#and me telling my dad I don’t have the patience to be around him right now because I know I’ll get snappy with him

[daydadahlias]

I saw this tweet the other day with an insane amount of likes that said something along the lines of “I don’t trust people that hate children, the most vulnerable members of our society” and a ton of comments were “those people are hands down pedophiles trying to overcompensate by saying they hate kids” and like dude ?? that is the most insanely batshit and problematic take I’ve ever read ?? People that don’t like kids are not automatically fucking pedophiles? What a dangerous and horrible thing to say??

No one has an obligation to like children. This whole automatic “maternal” “paternal” instincts shit simply does not apply to everyone and the only reason people think it does is because of the overwhelming emphasis society has placed on the necessity to bear children. But it’s time people just fucking deal with the fact that not everyone wants kids. And they don’t need to. People don’t need to have kids to have purpose on this earth. And the attitude of “you’ll understand when you have kids of your own” like no, I won’t. I have enough autonomy and sense of self to know that I don’t want children. Please stop assuming people want children. Please stop pretending people are supposed to have children.

I’m certainly not condoning grown ass adults who are cruel to children and belittle them or talk down to people who do have kids because that’s just not okay because, yes, kids are vulnerable and heavily influenced by attitudes around them. So, yes, adults do need to be kind to children so they grow up in a healthy environment even if they don’t “like” them but no one has an obligation or a requirement to want to be around kids.

I am not required by law to like children and people need to stop pretending like people who don’t want kids are some fucking danger to society just because they don’t conform to it.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[6kuna]

Dilf! Sukuna would be one of those guys that defend women in danger+ would also be so bad at rizzing girls up that he just sounds desperate and pathetic[endearing]

“You’re the new teacher? I didn’t know they hired young girls these days. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d be the reason my son is getting his abc’s” he says as he looks at you up and down savoring every curve and line of your

You gave the parent a benefit of the doubt and took whatever he said as a compliment all while returning his “compliment” with an awkward chuckle.

“Thank you…”

“Say…if you come by my house and give some private lessons for him I’m more than capable to pay you more than the school does” he says smirking hiding the perversed meaning behind his shit request.

It’s the first time some weird parent tries to pull this type of behaviour on you the whole interaction leaves you in shock as you smile awkwardly trying to find the right words to respond and the patience to not punch him in the face. Your heart beats rapidly with your fists turning clammy and white from anxiety of not knowing what or how to respond to the fool of a parent.

“MISS Y/N I MISSED YOUUUUU” a familiar pink haired kid comes running as he gives you a hug. Shocked was an understatement by you were more than grateful for Yuuji to intervene.

“you know me and your teacher were having a conversation don’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to interrupt adults” The random parent says giving Yuuji a fake smile.

“Yeah? I’m the parent.” Sukuna says curtly with the most unamused expression known to man.

The male turns around to take a look at whoever the parent of the funky insolent child only to be greeted by a 6’5 fully tatted male who looked like he was more than capable to break his bones with just a simple flick. It also didn’t help the fact that Sukuna’s aura(lol) was more than threatening enough on its own without having to say a single word.

“I guess kids these days don’t learn enough manners I’ll take my leave for now” the inferior male says gulping as he puts up a front before scrunching up his face as he walks away.

Sukuna glares daggers at the stupid fool making sure he leaves the vicinity.

A huge breath of relief was let out as you kneeled down onto Yuuji’s height thanking him and his scarily hot dad for saving you from whatever the situation was.

“You guys have no idea how thankful i am, Yuuji you and your dad literally saved me”

“WE KNOWWWW, Hiro’s dad is a bit creepy” Yuuji says happily as he brings out a couple of souvenirs from his summer trip with his family to you before running into the building excitedly leaving you and his dad alone.

“Did he ask you if you for private lessons?” Sukuna asks with a smug smile

“Yes- what how did you know?!”

“He’s a douche and a weirdo he says that to every new teacher even the volunteers. I hope you’re okay after that interaction” Sukuna scoffs annoyed at the male’s behaviour. Knowing that Sukuna at his prime would’ve beaten the hell out of the weirdo for making women uncomfortable.

“I’m fine honestly I wish I could return the favour i don’t even know what i would’ve done if you and Yuuji didn’t come by” you say in a appreciative tone

Sukuna upon hearing this immediately takes the opportunity to ask you on something that has been on the back of his mind from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“You can return the favour by coming by my place for dinner I’ll cook, I can even pick you up just let me know when you’re free” he says in the spur of the moment not noticing he sounds like a desperate, desperate man.

You were so shocked at Sukuna’s abrupt response to the point you could literally feel the heat rising onto your cheeks making you smile sheepishly before bursting out in laughter.

“I didn’t think you would ask me that, but im free anytime on Saturday is it fine with you?”

“Saturday? Perfect” he says grinning as he sees you walking away he came to his senses realising he forgot to ask for your number

“You didn’t give me your number” he says from afar

It was your turn to leave him into the flustering mess. You smirked looking back at the giant of a male waiting for your response.

“I have yours don’t worry i’ll text you later” you say playfully.

It was true you do have his number. You’ve saved it from the moment he sent Yuuji on the first day.

Sukuna was lucky enough he didn’t have whatever his dad had cause frankly Sukuna would’ve probably gone into cardiac arrest with that statement alone. With that it is settled Yuuji will be sent off to Toji’s house for a sleepover while his dad gets straight to business.

Edit:not proofread was done when im literally ten secons awya from asleep i appoliguse for shit writing

[gojonanami]

SIT IN MY LAP - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you. ✴︎ contents: fluff, domesticity, satoru being a cute girl dad, crack, innuendo, daughter's name is satomi, implication of pregnancy, wc -> 1,350

Satoru Gojo was blessed in almost every single way — from his cursed technique to his looks, but the thing he was not blessed with was patience. 

“We have to wait how long?” Your husband grumbles as you two wait in seemingly a line longer than the Nile itself all to take for your precious daughter to take a picture on Santa’s lap. 

“I don’t know how long, Toru, it’s probably going to be 45 minutes at least,” and you swear he pouts more then your three year old does, “Santa is very busy this time of year, isn’t he, baby?” You ask your sweet daughter and Satomi only grins up the two of you, after she insisted on standing on her own. 

“Very busy,” she repeats, and Satoru softens for a moment before he sees the long wait still ahead even as the three of you round another corner of Santa’s miniature workshop they had built in the middle of the mall, “Daddy gotta wait with us!”

“Why can’t Daddy go to the car and take a nap instead?” He grumbles, and you roll your eyes. 

“Because daddy has to be in the picture with Santa, otherwise you’ll end up on the naughty list,” and his lips curl, “and not the good kind of naughty list,” you add in a whisper. 

“Daddy has already been naughty!” Your daughter exclaims as Satoru stares down at her dumbstruck. 

“What?” 

“You ate my pancakes this morning,” she huffs, and you stifle a laugh at Satoru’s indignant expression 

“I took one bite—“ but her glower said she did not care, “only three years old and already turning on me,” he mutters, “who carried her this entire time around the mall when she didn’t wanna walk? Doesn’t that earn me some points?” 

“Well I think you’ve been a good boy, aside from the impatience,” and he’s sporting a glower similar to your daughter now, as you giggle between the two of them, “how about this? We’ll all have a treat when we go home if the two of you behave,” and you lean to whisper in Satoru’s ear, “and if you’re a really good boy, maybe I’ll sit in your lap tonight,” 

And he perks up at your words, eyes raking over you, “And are you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?” 

You kiss his cheek, warmth blooming where your lips touched, “I think you know,” 

And a small blush settles over his cheeks, even as he grins shamelessly, whispering, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Definitely not,” your lips skim his outer ear, drawing a shiver from him. 

