#I love her dearly though...she’s working on it but...yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skeltnwrites · 9 months ago

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The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part one - you find out your work crush is a dad and offer to watch his mischievous little girl so he can get some work done 5.2k

a/n - penelope is a little shit and i love her dearly, general warnings/tags here

── .✦

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Steve. I just had a quick question– but before I forget, there’s this little girl in the lobby knocking stuff over. Do you know if her parents are here?”

“Fuck– sorry. One sec.”

He brushes past you with an urgency that is typical of Steve. As the community outreach coordinator, he’s naturally a busy man. You haven’t known him long– just the couple of months since you became a volunteer for the local rec center– but it’s clear he’s dedicated to his work. Always zipping from one end of the building to the other, juggling class setups, organizing meetings, or hunting down the next thing that needs fixing. He tends to add more to his plate than he can carry, at least according to another staff member, which is why you’ve been assigned to help him.

You strain to match his long strides and nearly take out a trash can when he turns a corner unexpectedly. But you can’t lose him now– someone is always nearby to steal him for paperwork or performance reviews and all you have is a quick question.

The lobby unfortunately looks like a tornado blew through the front doors. Cabinets are thrown open, papers are scattered like leaves across the floor, and a chair has been toppled over. And said tornado has her cheek pressed to the vending machine glass, an arm twisted inside the dispenser box to reach for a loose pack of Skittles. The scene is almost amusing until you remember you’ll likely be the one to clean it up.

“Penelope!” Steve scolds, not loud but stern enough to surprise you. He’s consistently an embodiment of gentleness– always accommodating and rarely assertive. And while he’s still gentle with her, his tone carries a weight and firmness that’s a stark departure from his usual demeanor.

The girl, Penelope, retracts her arm and spins around to face Steve. And if it wasn’t for the shit-eating grin pinned to her face, you might’ve felt bad for getting her in trouble.

Steve’s hands snap to his hips. “I asked you to wait in my office.”

She shrugs, “Need a snack.”

Steve huffs and rakes a hand through his hair– a habit when he’s stressed, which is most of the time it seems. By the end of the day, his hairspray will have been combed out and Steve will argue with the strands that curl over his forehead.

“You can have one after you clean this up and if you stay in my office.”

“Candy?”

“No, no candy. There’s snacks in your lunchbox.” He bends to scoop up a few pamphlets to hand to her. “Or I have pretzels. Do you want that?”

She pinches a page between her nails, weighing her options.

Steve pries tiny fingers off, “Don’t rip those. Put ‘em away please.”

And she listens for maybe the first time ever, it seems, cramming a stack of them back on the shelf.

You gather your own stack of handouts and press them into Steve’s sleeve. He recoils a step, his eyes widening before rapidly shutting in a moment of realization. “Sorry! You had a question- I’m sorry.”

Penelope abandons her organizing to plant herself at Steve’s left like a sidekick– anything to get out of cleaning up. She gazes at you with a familiar pair of almond eyes and then it clicks. Her hair is the same shade of brown and her jaw, though softer, is square shaped like Steve’s. The resemblance is indisputable.

You redirect your stare to answer Steve. “Um, yeah– I just needed to borrow the storage closet key to grab some more chairs.”

“Oh, of course.” He pats the front pocket of his jeans. “Keys are in my office– I hope.”

Steve marches past you once again, a new mission in mind, tugging Penelope by the wrist and toeing a cabinet shut on the way out. Penelope’s poor little legs must be tired if he always walks this fast.

“I don’t want pretzels,” she eventually decides.

“Then you can have what’s in your lunchbox.” He glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re in tow, “This is my daughter, Penelope, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” You wave, not that she sees.

A braid sits high on her head, swinging like a horse's tail with each hurried step. Her faded denim overalls ride up slightly, exposing just enough ankle to show off the bubblegum pink Converse on her feet. She’s a cute little thing, button-eyed and puffy-cheeked like a cabbage patch kid.

Steve nudges her with his hip, “Say hi.”

She throws you an impartial glance. “Hi.”

When Steve’s office is in sight, Penelope wriggles away from his hold to sprint down the hall. On her tip-toes, she flicks on the light, letting the door slam in Steve’s face. You catch him rolling his eyes as he stops the door with his foot for you. Penelope is clambering onto his chair like it’s a race and pushing off the desk to spin as soon as she’s seated. Steve steers her out of the way to search the drawers, passing you a set of keys when he finds them.

“Just bring ‘em back, please. Dottie found them in lost and found last week.”

“Thanks, I will,” you promise, eyes falling over Penelope again.

It’s your cue to leave, but your feet remain anchored to the floor. Your mind is buzzing with questions that neither of you have the time to discuss. The rational part of you knows you should exit before you let your curiosity win. Yet, you find yourself lingering in the doorway, stalling just long enough for Steve to lift an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

And before you can rule whether or not it's a good idea, you blurt out, “I can keep an eye on her if you want?”

Penelope peaks over the back of the chair, perched on her knees so she can see.

Steve shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’ve got stuff to do. And Penelope is going to be a better listener for the rest of the day, right?” He ruffles her hair, earning him a glare.

You bite back a smile. It’s a funny thing, seeing that frown and furrowed brows that resemble Steve’s so clearly because you can’t imagine him making that face at anyone ever. It’s cute, even if it’s meant to be mean, but you would never tell her as much.

“I really don’t mind. She could help me tape the flyers up– If she wants something to do?” You direct the last part at Penelope. To a kid, being trapped in their dad’s dusty old office is probably boredom purgatory.

Penelope blinks at you and then Steve for permission.

“You want to?” He asks.

She nods, then adds, “Snack too?”

“Yes, honey.” He sighs, faint but deflated, burdened by the guilt of not feeding her sooner. Steve fishes her backpack out from under his desk. A vivid shade of pink with a Barbie patch sewn to the front. Her tin lunchbox is similarly themed and only harbors a bag of fruit snacks.

“Fruit snacks or pretzels?”

Penelope’s features pinch in a way that says neither but she snatches the fruit snacks anyway. Decidedly dismissed or over the conversation, she hops off the chair and sees herself out.

You can’t help the smile that finds your lips as you turn back to Steve.

He chuckles, “It’s been a day. Bring her back if she doesn’t listen. Good luck.”

Penelope leans against the wall outside, popping a gummy in her mouth lazily.

“We’re gonna make a pitstop at the supply closet and then you can help me with the flyers.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she follows as you start walking, and that’s all you need from her. She’s strangely silent for a kid, especially Steve’s kid. Conversation seems to come easy to him, he likes to talk, which is one of the reasons you still can’t believe you didn’t know he had a child. On your first day as a volunteer, he’d crammed that he was on the swim team in high school, that he's from Indiana, and that he prefers the warmer months all in one conversation– the guy is an open book.

And you’re quiet too because you’re focused on recalling where they put that damned supply closet. The rec center halls all sort of look the same still, bleeding into one jumbled image of wood paneling and old carpet in your mind. The building is practically a maze; constructed in the fifties, it still carries its historic charm—stubborn doors, leaky faucets, and all��issues the city claims they 'can’t afford' to fix.

Penelope must get tired of going in circles because eventually she tugs on your sleeve and points down the opposite hall you were planning on going. When she leads you right up to the door you beam at her. For a second, she forgets to be brooding and smiles back.

“You’re a smart little cookie, Penelope. How’d you know it was here?” You ask, unlocking the door.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “I just know things.”

You laugh loud enough to draw eyes from a nearby meeting and determine Penelope is the funniest kid you’ve ever met.

She holds the door open at your request, munching on her fruit snacks as you maneuver a stack of chairs into the hall. You make it back to the classroom without her directions, not to toot your own horn. She tosses her empty wrapper in the trash as you unstack the chairs.

“Here,” you pass her a roll of tape. “Rip some pieces off for me?”

She nods, ambling over to the wall with you.

“So, Penelope, how old are you?” You ask, pressing a flyer against the wallpaper.

She debates, flipping fingers up and down on her free hand before concluding, “Four.”

“Ohh, very cool. You’re almost ready to go to school with the big kids, huh?”

“Yes, at the big school. I’m in pre-school.”

“Mhmm. Do you like preschool?”

She hums no and strains to tear off a piece.

“Here, like this,” you demonstrate, pulling in the proper direction. She copies you, ripping a neat line. The corners of her lips raise as she views her handiwork.

“You don’t like school?” You ask, peering down.

She hands you the slice of tape. “Only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shrugs and heaves a hefty sigh for such little lungs. She’s too small to be sighing like that, you think, and she definitely acquired it from Steve.

“I only like work sometimes too,” you admit.

Her eyes chase yours– all innocently wide and filled with disbelief. She rips off another square of tape, “Are your friends not nice?”

You consider her question, answering truthfully, “Well, maybe sometimes, I guess.”

“Meg was not a kind friend today.” Her tone is hilariously chastizing for a child. Kids are just like mini adults sometimes– collecting random phrases and mannerisms like trading cards.

“No? Why’s that?”

“She wouldn’t share. Daddy always says sharing is caring.”

“That’s true. Did you tell your teacher?”

Penelope shakes her head, tilting on her heels.

“Why not?”

“Meg told the teacher on me because I wasn’t being a kind friend either.”

“Oh. Why weren’t you being a kind friend?”

“Because I wanted to play with the dolls too,” she mumbles, upset wavering in her voice. To a child, these seemingly trivial matters really do feel like the end of the world, so you can’t help but empathize, even as you wish your worries were confined to sharing toys.

You crouch in front of Penelope, “We still should be kind, hmm? Even when our friends don’t want to share?”

Penelope’s unconvinced, picking at her nail like the dirt underneath is a more important issue. But you’re at the end of your stack of cardstock and it maybe isn’t your place to have this conversation anyway.

You get her set up at a table with printer paper and a box of crayons from the closet. She dumps them out immediately, spraying rainbow across her paper so she can find the “bestest” colors.

“I can share,” she declares, sliding her extra sheet over to your end of the table.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.” You catch a crayon before it rolls onto the floor. “What should I draw?”

“I’m coloring my family.”

“That’s nice. I think I’ll draw a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur?” She cocks her head and giggles, bubbly and pure in the way that kids laugh. Your heart aches with happiness. “That’s silly!”

“What? Why’s that silly?”

She cackles like this is the funniest idea anyone’s ever had. “They just are!”

“Hmm. Should I draw a serious dinosaur then?”

“All dinosaurs are silly– Trevor says so.”

“What! Why does he think that?”

Her words fuse into one smear of a sound as she shrugs, “I dunno.”

“Well, my dinosaur is very serious. See?”

She presses into your arm to examine your quick sketch. “That’s not a dinosaur!”

“It is! You can’t tell?”

She nibbles on her lip, smile growing as she shakes her head.

You pull the paper closer, as if a better angle might somehow improve it. “Hmm, I guess it does look a bit like an alien, doesn’t it?”

Penelope giggles and nods enthusiastically before returning to her work. Her crayon moves methodically across the paper, lips pressed together in concentration. After a long spell of silence, she kindly requests, “Can you draw a house?”

“Of course,” you reply, “On my paper or yours?”

“Mine,” she says, her pointer finger tapping the corner of her sheet with emphasis.

The drawing is a riot of color, blending bold strokes of crayon to create two people and an animal. The taller, presumably Steve, is painted with orange and yellow hues– true to the the warmth he represents. Penelope, doused in cooler tones, carries their floppy-eared pet– a bunny or a dog, maybe?

“Wow, Penelope! This is amazing!” You genuinely mean it; despite her young age, her talent shines through in little details like eyelashes and a set of heart-shaped earrings. “Is this you and Daddy?”

“Yes, and Cinderella!” she adds proudly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you say, admiring her work. “Is Cinderella your pet?”

She bobs her head animatedly.

“Wow, she looks like a very pretty… animal in your drawing.”

“She is a very pretty cat,” Penelope affirms and you are relieved not to have guessed incorrectly. She stares at you for a long moment. “Is Cinderella family?”

“Well, does she live with you?”

Penelope scrunches her nose and tips her head, “Sort of?”

“She sort of lives with you?”

“Yeah. She lives outside mostly but sometimes I let her inside.” Her pitch fluctuates as she talks, the words lilting in a strange, almost sing-song cadence that kids do.

“Ohh,” you smile. “Do you feed Cinderella?”

“Yes, Daddy buys her food in a can and it’s really stinky!”

Penelope joins you when you laugh. Not because you are but because stinky things are just funny at her age.

“Do you love Cinderella?” You ask.

“Yes– except when she bites me.” She sobers quickly, forehead wrinkling.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “Well, I think she’s family then.”

“I think so too,” she states seriously, swapping a blue crayon for a green.

“What color should the house be?” You claw through the rainbow spread.

“White!”

“Well, the paper’s already white but how ‘bout I outline the house in black so you know where it is?”

“I guess so. There’s two windows and the door is red– Oh, and there are lots of flowers outside.”

You nod, sketching her vision into existence. “Is this your house?”

“Yes, and Daddy’s. And sometimes Cinderella’s.”

“Just you three? Is that your whole family?” Admittedly, it’s a self-indulgent question. You’re curious about Penelope’s mom. And you noticed Steve doesn’t wear a ring, checked multiple times in the last few weeks even. But that doesn’t refute the possibility he might be seeing someone.

“Yes, Daddy and Cinderella is my family. Daddy says families come in all shapes and sizes.”

You’re glowing with a fondness that’s impossible to hide– because everything about her is adorable– her chubby cheeks, her tinkling little laugh, even her attitude, though Steve would probably disagree with the latter. She’s different than Steve in a lot of ways: grumpier and more aloof, but, at her age, it’s cute. And still, she feels like his carbon copy. An echo of everything you’ve come to like about him.

Him being a dad makes perfect sense in retrospect. To have overlooked such an important part of his life seems silly. A tenderness radiates from Steve, the kind only a parent could possess. He’s full of love– too much not to share. He pours lots into his work: late nights at the center, taking on more than he can chew, always with a smile. And the rest? It must go to Penelope.

“Your dad is very right about that.”

She smirks confidently, holding up her artwork, “I’m going to give this to him.”

“I bet he’ll love it so much, Penelope!”

And his dad senses must be tingling at the mention of his name because his face appears in the door’s slim window not even a minute later. His lips curve into a grin as he realizes he’s been caught spying.

The door clicks and Penelope turns. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby,” Steve strolls over to the opposite side of the table, “Are you being a good listener?” His attention flicks around the room, searching for any signs of misbehavior.

Penelope shimmies up tall in her seat and nods until he meets her pleased gaze.

Steve must believe the girl because he doesn’t press further, but you praise her anyway, “Very good. Penelope’s been an amazing helper this afternoon.”

“Is that right?” He orbits the table to stand behind her. “What are you drawing, Nell?”

She flips over her paper, clapping the front against the table. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh, sorry!” He paces back, redirecting his attention to you. “I didn’t see it.”

Penelope twists around to confirm his eyes are elsewhere before proceeding to squeeze in a final set of details– grass blades and sun rays. “Here,” she thrusts the page into his hands. “For you.”

“For me?” His face lights up like a Christmas tree before he’s even seen it. She could hand him a pebble, and he’d treasure it like a gem. And when his eyes do fan across the drawing, he melts.

“This is so lovely!” He coos. “Where did you get all this talent from? This belongs in a museum, Nell!” He keeps his heart from bursting with a steady palm to his chest. And with his free hand, he flashes it at you just long enough to catch a glimpse before he reels it in to study some more. “And you got Cinderella’s stripes too. Wow.”

He squats behind Penelope’s chair, throwing an arm around her middle, “Thank you for this. And thank you for being a good listener. That makes my heart very happy.”

She slumps into his chest, peering up at the reflection of her own features. “Is it time to go?”

His eyes leap to the clock hung on the opposite wall. “Couple more hours, babe.”

Penelope huffs.

