Stop Crying and Smile (Isaac Foster x Reader)

Chapter 1

I sighed, staring at the concrete as my heels clicked against it in a monotonous rhythm. Was I really going to talk to this stranger? Who's to say he isn't a pedophile or murderer? I wouldn't put it past my father to be friends with someone like that.

A sudden force shoved me out of my thoughts, causing me to jump back. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I apologized frantically, a light pink dusting my cheeks from embarrassment. A deep chuckle resounded from the figure that stood in front of me. I looked up to see a slightly older and much taller man with short, dark brown hair that seemed to have been meticulously styled at one point, but throughout the colder part of the day began to mess up.
His grayish green eyes shone down on me with a hint of amusement and understanding as if they could tell every detail of my past with a glance.
He was wearing a dark grey suit with a white undershirt, his pants were the same grey color, however his shoes were a much darker black.
His facial expression was so much of a contrast from the rest of his attire that it was confusing; he was dressed so seriously, but he seemed so happy.

"It's quite alright," the man said, jerking her from her thoughts, his voice deep and serious, but with a trace of entertainment.
As he looked me up and down, I grew more and more uncomfortable. I suddenly felt underdressed and exposed.
His formal outfit was completely different from the warm, oversized sweater and leggings.
The longer he stared at me, the more his expression began to change.
Then, he spoke.
"Wait a second. . . You don't happen to be Fern Lawson, do you?"

I nodded, raising an eyebrow with a questioning gaze.
He smiled. "Great! My name is Daniel. I've come to s-"
Before he could even finish his sentence, I cut him off with a glare. "I know why you're here," I snapped. "And I have no interest in speaking about that monster."

He raised an eyebrow. "Monster? Your own father?"
"He is not my father!" I yelled, catching the attention of a few people who were making their ways up and down the sidewalk.
"He is a selfish, conceited fiend whom I want no further contact with."

". . . May I ask why you feel this way about him?"
A slightly traumatized expression took over my face as I recalled that cursed night and the events after.
"N. . . No. You know what? Let's talk."
He opened his mouth to speak before I continued. "Under one condition. You never speak about my father to me again. In fact, don't speak to me at all."

He contemplated my words for a moment before nodding. "Deal."

"Now, what did you want to speak about?"

"Before I tell you, why don't we go somewhere private? I have a feeling that you may not take my words the best and we don't want to draw attention."

I shrugged. "Alright then."

I wish I never would've said that.