“Daddy are you cold?” Your daughter notices, but you scoop her up in your arms. 

“Daddy is running a little hot I think,” you chuckle, as you watch him try to adjust himself, his tight pants doing little to help his situation, “he’ll be fine, right?” 

And he pouts again, “I’ll be fine,” he presses a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, “can’t say the same for your mom when we get home,” 

Finally, after many brain cells lost and almost an hour of time, you reach the front of the line. “Santa” sits in his chair, looking quite jolly, despite having to deal with children all day, and he welcomes your daughter, who, for all of her spunk when dealing with her parents, now was hiding behind your leg. 

And before you can say anything, Satoru is kneeling beside her, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He’s running his fingers through her soft white locks, “do you want daddy to go with you?” 

And she considers it, lips in a cute pout that’s all too similar to her father’s, and then nods, “daddy, come with me,” 

“Of course, baby,” and his fingers intertwine with her smaller ones as he takes her up. You hang back a little, your phone ready and poised to take pictures and a video, as you beam. 

Santa holds your daughter as he asks her what she wants for Christmas. Your daughter says something half whispered that you can’t make out, but Satoru does, his cerulean eyes widening slightly before his lips curl into a grin. 

And before you can ask what she said, you’re pulled in to take a picture. You three leave, Satomi in her father’s arms, nestled on his shoulder, peacefully sleeping, “what did she wish for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He snorts, “Sworn to secrecy by Santa,” 

“What’s that? A hidden confidentiality clause?” And he only smiles, as you roll your eyes, “pun definitely not intended,” 

“I’ll tell you when we get home. Too many prying elves here,” he jerks his head at one of Santa’s elves sitting on a bench, clearly on their break with earbuds in either ear. 

“I don’t think they care about a three year old’s wish,” and Satoru’s lips part and eyes comically big in mock offense. 

“This is not any three year old — she’s the next Gojo heir, my successor, the fruit of my—“ and you glare, “our loins,” 

“More like mine,” you cross your arms, tilting your head as you glance at your daughter, “you’re not the one that pushed her out,” 

“Yes I’m the one who put her in there—“ and another scowl makes him clam up, smile bit back, “I’ll tell you when we get home, after I get you on my lap that is,” he adds with a grin. 

“Oh yeah, I don’t know if you’ve been so nice though,” and his free arm slides around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead, curling his lips. 

His voice low as he murmurs in your ear, “The real question is if you have been, baby.”

And finally, when Satomi is fast asleep in bed — arms and legs tangled in her blanket like a menace, you emerge from her bedroom, sighing, “finally down,” you collapse on the couch beside him, lying your head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close, “are you gonna finally gonna tell me what she wished for?” 

And he hums, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Sit in my lap, and see,” and you tilt your head, but you slide over his lap, sitting with your knees on either side of his waist, “good girl,” 

“Satoru—” and he’s kissing you slowly, lips meeting yours in a languid kiss and you can taste the sweet hot chocolate on his lips he drank earlier. 

“Been waiting to that all day,” he murmurs, gaze leaving a trail of heat as it slid over his body, and his hands follow, squeezing your hips and making you lurch against his hips, “definitely on the naughty list from that noise,” he grunts. 

“Weren’t you supposed to tell me what Satomi wanted?” You mumble against his lips, as they meet again, before pressing kisses down your jaw and the hollow of your throat. 

“Oh, we wanted the same thing,” and you raise an eyebrow, and he’s grinning up at you, “she wants a sibling,” you breath catches — both at his words and at his darkened gaze — and you can feel his erection press against you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, “wanna make a Christmas wish come true?” 

And your heart flutters, “do you think we’re ready?” You had been talking about possibly having another kid, Satomi was getting older — ready to start school soon enough — and you wanted your daughter to have a sibling to grow up with. 

Satoru’s gaze softens, his palm sliding across your cheek, as you lean into his touch, “I know we are — as long as you want it to,” and you can almost see it now — a little boy with Satoru’s blue eyes and your hair, nights spent up with the baby, days spent as a family, the baby sleeping on Satoru’s chest as you do Satomi’s hair, and another piece of your family complete. 

So you kiss him, lips sliding gently against his, and you smile at him, “Luckily, you both knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas.” 

✴︎ note: i don't celebrate christmas, but i got this cute fic idea in my head and i couldn't get it out lol. i love girl dad satoru.

[corroded-hellfire]

Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar. 

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage. 

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks. 

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet. 

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be. 

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink. 

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head. 

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation. 

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air. 

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using. 

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on. 

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter. 

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers. 

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows. 

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys. 

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers. 

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you. 

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either. 

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around. 

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister. 

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it. 

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad. 

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that. 

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals. 

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time. 

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Nine.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Ten. The Playlist. Series Masterlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky are holding it together. Until you aren’t.

Pairing - DadsBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - cursing. hospital setting. talk of illness/health issues. panic attack.

Word Count - 3k

Authors Note - I probably sound like a broken record, but… thank you all so much for your patience and support. couldn’t do it without you. can you even believe that next chapter will be chapter ten? thanks for sticking with me. sorry for this rollercoaster of a chapter. there is still more to come - don’t worry!! <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You don’t remember the journey.

One minute, Bucky’s grabbing your hand and bundling you into the passenger seat of his truck, buckling you in as your hands shake. The next, he’s undoing your seatbelt, telling you that you’ve arrived as he puts the car in park. You don’t recall speeding across town and into the city. You can’t even think back to the roads flying past in a blur as your thoughts run at a hundred miles an hour.

The only thing that’s on your mind is your Dad.

You and Buck take the stairs two at a time, hands clasped together tightly. When you reach the reception desk, you try to speak, but nothing comes out. Your words have dried up, dissolved and evaporated into thin air. Your soulmate saves you, once again.

“We’re here to see a family member in cardiology. Can you tell us where to go, please?”

The receptionist looks up at you both, before nodding her head in the right direction.

“Follow that hallway, then through the double doors and up the stairs. Go left, and you’ll see the sign.”

You’re on autopilot, heading straight towards the doors. Bucky follows you quickly, throwing a chaste but genuine thanks to the lady behind the desk as he goes.

“Baby,” he calls after you when you reach the top. “Baby, hold on.”

You spin around, looking up at him with glassy eyes. Your bottom lip quivers as he tucks some hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your cheek gently.

“Take a breath, please. You’re gonna faint before you get there.”

You inhale as deeply as possible, your lungs only filling to half capacity. You grab onto his hand for a second, squeezing as hard as you can.

“Okay. Breath done. Let’s go.”

You take off down the hallway, leaving Bucky to jog after you. Finding the big blue sign that reads Cardiology, you storm through the doors, looking around frantically. You spot Room 4 and head straight into it.

The room is all white, clinical and clean. There’s sunshine beaming through the window, but it doesn’t seem to warm the space. It’s cold, almost ominous. It makes it hard to breathe.

The bed is empty, crisp sheets tucked tightly into the plastic sides. Your Mom is sat in the chair beside it. She looks small, swallowed by the blue material.

“Mama.”

You don’t recognise your own voice. It’s choked and strangled, foreign to your ears.

She practically jumps up, striding across the room to wrap you in her arms. Inhaling the familiar scent of home, you hug her back as tightly as you can.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in surgery.”

You breathe a half sigh of relief. You’d feared the worst, when you’d walked in and seen the empty bed.

“What happened?”

Bucky’s been leaning against the door frame, watching you both carefully but giving you space. The tone of his voice is calm, collected. He’s holding it together for you.

“I honestly couldn’t understand it all. They were telling me so much information so fast.”

She sits down in the chair while you and Bucky perch on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“It was supposed to just be an appointment, wasn’t it?”

She nods.