“I’m gonna hang this in my office. I love it so so much!” He sows a couple of kisses on her temple, straining to stand with achy knees. “You wanna come hang out with me or stay here?”

She looks at you like you might object. “Here.”

If Steve’s offended, he doesn’t show it. He’s still grinning like the Cheshire cat, high on the parenting win that is receiving willing affection from your child. “That okay?” He asks you.

“Of course. I’ll put her to work,” you reassure.

“Good, keep her busy. It keeps her out of trouble.” He raises the drawing for another look. “I’ll be in my office, doing paperwork, yay.”

You snicker, as he retraces the path he came. “Have fun with that boss!”

Just before the door slams shut, he yells back, equally playful, “I told you to stop calling me that!”

Penelope doodles some more, gifting you a vibrant rendition of the night sky– a collection of stars and circles and swirls. You’re so grateful you tell her it’ll go on your fridge, and it does as soon as you’re home. She sorts through toys and equipment in the gym closet and even holds your dustpan when you sweep. Her role as your helper is taken very seriously.

The two hours pass faster than you expect. Time flies when you're having fun, as Steve would say. All his little phrases and cheesy jokes suddenly make sense in the context of him being a dad.

She takes your hand on the way to Steve’s office, escorting you when you pretend not to know which direction it’s in. It’s as comforting as it is validating; winning the kindness and attention of four-year-olds, especially this one, is difficult. You knock on the wood frame even though the door’s propped open.

Steve peaks up through a rare pair of reading glasses. Round, wireframes that match the golden shade his hair assumes when it catches the light. They highlight his eyes—warm and gentle as a summer breeze. But he swipes them off his nose, folding them with practiced care.

A smile mends his frown as Penelope climbs into his lap. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She wiggles into a comfortable position, nudging his chest until he reclines further to make space. “Hi.”

“Are you having fun?” Steve cradles her shin to keep her from slipping. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning.” Her tone is casual, dismissive even, like it’s nothing to fuss over; but her eyes are fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.

Steve gasps, “No way! You were cleaning? I don’t know if I believe it.”

“I was!” Penelope whines, tickled with glee.

“Hmm, is this true?” He arches an eyebrow at you.

You nod, delighted to play along. “It is. Penelope here is excellent at handling a dustpan. She even organized the dodgeballs by color.”

“Really? Because you never-ever want to clean at home.”

“I do!” She squeals, bending backward over the arm of his chair.

“Yeah right.” He blows a raspberry on her belly where her shirt has pinched up.

She shrieks, squirming and kicking her heels into his thigh. Steve’s dad reflexes must clock in because he blocks her knee just before it drives into his cheek. And he takes it as a sign to ease up before someone gets hurt– craning back up and scooping Penelope into a baby cradle against his chest. Her legs are long and lanky, dangling over his arms like uncooked spaghetti.

“Do we need to invite them over every time you make a mess in your room? Will that solve the problem?” He teases, squishing her arms against his shirt so she can’t escape and peppering kisses from temple to temple.

Eventually, Penelope comes to terms that no amount of writhing will succeed against his strength. She slackens in his embrace, surrendering to the terrible thing that is unconditional love.

“Oh, here are your keys!” They rattle against the desk where you drop them.

Steve nods into Penelope's crown, poking her side. “Can you say ‘thank you for hanging out with me?’”

Anticipating another round of tickles, she grins before parroting, “Thank you for hanging out with me.”

“Thank you for helping me clean!”

Her eyes sweep back over to Steve, “Can we go home yet?”

His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a small sigh escaping as he glances at the paperwork drowning his workspace. “We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished.” He pecks the top of her head. “Promise.”

She rolls her eyes, moaning, “Daddy, come on it’s taking, like, a million years!”

“A million? Surely not.”

“It is!” She elongates the sound until it’s less word and more noise.

His shoulders droop, tension slipping from his frame as he agrees, “Okay. I’m ready to go too.”

You don’t blame him for giving in so easily, Penelope’s puppy eyes are powerful. Her chunky little hands smoosh his cheeks– molding and kneading like it’s play-doh, “Is that why your face looks so sleepy?”

A hearty laugh bursts from his throat, “Yes, that’s why my face looks so sleepy.” He pats her arms, “Come on. Up.”

Penelope scoots off his knees, gripping his wrist for balance. Steve ducks under the desk for his backpack and shoves the stack of paperwork inside.

“Hey, I meant to ask you, is the new schedule working okay for you?” He asks you, always so thoughtful.

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, actually, I like doing Fridays better I think.”

“Yeah, Fridays are fun. Fitness Friday has been a big hit with the high school's soccer team.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and lifts Penelope’s by the strap.

“Oh, good! Did the new jump ropes come in?” Conversations like this, as mundane as they are, are fleeting– the next interruption always around the corner– so you savor it while you have him.

“Mmmm, not yet. I think they’re coming next week– shipping delays or something.”

You turn to leave but stop in your tracks, attention stolen by Penelope’s drawing. As promised, it’s hung up– a few pieces of scotch tape secure it to the wall across from his desk.

“I’m gonna get a frame for it,” Steve passes you with a toothy smile, flicking off the light.

Penelope chimes in before you can respond, “Can I play jump rope?”

“I don't know if you know how, babe. I can teach you.”

“I can! I did at school!”

“You did? I didn’t know that.” Steve waves to a passing coworker. “Maybe we’ll buy one for home too then.”

Penelope nods, hopping the last stretch to the front door.

“Any fun plans this weekend?” Steve asks you outside, bumping the back of Penelope’s hand until she takes his. The parking lot is almost empty at this time of day, but a few stragglers remain inside after hours.

“If you think laundry is fun, then sure.”

“Oh, I know all about that, trust me.” He nods at Penelope, “This one goes through more clothes in a week than I do in a month.”

Steve approaches a BMW, only a few spots over from your car. An older model, but well taken care of. It’s a nice shade of burgundy with a stick-figure family on the back windshield. It feels so him.

You hum a happy sound. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Besides laundry? Well, we’re actually going kayaking at Red Fleet tomorrow,” he unlocks the passenger door, tucking the backpacks in the footwell.

“Oh, fun! Are you excited?” You ask Penelope.

“I’m gonna look for frogs.”

She wrenches the handle a few times before her door flies open. Steve intercepts mid-swing to prevent her from denting the neighboring truck at the expense of his fingers.

“Ow– shit,” he grimaces, shaking his wrist. He visibly swallows any other swears when he sees Penelope gawking, “Nell, I’ve told you to be gentle with the door.”

“You said we can’t say that word,” she points out, climbing into her car seat.

You scrub your mouth, not so inconspicuously erasing your smile.

“I– yes,” he nods, “You’re right. We shouldn’t say that word. I just–”

“Even when we’re frustrated; that’s what you said!”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, choking down his several feelings. She’s right, he did say that, to hopefully stop her from swearing at preschool, but the profanity policing is comical coming from a four-year-old. And he can’t be laughing right now– he has parenting to do– but he’s on the verge of breaking when he catches sight of your face.

Steve collects himself as he buckles her in. “Yes, Penelope. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

She pats his head, “It’s okay. We all do mistakes.”

Steve softens. The irritation evaporates instantly, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. This is one of those rare moments where he can so clearly recognize the lessons he’s instilled taking shape.

He lets himself chuckle then, “We do. We all make mistakes and that’s okay.”

She nods as he tightens her straps, “Like when I spilled my juice this morning.”

“Exactly.” He triple-checks that all her limbs are safely out of the door’s reach before shutting it.

He faces you, scratching his cheek– rosy and round with joy. “How much you wanna bet she swears at me tomorrow?”

“Hey, I don’t doubt it!” Your elation mirrors his.

“If she can’t find any frogs at the park I can almost guarantee it.”

“Better help her look then.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d invite you but it’s reservation-based. And I’d be surprised if there’s any spots open still… But we can sneak you in if you really want to go.” It’s meant to be a joke, but something in the way he holds your gaze suggests a level of seriousness.

“No, that’s okay,” you grin. “The pile of laundry on my bed awaits.”

“Well, maybe next time.”

You try not to read into it. Steve’s a friendly guy, he probably invites his coworkers out to things all the time.

You nod, idling at the hood of his beamer.

“I really appreciate you watching her today. You’re a lifesaver, truly,” he shakes his head, peeking at Penelope through the window. “She’s been a handful lately– I mean, I had to pick her up early today because she bit another kid, can you believe that?”

“She’s a kid,” you shrug, “All kids do that at some point.”

“I don’t know,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m honestly at my witts end. This is her third warning and if she gets kicked out of school— I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“From what I saw today, she’s a really good kid, Steve. I can’t imagine they’d do that.”

“I’ve just been so busy, you know, sometimes I wonder if she acts out because of that– and it’s just me so I can’t–” he pauses, wiping his face, “God– I’m sorry, you’re… I’m just dumping all of this on you when you’re trying to leave.”

“No! It’s okay, I don’t mind, really.”

“It’s– Well, it’s a lot and I,” he’s cut short by Penelope knocking on the glass, impatience strewn across her features.

He throws up his pointer finger to tell her one second. “We can talk next week. You’ll be here Friday?”

“Yep. I will see you then,” you nod, backing up a step so he can cross over to the driver’s side.

“Okay, thanks again,” he says, opening his door.

You wave goodbye, “Of course. Have fun kayaking!”

“You too!” He yells, then mumbles, “Shit.”

“Dad!” Penelope’s voice scolds.

A warmth simmers in your chest as you walk away– a fizzy feeling that had been bottled up and crammed into a forgotten corner of your body. But as soon as you’re settling into the privacy of your car, it boils over into this rush of giddy exhilaration, electrifying every inch of your skin. Giggles cut through the silence as your smile stretches wider, completely untamable. There’s no stopping this, not when you’re already fantasizing about a next time with Steve.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #dad steve harrington #coworker steve harrington

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graciedollie · 4 months ago

Note

Sevika or Grayson x fem reader who dolls up on the daily basis and feels insecure about their bare face

Bare Beauty

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

You and Sevika been talking for a good while now—maybe a couple weeks or so—and she’s never seen you without your makeup off. Whenever she saw you, always dolled up with beautifully done makeup. Each and every time. It was a late night for you, chilling at home while watching some series that you’ve been binge watching for the last week and snacking on some of your favorite snacks.

While being in the comfort of your own place, you didn’t wear any makeup and just let yourself be. Mind you, you wanted to show Sevika the real you, but you weren’t just quite ready for that, so you just simply always dolled your face up when you two would go on dates and when you’re at home, that would come off—unless you would randomly do your makeup to take some photos to her whenever you both missed each other. Other than that, it was always makeup around her.

You say there in your couch with a blanket draped over you snuggly, face free from foundation, lipstick/lipgloss, mascara/false lashes, and highlighter. Your face had some blemishes since you’re human—you’re gonna have them regardless—and had little pimple patches across your cheek, forehead, and chin since your skin did NOT wanna cooperate. There were times you felt insecure about your bare face since you were used to the makeup, but even still, you couldn’t help it. Ignoring that gnawing gut in your stomach, you went back to watching your show until there was a knock on the door—thinking it was your doordash deliverer.

Happily getting up, you dashed over to the door, excited to be greeted with savory smell of your food—only to be met with Sevika looking at you, holding your doordash order in her hand. You nearly felt like crawling into a corner and dying. Your eyes widened as you took in her silver eyes peering into yours while also taking in your face, seeing that it was a rare sight to see you out of makeup. “Sevika…I didn’t know you were coming over today…”

“I know, but I decided to come anyway—by the way, your food was left on your doorstep.” She murmured lowly, nonchalantly at that as if you were just bare face right in front of her. She raised a brow at your bewildered expression, “what???” You shook your head out of your daze, crossing your arms as you just shrugged. “Nothing, I—don’t you see me without any makeup? I look hideous, Sev.”

She stared at you as if you were dumb before scoffing, sliding past you through the door and setting the bag of food on the coffee table before turning to you as you shut the door. “You don’t look ridiculous, love. I was wondering when I was gonna see ‘you’ out of all that stuff you were nearly wear 99% of the time we go somewhere.” You rolled your eyes at her snarky comment, earning a cocky smirk from her as she settled on the couch while pulling you close to her.

“Oh fuck off…i’m serious though, Sev. I literally have pimples big as tits on my face—i can barely cover them with my patches!”

“So? You don’t even look like shit without your makeup, love—I can assure you that you look absolutely perfect in my eyes…” Her arm wrapped around you waist as she flashed you a warm smile, seeing a peek of her tooth gap. She placed a warm kiss to your forehead before chuckling lowly, “yeah, maybe the patches aren’t doin you any justice, baby…”

“Sevika!”

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

It was a peaceful night as you were winding down from the little outing you had earlier during the day. It was nice, of course, but you missed your wife dearly and would send her photos of you—all of which you had your face dolled with your usual makeup. Now, Grayson seen you a little of times with your makeup off, but not fully since you would try to do light makeup still. That was cut short when you started to notice pimple decorate your face—yeah, no more of that.

The house felt empty without Grayson since she was working late doing her respective duties as usual and you understood that, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss her. She’s your wife, so why would you not? You sat at your vanity while wiping off the leftover makeup, leaving you in a bare-pale-pimple covered face. You didn’t really like being bare faced, especially whenever you would be around Grayson.

Yeah, of course she always made sure to assure you that you were beautiful as the moon is in the sky countless of times, but you couldn’t grasp that. You slumped back in the chair as you sighed, leaning on your forehead before your ears picked up the sound of the door creaking open and heavy footsteps following to where you were. There she was, standing in all her glory, Grayson looked at you with a warm gaze, taking in the small frown etched on your lips.

“There’s my gorgeous wife…”

You couldn’t help but dry laugh at her, knowing she was just tryna boost your mood and also meant it as well. “Mhm, i’m everything but that right now, baby..” She rolled her eyes briefly as she stalked over to you, rubbing your shoulders as she placed a kiss to your cheek before finding her way to your lips—earning a hum of approval.

“Don’t be so down, love. You’re still precious in my eyes—makeup or not. Yes, you look gorgeous with your lovely makeup, but I also adore you without it. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s who I really fell in love with on that faithful day when you were rushing out and bumped into me, panicking that you were running late and didn’t even have any makeup on..”

god this woman was your everything.

You turned to her with a small pout of adoration and thoughtfulness at her words, taking you back to the memory you first met. “Baby, you remembered..”

“How could I not remember the time I fell in love with my world?”

hope you enjoyed bbys!! (sorry if this lowkey cringey or corny and short!!☹️)

taglist 🏷️ @thesevi0lentdelights @snugglybunny11 @maneskinwh0re @ivorydevil @jolenes-doppelganger @pavelyasz @supalcina

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eringobragh420 · 2 months ago

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-`♡´- BAD HABITS (1/3)

➺ pairing — damian priest ♥︎ f!reader ➺ summary — damian and his best friend help each other come on a regular basis, and as long as they don't touch each other, it can't ruin their friendship. but maybe sometimes friendships need to be ruined? ➺ links — one. two. three. ➺ words — 1.6k ➺ warnings — nsfw. dirty talk, masturbation (m and f), spitting, cum 18+ ➺ notes — spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by google translate. ➺ taglist — if you’d like to be added, please click here!

➺ MASTERLIST ➺ DAMIAN PRIEST MASTERLIST

Stretching, she slowly drifted into consciousness, heavy-lidded eyes blinking open. Disorientation consumed her momentarily until she remembered she was no longer home in Florida—no, her best friend had surprised her by taking her with him as he toured Europe with the WWE—but essentially vacationing in (for now) Barcelona, Spain. She smiled with one final stretch before climbing out of bed and heading for the shared bathroom in their two-bedroom hotel suite. She and Damian had crashed in their respective rooms the moment they’d arrived—the more than eight hours of flying, coupled with the time change, easily exhausting them.

