takes up a small carafe. The cold water it pours into the second cup pales in comparison to the allure of the warm fragrance wafting towards you from the first cup.

“This one is terribly sorry for her earlier behavior. It was not able to protect you. Good dolls listen. Good dolls obey. Good dolls don’t lie.”

The refrain is like honey upon your tongue, as you repeat it without thinking.

“This one listened to her witch. This one obeyed, and poured the tea. This one will not lie, as it says you were only told to drink.”

She sets the carafe down, and once again curtseys perfectly.

“This one asks, no begs you. Drink the water. You will have fulfilled the request and you can leave. Listen, obey, don’t lie.” It turns slightly as the distant sounds of movement echo through the shop. A flash of determination crosses its face. “This one will try to distract Miss. Please do not drink the tea.”

It walks away, leaving you staring at the teacups. The other dolls at the table all seem to be staring at you now, but it’s hard for you to process that. Your fingers lazily reach for the beverages, still numb from the frigid rain that soaked through to your core. You’re so cold, so empty, begging for a little relief from the chill. You grip the table with what little strength you have and try so, so hard to grasp the second cup.

But…

What if, perhaps, you just held the first cup. Let the warmth into your fingers first, let it lend you strength to drink the icy water. That would surely be fine, would it not? The cup feels so good in your hands, the delicate porcelain comfortably warm against your fingers. And when you hold it so close to you, you can actually smell the tea, goodness you haven’t had tea in so long, and it has that perfect blend of spice that would warm you right up.

Just a sip is fine.

And then the water. The cold water that will let you go home leave this wonderful place.

A single taste.

It would be rude not to.

…

…..

………

The warmth of the tea enriches you, burning so pleasantly down your throat, deep into the recesses of your body. It’s the best you’ve ever had, unlike anything you’ve ever drank before. It’s just what you need before you drink the water.

But just as your lips leave the cup’s rim, the heat fades away. Your insides feel even colder than before, the contrast too wide. The thought of trying to make yourself even colder with plain water nearly makes you feel ill.

Surely another couldn’t hurt, then. Just to fortify you. A deep breath before the icy plunge. Looking before leaping, as they say.

The fire burns inside you for but a moment before being blown away, and the cold returns even faster.

Another then.

Dainty little sips, as your fingers stiffen more and more.

Proper posture is so important for a tea party, so you straighten up for the next drink.

Your arm bumps against the table’s edge with a hollow thunk, but you don’t concern yourself. Good dolls don’t worry about such things.

You’re just finishing with your second cup when a faint crash is heard from deep within the shop. Oh dear, someone’s made a mess. You try to rise but your body feels so heavy and isn’t it nicer to just be still for a while?

Oh, but you should make sure no one needs your help.

“Miss?” your voice comes out so hollow. “Can… I… help?”

A flurry of footsteps approaches you.

The nice doll who poured you tea earlier is back! Maybe it can help you!

“No, no no no, no! Why did you drink it?” Its hands reach under your shirt and you hear the same little clink of when your teacup comes to rest upon the saucer. It recoils, and then suddenly pushes its hands underneath your arms to force you to rise. “Please, please. Good dolls listen, good dolls obey, good dolls don’t lie. Listen, obey, don’t lie. Run. Run. You have to run” she’s dragging you as best as she can, but you just lie limp, smiling blissfully.

You sink to the floor together. It's making odd noises. It looks like it’s ______, it’s… what? You feel like you know what it’s doing, hands covering its face, breathing raggedly, there’s a word for it but good dolls don’t do that anyway, so what does it matter?

Still, you feel like you should do something to help it. The last reflexes left of something deep inside you has you reach your hand out to it. You squeeze its hand, and then lace your fingers with its own. The maneuver is clumsy, as your fingers no longer have any squish left in them. It looks at you despondently, a million words behind its glassy eyes.

All it can say is “Sorry.”

You both lay there for a few moments.

When she returns, her step is filled with thunder.

“Why are you dolls on the floor? Get up!”

The order fills you with such a zeal, the need to obey filling your head and creating an almost painful pressure. Both dolls rise from the floor, nearly a perfect mirror to one another.

You try to match the other dolls curtsy, but the wet clothing stuck to your cold hard skin makes it difficult.

“Hmph. Well, your becoming happened quickly at least. Let’s see if your quality is up to snuff.”

Suddenly, her hands are upon you. Warm hands grace the cold surface that is now your flesh. She lifts your arm until it’s perpendicular to your torso, you beg your neck to turn, turn and let you witness her perfect hands. Yet you remain staring forward. A twist. A pull. A lack of sensation where sensation already wasn’t present before. Your arm is in front of you and shining in the glistening half-light.

Some remaining vestiges of panic try to flare up within you but that now familiar haze in your head tempers it down. You are but a doll without a part. Nothing to be concerned with. From the corner of your eye the other doll flinches. The witch runs her hands all along your severed limb, muttering notes to herself all the while.

“More than satisfactory, dear, almost impressive. No wonder the enchantments brought you in here. Just one more thing to check, then.”

With a flick of her wrist, you suddenly feel yourself twist and bend terribly until your hollow shoulder socket is pointed straight up. She peers inside, quiet to let your clockwork speak to her. She listens for so long that you feel yourself nearly trembling from the tension in your fragile body, the position held in such a way that you nearly feel a different joint about to pop. But good dolls obey, so you endure until finally she sets you back to your perfect posture.

The entire time, your face held the prettiest smile. Just for her.

She firmly places your arm into the waiting hands of the other doll, along with something you hadn’t seen your witch carrying yet: your new uniform, a perfect mirror to the one next to you.

“Get it dressed, doll. Show it its new duties. That’s an Order.”

The doll bows. “Yes, Miss, it shall be done.”

As it straightens up, the witch grabs its face in one hand, lifting it until it can look her evenly in the eye. It doesn’t struggle. It doesn’t flinch. It can’t cry out.

“And if a certain something ever tries to interfere with me or my work again, it will find itself smashed to pieces and tossed under the floorboards like all the rest. Am I understood?”

“Yes miss. Perfectly understood miss.”

“Good. Then let me leave you a reminder.”

In a flash, the witch slashed a single nail across the doll’s face, cracking its porcelain just enough so it wouldn’t fall apart. She forcefully set the doll back upon the ground, and with a flourish of robes, vanished.

The other doll stood silently for a moment, before turning away towards the deepest corridors of the shop. “Follow this one, please.”

You listen, like a good doll should.

You obey, like a good doll should.

Both of your footsteps fall into a matching rhythm as it leads you into your new home.

The last drips of your humanity coalesce into a single question.

“Will this one be happy here?”

It doesn’t lie, like a good doll should.

#doll posting #empty spaces #Alice's Writing #this one has been wanting to write again for a while and found the inspiration for something horror-themed yesterday!#she would appreciate any thoughts that others wish to share about her writing u//u #(edit: fixed a line or two that was bothering her. And. A friend helped her with the arm paragraph.)

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