“They did the EKG and weren’t happy with the results, so the nurse put us in this room while she waited for the Doctor. Then the Doctor burst in, talking about blockages and bypasses and emergency surgery.”

Her hands are trembling, neatly manicured nails being picked at repeatedly. Bucky reaches over and links his fingers with hers, all grounded and reassuring.

“They put him in a gown,” she continues, “and all of a sudden they were wheeling him away. I can’t even remember what I said, or if I said goodbye or I love you.”

“Mama, you will have said I love you. I promise you that.”

“She’s right, Lori. You will have said exactly the right thing. You always do.”

She squeezes his hand gratefully, taking a deep breath.

“The Doctor said he had a blockage, and they were worried about blood clotting. That’s why they rushed him in. The nurse said she’d update me when she knew anything, but I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. You know what Jack’s like,” Bucky laughs. “He’s the toughest guy I know.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, freshen up a little. Call me if a nurse comes in, won’t you?”

You nod, clasping her hand tightly for a moment.

“Promise, Mama.”

She stands up carefully, inhaling before leaving the room. Your posture instantly crumbles, faked bravado leaving you as soon as she’s out of view.

“I’m so scared,” you whisper.

Bucky hears it clear as day.

He slides closer to you, wrapping both arms around your frame. Pressing a kiss into your hair, he runs his fingertips up and down your spine gently.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re allowed to be scared. But everything is going to be okay. I know it will be.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you mumble into the cotton of his shirt. “It should, but it doesn’t. That scares me, too.”

Bucky traces the features of your face gently with his thumb, his ocean blue eyes never leaving yours. He dances his finger over the slope of your nose, your cheekbones, the curve of your lips. His skin is warm and calloused against yours, polar opposite to how cold you feel.

“I’m your soulmate,” he murmurs, “but I’m not a miracle worker. Fuck, I wish I was. There are gonna be some things that I can’t fix for you, no matter how badly I want to. We just have to ride them out together, sweet girl.”

You nod, leaning in to rest your head against his pounding heart.

It still beats to the rhythm of your name. Even after all this time.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You don’t jump apart when your Mom walks back in.

Upon first glance, the picture is simple - a girl being comforted by her Dads best friend. A hug. Reassuring words.

If you look closer, the image becomes a little more complicated - her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. His hand cradling the back of her head. Familiar lips softly pressed to her temple.

Any other time, someone might question the sheer intimacy of the moment. But not now.

Now, all focus is drawn to the nurse in sky blue scrubs that appears in the doorway.

“You’re all Jack’s family?”

You all spin to face her, nodding frantically.

“Thought so. He’s out of surgery, and he’ll be brought up here shortly.”

“Is he alright?” your Mom asks, standing up. You can physically see the tension rising in her body.

“He’s doing okay. The Doctor is going to come up and talk to you a little about some… complications. But he’s okay.”

The reassurance at the end of the sentence doesn’t make any of you feel any better. You’re stuck on the word complications.

As if on cue, your Dad is wheeled in, all laid up cosy in crisp white sheets. He has oxygen tucked up under his nose, tubes and wires attached to his hands. He looks fragile, which is a state you’ve never seen him in before. Usually, he’s larger than life, braver than a bear, with a booming laugh that can make anyone smile. In this current moment, he looks like a little boy again, put to bed softly by his mother on a school night.

They get him situated as the Doctor approaches the three of you, huddled by the chair to stay out of the way.

“The surgery went well. The blockage has been fixed, and hopefully shouldn’t reoccur. We’ll put him on medication for the future, blood thinners most likely, to prevent anything further.”

Your Mom nods, lips pressed together.

“The nurse said there was complications?”

Bucky’s voice is low and careful, the timbre of it reverberating next to you.

“We ran into some trouble with the anaesthetic. We struggled to wake him for quite some time, and then his blood pressure completely bottomed out. We managed to get him steady again, but it was a little touch and go for a minute.”

Your Mom sits down slowly, holding onto the arms of the chair with taut knuckles.

“Your husband is going to be just fine, ma’am. We’ll manage any future worries with meds. Some people just don’t respond well to anaesthesia, especially if they’ve never had it before. We’ll monitor him over the next few days, keep him under observation just in case. But it looks positive. I assure you.”

She inhales, leaning back and exhaling the breath.

“He’ll probably just sleep it off for the rest of today, so don’t worry if he’s barely conscious. His body has been through a trauma, and he needs some time to recover.”

You all nod, Bucky’s hand reaching out to squeeze yours momentarily. He subtly presses a kiss into the nape of your neck, as if to melt the tension away.

You all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“If you need anything, there are always nurses walking around on this floor. They’ll call me if necessary.”

She smiles before leaving, picking up her clipboard as she goes.

“Thanks, Doctor!” Bucky calls after her, making both you and your Mom laugh softly.

The three of you remain still for a while, scared to make any sudden moves. Eventually, Bucky stretches his legs.

“I’m gonna grab some coffees. The usuals?”

You both nod at him.

“Be right back. Call me if you need anything.”

You can’t take your eyes off him as he leaves. You miss his warmth instantly.

“He’s a good guy,” your Mom whispers to you from the chair, where you’re perched on the armrest. She’s watching him go too.

You hum in agreement.

“He looks out for you.”

You hum in agreement once again, albeit this time a little quieter.

“You guys are close, these days.”

You inhale calmly.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “He’s got my back.”

“He likes you a lot.”

Before she can continue, your Dads eyes flutter open slowly. You both jump up, standing on either side of his bed.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Dad.”

He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh lighting.

“How you feeling, tough guy?”

He smiles softly, and the relief that fills your body is so overwhelming, you feel as if your legs might give out. You hold onto the metal bars of the bed for support, praying you stay upright.

He groans a little, throat hoarse.

“Water?”

Your Mom puts the straw in his mouth, nodding in approval as he sips.

“I’m good,” he croaks. “Got my girls with me.”

You both laugh.

“Jack, as much as I’d love to be your girl…”

Bucky is stood against the doorframe, keeping a careful distance from the family moment. Your Dad chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re the prettiest one, Buck,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster. You all can’t help but laugh even more.

“How you feeling, honey?”

“Fine. Tired, though.”

“The Doctor said you’d most likely just sleep it off all day. Go back to sleep, if you want to. We’re right here.”

He nods, closing his eyes instantly. Your Mom settles back in the chair as Bucky hands her a coffee. He goes to give you yours, but you place it down on the side table.

“I’m gonna get some air. Be back in a minute.”

He gives you a look that says are you sure?, but you’re already out the door, not glancing back.

“She doesn’t like hospitals.”

Bucky nods in recognition, but can’t focus on anything except the severe levels of rising anxiety in his chest.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You can’t find your way out, and it’s making you panic more.

You’re throwing doors open, running down sets of stairs. Eventually, you see an exit, and barge through it with no regard for your surroundings. You’re at the front of the hospital, somehow making it to the main entrance.

Your lungs feel like they’re burning, white hot heat filling them with each weak inhale that you manage. The world is turning, suddenly, the entire axis of the Earth shifting on its head. Gasping, you grab onto a railing, desperate to just take a full breath and calm down.

The more you try to breathe, the worse things seem to get. It feels like the non existent walls are closing in, claustrophobia settling into your weary bones. Your legs buckle as your surroundings spin.

You don’t even register the impact of your knees hitting the ground, nor feel the pain that follows. You’re only minutely aware that you’re even on the floor because you can feel the warm tarmac underneath your palms.

Suddenly, there are two strong arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into a solid chest. You relax against it, tired of fighting.

“It’s me, baby. Shit, it’s me.”

The voice is panicked, almost frantic in the way it hits your ears. There’s a hand stroking over your hair, strumming over your cheekbone, squeezing your shoulder. You wonder for a second if anyone has ever died from something like this. You feel as if you’re pretty close.