Finishing her business, she took one step toward her room and stopped. Her eyes searched the darkness as she listened, unsure if she’d heard anything in the first place. There. The corners of her mouth twitched, her lip tucking itself under her teeth as she waited for one more confirmation sound, which came in the form of a delicious groan, and she pivoted, now bound for Damian’s room. He’d left his door ajar, surely on purpose, and her smile grew while she gripped the knob, inaudibly pushing it open.

The black-out curtains used to shield the only window in the room were now open, allowing the city lights and illumination from the moon to paint her best friend—who also just so happened to be the sexiest man alive—in all shades of blues and grays, as well as hard-edged shadows that made him seem even larger than his six-five frame as he lay with his back to the headboard of the luxurious bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. Shirtless, he had one arm bent, tattooed bicep flexed, his hand cushioning the back of his head. Her eyes followed the colorful map on his arm to his broad chest, to his powerful abs and chiseled V-lines. All the way down to his other huge hand, which was wrapped around his equally huge cock, tugging leisurely, hips rolling to meet each stroke.

As much as she wanted to—and would—join in, she loved to simply watch him please himself. Licking her lips, her own hand slid south toward her already aching pussy. Damian moaned, swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his thick thighs shifted. The tips of her fingers had just slipped beneath her panties, but she halted their progress as Damian’s body came alive—he was closer than she’d anticipated, so her pleasure would just have to wait. Damian needed her.

“You could’ve called me,” she broke the silence softly. Damian jumped, his hand pausing, and upon realizing who it was, he glared at her. “You know I would’ve answered.”

“I heard you snoring all the way in here,” Damian replied, eyes closing as he resumed jerking himself.

“That’s what got you in such a state, huh?”

Damian chuckled. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. Now bring your ass over here.”

She didn’t need to be told twice before practically skipping across the room and hopping onto her knees on the bed beside Damian, though forcing herself to leave at least an inch of space between them. That was Rule Number One: No Touching. And if they didn’t follow the rules, the both of them irrationally reasoned, the friendship between them that they held so dearly would be ruined. She leaned as closely as possible to him, her mouth to his ear, gently ghosting cool air along Damian’s hot skin, and he thanked her with a strangled groan from deep in his throat.

Glancing down at his working hand, she whispered, “Do the thing.”

Damian turned his head to look at her, and it was her turn to feel his breath across her neck. Her cunt throbbed, but she forced herself to ignore it—she didn’t want to lose focus on Damian. She blinked sluggishly as her best friend released the hold he had on his dick, letting the heavy, girthy flesh smack against his lower belly. He made her squirm for several moments before he finally did the thing—flexing muscles deep within to make his cock bounce without assistance from his hands. He did it twice more, resuming his stroking shortly after.

“I don’t know why I love that so much,” she admitted.

Oh, but she knew exactly why she loved it so much.

“Now you do the thing,” Damian rumbled.

Smirk expanding on her lips, she sat back on her heels and lifted her shirt over her head, the both of them knowing she never wore a bra if she didn’t absolutely have to. Damian’s blown pupils glazed over as he enjoyed the show of his best friend massaging her tits for him, flicking her nipples until they were pebbles begging to be sucked, licked, worshipped. She even raised her arms and jiggled them back and forth, giggling as she did so.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Damian sighed, shaking his head. Her heart tingled and her stomach flipped like they did every time he told her she was perfect because sometimes she believed he thought she was perfect, and not just flinging compliments as he neared orgasm.

She placed her fists on the mattress next to him, arching her back, and Damian’s hips were now meeting each stroke of his hand. “Almost as perfect as—”

“I have to taste you,” Damian breathed.

Her body stilled as she searched his face, his entire body working overtime as he chased his high. Her first instinct was to acquiesce—press her lips to his with no regard whatsoever for the aftermath even if it meant losing her best friend, because at least she would have gotten a taste, at least she would have felt him. But their friendship trumped either of their needs, and since she was the one with the clearest head at the moment, the responsibility fell to her to dash their desires.

“But it’s against the rules,” she whispered, lacking any conviction.

“I don’t—” Damian stammered. “I can’t fucking come. Please, angelita.”

She gulped, knees almost buckling, heart hammering and cracking against her ribcage. Damian panted beside her, abs clenching, biceps flexing, thighs quaking and promising to graze against her own if she didn’t put more space between them. But she couldn’t. Not with the most important person in her life begging her to help him cum. They’d done this many times before, one talking the other to and through their most intimate moments, but Damian had never sounded like this before—so fucking desperate and needy. For her. She’d never known him not to be able to shoot his huge load all over abs, sometimes even hitting his chest, no matter how exhausted or sore or stressed he was—he truly must have needed help.

She couldn’t be the level-headed one anymore. She should have expected or at least considered that the day would come when talking just wasn’t enough.

“Open your mouth,” she gently ordered.

Damian did as he was told—a thrill surging through her veins at his instant obedience—as she leaned over him, opening her own mouth and extending her tongue. The drool that had collected from witnessing Damian Priest jerk off dripped off her tongue and onto his, Damian gasping as her flavor coated his mouth.

“Christ,” he whispered, eyes closing. “You taste … I’m gonna fucking—”

“Come for me, sweet boy,” she encouraged, fingers itching to scratch at Damian’s heaving chest, to squeeze his bouncing bicep, to slap his hand away and stroke him to completion herself. But she’d already done too much, they’d already crossed a line they’d agreed never to cross. Damian whimpered. The man fucking whimpered, his eyebrows knitting together, hand a blur on his rigid dick. “Come for your precious angelita,” she purred.

The big man’s back arched, and her eyes shifted just in time to witness the first rope of cum land on his abs. More saliva accumulated in her mouth as she watched him virtually douse himself in sticky sweet cream that she dreamt of licking off him, that she wished she could lick off him, that she just knew tasted better than every single other man on the planet. After he drained his balls, and ignoring the rather impressive mess he’d made of himself, Damian’s body finally began to relax, head even dipping closer to his shoulder.

She thought about grabbing a warm, wet towel and cleaning her friend off, but decided against it, trying to convince herself it wasn’t because she knew he’d be pissed when he woke up the next morning with dried cum stuck to his skin, but the idiotic grin on her lips suggested otherwise. Carefully she climbed out of bed, grabbing her shirt—one of Damian’s newer merch shirts; the one that looked like a tarot card, and her new personal favorite.

“Do you need me?” His voice was swathed in sleep, and he didn’t seem to be fully conscious, but somehow, somewhere, he was aware of the past sequence of events—one helped the other get off and then the other returned the favor. His concern with whether or not she got hers was sweet, and she stopped herself before she read any further into something she knew would only bring her heartache.

Heartache.

Fucking hell, what was she doing?

“I need you to go to sleep,” she whispered.

She rushed from Damian’s room, quietly closing the door, all but jogging back to her room and closing that door before collapsing face-first on the bed. Her knees slid under her body, ass raising toward the ceiling, and she spread her thighs as she slid her soaked panties aside.

“Fuck,” she sobbed, rubbing her heated face along the soft sheets, fingers slipping within her folds, finding her slick clit swollen and throbbing and yes, she did need Damian. “I need you,” she breathed, rolling her hips to meet the circular motion of her fingers, easily bringing herself to climax, biting down on the blanket to refrain from screaming his name. “I need you so fucking bad,” she whimpered instead, spent body crumpling to the mattress.

➺ Angelita — Little angel

TAGLIST: @southerngirl41 @femdisa @riverina69 @rollinssection @paramedicnerd004 @mandmilovehim @brianochka @yourmommyagone22 @sweetmoonlove0214 @partypoison00 @lils2795 @aureliacorvina @magicalbuttertarts @madimcg14 @thealliasylum @lov3rla03 @plaidpajamallama @princesstiti14 @the-whatever-22 @jeypunkk @madhatterbri @atomicskincareeyelinerkid @aceywaycy @riddleebabyy @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @brideofinfamy @rainbowdreams-x @headcaseproductions1 @bearbutlikeprincessbear @terrortwinunicorn @dontcrykeepyourheaduphigh @loki69zowens @fearlesschimera @rockerfairy93 @misslackey @nichole1989 @hc-geralt-23 @miss-kuki-nz @damianpriestfangirl82 @elaineoneill570 @infamousvampcx @rheasfingerpuppet @gracy09 @lizzycaraballo-blog @rk-ho @bloodline-fanacc @moonlightsinner @skyesthebomb

#wwe #damian priest #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest fanfic #damian priest smut #damian priest x reader #wwe fandom #wwe fic

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alessandra-14 · 10 months ago

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Quiet sister, concerned brothers

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Summery: Dean and Sam Winchester have a 15 year old half sister who often feels neglected and overlooked by her brothers. Her sadness and loneliness build up until she can no longer hide her feelings.

Trigger warning: way to much use of Y/N, emotional neglect

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I used a different perspective this time. Please please let me know which one you prefer so I know what to continue with! Thanks.

The creaky old bunker was silent, a rare occurrence given the nature of it's inhabitants. Y/N sat on her bed, the flickering light from a nearby lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hugged her knees tight to her chest, feeling the weight of another day spend in the background.

Sam and Dean, her older brothers, had been on a hunt all day. She texted them but unsurprisingly received no answer from any of them. They returned the next day around noon with stories about demons and near-death experiences, hardly acknowledging her presence as they recounted their tiring adventures.

Y/N was used to this. As long as she can remember, she had been the quiet, shy girl who stayed in the shadows while her brothers were always the center of attention.

She loved them dearly, of course she did. They have raised her, they gave her a family. Something she never new before them. But the constant feeling of being forgotten gnawed at her heart. She knew they didn't mean to emotionally neglect her, it was just how things were. Sam and Dean are hunters and she is just…. there

….

A week later they were on the road again, driving to a small town in Nebraska where strange disappearances had been reported. Y/N joined them this time. She felt as if she is going to suffocate if she stayed in that bunker for any longer.

She sat in the back of the Impala with her head resting against the cold window. The low rumble of the engine was almost comforting, a familiar sound in her otherwise tumultuous life.

Dean glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, a frown creasing his forehead. "You okay back there kid?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam turned around in his seat, giving her a concerned look. "You sure? You've been pretty quiet lately. More than usual. You barely talk to us." "Yeah I'm fine, just tired", she lied, hoping they would drop the subject. She didn't want to burden them with her feelings. They had enough to worry about.

Dean just shrugged and turned up the music, and Sam went back to his research. Both of them just believing her lie for now. None of them had the energy to deal with it at the moment.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to push away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The hunt went relatively well. Sure it could have gone way better but it's not the worst one they've had so far. Turns out the disappearances were caused by a little groupe of vampires. Fortunately for them it was easy to track them down to an abandoned warehouse. The killing part was a bit more tricky though.

Y/N helped out a lot this time. She was quite proud of herself for that. Thought that Sam and Dean would be impressed but did they even acknowledge her hard work? absolutely not.

"You did good kid but you could definitely improve your skills with the machete and you also need to work more on your stamina you are way to slow." Those are the first words she hear from Dean as they walk back to the car. Of course it hurts. She tried so hard to make them acknowledge her skills but apparently all they see is her weakness or simply nothing at all.

Sam doesn't confirm Dean's criticism but he also doesn't defend his sister in any way. The walk back to the car is just silent and tense. A feeling Y/N is simply sick of.

It doesn't get any better in the car so all she does is put her headphones in to listen to music to drown her loud bad thoughts and her brother's voices.

....

The next time they went on a hunt didn't go differently. Y/N was allowed to join again. She even tried to show of her great skills against the witch they had to fight but once again it went mostly unnoticed by the two brothers. The only thing that stuck with them was how slow she moved and how much she apparently hesitated when shooting the witch.

She kept quiet for the whole ride back to the bunker. What was she supposed to say anyway.

Back at the bunker Dean is the first one to break the silence between the siblings. "Hey kiddo remind me to teach you how to use a gun properly. You suck a little at that" He said as he went to grab a beer. His words were meant in a playful way but for Y/N it's enough to set her off completely.

"Can't you just stop with that?!" Sam and Dean both turn to look at her with a confused frown. "Stop with what?" Dean asks bewildered.

"With t-this! I just can't listen to you constantly telling me that I am not good enough. Every time I do something good you find something bad to say. Both of you just completely ignored the fact that I killed the witch on the hunt today all that was important to you was to tell me I suck at shooting! And when you don't criticize everything I do, you just don't talk to me. I simply get ignored. That's not fair!"

Y/N stopped once she ran out of breath but she was not anywhere near done letting everything out

"Y/N what-" Sam immediately gets interrupted by his sister. "No! I'm done. I'm done with hunting. I am done doing anything in my power to make you acknowledge my hard work for nothing and I am done with seeking your validation and attention at all times!"

None of the brothers get a chance to say anything because the second the girl is done she storms off to her room. Not that they knew what to say anyway.

The silence that follows is a tense one. Both brothers are at loss for words. Her speech was something none of them expected to hear. "Should we go check up on her? That was pretty intense"

But Sam shakes his head at Dean's suggestion. "No, we should let her cool off for a bit. I'll check up on her later"

....

Dean can't help but think about every interaction he had with his sister after every hunt and he unfortunately has to admit to himself that what Y/N said was true. The guilt is more than visible on his face it seems as if he is drowning in it. Sam isn't feeling any better. He is trying his best to no stand up and rush into his sisters bedroom and apologize for everything he and his brother said to her to make her feel as if she was not good enough.

He is holding that urge back fairly well but the moment he heard loud crying from her room he decides he is done with waiting and giving her space. He just needs to see if she is alright and fix this.

He walks up towards the door of your bedroom and softly knocks on it. "Hey...do you mind if we talk for a moment? I just want to make sure you're okay" Sam waits for a couple seconds which feels like minutes to him. But he receives no answer from the girl on the other side of the door. So he tries again but yet he gets no answer this time either.

Sam knows her silence is answer enough and turns around to leave. Not even two steps later he hears the door opening and his little sister's sad sniffles. He turns towards her and the mere sight of his sibling standing there with red rimmed eyes and a tired expression, was enough to break his heart into many pieces. Especially because he knows he is at fault.

"We can talk if you want" Her voice sounds raspy and her words come out quiet. A big indicator that she has been crying for a long time.

Sam simply nods and follows her into her room. Both sit down on the bed. Y/N looks towards her hands and keeps her gaze fixated on that.

"I wanted to apologize for making you feel as if you are not good enough. That was really not alright. You are great kid. You help us out so much. Doesn't matter if it's with research, or hunting or just helping around the bunker. Dean and I appreciate it. We appreciate you"

Y/N scoffs which slightly takes her older brother by surprise. "Well none of you know how to show that said appreciation"

Sam sighs since he knows she is right. "I know we don't but I really mean it when I say that we do care and do acknowledge your help and hard work. Even when we tell you about the thing you could improve. I also know how harsh Dean's words must have sounded to you and he feels bad. He really does."

The teenaged girl stays silent for a moment before finally nodding. "I forgive you. But I still want to take a little break from hunting. I'll help with research, sure but that's all. It's just too much right now" Sam agrees with you. "Sure that's fine. I understand, kid. And so will Dean"

Y/N looks up from her fidgeting fingers and turns her head towards her brother while wiping her tears. "Thank you Sam"

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. Please" Another silence follows after Sam's words. Yet this time it's not tense or heavy. It's comforting.

#dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #supernatural #the winchester brothers #hurt/comfort #slight angst #x sister!reader #female reader

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dreamqueenmab · 7 days ago

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An in-depth too long analysis of odyssey! Telemachus’s sexism and the role that translation plays in it + mother-son relationship analysis

Ah, canon Homer Telemachus. Ithaca’s batshit pissed off prince. Recently I’ve been seeing some takes on telemachus that make my heart sad, so I’m going to blab about my interpretation of him in Homer's odyssey. Not epic, though I love epic very dearly. While epic! telemachus is a lovely determined boy, OG tele is quite the controversial figure. Namely: the sexist little shit allegations. These allegations are not unfounded, however, as someone who has read wayyy too many translations of the Odyssey, I have a lot of thoughts about Telemachus's behavior and the way it's interpreted. So here’s my extremely deep analysis into Telemachus’s attitude towards his mother in Homer’s original Odyssey.

First thing out of the way: Is Telemachus sexist? Yeah. Quite a bit. It's ancient Ithaca, of course he’s talking about being the man of the house. As much as I love the idea of spartan princess penelope, it’s unfortunately not very viable. When we read the Odyssey today, there’s a ton of shit that does not age well. However, when it comes to Telemachus’s dialogue with his mother, specifically, my interpretation of their relationship is a little different. (Only when it comes to penelope though the maid stuff is a whole other story).

In order to talk about different interpretations of the Odyssey, we’ve got to talk translations. Telemachus’s, and the behavior of characters as a whole, is oftentimes largely dependent on the translator. Case in point: If you read Wilson for example, Telemachus is unabashedly a sexist punk. But if you read Fitzgerald or Pope, he’s really not. And there’s a reason I think the latter are more faithful translations. While I like Wilson’s Odyssey, her goal was to create a very progressive version of the original. She makes a lot of changes to language to call out the problematic nature of the original, and is obviously going to make sexist ideas at the time blatantly more apparent for a modern audience. Nothing wrong with this and at times it's quite lovely, but her translation at times stands out as much, much, different than most of the other translators not only in language, but in intention. Let’s look at a specific passage from the Odyssey, namely the infamous moment Telemachus telling his mother to go inside after she addresses the bard, and from there look at the differences from translation to transaltion not only in what Telemachus says, but Penelope’s reaction.

Wilson: Sullen Telemachus said, “Mother, no, you must not criticize the loyal bard for singing as it pleases him to sing. Poets are not to blame for how things are; Zeus is; he gives to each as is his will. Do not blame Phemius because he told about the Greek disasters. You must know the newest song is always praised the most. So steel your heart and listen to the song. Odysseus was not the only one who did not come back home again from Troy. Many were lost. Go in and do your work. Stick to the loom and distaff. Tell your slaves to do their chores as well. It is for men to talk, especially me. I am the master.” That startled her. She went back to her room and took her son’s uneasy words to heart. She went upstairs, along with both her slaves, and wept there for her dear Odysseus, until Athena gave her eyes sweet sleep

Oof. Not a good look for Telemachus. Hold your horses though because again, no shade to Wilson, but there are… a lot of things off here. From the first line, “Sullen Telemachus”. Sullen? Wilson is the only person I've seen call him sullen, although tell me if I'm wrong plz, but in nearly every other translation he is always thoughtful. Thoughtful or poised, or clearheaded. That really does show the kind of bias Wilson had when translating, because even though it’s a good translation, I do think this one exchange in particular is very misinterpreted, and at times a bit odd in the wording. Take note of the placement of the word uneasy, which I’ve always found to be fascinating especially compared to other translations. Looking at these translations, it's very clear how different Wilson's is from the rest of them.

Lattimore: Then the thoughtful Telemachos said to her in answer: ‘Why, my mother, do you begrudge this excellent singer his pleasing himself as the thought drives him? It is not the singers who are to blame, it must be Zeus is to blame, who gives out to men who eat bread, to each and all, the way he wills it. There is nothing wrong in his singing the sad return of the Danaans. People, surely, always give more applause to that song which is the latest to circulate among the listeners. So let your heart and let your spirit be hardened to listen. Odysseus is not the only one who lost his homecoming day at Troy. There were many others who perished, besides him. Go therefore back in the house, and take up your own work, the loom and the distaff, and see to it that your handmaidens ply their work also; but the men must see to discussion, all men, but I most of all. For mine is the power in this household.’ Penelope went back inside the house, in amazement, for she laid the serious words of her son deep away in her spirit, and she went back to the upper story with her attendant women, and wept for Odysseus, her beloved husband, until gray-eyed Athene cast sweet slumber over her eyelids

Looking at Lattimore, often considered the most accurate, the changes are immediately very obvious. The sexism remains, especially in the latter half, but Telemachus isn’t sullen, and most importantly, the way he addresses her is not disrespectful in the way Wilson’s is. Not what he says, but the manner in which he says it. Wilson’s modern language translation is very brief, and Telemachus as a result sounds harsh, while Lattimore makes it obvious that he is addressing his mother, and in the way that a son respected a mother in ancient Greece, respected her. However, the biggest difference is Penelope’s response. She is not “startled” and his words are not “uneasy”. In fact, it’s quite the contrary. He’s serious, and she can be interpreted as trusting him and being impressed at his stoicism, and it is fairly clear that she is awed and takes him seriously, and is not hurt by what he says. Also note the difference between “master” and “mine is the power in this household”. One is asserting dominance over his mother specifically, and the other is asserting dominance over his house, which coincidentally has 108 power hungry suitors in it. Huh. As for the sexism, he’s a man in Ancient Greece. Period-typical, BUT I am going to talk about my thoughts on that once we look at all of the translations (well not all of them but the ones we are discussing here).

Fitzgerald: But Telemakhos intervened and said to her: "Mother, why do you grudge our own dear minstrel joy of song, wherever his thought may lead? Poets are not to blame, but Zeus who gives what fate he pleases to adventurous men. Here is no reason for reproof: to sing the news of the Danaans! Men like best a song that rings like morning on the ear. But you must nerve yourself and try to listen. Odysseus was not the only one at Troy never to know the day of his homecoming. Others, how many others, lost their lives!" The lady gazed in wonder and withdrew, her son's clear wisdom echoing in her mind. But when she had mounted to her rooms again with her two handmaids, then she fell to weeping for Odysseus, her husband. Grey-eyed Athena presently cast a sweet sleep on her eyes.

Here we’re getting into a much more nuanced and interesting version of Telemachus and Penelope’s relationship, and this my personal favorite translation of the Odyssey. I adore Fitzgerald's language and highly recommend it. Again, Telemachus is not disrespectful at all to her, and again most importantly, Penelope does not take it that way. “Gazed in wonder and withdrew, her son’s clear wisdom echoing in her mind” Come onnn man. I would argue that this Penelope is much less fragile than Wilson's. She’s not startled at his “uneasy” words (sorry for harping on about that I just hate that word choice), she respects her son. And he respects her. This dynamic is much more interesting, because even though what Telemachus is saying is obviously not the most sensitive, she is not afraid nor resentful, and she sees him as brave and smart instead of rude/scary. (kind of like his father if you're feeling like drawing some parallels) Notable that Fitzgerald completely omits Telemachus’s sexist words here, but even then Telemachus does speak of men very often and bring up Penelope needed to deal with the song like the men do, so he's not completely erasing the hints of patriarchal elements. Now, let’s look at the last, and my personal favorite of this scene, and then finally into my interpretation of Telemachus’s remarks and Penelope’s reaction.

Pope: "Why, dearest object of my duteous love," Replied the prince, "will you the bard reprove? Oft, Jove's ethereal rays (resistless fire) The chanter's soul and raptured song inspire; Instinct divine? nor blame severe his choice, Warbling the Grecian woes with harp and voice: For novel lays attract our ravish'd ears; But old, the mind with inattention hears; Patient permit the sadly-pleasing strain; Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain, And in the public wo forget your own; You weep not for a perish'd lord alone. What Greeks now wandering in the Stygian gloom, With your Ulysses shared an equal doom Your widow'd hours, apart, with female toil And various labours of the loom, beguile: There rule, from palace-cares remote and free; That care to man belongs, and most to me." Mature beyond his years, the queen admires His sage reply, and with her train retires. Then swelling sorrows burst their former bounds, With echoing grief afresh the dome resounds; Till Pallas, piteous of her plaintive cries, In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes.

Ohh fuck that’s a sexy translation. That's the sexiest translation of all. If you've never read Pope and hate Telemachus, read Pope! I love Pope so much. Not the easiest to get through, but that man knew how to give us emotion. We’ve gone from bitchy sullen Telemachus to “dearest object of my duteous love”. Like?? That's his mom! That's literally the only person he has ever consistently been truly devoted to other than a dad who he's never met! And it goes both ways, like “mature beyond his years” godDAMN that’s so perfect. The reason I think “mature beyond his years” is by far the line that understands their relationship the most is simply because when we look at the context of his situation, let’s try to understand what Telemachus is trying to do. He’s NOT uneasy! He's occasionally pushing her away to show his status to the suitors (although it doesn't really work lmao they don't give a fuck), and she is consistently impressed by it. As for the argument that this is just as inaccurate to the original as Wilson’s, I disagree because there are a lot more common threads that connect Pope, Fitzgerald, and Lattimore than Wilson. The most obvious just in this scene alone is that Penelope is impressed by her son in varying different ways. Consistently when Telemachus tells her to leave and let him have the authority she is quietly impressed or surprised, and looking at the context of the situation we can understand why. Analysis time baybe.

The reason I keep bringing up the time period is because Penelope canNOT really do anything against these suitors. Odysseus is her husband, Telemachus is her son, they can do something. Women in ancient Greece did not have the power to stand up against 108 angry men, and that is reflected in the text. The way I have always interpreted Telemachus’s insistence on being the “man of the house” is that he needs to be. It is essential. If he is not the man of the house, he loses the freaking house. That is why Penelope is impressed here. Why she’s either “in amazement”, “gaz[ing] in wonder”, or “admir[ing] his sage reply” Telemachus is young, and is treated as such. In a lot of the translations he is not yet considered a man. His insistence on being the man of the house, and this scene in particular, imo is him just saying “let me try to take care of this. As the literal only guy left, I have to fill that space and get them to respect me or we are massively screwed." Is it toxic masculinity? Of fucking course! The man has no father in a patriarchal society, the daddy issues are real intense with this one. He has no male authority figure except for suitors who harass his mom, whom he defends constantly. I’m not going to quote anymore so just read the scene where the suitors find out his mom is lying about the loom. They tell him to kick her out and his response is literally “why would i do that that’s stupid” in everything except wilson’s. Telemachus, unfortunate as it is, NEEDS to be the man of the house or get his dad back. That is why his mom is always so impressed with him being bold, because him standing up for himself and asserting power as the man of the house is kind of crazy when you think about how there are 108 men totally willing to kill him in order to get what he is claiming as his own. Mature beyond his years guys! That’s why she says that! I love Pope so much!! Unfortunately when he tries to speak in front of the suitors, they completely shut him down and that’s when he makes his voyage bc he just kind of keeps crying and they do not give a shit lmao. Telemachus is obviously sexist in a lot of ways, all the men in ancient Greece believed that men had more decision making authority than women, but I blatantly disagree that he does not respect his mother. He is desperate to prove himself, to “be a man”, but at the end of the day he protects her and I think there’s something to be noted about him continually asking her to go to her room to avoid the suitors. In the scene I used to analyze, he asks her to leave and go to her room, but once the men start saying they want to lie with his mother, he tells them to stfu and that tomorrow they have to gtfo. These men are dangerous, and he as her son, and yes, as a man, probably wants to take care of him themself instead of watching his mother deal with them. Yes, he asks her to go to her room again towards the end but that’s because he and Odysseus are literally going to MURDER the suitors. He wants her to get out of the way, and again Penelope’s reaction to this says multitudes.

Fitzgerald: “She gazed in wonder, turned, and so withdrew, her son's clearheaded bravery in her heart.”

Come on gang. Is that the reaction of someone who feels like her son is disrespecting her? He's brave! He's choosing to deal with 108 men on his own who disrespect and actively want to kill him, and Penelope admires the hell out of it! Anyways, I love odyssey Telemachus. I think the Wilson interpretation makes me so sad because in nearly all of the other ones you can see how he just wants to protect her and keep their home. He wants to be the “man of the house”, yes, but he is literally facing 108 men who are most likely much older than him and who fully bully him constantly. He is trying to grow up because if he doesn’t they can claim the role of man of the house and both he and his mother are going to be in a terrible position. Also btw to anyone who says his reaction to Penelope’s silence at Odysseus’s return is bratty, I think it’s a fucking hilarious scene because you can tell he pictured his parents reuniting so happily and emotionally after 20 and is literally so frustrated when she’s just staring at him. Give him a break he just killed 108 people to see this reunion and she’s just staring silently, ofc he's a little pissy about it. To wrap it up, here’s some of my favorite Telemachus Penelope reunion scenes because anyone who can read this and say he doesn’t love her makes me sad.

Fitzgerald: “Back with me! Telemakhos, more sweet to me than sunlight! I thought I should not see you again, ever, after you took the ship that night to Pylos— against my will, with not a word! you went for news of your dear father. Tell me now of everything you sawl" But he made answer: "Mother, not now. You make me weep. My heart already aches—I came near death at sea.”

Literally mom stop crying you’re going to make me cry and I've been through so much, angsty teen behavior. Also look at her! She loves him! That's her boy! And that's his mom!

Pope: "Light of my eyes! he comes! unhoped-for joy! Has Heaven from Pylos brought my lovely boy? So snatch'd from all our cares ! —Tell, hast thou known Thy father's fate? and tell me all thy own." "Oh, dearest! most revered of woman-kind! Cease with those tears to melt a manly mind," Replied the prince: "nor be our fates deplored, From death and treason to thy arms restored.”

Brb fucking sobbing I love them leave them alone. Unhoped-for joy is fucking heartbreaking when you think about what Penelope's been through. Although peep the toxic masculinity at the end there. Read Pope. This whole long ass essay was begging you to read the Pope translation. Here's a cookie for making it to the end I love the odyssey and if nobody reads this i will be sad 🍪

#telemachus #the odyssey #penelope of ithaca #penelope #classics #literature #greek mythology #im so tired #i spent way too long on this #analysis

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macknshift · 5 months ago

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sophia jean "junior" lawrence . . . cobra kai.

THERE ARE SEVERAL UNIVERSAL TRUTHS. ONE IS THAT JUNIOR LAWRENCE IS UNLUCKY.

if she was lucky, she wouldn’t be living her life stressed out of her tiny little mind. she would be living life like sam larusso. she would be happy and functional and normal. instead, her dad is trying to live out his karate dreams with this guy that she met at school, (that she may or may not have a crush on,) and she feels this unease about all of it. she knows she’s not a fighter, but her dad really, really wants her to be. she’s a runner, and she’s damn good at it. it’s almost like it’s her dad’s fault.

2 YEARS LATER . . . and she’s still running. she hasn't picked up a lick of courage in her two years training in karate, and now her dad’s weirdo old sensei is back, and she feels like she’s literally spinning every time she sees miguel diaz. she’s not cobra kai. she never was, even with the championship title, and now she doesn’t feel like an ‘eagle fang’ either. it leaves her with a pain in her gut knowing that she’s not what anyone around her wants. she knows what she is, and her dad won't like it. noone will.

cobra kai → eagle fang → miyagi do. born 02/04/02. 5 foot 9. high school senior. twin of robby keene, daughter of johnny lawrence. 2019 all-valley girls champ. aquarius, infp, 6w5. best friend of demetri alexopoulos, "rival" of sam larusso.

soundtrack of my life . . . orange juice , noah kahan. nobody's soldier , hozier. idfc , blackbear. honest , the neighbourhood. come back for me , jaymes young. i bet on losing dogs , mitski.

SOME HOUSEKEEPING!

⤿ johnny is not an alcoholic idc. he took one look at himself when he started to drink and knew he didn't want to be like that for me. so u know. he was at one point (around the time i was born) but he got his shit in check when he remembered he had a kid to feed.

⤿ shannon took robby & johnny took me in this weird, fucked-up little "well we have two kids so one of us gets one and one gets the other" agreement. robby & i are aware of the others' existence but don't know any actual details about each other (like name, where they live, etc.)