“You’ve got to start slowing your breathing, honey. Can you hear me?”

You think you nod. You assume you do, because the voice continues.

“Put your hand on my heart,” he says as he does it for you. “Just like that. Can you feel the beat of it, underneath your palm? It sounds like a drum, right? One two, one two, one two. Can you focus on it?”

You try to hone into the sound. You think you might be able to distantly feel it, where your hand meets his shirt.

“How about if we create a pattern together? And we’ll both follow it? Like this.”

The voice tilts your chin upwards, so you’re looking into his eyes.

“Bucky,” you choke out.

“Breathe when I breathe, okay? In, and out,” he inhales and exhales. “In, and out. There we go, atta girl. In, and out. You got it.”

You stay collapsed on the sidewalk for what feels like hours, breathing when he tells you to. You focus your vision on his ocean blue irises, finding your home in them. Eventually, you feel like you’re somewhat filling your lungs, and the world stops spinning.

“There she is.”

You drop your head onto his chest, warm tears soaking into the material of his shirt.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You finally let yourself relax, sagging against his body as he holds you close.

“Fuck, you scared me. Are you hurt?”

You don’t even know the answer to that question yourself.

Bucky starts checking you over, looking for any visible injuries. When he reaches your knees, he inhales sharply.

“Shit, baby. We’ll have to get some antiseptic on these grazes of yours. You’ll have some badass bruises tomorrow, tough girl.”

You realise, slowly, where you are. You’re on the sidewalk outside the hospital, sat on the floor, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. You try to stand up too quickly, and wobble backwards.

“Woah, easy. There we go. Come sit over here with me.”

There’s a wooden bench not far from the entrance, tucked in between a hedge and a flowerbed. You take a seat, surveying the bloody mess of your knees as you do.

“They look worse than they are, baby. Promise. We’ll fix them when we go back upstairs.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he throws an arm around you and tugs you into his side.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hmm?”

“Don’t like hospitals,” you whisper. “Never have.”

“Is there… any particular reason? Or is it just one of those things?”

“Spent a lot of time here when I was younger,” you admit quietly. “I was kind of a sick kid. Had my own set of issues. Lots of appointments and stuff.”

Bucky nods against the top of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“You never mentioned anything.”

“Didn’t think it was relevant.”

He hums.

“I’m sorry,” you confess. “For causing a scene. Being dramatic.”

“Honey,” he scolds. “You’re not dramatic. We’ve all got our fears, the things that make us tick. I promise you, no one thinks you’re dramatic. You feel how you feel, and that’s okay.”

You sigh in defeat, pulling your knees up under your chin.

“I think I was holding it together until I saw he was okay. When I knew he was fine, I just… crumbled.”

“That’s a perfect reflection of your character, you know. Keeping it together for everyone else.”

You chuckle dryly.

“Maybe. I suppose.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you sit outside for a while longer, breathing in the fresh air and revelling in each others embrace.

“We should probably go back up. They’re going to wonder where we are.”

You go to stand up, but Bucky pulls you back down onto the bench.

“Honey, wait. There’s something we need to… talk about, before we go.”

You turn to face him, and instantly tense up. He looks worried.

“Buck, what is it?”

“I… I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Or how we’re meant to handle this. I really, really don’t know what the best angle is here.”

“You’re scaring me,” you say as you cradle his face. His scruff tickles your palm, and any other time, you both would have laughed.

“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”

“… which was?”

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.

“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[blackypanther9]

Boys ask you out – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

A/N: Human!Alive!Alastor and Human!Alive!Daughter Reader.

Headcanon(?) THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC !!!

(picture belongs to rightful owner)

Alastor and you were just eating out in a restaurant, as a teenage boy came up to them and asked you out on a date.

You felt slightly caught off guard and shy, but agreed softly.

Alastor just looked at you and then at the boy, clearing his throat, which made the boy look at him.

“And who may you be, my good fellow ? Boldly asking my daughter out in front of me ?”

“My n-name is Finn, Sir.”

“When did you ask me for my permission to ask my daughter out, Finn ?”

You could tell that your Father was losing his last bits of patience with this teen. You found it quite amusing how protective your Dad was, yet...you understood why. A killer was roaming around after all.

“I didn’t know this charming woman needed her Father’s approval to go out on a date.”

Oh...wrong, overconfident answer and you knew that. You always looked at your Father for approval. He could read people a bit better than you and you trusted his judgment.

“She needs it indeed. That is my daughter after all.”

“You treat her like an object right now.”

Your Father’s eye twitched slightly at the boy’s comment.

“I don’t. There is a murderer running around and you expect me to let my daughter run around freely and alone, in the middle of the night, with some stranger ? Ha ! No.”

You gave your Father a small smile, grateful he looked after you so much. Even though he was the Killer.

The boy scoffed and looked at you again, smile gentle, but fake.

“Tomorrow evening at 6PM in front of this very restaurant, beautiful ?”

You were speechless and looked at your Dad for help. Alastor had a look of annoyance on his face, but his smile didn’t drop yet.

“She is not going anywhere with you, boy. She has no permission to go out with you. Now shoo off.”

The boy scoffed and left. You looked at your Dad.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“No problem, mon ange (My angel).”

That boy was Alastor’s Dinner the next evening, for his lack of manners.

-Another day-

The both of you took a stroll through the park as a group of boys spotted you with your Father.

A blond haired boy approached you, very confident and he seemed to have a very highly stroked ego, like no one can say no to him.

He ran a hand over his hair and gave a flirty smirk towards you.

“Hey there, beautiful~ Wanna go out with me tonight~?”

You got nervous and looked at your Dad, this boy made you uncomfortable.

“My face is over here, pretty girl~”

The boy TOUCHED your chin and had the AUDACITY to turn your face back on himself, forcefully, IN FRONT of Alastor !

Alastor smacked the boy’s hand harshly, the guy yelped and let go, shaking his hand, glaring at your Father.

“What is your Problem, man ?!”, the boy snarled.

“What is MY problem ? Has your Mother never taught you how to treat a woman ? How dare you touch her without asking for permission ? And that in front of ME !”

Your Father was positively boiling in anger. He pulled you into his side, glaring down at the boy. He was the next to die tonight.

“Who even are you ? Her lover ?”, he asked in disgust.

“I am her FATHER.”

At that the blond boy grew a smirk.

“Then shouldn’t you be thrilled that someone like me even bothers to ask your daughter out ?”

This boy was on thin ice and your jaw dropped open in offence. You glared at the boy in disgust.

“Papa ?”, you called out.

“Yes, Darling ?”, Alastor responded, looking at you gently.

“I would like to go HOME. This disgraceful human being ruined my mood. I wish to return home and read a good book.”

The blond boy stared at you in offence, then disgust.

“How dare you call me that ?! I can get any woman I WANT !”

You gave him an unimpressed glare.

“Well, you didn’t get me now, did you ? You have a foul mouth with a disgusting attitude and now, I wish to retreat home, Papa.”

“Of course, Cher.”

The blond boy’s hand formed into a fist and he swung his fist. You closed your eyes tightly, but the impact never came.

You opened your eyes and saw that your Father caught the boy’s hand. His smile and eyes were wide and filled with rage. The boy quivered at that, turning pale.

“You try that again, young man, and we will have very big problems. Understood ?”, Alastor said calmly.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now go away.”

As soon as your Father let go of the boy’s hand, the guy ran away and back to his friends, who laughed at him.

Your Father put a hand on your back and guided you back home.

Overall, Alastor would observe every young man that approaches you, to ask you out.

He would interfere when he doesn’t like them at all.

He would force them to ask for his permission first, because that was how it was usually done in his time anyways and he knew, for a fact, that tradition didn’t stop yet.