⤿ i have to be very aware when i say that i made this dr when i was 18. i still choose to shift to it now as a 21 year old bc i want to, and i know ppl might have strong opinions on that, esp bc i do have miguel as my love interest, but i've been watching the show since i was 17, almost wrote a fanfic before discovering shifting (i might still write that fanfic!!) but you are open to feel any way about this. so. yeah. rlly only writing this bc shifttok has had fits w me in the past but whatever.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ posting this today bc it is robby and i's 23rd (crazy work) birthday!!! this is one of like. 4 drs my birthday isn't 1/29 so. had to post this in honor 😁😁 i looove this dr so dearly (and miguel, he's been my man since 2021...xolo maridueña HMU!!!!!) even though it's lowkey the most . . . complicated of my drs (aka i deal with a lot of shit & happen to be lowkey v unhappy for a bit of it LMFAOOOO) but i made it at 18 and i was not in a good place but i'm too attached to change anything ab it lol 😭😭 also i am lowkey serving lizzie young but that's beside the point

#mack makes things #mack's cobra kai dr #mack's intros #shifting motivation #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting #anti shifters dni #shifting to cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #miguel diaz x reader #(bc it might be a ff later on lol)

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knavesflames · 8 months ago

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hiii 🩷 i saw that you like raiden... i was wondering if we could have a fem!reader sucking her strap 🫣 maybe while wearing a collar & leash, and some praise from raiden?🩷 (she probably isn't good at it, but she tries!!)

- 🍰

Hi 🍰 anon!! Sorry this took literally so fucking long :( I also forgot to include the leash and the collar D: either way, reader sucking strap… yummy

Word count: 1022

Contents: reader sucks The Strap, mentions of praying, devotion to a god, yeah

Nsft utc!

For someone who meditated in isolation for 500 years, her skills in bed are.. about what you’d expect. She’s clumsy, unsure, but all she ever seems to want to do is please you. On occasion, when you request something she’s unsure she can fulfill, she orders the Shogun instead. Even though the Shogun is different, more robotic, less emotional, only saying and doing what she is programmed to, Ei watches, memorising the way she had memorised the Mosou No Hitotachi all those years ago. Of course, you’d much rather Ei do it herself, but the fact she’s a powerful god, the slayer of orobashi, means nothing when she’s alone with you.

“I do not understand your request. You want to.. suck it?” She asks softly, a tilt of her head causing her purple braid to sway gently with the movement. “I do,” you murmur, your finger gently tracing the vein on the strap she had so carefully crafted for you. Made from pure electro energy, it gave the perfect buzz when she needed it to, but only when she wanted it to. You loved it, and it gave you what you needed. Plus, the sounds you made when you were both alone in Tenshukaku sounded better than anything she had ever heard. “I think it would be fun. I think.. I don’t know. I want to try it.”

“I do not wish to hurt you, my petal. If you require the Shogun, you really must say—“ you cut her off with a firm shake of your head. You don’t want the Shogun. Quite frankly, you’re sick of the Shogun. You don’t want to look up, mid groan, only to see the puppet with its emotionless eyes. You want the woman you love, the god you worship so dearly. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t gotten on your knees in other ways for her, kneeling at the shrine and praying for unholy things. You wonder if she hears your prayers (she does. She listens with her mouth slightly open and her breath quickening, and yet, she can never do anything about it). You assume she does not. You love her anyway.

“I see. You do not wish to engage with the Shogun any longer.”

“No. I do not worship a puppet, I worship the divine being stood in front of me. Do the thing.”

“What thing?” Again, she’s confused. You sigh. You wonder why she has to be so clueless for a god so old and smart.

“Make it vibrate. I want you to feel good.” Ei’s problem is that she can’t accept pleasure. At least, not from anyone but herself. Long mediation sessions that only include thinking about the faces you make every time she hits the right spot, or kisses the right place. Watching over you with the omnipresence she so happily flaunts as you touch yourself to the thought of her (and, on occasion, being tag teamed by her and the Shogun. You’ll never ask).

“Oh.” Speechless, is the god who is so feared and respected by the nation. The nation who seems to have no idea how shy and flustered she can truly get. “Right. If you wish, then I shall oblige. Anything for you.”

When she fastens the hand crafted strap onto herself, her own breath hitches at the slight sensation. Neither of you know exactly how to work this situation with the small vibrations, but the fact you can feel your heartbeat between your own legs and the way you notice you can’t take your eyes off of it, you know that it’s the only thing you’re thinking about, and damn the archons if you don’t get to. Tentatively, you let your tongue move across the surface of it. Her violet eyes pierce down at you— she doesn’t mean for it to be, but it’s slightly intimidating nonetheless (maybe that’s what you like). You see the softness that lies beneath anyway.

“I think you need to hold my head, it’s— it’s big, and I’ve never done this before.”

“Hold your head? Is that not violent? I will not injure you for pleasure.” She states, but when you gently explain that it’ll help, her hand slowly moves to your hair. Her fingers, smooth despite the centuries of fighting, weave through your hair before gripping a small handful. Looking at you with her eyebrows knitted, waiting for a sign of consent, she stands still. When you give that sign, a murmured “please”, she begins to help your mouth and throat adjust by pushing you down. She’s gentle, almost a little too gentle, but the second you make that tiny little sound, she gasps. Your own eyes flutter to hers, a silent look of consent.

She’s hesitant at first, her hand barely guiding you, but when she starts losing herself at the sight of your eyes (beginning to water with what can only be described as tears of pure, unadulterated devotion), she lets herself loose, gently testing the waters with a roll of her hips. At the pleased choking sound you make, she does it again, and again, until she builds a rhythm, her breath coming out in little pants and stifled groans. Her lip is bitten in any attempt to hide the fact she’s enjoying this more than she thought she would. When a small whimper finally breaks through, she lets her head tilt back. Ei has decided she can’t look at you any longer or she’ll probably cum at the sight of you with spit on your chin and wet eyelashes.

Ei is a sensitive being, believe it or not. Unfortunately, for her and her ego, she does, in fact orgasm at the sight of you, the vibrations secretly doing nothing for her. She lies, and tells you that the vibrations did the trick. You know, it's different. You say nothing. You wouldn’t dare disrespect your god and accuse her of deceit.

And of course, when she notices the fact you’re throbbing, her hands gently pry your thighs apart, her braid tickling your ankles as she brings you to an eternity of pleasure.

#🍰 𝔄𝔫𝔬𝔫 #🔥 𝔎𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔟𝔬𝔵 #🔥𝔎𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 #raiden #raiden smut #raiden x reader #genshin impact #raiden shogun smut #raiden ei #raiden shogun #raiden genshin #raiden shogun x reader #raiden ei x reader #raiden omg the woman you are #mommy I mean what

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talesof-old · 1 year ago

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poly!jily celebrating with you. maybe over you getting into your dream college/job. they would be the most supportive partners ever and spoil you rotten for your achievement i just know it

- 🦌

sorry this took me a minute, my new work schedule has me all kinds of fucked up - i wrote more of a finding out you got your dream job but i might also write a graduation celebration as well

celebration | l.e. & j.p.

pairing(s): poly!jily x reader

warning(s): alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety bc of job interviews

word count: 658

masterlist

a/n: jily would totally spoil the fuck outta their partner, they’d be so obnoxious about it

“Oh?”

It was Lily’s voice that you heard in the other room. She’d answered the phone before you could even put your book down, so you’d decided to stay sitting.

“Hold on.”

Lily’s head poked around the corner. Her long copper hair fell over her shoulder, a curtain of red as she grinned. “They’re asking for you.”

You frowned, brushing off James’ inquisitive stare and setting your things aside. You crossed the room in no time, taking the phone from her to answer it.

“Hello,” you were quick to assure the person on the other line that it was in fact you. Lily and James stared with rapt attention, eyes wide. You’d been anticipating a call about a job for days now, frazzled and frustrated after three rounds of interviews. Surely, you’d said to James, if they were going to hire me they’d have done it by now.

James drew in a sharp breath as you smiled. The light in your eyes that he loved so dearly had returned. Excitement rattled his chest. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

Your face twisted into an expression of pure relief as you turned and nearly squealed. Lily was already beaming back at you. “I got it!”

Lily cheered, opening her arms and squeezing you tight when you fell into her embrace. You could practically feel the stress melting away as you rested your head on her shoulder. James wrapped his arms around the two of you, smothering you with kisses to your head. “I’m so proud of you, sweets.”

Your face heated and you turned to look at him. He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, the loud ‘smack’ seeming to echo through your head. Lily giggled at your flustered expression.

“It seems we need to celebrate. James, get the wine. We’ll go to dinner tonight, yeah? That Italian place you like?”

James waltzed away from the two of you, ready to pour three glasses as Lily pulled herself from your arms. “I knew you’d get it.” A wave of emotion rushed through you. To have the support of the most brilliant people in the world, your people, was truly a blessing you’d never take for granted. Tears turned your eyes glassy, though you were quick to blink them away. “I’m so glad the interviews are over.”

Lily laughed and laced your fingers together, pulling you into the kitchen where James stood filling three glasses. “To you, sweets. You never fail to impress us.” Lily kissed your cheek and took the glass of moscato from your boyfriend.

“My clever darling.”

You buried your face in your hands as James cooed at you. They were insufferable like this, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You alright, sweets? Surely handling a little praise is child’s play to you, hm? Would hate to have you hiding your face from me.” You reached out and gently shoved him, pretending to cringe away when he went to grab you. He gasped in mock offense. Lily hummed behind you, leaning against the counter while James all but chased after you.

“I can’t believe you’d push me away.” You removed your hands from your face to look at him. His lip was jutted out in a mock pout, but humor lined the planes of his face. You sighed, stepping into his outstretched arms, careful of the glass still in his hand.

He wrapped his arms tight around you, kissing your temple. “You’re lucky we love you.” The teasing lilt in his voice was enough to have you poking him hard in the stomach. He chuckled as you rested your cheek on his chest and grinned. How lucky you were, indeed.

+++

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luveline · 2 years ago

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more girl dad! hotch plsssss 😫😫😩😩😩

hotch navigates his small family ♡ mom!reader, 1k

Hotch speaks with a softness you could spin into silk. "That's okay, sweetheart. You fill this one out for me next."

You peer through the small gap in the door. Hotch is sitting behind his desk with a case file open in front of him, though you assume any photographs are sequestered away, because in his lap sits a small girl, a toddler with dark, neat hair and a matching frown.

"This one next," she says, picking up her crayon.

"That one next. Good job, I'll be finished in no time with you helping me."

"And we can have… uhm…"

"Rusks?"

"Yes, please."

Hotch leans down to kiss his daughter's small head gently. "You're so polite. How about we leave all this grown up work and get you a rusk now?"

She turns on his leg to slouch into his stomach. Hotch picks her up, the sleeves of his shirt tightening at his biceps as he wraps them behind her back and under her butt, pushing the office chair aside with a careful leg.

He sees you in the doorway and smiles.

"Hi, Mr. Hotchner," you say.

"Hi, mommy," he says, directing Jane's little body your way so she can see you where you're standing outside of his home office. "What are you doing?"

"Just coming to check on you both. And I need help with something."

You've stopped expecting him to pass you whatever kid it is he's carrying anymore. When Aaron is home, he's home, and he's dearly attached to his young daughter. He'd be attached to Jack if he weren't constantly out in the backyard looking for toads. He kisses your cheek, careful not to squish Jane between you. "What do you need help with?"

"I can't get the lid off of the pickles and I promised Jack I'd get him the biggest one."

"Why are our children so hungry?" he asks, putting his hand behind your shoulder as you walk down the stairs together. "Could it be because they both refuse to eat their breakfast, even when mommy says you'll regret it?"

"Breakfast?" Jane asks, blinking owlishly.

You smile at her. "No, sweetheart. Let's have rusks and milk, should we? With honey. Dad's gonna make it just the way you like it."

Jack is back in the house tracking mud footprints over every inch of the kitchen. Only then does Aaron pass you Jane. She's light and easy to hold, she doesn't wriggle or gripe. Despite her resting frown, she's a happy girl who's content to be passed from person to person. "Daddy?" she asks.

"Two seconds." Jack stands guiltily by the fridge, looking down at his shoes and then up at the ceiling, like looking away will get rid of the mess. "Jack, we've talked about this. You can play in the yard when it's wet if you take your shoes off before you come in."

"Well, I thought my shoes would be more dry," Jack says.

"You can't leave water everywhere. What if Y/N slipped while she was carrying your sister? Then they'd both be hurt."

"I guess," Jack says.

"We're gonna have to mop it up. You can help me, buddy. You remember where we put the mop bucket?"

You prop Jane on the island by the sink basin. She immediately puts her hand under the faucet, fascinated by the automatic water. "Wow, lots of fuss," you say.

Aaron helps Jack take off his messy shoes and puts the mop bucket into the basin with a heap of praise for Jane's assistance, such a good helper. He lifts Jack up to squirt cleaner into the water. He's still laughing when he sets him down.

"Rusks, dad?" Jane asks.

Aaron almost barrels you over trying to hold her, lifting her back into his arms to kiss her soft cheek. "I am, I promise." He gives you a pleading look. "Honey–"

"Yeah, okay. I never do the mopping, anyways. Me and Jack will learn together."

You can hear him drowning Jane in love and sweetness as you and Jack get to work. "It's like this, babe, we push the mop head into the drain so we can soak up all the muddy water, then rinse and repeat." You drop your voice to a whisper, hands slack on the handle. "Don't worry, I'll do all the hard work."

"Can we still have pickles?" Jack asks.

"Of course we can. Dad's not mad, he just doesn't like the mess. Quicker we clean up, the sooner we can have a snack. You're not super hungry, are you?"

"I'm starving."

You put the mop back in the bucket, looking Jack up and down. He looks like he could use some proper warming after his time outside in the late September cold, pale cheeks rosy and his nose kissed with chill.

"Aaron? Me and Jack have to pause the mopping, we're hungry."

"Pretend I believe you and sit down. I'll make you something."

"We really are hungry, dad."

Jack takes your hand and pulls you toward the kitchen table. It's an organised chaos, your work things, Aaron's coat, Jack's science project. Underneath it lays a carpet of baby toys and Jane's washables; she plays under the table often to be close to her dad when he's working and you're cooking, or he's cooking and you're reading.

You put him in a seat next to the highchair where Jane spoons warm rusk-mush into her mouth hurriedly. Aaron has secured a baby pink bib around her neck with a safety pin and filled her little sippy cup with watered down orange juice. She looks as happy as you've ever seen her as she misses her own mouth.

You fill Aaron's seat as he vacates it to watch her. You and Aaron are good at filling each other's gaps, parenthood akin to the world's most loving game of musical chairs, and you're just as good at being together, you'd say —he squeezes your shoulders as he leans down. "For the record, you know how to mop. I just don't see why you should."

"That's the right idea," you say happily, laughing as he kisses your cheek.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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alotofpockets · 11 months ago

Text

Out of pocket | Renee Rapp x Actress!Reader

Where an interviewer makes out of pocket comments and Reneé stands up for you

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

Booking Mean Girls was your breakthrough, you had some small roles in TV shows here and there, but getting to play the main character in this rendition of a movie you loved dearly, is what put your acting career on the map.

Your girlfriend and co-star, Reneé, had helped prepare you for your first big interview. In the preparations she had also mentioned that interviewers could be a hit or a miss, and that there were reporters out there that definitely should not be in the industry. You didn’t take the warning lightly, but assumed your first ever interview would not be with an interviewer that was a part of the minority that didn’t treat people right.

Nothing in the kind and welcoming introduction when you got to the studio could have prepared you for the change that was coming your way. With the camera rolling and the spotlights on you, you were ready to start the interview. Reneé was to your side, and the interviewer sat off to the side behind the camera’s.

“Hello and welcome back to another interview! Today we have Reneé Rapp and Y/n Y/l/n, two stars of the newest Mean Girls movie. Welcome girls, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” You and Reneé both smile, “Thank you for having us.” You say for the both of you.

“Let’s dive right in. Reneé, how excited are you for the release of your new film?” Renee immediately lit up, “Yeah, I am super excited. It has been so much fun being able to portray Regina again, I honestly cannot wait for everyone to see the movie.”

The interviewer nods and moves to you, “And Y/n, how has it been to work on your first big movie set?” You were still a little nervous, so you looked over to Reneé for comfort. Her reassuring smile was all it took for you to feel more comfortable. “It was an incredible experience. Everyone on the team was amazing, and I learned so much while working on creating a movie that I cannot wait to share with the world.”

“Reneé, obviously you’ve been in the spotlight for quite a bit.” She nods in agreement, “How was it working with a relatively new face like Y/n.” Your girlfriend looked over to you with nothing but love in her eyes. “It was great to see in action, she brought an energy to the team that was exactly what we needed. She is very talented, and working with her was amazing. I hope to be privileged enough to be able to work with her again.”

“The fans can’t seem to stop shipping your characters, as well as the two of you. Would you like to share the story of how you met?” Since Reneé answered the last question, you took this one. “We had met a couple times shortly though a mutual friend, but really connected during the audition process for Mean Girls.” Reneé nodded along with you, “You could say that the chemistry read was off the chart with us.” She adds with a wink, that leaves you giggling.

The ease you were feeling during the interview was quickly gone with the next question that was asked. “Y/n, how are you dealing with being in the spotlight? Are you keeping up with all the attention, or is it overwhelming for someone with your background?” You had been very open about your past, and not growing up with a lot of money, but the way this question was formulated made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh eh it’s definitely a big change, but I am grateful for my team, coworkers like Reneé, and the fans for accepting me into this world and supporting me in my career.” The interviewer nods, and you get a feeling he wasn’t done just yet.

“Speaking of change, it must be quite an adjustment from your humble beginnings to now being the lead in what is expected to be a hit movie. Do you think you would’ve made it this far if you weren’t dating someone in the industry, who has the proper experience?”

The question takes the both of you by surprise. Reneé reaches out her hand and places it on your upper leg, to offer you some kind of comfort. “I believe I’ve earned my place here.” You were not going to let him paint this picture where you got everything handed to you on a silver plate. “Every audition, every role, and every late night spent studying lines, it brought me here. I have worked very hard to be a part of this industry, as has every actor I’ve ever met.”

The interviewer smirks, clearly not satisfied with your answer, “Alright, but don’t you think that being in a relationship with someone as established as Reneé might give you an unfair advantage? I mean, how do you think people perceive your success? As earned, or just as a result of dating your girlfriend?”

Reneé is ready to burst, but you stand up before she can say anything. “I refuse to be disrespected like this, I’ve worked too hard to let someone like you undermine my accomplishments. This interview is over.” With that you rip off the microphone pack and walk out of the room.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Y/n is an incredibly talented actress, who has earned every bit of success through her own hard work. The fact that you’d suggest otherwise says more about you than it does about her. Like she said, this interview is over and we do not sign off on you using any of this.” After defending you, Reneé rushes off to find you.

She found you pacing the hallway. The moment your eyes find hers, you rush into her arms. “I am so sorry he said all of that. You worked very hard to get where you are today, and I am so proud of you. I am also very proud of you for standing up for yourself, I know that isn’t always easy in situations like this.”

You shake your head, “Who does he think he is, asking these kinds of questions?” Reneé shakes her head. “A low life who wants to make money off of other people’s misery, but don’t worry, I told him that we do not give him the right to use the footage of today.”

Reneé took you home, where you spent a relaxing afternoon together, full of cuddles and comfort. This was definitely not the first big interview you had in mind, but there was nothing you could change about it. Together with Reneé, you had gotten both your managers together and explained everything that happened, and to let them know that neither one of you would ever agree to interview with the company again.

A few days later, against all your expectations he had released the interview against your wishes, and painted you as the bad guy. You were angry, and were in constant meetings with your management to figure out what your options were.

Between calls Reneé got the perfect opportunity, so you got both your managers on the phone again. “Drew Barrymore just called and said that if we want to, she wants to give us the opportunity to talk about the interview on her show. She wants to give us a platform to create change in the industry.” You take over from your girlfriend. “Yeah, we already talked about it amongst ourselves, and would love to grasp this opportunity. I know how horrible it was for me, and I want to be a part of making a change.”

Both managers agree, and the next day you are on Drew’s show. The experience of being interviewed by her was a stark contrast to your first interview, and you were glad to know that there were good people out there.

Drew let you speak on what happened at the interview, and how they used the footage while you had retracted your consent for them to use it. “And Y/n, have you seen the reactions of your fans?” You shake your head, “No, I’ve honestly tried to ignore everything surrounding the release of that video.” Drew nods, “That is very fair. I have a compilation of a few things we have found online, and would love to show it to you. Only if you are up for it of course, it’s up to you.”

You end up agreeing, and Drew instructs her crew to play it on the big screen. It starts off with a few screenshots of YouTube comments and tweets of fans defending you, which already got to you. You watched the screen with teary eyes, and leaned into Reneé for comfort. She wraps her arm around you and pulls you even closer.

Then the video shows some of your co-stars defending your honour, as well a bunch of people from the industry. At that point you could no longer keep your tears in. Reneé kissed your shoulder, and rubbed her free hand over your arm.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Drew says when she notices the tears on your cheeks. You wipe them away, “Happy tears, don’t worry. Thank you for showing me this, and thank you to everyone that defended my honour. Your support means the absolute world to me.”

The rest of the interview was focussed on your upcoming movie, in the form of a redo from the failed interview. This time you and Reneé both felt comfortable and safe, all thanks to Drew and her team.

With this interview you were sad that it had to come to an end, but walked off feeling content. Drew listened to everything the both of you had to say, and shared the same enthusiasm as the two of you did about the new movie.

“Thank you.” You say to Reneé, once you’re in your dressing room. “What for?” She asks with her brows slightly furrowed. “Just for always being there for me. I love you.” She smiles and pulls you in for a hug. “I love you too, and I will always have your back.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp imagine #reneé rapp x reader #mean girls #mean girls x reader #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader

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graciedollie · 5 months ago

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Hiya, I just read your Grayson X reader head cannons and I miss her so much. Could you please write something where she comes home stress after a long day and snaps it reader but then makes it up to her?

Heavy Moments

Pair: Grayson x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was a pretty quiet day for you as you didn’t have work today, but you couldn’t say the same for your wife. You greeted her with your usual kiss-hug greeting as always, but it felt off as you could feel her seething. Though once a steaming kettle is filled too much, it all spills—always at the wrong time, unfortunately.

Warnings: Nothing too drastic or whatever, Grayson is just upset from work and yells at you, but she makes up for it at the end <3

A/N: I miss her too anon :( and i hope you enjoy this!! (lowkey might be rushed🙏🏾)

The sky was draped with a orange-purple hue brush as the sun soon started to turn in for the night, drifting off to let the graceful moon rise in the sky. It was a cold night that night which prompted you to start a nice fireplace—adding more coziness and warmth to your lovely home you shared with your beloved wife.

You couldn’t help, but worry as it became later as the minute ticked by—leaving your mind in race with only the worst scenarios playing out in your little head. Her being an enforcer did take a bit much on her, having to constantly deal with arrests and other dangerous things.

Of course you trusted that she would always return home safely, but sometimes you had your doubts and that sucked—bad. Being with Grayson for a good while has been such an amazing experience, though you’ve had your little bumps in the road here and there. You both loved each other dearly and wouldn’t trade for the world.

You started to move around the house to find things to preoccupy your wandering mind—sweeping, wiping the kitchen counter, rearranging decorations and etc. It was working, but not so much as you were still having your nerves frazzled. They were only getting worse until you finally heard the front door creak open—presenting a tired, upset Grayson open the front door.

A smile immediately made its way to your lips, swiftly moving over to her as you have her the usual greet—tight hug, kiss, and more kisses. You did just that, but you could feel her tense in your grasp a little, which made you pull away as you caressed her cheek, “Rough day I take it?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Ok. A bit rude there. You furrowed your brows tightly at her snarky remark, but brushed it off as she was just stressed and it just slipped out. “Clearly I can. Do you wanna talk about it-“

“No. I don’t, ok? If I wanted to talk, I would have—just…just let me be.” Her voice was raspy and stern, making it clear that she was getting even more annoyed at you—which she didn’t really show much. You stared at her with a expression of shock and a bit hurt, to be honest.

You were used to her being a bit patient and not like thai, but I mean she did just have to handle the most stressful case AND deal with some backlash about ‘not doing her job correctly’. It was frustrating and it pissed her off—greatly, rightfully so.

But that didn’t make it any better when she snapped at you.

“I was just asking…” You trailed off as you swallowed back the tightening lump in your throat before returning her own energy. “You don’t have to be rude about it, Gray. Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me-“

“Jesus Christ—can you just leave me alone for 5 minutes! That’s all I want of you right now, but you can’t even give me that!”

Ok. Ouch. That hurt. She never really raised her voice at you and if she felt that she was, she would step away to take a couple deep breath, but obviously that wasn’t enough today.. You felt the words die off on your tongue, tasting the bitter of hurt taunting your tongue. I mean, yeah, she had her days, but it was rare for her to yell.

“Alright.”

Was all you said before you clenched your first and stormed your way down the hall to the bedroom, shutting the door behind you before taking a seat on the edge of the bed—trying to grasp the fact that she actually had snapped at you, yelled at you in that fact. You sat at the bed, staring at your hands as you twitched your lips in a scowl—feeling your nerves fry gradually.

Grayson watched as you stormed away before she looked away with a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples tenderly as she slowly calmed herself down gradually—trying to get herself together before she went back to check on you as she didn’t want to just go after you right away.

You both needed a moment to cool off.

A couple minutes had passed as you still sat at the foot of the bed, fumbling with your nails as you were in pretty deep thought. You tried to calm your own nerves down and not think too much of it. She didn’t mean to yell, right? It was an accident. You didn’t mean to push her, but you really didn’t. All you wanted to do was to make sure she knew you was worried and was there for her—though it seemed it was a bit too much.

Especially after a long day, but even so..

Your ears perked up as you heard the bedroom door slowly creak open, revealing a guilty Grayson standing at the door—grasping the doorknob tightly before she slowly made her way in and sat down beside you. She watched how you tensed a bit, but there was a hint of softness in your gaze as your eyes met hers befor averting away.

It was a tense, thick silence in the air—thick enough to cut with a knife. You both wanted to speak, but I mean, you were both a bit surprised that she yelled at you. Even she was surprised at herself since it was rare she ever yelled at you. You would glance at her every now and then, opening your mouth to speak—though it was only silence until she finally spoke.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, love. You only wanted to see if I was ok and I know you care a lot, but sometimes I just need a little time alone to myself, hm?” Her voice had that usual raspy, husky tone to it along with a edge of gentleness and care—as if she was practically softening up.

Your eyes flickered over at her with a glint in your eyes, soaking in the warmth of her words. You stayed silent for a moment before letting out a sigh, settling your head against her shoulder, “I’m sorry too…I should’ve let you have your space too, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, I didn’t mean to, ya know, overwhelm you? But you also didn’t have to yell at me either..”

She nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around you to bring you closer to her before she placed a loving kiss to your head—a gesture you’ve always been fond of since you’ve been together. You were happy you both apologized and talked it out as other couples would just hold a grudge and just go on about it with silly tactics, but not you two—especially since Grayson couldn’t bare the fact of going to sleep with you and you were upset at her.

How could she do such a thing?

“Oh, I know, love…I know and I’m sorry, but at least we’ve talked, hm? Communicate. We won’t have this little…run-in anymore, no?” She whispered softly, gazing at you with a loving glance as she brushed her thumb over the skin of your cheek—eliciting you to lean into the warm, welcoming touch.

“No…we won’t..”

“Good..”

She pulled away to only pull you into a warm, tender hug as she held you close—engulfing the scent of your perfume as you snuggled up to her. The night went on yo be a nice, relaxing night for the both of you. Relaxing in a warm bath. Talking about whatever came to mind. And just being two lovebirds in love <3

It wasn’t until the beautiful morning came, you had rose from your sleep, of course you knew that Grayson was already up and out for her usual duties—as always. You looked around as you grunted while shuffling out the bed and throwing your robe on to head in the kitchen. And that’s when you saw it…

It was a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers, wrapped in a lovely, vintage newspaper that contrasted the delicate flowers. Along with that, the wrapped boxes and bag sat along side it—wrapped with your favorite color. The thought of her doing this made you fall even in more in love with her—God she was going to be the death of you.

It was also a little note on the side of the box, picking it up to read it as your eyes scanned over the words, “I hope you’re still not mad at me, Love. But just in case..”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the small note, placing a kiss to it before you sat it down and started to sort through the gifts she graced you with.

You could never stay mad at her <3

Taglist!!

@sillygirl-lol

hope you enjoyed dolliessss (so so sooooo sorry this took so long to post 💔)!!!

#graciedollie ᯓᡣ𐭩 #https://graciedollie #lesbian #gracieasks!!#wlw #arcane #wlw blog #arcane league of legends #send asks #grayson arcane #enforcer grayson #grayson x you #grayson x reader #small fluff #grayson fluff #arcane x reader #˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—#gracie talks!!

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 4 months ago

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Hii! I loved your Frankie Morales fic. Hit a little too close to home 🥹🥹 if you're taking requests, would you write something about him where reader's parents don't like Frankie (they act fine when he's there but when reader is alone with them they absolutely drag him). Reader is at the same time angry and sad about this because she loves Frankie dearly and knows he's a good man even though he has a past of drug problems. Yet she avoids talking to Frankie about her parents comments because she doesn't want upset him, but it ends up gnawing at her heart because she knows that even though she tries to downplay it, Frankie knows they don't like him. A little angst, Frankie feeling undeserving of reader's love, reader feeling like shit because of that, but over all fluff with both of them reassuring eachother that they love eachother and that's what really matters. Thxxxx

dinner. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Warnings: angst, toxic parents, crying, some fluff at the end, mentioning leaving the military and problems with alcohol and/or drugs

A/N: we're staying in the chapter on difficult relationships with parents. okay, we can do this. i hope i managed to fulfill your request, sweetie.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Frankie Morales masterlist]

"So, what's wrong with him?"

You looked up from your plate and at your father. He didn't take his eyes off the steak he was now meticulously cutting, but the question he had asked still hung in the air.

"What do you mean?" you asked, hoping you could turn the question into a joke.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." your father mumbled and took a sip of beer.

This evening was going to be tragic from the start. And even though you and Frankie really tried, your parents were a pain in the ass. You warned him, you said it was pointless, but he was so eager to meet them. "Why wouldn't I want to meet your parents, cariño?" he would say. "They created the person I love, so they must be wonderful people." You would bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying harsh words like "Because I already know them, you don't yet."

They showed up at your house before Frankie got home from work. Thank goodness! He didn't hear your father's critical comments that he threw at every single thing in your house - the kitchen door not closing properly or the dent in the wall in the hallway, those were the least of them.

Your mother glanced with distaste at the photo of Frankie and his friends from the army. You didn't know what was wrong with the faces of Santi, Will and Benny, but maybe she meant the beer they were holding in their hands.

When Frankie rushed into the house, you smiled nervously. Luckily, he didn't notice the tense atmosphere inside. He shook your parents' hands and ran upstairs to take a quick shower and change.

"Does he take that disgusting hat with him everywhere?" your mother hissed when he reappeared, kneading the familiar object in his hands.

"It's just a hat, mom." you said, throwing your phone and keys into your purse.

"Yeah, you wore one like that when you were nine."

And it was like that all evening, and even when you all went out to eat. Your parents were polite and nice around Frankie, but whenever he was out of sight they said really nasty things about him.

"So he's not working for the army anymore?" your mother asked, even though she had known about it for a long time. "I wonder why they kicked him out..."

"Alcohol or drugs, or both." your father stated. “That’s right, my dear. You can tell right away."