Usually a lot of boys back down as soon as he demanded them to ask for his permission first, others would ask and get a big, fat NO from him anyways, which amused you to no ends.

Alastor would be overprotective of you and he was NOT afraid to show it.

He would pull you into his side and wrap an arm protectively over you, showing that you had someone to protect you and that he didn’t take any Bullshit from anyone.

A boy tried to force you to go out with them, they would be found dead soon enough.

Alastor was possessive of you, not in a romantic or perverted sense, but you were his daughter and he knew what young men usually thought when they saw a beautiful woman. He hated the thought of you leaving one day and never coming back. He had some enemies. What if they got you ? No, no, no, he can’t let that happen.

He glared every young man down, that dared to give you nicknames, just to butter you up. Usually they would be his next Dinner too.

As soon as he sees a young lad eying you with impure thoughts, he will end them in the week. If they dare to approach you too and ask you out, clearly just looking to disgrace you, he would go so far as to be very aggressive.

Alastor, your Father, saw no boy worthy enough to date you, in his eyes, they were all way too beneath his Angel. So get ready to have a very long time to staying single and left at peace.

You couldn’t have asked for a better Dad. Alastor was a top #1 Dad in the world. No matter what.

-Addition if you both land in Hell together-

He will NOT let you date in Hell. Absolutely NOT.

He would constantly worry over your safety and send his shadows after you.

Alright...he let you date ONCE in hell and it was an absolute disaster !

That pig just wanted to get into your underwear and the Radio Demon was FURIOUS !

Save to say he ate that guy and then forbid you from dating in Hell. FORGET IT. NO DATES AND LOVE LIFE IN HELL.

And you are not allowed to leave his side for a long while after that either !

He is still your #1 Dad in the whole world though.  <3

A/N: So....what do ya think?

(Words: 1 372)

Masterlist HERE !

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal. 

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?” 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?” 

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and— 

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you. 

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—” 

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone. 

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady. 

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.” 

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.” 

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?” 

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—” 

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?” 

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.” 

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said. 

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number. 

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.” 

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them. 

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you. 

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?” 

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.” 

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.” 

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.” 

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.” 

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.” 

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction. 

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.” 

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.” 

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.” 

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.” 

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?” 

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips. 

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?” 

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all. 

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.” 

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.” 

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle. 

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings. 

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning. 

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?” 

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath. 

“Neither am I.” 

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.” 

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—” 

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.” 

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.” 

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back. 

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair. 

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?” 

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?” 

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?” 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“Weren’t you lonely?” 

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said. 

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.” 

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.” 

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?” 

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.” 

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.” 

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural. 

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?” 

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?” 

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it. 

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours. 

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.” 

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.” 

“Care to be a little less vague?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.” 

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.” 

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.” 

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said. 

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.” 

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.” 

“Enough to let me kiss you?” 

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.” 

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips. 

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well. 

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said. 

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.” 

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?” 

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.” 

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?” 

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore. 

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth. 

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?” 

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively. 

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?” 

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight. 

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!” 

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.” 

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked. 

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.” 

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?” 

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?” 

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.” 

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner. 

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.” 

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.” 

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room. 

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled. 

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?” 

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back. 

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.” 

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.” 

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?” 

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.” 

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.” 

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.” 

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?” 

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.” 

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose. 

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” 

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.” 

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew. 

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency. 

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.” 

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh. 

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face. 

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him. 

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.” 

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.” 

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak. 

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”  

“Shut it—” Zoro started. 

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.” 

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look. 

“Please. You were obvious.” 

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.” 

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.” 

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?” 

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt. 

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured. 

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash. 

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. 

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—” 

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.” 

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room. 

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness. 

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you. 

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up. 

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.” 

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.” 

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.” 

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?” 

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.” 

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured. 

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat. 

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes. 

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?” 

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul. 

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.” 

Zoro just grinned.  

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life. 

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it. 

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island. 

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway. 

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

© halfvalid 2023

[callooopie]

CALLOOOPIE‼️❗️‼️❗️‼️❗️‼️❗️‼️❗️

DROP A MODERN!CREGAN HEADCANON LIST. AND MY LIFE, IS YOURS. 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Modern!Cregan Stark headcannons (pt. 1)

Forgive my northern attitude, oh I was raised on little light — Northern Attitude // Noah Kahan

okay… we did not get much Cregan.. so these modern vibes might be a little off. I looked long and hard (🤨) at a photo of him and these were the vibes I conjured up.

This man.. is so serious. Whenever you look at Cregan he looks like he’s going to pop a blood vessel with how tense he is. He’ll tell you not to worry, this is his natural state (“natural state?!?!”) you don’t think you’ve ever seen him relaxed… although there are times he lets loose, it’s reserved and calm. If he does relax it’s still oddly tense or as if he’s on edge. He’s mastered the art of being both chill but perceptive of his surroundings to a headache inducing degree. “Hm? Yeah I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, honest. One of us needs to be alert here.”

Immediately dipped after college. He got his degree in environmental engineering, he’s out of there. You, Jace, and Davos once planned a summer trip to Cregan’s cabin way up north. Now, way up north? Think like the Yukon or the bush of Alaska—that’s where Cregan would make his home. It’s secluded, no one bothers him, and he can live off the land in relative peace. You three get lost, of course. It’s like you have to take a seaplane, and then hike for a bit to the nearest town, and then you’ll have to wait for him to pick you all up. “You guys kept running around town. It took me forever to find you. Texts? I don’t get those traveling from the cabin… oh well—you’re all here now. The air will do you idiots some good.”

Dog dad. Dog dad. Dog dad. Cregan’s got big dogs, he’s got little dogs. A livestock dog to care for his chickens, some other big dogs for hunting, and a lap dog for emotional support purposes. It’s a hearty mix of Labrador, Pyrenees, mountain dog, maybe even a shepherd of sorts. But the little dog? I feel like it’d either be a dachshund or a corgi. A corgi is a reliable herd dog on top of being just a little guy. But a dachshund would be something he would hold as he walked around the perimeter of his land. Or even better he would have both. But this is his herd, his squad. “Hey!—settle down everyone. Sit down.. down now! Sorry about them, they’re just excited to see you. They’re usually pretty lax, except around you it seems.”

Terrible driver. But not because he’s bad at it, but because he’s literally in the wilderness, there are no traffic laws to obey. He’s driving down a hill full speed no braking. You’re in the passenger seat holding on for dear life as the car literally shakes and jolts you around. But Cregan? He’ll be holding a simple conversation with you, voice not even shaking from the sudden movements of the jeep or truck as he navigates the country road. I cannot figure out if he has more truck vibes or more Jeep vibes. I feel like either would work—as long as they got the job done. And either way, both cars would be muddied and somewhat damaged—filled with survival gear, winter gear, more things tied down on top with bungie cords and hooks. “What do you need? Oh, yeah that should be in the back.. somewhere. Probably in one of the bags—lemme go check for you. Hang tight, be right back.”

This man fishes. Not like “leaving my bitch wife to go fishin’ with my boys” more like “I’m catching the radioactive catfish of Chernobyl and no one’s stopping me” type fishing. He gets into it, he goes crazy. Cregan’s out on a boat at sea looking for Cthulhu. Y’all know the show River Monsters? That’s Cregan’s type of fishing. Sure he does more ‘relaxed’ fishing once in a while, he enjoys the mix of adventure but also the quiet and the patience of the fish. He will talk about how beautiful the fish is, like Steve Irwin levels of talking to fish (and animals in general). Cregan’s a catch and release king, but if he does choose to use the fish he will use all of it from the head to the bones. Everything’s getting used and processed into something. “Let’s see what you caught.. oh nice, that’s a chinook salmon. A beauty too, look at the size of that thing. You caught that beast yourself without my help? It’ll taste better on an open fire, c’mon I’ll teach you how to gut it… don’t frown at me.”