"Dad!" you hissed, glancing towards the toilet where Frankie had disappeared. "He really likes his job, he's great at it and he's improving."

"Sure, he's just pulling the wool over your eyes. In a few years you'll wake up with a bunch of kids and an empty bank account."

You rubbed your temple with your hand, feeling a slowly growing headache. You didn't tell your parents anything about Frankie's problems, it was the past. You also knew that if they found out they would only look at him through the prism of his problems.

"Can you even afford to eat here?" your mother conspiratorially leaned across the table "You could have told me, I would have brought you some..."

"Stop it!" you raised your hand in a warning gesture "We're doing great, are we happy or is that not enough?"

"You've always had low standards." your father summed it up and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

However, as soon as Frankie was by your side you tried to hide it by plastering a sweet smile to your lips.

"Did I miss something?" he asked politely.

"It's just family gossip. Nothing special, honey." your mother smiled and reached for the water "We're so happy to finally meet you. Our daughter spoke highly of you, now we know why."

Another bite of food forced its way down your throat.

You returned home late, in silence. As soon as you said goodbye to your parents and closed the car door, you felt the emotions from the whole day start to drain from you. Every word you heard was like a splinter under your skin, and although you tried to smile, not to let Frankie know that something was wrong, you were sure that he must have sensed it.

"Long day, huh?" he mumbled as you threw your keys into the bowl by the door and took off your shoes.

"Mhm, I'm dreaming of a shower and a bed." you replied. "I hope my parents didn't scare you." you added, trying to sound carefree.

"Naah, they're not that bad." Frankie took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, making it look like an adorable mess. "They seem nice. And I think they like me."

"Who wouldn't like you?" you replied quietly.

He nodded, then extended his hand to you, and you both shuffled to the bedroom. It wasn't until he emerged from the bathroom, and you were already sitting on the bed in shorts and a t-shirt, rubbing sweet lotion into your legs, that Frankie spat out something that had been bothering him all evening.

"Do your parents think I don't deserve you?"

You looked at him with wide eyes, and he knew he had guessed right. "W-Why do you think that?"

"There was something in the look in their eyes." He shrugged, then pulled on a t-shirt and sat down on the bed. "Don't get me wrong, baby. They were nice and all, but... There was something in the look in their eyes."

"You shouldn't worry about them. Neither of us should, and..."

"So they said something? I knew it."

"Fuck, Frankie..." you groaned. "They... They're like that."

"Or maybe they're right? Maybe I really don't deserve you?"

You sat up abruptly closer to him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know." He was a tall guy with broad shoulders, but at that moment he seemed to shrink. "I've been thinking about it all evening. You're beautiful, smart, and funny. You could have any guy, so why me?"

"Because I want you, Francisco." You replied, placing your hand on his cheek and turning his face toward you. "I love you and I want you. No one makes me feel as good as you do."

"I'm sure someone..."

"Oh, shut up!" you rolled your eyes, but after a moment you fell silent, because the lump in your throat was already unbearable. "I felt like shit this whole evening... I don't know what I expected. I thought they could be nice, that they would see how much you care about me and everything. I was deluding myself..."

Now he was the one who touched your cheek tenderly and even though you resisted, he managed to make you look at him.

"That was a shitty evening." he stated, and you chuckled as a few tears ran down your cheek "But you have to know that no matter what kind of parents you have, I still fell head over heels for you. You know that, right?"

You shrugged.

"What? You don't know that?" Frankie frowned "What a terrible boyfriend I am! I have to fix this!"

And before you knew it, you were lying on your back, giggling as Frankie climbed on you, kissing every inch of you, no matter if it was your skin or your shirt. His stubble scratched you pleasantly as he kissed your neck, strong arms hugging you tightly, and your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I love you." he murmured, kissing your chin. "I love you." Now he kissed your cheek. "I love you." finally he touched your lips too.

You looked into his wonderfully brown eyes, the ones you loved so much, the ones that looked at you with such love. You brushed the unruly locks of hair from his forehead.

"I love you, Francisco Morales. More than anything in the world." you said quietly, and he smiled. "And that's all that matters."

"I love you too, hermosa. I would do anything for you, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I do." you whispered. "So kiss me finally, Morales."

"Yes, ma'am."

You chuckled again as he pressed his lips to yours. With him, everything was better, sweeter, easier. With him you could do anything, you against the world.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco morales x reader

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zyonsay · 1 year ago

Text

Een Nacht JOOST KLEIN

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: An unplanned encounter led to a fun adventure.

Reader: Male, Tattoed

Warnings: NSFW, Unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol, cigarettes

Now playing: 'One of the girls' by The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp & JENNIE from BLACKPINK

AN: Hello everyone <3 i've been gone for a while and i still dont have much time to write, but i got overcome by my joost klein obsession.. again. I hope y'all enjoy this. I expected to write like 2k words, it ended up being 4,5k. Take care!

#Justice for Joost

...7 Missed Calls from ‘Millie’

Your best friend and roommate had left you hanging for a one-night stand, to put it shortly.

Tonight was Joost Klein’s concert in your area and you had bought these tickets ages ago. Both you and your roomie were huge fans of his music and planned on having the most amazing time ever. That was until she texted you, a few minutes after the time you had planned to meet at.

‘Hey dude, im soooo sorry, but I just met this really amazing dude at the library and I really wanna take him home ymwim?? I hope you still have an amazing time, byeeee!’

Saying you were angry was a brutal understatement. Absolutely fuming fit better. But nevertheless, you had so much fun at the concert. You didn’t need Millie to have a good time, you hope he at least fucked her well if she’s going to miss a Joost Klein concert for that. But this isn’t about Millie, this is about you jumping around all night and screaming your heart out.

All good things must come to an end and so did the concert. Joost thanked the crowd dearly and seemed really happy with the performance. Now that you had gathered your stuff, you pulled out your phone and prepared to walk to the bus station. Should be a 23-minute walk. An interesting insta reel popped up on your phone, your eyes were practically glued to the screen. That was until you inelegantly collided with someone. “Oh, I’m sorry!” You had your phone in a death grip, it had almost dropped to the floor. “My bad, I didn’t look where I was going!” Then you were greeted with the sight of a messy bleach blonde head of hair and two bright, blue eyes. This was Joost Klein himself. +A shy smile crept onto your face; you didn’t know what else to say. “Yeah, I’d be shocked too if I was standing in front of a celebrity.”, his attitude seemed cocky, but in a playful way. He was beaming, his grin as bright as the moon. Without thinking much, you opened your mouth to speak: “haha, exactly.” The sarcasm was dripping from your voice. “You seem happy, the concert went really well.”, you offered him a genuine smile. “Yes! I loved the crowd.”, his eyes lit up, “the numbers could be better though, at least my manager says so. But that’s just how the art industry is.” He kept rambling to you like he already knew you for ages. “Sorry, you probably don’t care. Oh yeah, and I forgot to ask for your name.” Joost lazily smiled at you. “I’m Y/n. I totally get that thing about the numbers. It’s difficult when you’re doing art as a job.” His gaze softened slightly. “It’s hard bringing in new fans when there are new artists every day. There’s always a younger, more talented artist out there.” His smile turned into a rather sad one, maybe he wasn’t so happy after all? “But I think you got something special going. Something different than those soundcloud rappers, you know?”, you chuckled lightly, “I think your music is true art.” For a moment he seemed to taste your words on his tongue. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while. “You seem like you do art too?”, Joost raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. “Yeah, I’m not that relevant though.” An awkward feeling crept over you; you scratched the back of your neck. “Ah, I don’t wanna hear it.” He barely let you finish your sentence. “I bet your really talented. I mean just your vibe right now!” Joost was now standing pretty close to you. He tended to close the distance between him and the person he’s talking to. Personal space is not in his vocabulary.

A quick glance to your phone screen revealed that your bus was about to leave in three minutes. Doesn’t matter, you’re striking up a good conversation with one of your favorite singers right now. “That’s so nice of you. People rumor that you’re kinda rude, but I haven’t seen any of that yet.” The left corner of his lips curled up, that was probably not the first time he heard about that rumor. “That’s because a lot of people who meet me say the dumbest things I’ve ever heard and then get mad when I don’t answer nicely.” He then intently looked at your eyes. “But you haven’t said anything bad yet.” Now he was smiling brightly again. “Hmm, so I gotta try harder to get on your bad side huh?”, he chuckled heartily. “You’re chill. I like you, I don’t get that with most people I meet.” He for sure is a big personality. “Oh my god, you should totally get your nose pierced. Would suit your look!” Admittedly, you have been thinking about getting a septum for a while now. But until shortly ago, you were working an excruciating office job, where piercings, colorful hair, gel nails and tattoos were strictly forbidden. That didn’t stop you from getting inked though. You waited to do your arms until you quit your job, but otherwise your whole body was littered with small and relatively big tattoos.

“I already got a few tattoos though; I worked an office job until recently. Getting a new piercing would’ve been difficult to hide.” Joost curiously eyed you, in search of any tattoos that might be exposed at the moment. “What kind of tattoos do you have then?”, he caught a glimpse of some ink under your shirt. “Loads actually. But my first one was a moth under my chest, I really like that one.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah? Let me see.” You could see right through him but decided to entertain his idea for a minute. Pulling down the hem of your loose button up, whose top few buttons were undone, you revealed a small part of the moth’s wings and head. With a gentle grin you declared that he would have to pay to see more. His smile now turned into a light smirk. “How much would I need to pay to see the rest?” Quickly, you quipped back: “How much does a drink in this town cost?” He now inches slightly away from you, he was all up in your space until now. “A drink, huh?”, he mused, “I’ll buy you the whole damn bottle.”

Joost guided you to one of his favorite bars in the area. His hand was on the small of your back when you two enterer the establishment, which seemed slightly out-of-place for a first meeting. “You know, I’ve never paid so much to see a tattoo before.” He teased while he ordered a bottle of vodka and two glasses. You really hope he wasn’t a creep, cuz this seemed like a red flag. “I must be pretty special then”, you grinned while ogling the clear liquid. The blond was now swirling the vodka in his glass. He chuckled, “Yeah I’d say you’re pretty special.” Then he avoided your gaze. He was wondering how the rest of that tattoo looked like. And maybe it wasn’t the only thing he’d get to see tonight.

The swig you took from your glass made you grimace. Vodka was one of your top alcohols, but you had to be honest with yourself and admit it tastes like hand sanitizer. “Don’t tell me it’s too strong for you.”, he teasingly smiled at you. His blue eyes darted towards your hand, which was resting atop the wooden bar. In a smooth motion, he interlinked his pinky with yours. ‘Drink je moed met alcohol’ or whatever the saying is. Nevertheless, Joost felt more forward now. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled. But the alcohol for sure gave him an extra bravado. He carefully inched closer to you. You could tell he was getting a bit woozy, even if he was lazily smiling at you. “You ok?”, a small chuckle escaped you. He intertwined his hand fully with yours now. The look in his face was soft and affectionate. A bit wobbly, but very sweet. You got a bit closer; the tips of your noses were almost touching. Only a few centimeters apart. Joost kept his eyes fixated on you, his breath hitched. His ice blue eyes seemed to roam you whole face. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, the proximity was intoxicating to him. Joost’s eyes fluttered shut and you waited for a few seconds, messing with the dutchman in front of you. His eyes opened again and saw you grinning teasingly at him. “Really? We’re doing this now?” A hint of disappointment flashed across his face for a split second, but soon after mischievousness played in his eyes.

The two of you seemed to be getting along well, chatting and laughing with each other which felt like hours on end. Your knee was now touching Joosts and his hand has landed on your thigh. He slightly squeezed it, trying to give you a signal of what he wanted. “What?”, you grinned knowingly. The blond playfully huffed but the smile on his face remained. “You know what.” He tried to play it cool, but the intent look in your dark eyes made his adrenaline levels shoot through the roof. Sneakily, you slid a hand behind Joost’s neck. “I’m usually not into blondes.” With that you caught his lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. The man practically melted into your touch, he held onto your shoulder as if he’d fall off the barstool if he didn’t. Maybe it was the alcohol or the massive interest he had for you, but Joost was kissing you fervently. A desperate noise escaped him. One of your hands rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating rapidly. As you parted lips, Joost tried to calm his erratic heart. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. His cologne smelled amazing, even after messing around on stage the whole evening. The huffs of your hot breath sent shivers down his spine. He gently kissed your neck, you gasped and flushed ever so slightly. The bastard even slid a hand under your shirt, feeling your lower back. You let the hand on his chest wander a bit, earning a content gasp. “I’m loving this, but can we go somewhere more… private?” Joost let out a small laugh. “Yeah of course! My place or yours?”, he grinned at you. “My roommate is probably getting laid right now, so could we go to your place?”, he nodded with a sweet, drunken smile. “I’d love to take you to mine. It’s just a few minutes away from here actually.”

Either he was very bad at math, drunk or both at the same time. The apartment building was at least a 18-minute walk outside the city center. The breeze messing with your hair was fresh, a shiver ran down your spine. Joost risked a glance over at you from time to time, his stomach was churning with an excited flutter. Even though your gaze was directed straight ahead, you noticed the blond eyeing you. The faintest shade of rose feathered your cheeks, you bit the inside of your lip from nervousness. That didn’t go unnoticed, as Joost laughed brightly while pulling you into a side hug, still keeping up the pace. “You’re so flustered.”, he chuckled. Playfully, you slapped his arm. “Quit it.”, his smile widened and for a moment it seemed as if the sun was shining. “Try and make me.”, now his expression turned devious. “I’ll make you regret being this cocky.”, a pleased smile spread across your face. He wanted to provoke you a tiny bit more. “I’d love to see you try.” He brought you both to a halt in front of a building and opened the door. Joost looked at you and brought a hand to the small of your back. “Let’s get inside.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you up the staircase to the door of his apartment. His hands were slightly shaky from anticipation and the keys in his hand rattled and clinked.

After a few seconds he had finally unlocked the door and led you in, he didn’t bother to flick the light on. You turned around, faced with Joost’s back, a click indicated that he had closed the door. You slide your arms around his torso and press up against him. His breath hitched as you began trailing sweet kisses down his jaw and neck. Joost, now reddened and smiling lazily, turned around and slid his hands down to hold your hips. His scent was fogging up your mind, and you couldn’t help but be excited. Once again, you pecked his neck, occasionally nipping at the skin. To give you more room, he tilted his head ever so slightly. A content huff escaped him as you bit down harder, now having found his sweet spot. “Not so cocky now, huh?”, you chuckled before continuing your shenanigans. Joost let his head rest against the wall behind him and let out a small needy sound. He placed a hand on your shoulder, to steady himself. His breath was rugged, and his skin felt as if it was on fire. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”, he whispered before letting his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder. When releasing your hold on him, you were greeted by two dilated eyes. “Let me be good to you.”, his voice was breathy, and his hair was messed up. “Let me take charge for a bit.”, he pressed the sweetest kiss to your lips. You quietly hummed as he began nipping at your neck, but before you could enjoy it more, he gently pulled you towards, presumably, his bedroom.

He gently pushed you onto his bed, you gladly let yourself fall backwards. “There we go.”, he murmured as he glanced down at you, splayed out. A possessive glint played in his eyes. With a tilt of your head, you invited him. You wouldn’t have to ask him twice, he quickly got on the bed with you. In a swift motion, he straddled you and placed his hand on your chest. You slide your hands up his legs and let them rest on his hips. Joost softly moans into the sweet kiss he embraced you in. He enjoys the heat and friction from his body being pressed down on top of you. His lips taste like cherry bubblegum from the local kiosk, you deepen the kiss as the blond grasps your shoulders. Carefully, you broke the kiss and tugged on his shirt. “Get rid of that. “, you groaned at the hot feeling spreading over your skin. His gaze darkened at the command, and he slowly leaned back. He lifted the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head, then tossed it away. A cheeky grin was now plastered onto his face, you slid your hands up his body, feeling his abs. “Thank you.”, he laid his hand atop yours, which was still resting on his body. “But you’re pretty hot too.” Now his hands slid under your shirt. “How about you take yours off as well? I need to see more of you.”, a small hum erupted from your throat, and you began peeling your shirt off. “You really wanna see that tattoo, huh?”, he nodded with a small smile. The fabric hiding the big moth was now gone and revealed its true beauty. It was a deaths-head hawkmoth, its wings were detailed and shaded amazingly, he could tell that your tattoo artist was a master of his craft. Joost’s eyes widened for a split second as soon as he saw how many tattoos were littered over your torso. He didn’t expect that many, but oh god they looked good on you. “You have no idea how good you look with all this ink.”, he ran a hand down your arm, feeling its muscles and gently rubbing the skin. “Really?”, you tried smiling innocently, but it came out looking more like a cheeky grin. “Makes me want you so bad.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the weak light of the moon made his blond hair look silvery. You delicately whispered back. “You can have me.”

Now he felt the heat rise inside him. His lips ghosted over yours, meanwhile he was fiddling with the stall of your pants. With a sense of confidence, he bit your lower lip, not enough to hurt you, but enough to show you that he was in charge now.

Once again, he nipped at your neck, but traveled down to your collarbone, your chest, your stomach and finally to the hem of your pants. Your head was tipped back in pleasure and the occasional groan left you. What you couldn’t see was him smiling up at you, enjoying the view. The soft moonlight painted milky stripes along your muscles. Joost planted a kiss on your hip before leaving bites around the waistband of your pants. He had already opened the button and zipper of your garment and now he pulled them off, tossing them aside. With the gentlest hands he caressed your thigh. A gaze to your thigh revealed even more tattoos, an elegant snake was swirled around your leg, entangled with the leaves of an olive tree. The dutch grinned slightly, then began leaving kisses and sweet bites over your thighs, he was burning up now. His hand slid upward on your thigh, though this time he was messing with the fabric of your briefs. He only chuckled lightly, before biting down harder. A soft whine escaped you, while he slowly pulled your boxers off. Then he sat back, waiting for a reaction. “Don’t tease, I’ll make you regret it.”, your threat sounded more playful than anything. He offered you a small, challenging grin as his fingers slid back up to your hips, where he let them rest. “Yeah exactly, what are you gonna do?” You groaned. “Keep going if you wanna find out.”

He leaned down and trailed kisses over your inner thigh, his hands roamed over your body, slowly making their way towards your crotch. Brushing over the tip of your length, he hummed in contentment. Your eyes fluttered shut, you couldn’t help but twitch at the contact. He rubbed his thumb over the slit, licked his lips, then wrapped his fingers around your length. His soft hands felt like heaven to you, his motions steady and gentle. Occasionally +he teased your tip with his thumb, enjoying your expressions. “Bet you rail some guy after all your concerts.”, a teasing smile appeared on your lips. “You’d be correct to think so, yeah.”, he hummed with a sly grin. He stroked you at a slow but firm pace. “Are you trying to rile me up with that?”, he then mused a chuckle. Despite your currently… pathetic state, you mustered to spit out: “I’d never. Just making sure you’ll remember me very time from now on.” He sped up a little. “Oh trust me, I’ won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.” Leaning in, he took the tip into his mouth. “Fu-uck”, you stammered. The warm, wet feeling of his mouth could’ve made you cum right then and there. One of your hands reached down to entangle itself into Joost’s blond strands. The mans breath hitched as he felt your hand in his hair, it sent tingles down his spine. He swirled his tongue around your tip, sucking gently while looking up at you. His hands held your hips firmly in place. “Didn’t know your mouth was good at anything other than singing.” Joost’s eyes crinkled at your comment. With a quiet ‘plop’ sound, he released your member. “I can promise you, it’s good at other things.” He muttered before tending to your length again, this time maintaining eye contact with you. The sight alone almost tipped you over the edge, his icy blue eyes were glossy, and his blond lashes framed them perfectly. Joost’s eyes flickered down, he noticed how you started to twitch lightly. He took you in deeper, focusing on the sensation in his mouth. The way his tongue swirled on the underside of your shaft made your vision go blurry, you felt a feeling tightening and coiling in your stomach. “I’m so close.”, you whispered desperately. Little did you know that he had other plans. Once again, he removed himself from your pulsing member, a string of saliva connecting to his lip. You ran a hand trough your hair, while your chest was sinking and rising with heavy breaths. Joost backed up slightly, removing any remaining clothes, then focusing on your figure again. He gently straddled you, his own length rubbing against yours, not without a sharp hiss from you though. “Hop on, let me treat you right.”, your muscles tensed from anticipation. A low groan escaped the blond, he nodded quickly before sitting up. With utmost care, he positioned himself and slowly sat down as he felt you push inside of him. He gasped at the overwhelming feeling, and you rested your head against the pillows, it was too much and not enough at the same time. Gently, he started slowly rocking his hips against yours, he bit down on your shoulder to muffle his soft moans. Feeling a bit revengeful, you bucked upwards, earning a loud gasp from the other man. A loud moan escaped him, and his body shuddered and tingled, he slightly sped up his rocking. Your warm hands trailed up to his hips, helping him steady his movement. Empty threats were never something you made, so you decided to go all out. In a swift motion you had basically thrown Joost off and positioned yourself over him, prodding at his entrance with your dick. He groaned and gasped at the sudden manhandling; a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. “That’s for teasing me.” He wrapped his legs around your waist, while letting out a breathless moan. Without much care, you pushed into him, setting a relatively fast pace. The dutch groaned at the rough treatment and you felt him dig his nails into your back and leave long scratches along it. “You’re so g-ood.”, his voice broke slightly, he was panting heavily. “I said I’d make you remember me.” Even in this pathetic state, he chuckled.

With his arms slung around your shoulder, he cried out in pleasure, small pearly tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Fuck. I will.”, his eyes were glossy. Once again, he bit down on your neck, leaving yet another dark hickey. Bitten off moans slipped out of him; he was pretty sure both of your hips would be bruised after this night. The room was filled with breathy moans and gasps, along with the constant sound of skin slapping against skin. Joost was completely lost in the moment, he loved how you took control. “See who’s not being so cocky anymore?”, you teased. “Shush.” His head lolled back in pleasure. You snuck a hand around his throat, threatingly gripping it with very little pressure. “You’re not the one giving orders.” A shiver of excitement ran trough Joost’s veins, he ever so slightly arched his back, pressing his body closer to yours. “Now shut up and take it.”, your hips snapped against Joost’s, and his groans became even weaker. The pleasure was building up in his stomach, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle it. His vision went blurry, and his body tensed up, his nails dug deep into your skin, leaving bloody scratched all over your back. “Fuuuuuuck”, he moaned against your collarbone. Warm, milky white cum shot out of his length, all over his stomach and chest, you yourself quickly pulled out and dropped the load on top of his. “Messy Boy.”, you whispered.

He laid there for a few minutes, panting heavily and feeling utterly spent. You grabbed a random t shirt on the bed and wiped him clean. With a good wash it’ll be as good as new, you thought. Gentle to not disturb him too much, you laid on top of him, resting your head against his chest. He let out a small huff, then wrapped his arms around you. “I’m going to feel this all day tomorrow…”, he mumbled. “Then I did it right.”, you closed your eyes, enjoying his warm breath trickling down your face and neck. Joost hadn’t seen the tattoo on your back before but was admiring it now. It was another snake, wrapping around a big dagger with various decorations on it. He ran a hand over it, feeling the skin he had scratched open around it. “So, you like it een beetje ruw?”, he whispered. “Ja but I can be sweet too.” Joost chuckled. You looked up again, enveloping him in a genuine, gentle kiss. Brushing a stray hair away, you caressed his cheek. The blond hummed lightly, his heart fluttering at the tender kiss. His lips curled up into a sweet smile. “Just for some people though.”, you grinned cheekily.

After having thrown on your briefs, you had retrieved your pants and began rummaging the pockets. “Can we go out to the balcony? I’d like to have a smoke.” Joost raised an eyebrow while his smile revealed his dimples. “Cigs after a good lay, huh?”, he began to fumble around in his bedside drawer, trying to find his own pack. “They’re on me, owe you after that.”, you giggled. Joost opened the slide door and led you outside. The atmosphere was calm, the two of you sat down on the floor. You held out your pack to the man, before taking a cigarette for yourself. He put it between his lips, waiting for you to light it. His eyes watched your face closely. After having his cigarette lit, Joost leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying the fresh breeze. You looked over the city while the smoke mingled as they both exhaled. Joost reached out and tangled his hand with yours. “You’re so pretty.”, you mumbled absently, watching a few blonde hairs follow the flow of the wind, his hair was all messed up, but he looked perfect. The tips of his hair looked almost white in the moonlight. “I’m usually not into blondes.”, you ruffled up his hair. “Hey!”, he cried out, but he quickly reached for your hair in an attempt at revenge. You gladly lowered your head, letting him do whatever he wants. Instead of messing up your whole hair, like you though he would, he gently combed trough it with his fingers. It felt soothing, you leaned into his touch and ended up flopping your upper body down into his lap. He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Comfy?”

A pleased hum escaped you, moments like these should last forever.

#justice for joost #welcome to zyons rubber room #male reader #reader insert #joost klein x reader #joost klein #joost #joost x reader #joost klein x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #male x male #gay

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izunx · 1 year ago

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heyoo! Would you like to make a story about Kakucho x reader afraid of rejection? I'm curious what it will look like!

kisses :3

(sorry for my English :c )

bonten KAKUCHO x reader

jealous reader is afraid of rejection

xx this is a very cute request ty!

no warnings.

you had kakucho have been friends since childhood. ever since you guys have been young, he’s been protective over you.

he’s always been nice to you, caring considering how sensitive you’ve always been. you would’ve assumed that he’s fed up with you now. but he’s not. why?

you were too fear struck to face the reality that he LIKED YOU

kakucho never had eyes for any woman other than you. but you were riddled with stubbornness.

the fear of rejection.

you couldn’t blame yourself though. when you and kakucho were both 15, you went through something ‘traumatic’.

you went through rejection.

“kakuu” you whined while your head was in his lap whilst he was scrambling his arms in the air, wondering how to comfort you.

“it’s not the end of the world, y/n”

“you don’t get it!”

“I do tho.” he grumbled.

“I thought he liked me. he even chose ME to do his homework..”

he struck at disgusted face at that one.

“come on, you can do better than him.”

“NO, I’m never doing that again!”

and you were not joking about that.

your female friends at work ridiculed you for that, they didn’t seem to understand why you didn’t make a move on kakucho when he cared about you so dearly.

“y/n you can literally see his heart eyes for you!” your friend squealed seeing kakucho in his car, picking you up from the work dinner you guys had.

“stop, he’s just a friend” you sighed.

“just a friend MY ASS”

“I swear he’s been in love with you since you guys were like babies” your friends snickered.

“ugh you teases”

you stormed away, approaching kakucho.

“what’s up with you?”

you pouted.

“why are you moody for,”

“they’re asking about us again”

“is it bothering you?” kakucho in reality liked it when both your friends suspected you two, but he wouldn’t let you know that. likewise, you only pretended to be annoyed.

“never said that,”

“did you have fun with them?”

“yeah but I’m drained!”

he sped off, you in the passenger seat talking his ear off about your day at work. he didn’t complain tho.

“we can’t stay out for long tho,”

“hm?”

“there’s this girl I gotta help out at her little cafe, made her a promise.”

“girl?”

“yep”

you unintentionally tightened your grip on your seatbelt - you didn’t like hearing about that one. what you failed to see tho, was the reddening on his face as he glanced at your moody face.

but you were afraid to ask. I mean, who were you to ask about any girl he hangs out with?

you did like him. you couldn’t deny that one, but could you say the same for him, did he like YOU?

“do you have to do it?” you meekly whispered.

kakucho raised his eyebrows at the one, he didn’t think you’d really want him to stay. considering the mood you’re in.

“thought you weren’t ina good mood?”

“I feel better now though”

“sorry y/n, but I really did promise her”

but he did want to stay with you.

you didn’t respond to this, rather you turned your head to look at the cars rushing past you two and you stayed silent the rest of the ride. sulking.

he sighed as you got out, “it won’t happen again so don’t be too mad at me.”

but it did.

it happened again.

with that same cafe girl.

“what do you mean she broke her arm and now she needs help working around the cafe?”

“y/n I still owe her a favour ..”

“we haven’t hung out in ages though.”

he moved the hair out your face and just smiled.

“I promise, after this one we’ll go out”

again, you just didn’t reply. ‘he’s falling for her’ you assumed.

“you could clearly see the blush on his face talking about her” you grumbled into your pillow.

turning on your phone, you just looked at the multiple pictures you took of kakucho as kids.

you really did want to ask him out. but what if he rejected you and then that would mean you guys won’t ever be back to being bestfriends, was it worth the risk?

you phoned kakucho, and he answered immediately.

“you done? can’t you come over now?” you asked first thing.

“I got a work call pretty, I can’t right now” you were too oblivious to hear his disappointed tone.

“mhm, yeah that’s fine.”

you hung up.

‘pretty’. you loved when he called you that, it was the same name he’s been calling you since you were young.

you simply just stayed depressed the whole weekend. well that was initially what happened, but you were disrupted.

bonten had kakucho working like a dog, considering he was an executive. he was gone up until the moment you called him to now.

he appeared in front of your door shamelessly wearing a white shirt covered in blood, his suit jacket unable to cover it properly.

“hey pretty,”

you were persistent however, refused to talk to him and instead attempted to slam the door. he knew better though, stopping it with his foot.

“you know you can’t be moody forever”

he forced himself in,

“my shower ain’t working, I’m using yours.”

but you stayed silent.

his eyes was observing your every move. your awkward stance in the hallway, your averting eyes, and nervous leg shake.

“I’m not liking this silent treatment anymore, y/n”

still no answer.

he furrowed his brows, “hey, come on, talk to me”

“the girl.”

“girl?”

“yeah.”

kakucho didn’t have to ask further to know what you were talking about. he covered his face with his forearm, attempting to hide that stupid boyish grin.

“ahh come on now, don’t tell me you think I like her, pretty?”

“don’t call me that.”

he raised his eyebrows at that one.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, were you jealous?” he took steps forward towards you.

“jealous? I don’t even like you.”

that would’ve made anyone laugh.

“really?”

“yeah”

you weren’t taking a risk, he probably liked that other girl more is all you could think.

“yeah but I like you”

guess you didn’t have to take the risk but —

“no you don’t”

he was playing with you. it was plaguing your mind.

“y/n. don’t do that”

“do what?”

“I know what I feel for you, are you just tryna say you don’t like me?”

was he testing you? you don’t want a replay of when that boy humiliated you. 7th grade or not. you still had the video he had recorded of your watering eyes and flustered face.

“I’m not like him y/n, you think I’d hurt you?”

your eyes again just watered, you covered your face.

but this time, he gently moved your arm away and held onto it.

“been wanting to be with you ever since then”

“I trust you, kaku”

“I’d trust you with my life, if that means anything to you”

he didn’t have to say a word more before you moved quick to steal his lips. he didn’t hold back either.

“knew you were jealous,” he mumbled smirking against your lips.

“shut up.”

hands tangled in his hair, you stared up at him worried.

“no more talking about that girl”

“if it means I can have this everyday,” he rested his forehead on yours.

“maybe admitting I like you wasn’t that bad of a thought”

“you think? told you could do better than that wimp.”

STOP THIS IS KINDA CRINGE BUT HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED LMFAOO

#anime x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader #fanfic #tokyo manji #bonten x reader #kakucho #kakucho x reader #bonten #kaku x reader #kakucho x you #kakucho x y/n #bonten x you #ran x reader #rindou x reader #kakucho oneshot #mikey x reader #manjiro sano

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