Master chef I would think. It’s not Michelin star cooking, but cooking with the freshest ingredients possible? Cregan makes a mean salad from the veggies in his garden (a pretty big garden too, he built those wooden garden beds himself) and when he hunts he uses all the meat and bones from the animal as said before with the fish. He’s not overly hunting either, he gets enough for you and him to last a while. “Good harvest today, real good—everything was ripe and ready. What do you think? It all looks good? ..that’s.. that’s good. I’m glad.. save room for dessert too then. Have you ever had acorn cake?”

You know what? He’s a park ranger. Or a state ranger. He’s got a job where he can take care of the land and teach people about the environment and how to respect it. Cregan’s all about teaching little kids what plants are poisonous and then on the next call he’s busting folks for throwing litter into a river. He is the type that if he spots you maybe hiking or doing something while he’s on duty he will pretend to bust you over for something heinous or embarrassing. Bonus if there’s people around you, now you’re getting arrested for leaving a dildo attached to a tree. But usually? It’s silly reasons laced with compliments that make you blush or smile. “..Whatcha doing out here? Hiking? Suuure. Y’know we heard some reports about a.. a very um—beautiful person wandering looking lost.. just saying, I know my way around..”

Such a good listener. Cregan is for the people who just need an ear to listen to them. If something’s bothering you, upsetting you, or you’re just not feeling like yourself; he’ll lead you out to the back porch, gesturing for you to sit down on the step beside him. It’ll be quiet, except for the sounds of nature surrounding the cabin and the woods. You can see mountain ranges in the background, the midnight sun casting a hazy glow over the land. And the next thing you know is you’re pouring your heart out to him. Cregan would remain silent, unless you ask him for advice or support. He’s the type to not want to impose on you if you don’t wish to hear unsolicited opinions or comments on a matter—so you’ll need to tell him you want to hear his advice.

Busted ass cabin. It’s so good. There’s a nearby lake, there’s mountains in the distance. The woods are thick and beautiful. The people yearn for such a place. It’s such a relaxed vibe too, take off your shoes in the house though. There is a lot of cleaning that goes on however on account of the dogs around the home. But the cabin is lived in and homey. It’s cool and refreshing in the summers with the windows open, and it’s warm and cozy in the winters with the fireplace roaring. It’s not too big, but it’s not too cramped either. “Not too warm? Too cold maybe? …well if you’re cold there’s a good way to fix that—“

Cregan loves teaching you how to live off the land. It’s basically a part of what he does for his job. But with just you? It feels more special, more intimate. You’re eager to learn, and he’s more than happy to show you how to start a fire in an emergency, how to skin an animal and use all its parts for different things. What to do if you’re in a bind in the woods and what you should do first. It’s good advice honestly. Pure survival skills. His hands would be over yours, guiding them through the motions of something. His chin resting atop your head or on your shoulder as he explains each step or how something can be utilized to its fullest potential.

Don’t take his silence or his lack of reactions as something negative. Cregan’s just the type to silently revel in your presence first and foremost, no talking required. Most of your fishing or hunting trips are filled with silence, save for the sound of music from an old portable radio and the occasional sound of a beer can opening. Sometimes you read, sometimes you fish alongside him. But know that he does enjoy your company heavily, and if you do say something don’t worry he’ll respond. Sometimes he does worry maybe he’s a little too aloof or reserved when it comes to you. Reassure him that words aren’t always needed, and sometimes it’s good to just be next to one another without adding anything to it.

With you he can get a little silly. Cregan would lean against your side of the truck, a stupid smile on his face as you talk to him. If you’re hiking and there’s a muddy spot, he will pick you up and carry you over it. He’s the type to serve you food first before him, and if he’s having a snack he’s the type to share it without needing you to ask him. It’s like the phrase to be loved is to be seen. Fresh flowers for you every day, he wakes up early to make you coffee in bed. If you’re the squeamish type about hunting/fishing, he won’t go into the details of your dinner. And if you’re with him, he’ll take care of the food far off from you so you don’t need to see it.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 12

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“You did what?” Bucky’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. His anger was palpable, his frustration clear as he confronted Lydia. He had been swamped with overseeing the construction of the new hospital, unaware of his mother’s latest actions.

Lydia flinched slightly at her son’s outburst. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. She then dragged him into her office.

Bucky’s face contorted with anger and disbelief. “You fired her without even consulting me? Hah!” His laugh was bitter and sharp.

Lydia straightened her posture, trying to maintain her composure. “I am the owner of this hotel. I have the right to make decisions.”

Bucky’s eyes blazed with frustration. “Decisions? You call this a decision? I’m the one keeping this business alive while you squander money on gambling, waste it on frivolous outings with your friends, and spend it on your boyfriends.”

Lydia’s face turned red with anger. “How dare you speak to your mother like that?”

Bucky massaged his temples, clearly exasperated. “Is your allowance not enough that you have to steal money from the hotel?”

Lydia’s voice was icy. “I’m just enjoying my life, and we own the hotel. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong? You’re stealing!” Bucky’s words cut through the air like a knife.

Lydia’s patience snapped. “I can do whatever I want. I am your mother.”

“Don’t play the ‘mother’ card with me,” Bucky retorted, pointing a finger at her. His face was flushed with frustration. “You were never a good mother to me. I was just a tool for you to get his attention.” His words were sharp, each one dripping with hurt and disillusionment.

Lydia flinched as Bucky’s words cut through the air. Her face paled slightly, and she took a shaky step back, her eyes widening in surprise. The accusation hung between them, heavy and accusing. Her posture stiffened defensively as she tried to regain her composure.

Bucky’s face hardened. “You think you can ruin people’s lives and get away with it? I haven’t forgiven you for the lies you told me half my life, and the misery you caused to an innocent person.”

Lydia scoffed, her expression disdainful. “So, this is about that girl?” Her face twisted with anger. “She’s just like her mother.”

"It's not just about her. I'm done letting you ruin everything. The damage stops now," Bucky said coolly, his voice steady and resolute. He shot one last piercing glance at Lydia before turning and walking away, leaving her standing there in stunned silence.

🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀

On the other side, you were waiting for Jake. While waiting, you wondered what you would hear. Would you end up hating the gossip about your mother and her ex-boyfriend, who was also Bucky’s dad?

Jake finally arrived. “Hi. Sorry I’m late. My mother kept talking.”

“That’s alright. But do we have to meet here? At the arcade?” you asked, glancing around.

“Hehe, we have to be on guard. People in this town talk. This arcade is new and only young kids come here,” Jake explained.

He had a point. “So, what did you hear?” you asked.

Jake scratched his head. “Do you want to talk while playing basketball?”

“Fine,” you agreed.

After scoring a few points, Jake started telling the story. “So… my mom was in the same year as your mother and Alex. Both of them were high school sweethearts. She was a cheerleader, and he was the top athlete.”

“Continue,” you urged.

“Everyone thought they would be together until Lydia Barnes decided she wanted to marry Alex. Her father went to the Morris house and proposed the marriage. What made everyone talk was that Alex made it obvious he would never love Lydia,” Jake said, making a shot.

“Both parents thought it was only temporary, but Alex was serious. He didn’t care about his wife. Lydia didn’t care because she was obsessed with him. She never let him go out without her because she was afraid he’d meet your mother,” Jake explained, passing the ball to you.

You never thought Lydia was this obsessed and paranoid about her own husband.

Jake sighed. “The saddest part is when your mother died.”

You flinched, missing the shot.

“Alex went crazy and hysterical. He drowned himself in alcohol,” Jake continued.

“One day, while he was drunk, he went to visit your mother’s cemetery. That’s when the accident happened,” he said.

Your eyes widened. Hearing that your mother was the cause of Lydia’s husband’s death hit you like a ton of bricks.

No wonder why she hated you.

“What about Bucky?” you asked.

“Him?” Jake looked uncomfortable.

“Do you know why he made my life miserable?” you pressed.

Jake got quiet for a second. “My mother mentioned this too. She heard from her friend who worked as Bucky’s nanny. His nanny overheard Lydia telling Bucky that the reason Alex never loved them was because of your mother.”

She has brainwashed Bucky since he was young that the evil person in their lives is your mother.

You processed this information in silence. Bucky grew up in a wealthy household, but despite all the money, his parents didn't live in harmony. His father hated living with them, and his mother had an unhealthy obsession with her husband. Nobody in the house actually cared for him.

So, does that mean the reason he bullied you was because he blamed you for his parents’ issues?

You put down the basketball. “Thanks for telling me.” Slowly, you started to leave.

Jake felt guilty for telling you. “Y/N.”

You turned around.

“None of this was your fault,” Jake said earnestly.

You nodded. “Thanks.” Then you left the arcade.

After leaving the building, you kept walking around, finding it difficult to accept that your life was miserable because of the jealousy of one person.

“Y/N,” someone called out.

You turned around and saw Bucky. You weren't ready to meet him, so you decided to keep walking.

“Wait! Wait!” He chased you until he got close enough to grab your hand.

“Don’t touch me!” You slapped his hand away.

Bucky was surprised by your reaction. “I know you’re angry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that my mother fired you.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

“Please trust me,” Bucky pleaded.

"I don't trust you at all, especially since your mother is the reason my life is miserable," you said.

Bucky was taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to regret.

“A stupid one-sided love leading to misery,” you spat. “I know the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You knew?” you demanded.

He gave a slight nod. “That’s why I’m trying to make everything right.”

You gritted your teeth. “Don’t come near me or my father again. Everything you gave, I’ll give back five times more.” With that, you quickly got into your car and left.

Bucky stood there quietly, not chasing after you, his face a mask of regret and sadness.

📺📺📺📺📺

It seemed like Bucky had listened to your words. He didn't come to help your father like usual.

“I wonder what happened to him,” Tom said, puzzled by Bucky's absence.

“Busy, I guess,” you replied while taking pictures of your father's medicine to send to your acquaintance, who worked as an oncologist.

“Hmm… I guess so. His company is building a new hospital,” Tom agreed, taking the TV remote to turn on the TV.

He switched to the local news channel. The news reporter said, " The Bronze Lodge co-owner has been caught embezzling money from the hotel. She used the money to feed her gambling addiction. Additionally, the mayor is being investigated for his connection to the hotel owner."

You and Tom gasped at the news, recognizing the person in question: Lydia Barnes.

“I can’t believe it,” Tom muttered, shaking his head.

You, however, weren’t as surprised. You had suspected it after auditing the hotel’s finances and seeing the irregularities. It was obvious that Lydia had been the one taking the money.

'Knock. Knock.'

Someone knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the quiet house.

You opened the door slightly and gasped when you saw someone standing there. It was Bucky. He looked like a mess, with tired eyes and disheveled hair.

Bucky smiled weakly at you. “I said it before, you could trust me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. It dawned on you that he had turned his own mother over to the police.

“Did you do this because of me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky nodded slightly, his eyes filled with exhaustion and regret.

“Did I earn your forgiveness?” Bucky asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes like a lost puppy seeking approval.

You shook your head. “Forgiveness isn’t so easily given. The damage you and your mother caused is still too deep.”

Extra: I made a quick drawing. This is how I imagined Bucky hoping for forgiveness. Lol. This drawing is inspired by X @sweepswoop_

Poor Bucky 😂

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[umeoniii]

aot men beige flags

eren, jean, reiner , levi , armin , connie

!: sfw

（＾∇＾）

eren:

☆ makes weird voices.

high pitched, low pitched, shaky he doesn’t care.

like sometimes as a bit he just uses weird accents and stuff.

he’ll speak like a caveman for one day.

“me want ooga burga” he’ll scratch his head like one too

and you’ll just stare at him like, “this mfs crazy” bcs literally wtf is he on about?!

the next day he’s trying to sound french

“oui oui mon amour”

and he’s wiggling his brows and has his imaginary mustache in between his fingers.

☆ his next one is he’s kind of oblivious to a lot of things.

you can pull out the ugliest outfit known to man to test him and he’ll say “that looks so good baby”

not bcs he’s setting u up. no, because he doesn’t think that lime green ripped jeans and a orange cropped hoodie look bad together.

you’ll have to show him what fashion looks like and he’ll get better as time goes on.

jean:

the tickle monster.

☆ when you’re around him u have to watch your back. he’s serious about it.

u can have a super cute sentimental moment with him and he’ll pull it out.

“i really love you baby.” you’d say

“who else do you love, because i know you’re cheating on me with him.”

and you’re like WHAT.

“with who?!”

he’d pause and stare at you for a few seconds.

“THE TICKLE MONSTER!”

and he’d tickle you until you can’t breathe and almost pee yourself.

and after that you don’t trust him but then proceed to slip up multiple times.

u guys are gonna hate me for this next one…

☆ he does “the face” when he’s gonna kiss u

u guys know what i’m talking about

“the face guys make when they go in for a kiss”

his isn’t horrid, only because he’s attractive

sometimes he actually over exaggerates it to piss you off.

it’s not super horrible but it’s giggle worthy

reiner:

☆ he’s a cringe bf. unironically. it’s sweet but not all the time.

by cringe i mean “i just found out about periods, god it must suck to be a beautiful goddess :/.”

or he’s like

“hey! tell you’re period it can’t hurt you like that, it’s not cool!”

☆ he’s also a scaredy-cat.

behind all that muscle is a big baby.

he jumps at scary movies even when he knows what happens next.

cannot play something like fnaf with him

he will throw the phone and scream like he got stabbed in his chest.

he’s probably still scared of the dark but it’s kind of sweet idk. he literally cuddles with you at night like a mother and her baby. you’re practically holding him like a frail little princess, except he’s kind of the exact opposite.

this is actually kind of cute though..

levi:

☆ now his beige flag is that he can be SUPER sarcastic. ik he is.

he’s super snarky and sassy.

like he’s the type to tell what’s considered a ‘corny dad joke’ but instead he’d say it with a stoic face.

like if youre talking and couldn’t remember and say something like “remember when umm…” and you just sit there and think, he’d come back with “no i don’t remember when that happened”.

he wouldn’t laugh or anything.

i feel like that’s why it’s funny. he could make a childish poop or fart joke and it would only be funny bcs he looks like this 😐

he would own a stupid t-shirt that says something like, “find your patience before i lose mine”.

☆ he’s a karen as well. he’s not super bad but like at restaurants and stuff when his foods not right or the tables are not bussed…

i’d be in the bathroom crying my mascara off if i was his waitress

armin:

☆ he’s scared of animals.

this includes typical house pets like dogs or cats.

it’s bcs “they don’t speak , so you’ll never know what they’ll do next.”

his fear stems from one small thing that happened when he was younger.

a cat jumped onto his lap.

he thought it was trying to attack him and so he screamed and the cat got scared.

that’s it.

he can’t even visit the zoo because he’s scared the animals will break out. (he’s super serious about it, it’s not even something he jokes about)

he’s tried to like animals and it worked for a while.

until the dog started to play a little too much to his liking.

☆ also he just randomly informs you of random facts.

completely random.

you could be on the toilet and he’ll come in the bathroom like, “a shrimps heart is in its head…”

no “did you know?” or “isn’t it cool that?” he just says it.

if you ever go onto a game show you’ll probably win it with all the useless knowledge he’s given u.

connie:

☆ you could tell him the most god awful thing happened to you and he’ll be like

“wait, this reminds me of something that happened in something i just watched.”

he’ll proceed to whip out his phone and show you the tv show, news report, tiktok. whatever it was he saw.

this tends to happen to every experience that you have.

you could be held hostage and they’ll call him for ransom and somehow it reminds him of this one part of a tv show.

sometimes it’s funny sometimes it’s not.

☆ he sleeps like he hasn’t slept since the day he was born.

he hops into the bed and sits there for 1 minute before he starts snoring aggressively.

he looks dead, like actually…

sprawled out and snoring with his mouth open.

one time he slept with his eyes wide open and you shook him awake panicking.

he belittled you and was all smart and cocky saying “i would never sleep with my eyes wide open” even though he did.

he sleeps to the rain sounds with the thunder. but sometimes is so sleepy and forgets about it.

tagz!🐬: @hangesgirlypop , @yiugen , @heartshapedtearss

♡

a/n: heyooo! b4 u guys request it, im doing girls next ;). i just think this trend is the cutest thing ever, plus it feels good to write fluff. also im actually getting back to requests. like frl this time, i’ve been grinding non stop all night so i could be done by hopefully friday. feel free to request cute things u guys, i will absolutely write it! and also feel free to request other characters, i feel like u guys don’t request them bcs u guys don’t see them and so u think i won’t do them. trust i probs will!

[lovemyavatar]

Brat

Lo'ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Summary: Lo'ak is a brat tamer, what can I say?

Warnings: indulgent (aged up) nsfw, filth, p in v, oral, subby reader, mean dom Lo'ak

“Come on, Y/N. Do it right so I can go home.”

A frustrated huff fills tense silence. Your right arm pulls back, muscles taunt, one eye sliding closed to help aim your bow. A slow breath is drawn through pursed lips before you release, the arrow slamming into a tree nowhere near the target.

With an angry grunt, you turn on him, fingers clutching the weapon tightly at your side. “I would’ve gotten it by now, if I had a better teacher.”

“You would’ve gotten it if you knew how to listen.” He’s quick to retort, strong arms crossing over a broad chest.

Your lips pull into an irritated frown. Without responding, you nock another arrow and resume your practiced stance. Again, this one fails to land within the hastily painted circle.

“Oh my Eywa.” He draws out the Great Mother’s name, head lifting toward the sky. His eyes pinch tightly as he tries to contain his rising anger.

“Don’t be so mean, Lo’ak.” You’ve had enough of his attitude, hand raising to shove against his shoulder. He stumbles back a step, having been distracted by his own tantrum, and looks to you with surprise. “This is why you don’t have any friends.”

Without hesitation, he shoves you right back, though he makes sure the motion has no strength behind it. “Don’t push me.”

“Don’t push me.” All four fingertips poke into his chest, and this time he doesn’t budge an inch.

“You know what? We’re done.” He throws his hands up in exasperation, turns, and walks away.

“Wait!” You’re quick to chase after him, hand clamping around his elbow. “If I don’t get this my parents will kill me.”

“Not my problem.” He shakes you off, throwing the words over his shoulder without stopping.

“Lo’ak!” He doesn’t miss a step, toned back retreating steadily. You come to a stop with a huff, knowing you’ll need to stoop low to make him listen. “I’ll tell your dad!”

He comes to a halt begrudgingly, trusting that you would do it. His jaw grinds, hands tightening into fists at his sides. The toned muscles of his back and shoulders visibly tense. You always seem to find a way to get exactly what you want. It's so infuriating.

He turns, stalking toward you with a hard glare. Your eyes widen at his menacing demeanor, leaning back slightly as he grows near. He all but rips the bow from your hand, leaning over you to leer in your face. Bright yellow eyes bore into yours, shining with anger and something else. Something darker, hotter.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” His voice is low, hoarse as he spits the insult.

Your stomach dips, fluttering before the space between your legs warms. You shift on your feet, rubbing your thighs together to quench the ache. He’s quick to straighten back to his full height and push past you, shoulder knocking yours along the way. You’re momentarily stunned, gulping down the anxiety suddenly bubbling in your throat.

“No, that’s not right.” Lo'ak shakes his head, arms crossed tightly.

You've been at this for another hour, arms shaking with the effort of holding the weapon you can't seem to master. Your trembling stance releases, back bowing to relieve some of the painful tension.

“You know, maybe I would learn something if you actually showed me how to do it.” Your eyes sweep to the sky, a frustrated huff leaving your lips.

“Did you really just roll your eyes at me?” His voice drops to a gravely rumble as he takes a step toward you, closing the distance to only a few inches.

What's left of his patience is wearing thin. If it were up to him, he'd be anywhere but here. His father ordered him to train you, to teach you the ways of the bow. You're too slow, quick to give up, always holding the hunting parties back. Impossible to teach, even for someone like him who obtained the skill at an early age.

It isn't that he doesn't like you. He's known you since they two of you were young, totting around the forest with his siblings and causing trouble. You've always been there, a playmate throughout the years. Your relationship is mostly positive, aside from in these private moments. It's like you get a kick out of worming your way under his skin.

Your good girl persona is reserved for others, this part of you—the snarky comments and lingering glances—that's only for him. It sparks something within him, a desire to put you in your place. To remind you who's really in charge.

Your eyes flick up to his, wide innocence meeting narrowed heat. You blink up at him, and he seethes. He knows it's fake, knows you're trying to get a rise out of him, but he can't help but give it to you.

With a growl, large hands clamp down on your hips. You let out a startled gasp when he roughly turns you to the side, so that your chest is nearly flush with his. He grips your biceps and jerks your arms into the proper position. You watch his expression, pliant under his direction. Pinched brows, downturned lips, a determined focus behind yellow eyes. Yep, he's pissed.

“Now, do it right.” He steps back, satisfied with the position he's put you in.

Your heart races, slamming against your ribs harshly. He raises a brow expectantly, and your attention shifts toward the target. After a calming breath, you release the bow.

It hits dead center.

“Ha!” Excitement explodes in your chest as you jump up and down, lips splitting into a wide grin.

You look to him, catching the way the corner of his lips twitches before he covers the movement with a swipe of his hand.

“Good girl.” The words slip out before he can stop them. His eyes catch yours, seeing the surprise flicker behind glittering yellow before he quickly glances away.

He clears his throat and turns to retrieve the arrow. You swallow down quickly rising desire, stomach flipping. You desperately try to even out ragged breaths in the few seconds his back is turned. As he faces the tree, his eyes pinch tightly in silent reprimand. He fights to soothe his racing heart, ripping the arrow from the thick bark and turning to stalk back to you.

“Let's see if you can do it again.” He hands you the arrow, stepping back with crossed arms. Gone is the heat behind his stare, the cold, distracted gloss returning to his gaze.

You force a calming breath through tight lips, straightening your back and lifting sore arms into position.

“No, that's not how I showed you.” Lo'ak barks, voice rough with a disappointed shake of his head.

Your arms drop, head tilting in defiance as you turn to face him, hip popped with irritation. “Maybe you didn't show me well enough.”

“Lose the attitude, Y/N.” He commands, the gruff timbre of his voice sending a shockwave of heat through you, straight to your core.

Shoulders round in opposition, a twinge of anger rising at being told what to do, despite the way your body responded. "Or what?”

His teeth grind, chin dropping to pierce you with a heavy lidded glare. He takes the few steps necessary to close the distance between you, only a few inches separating his heaving chest and yours.

“You need to learn some fucking manners.” He peers down at you, restraint tightening his chest as fists clench at his sides to prevent himself from touching you.

“I've heard no other complaints.” You huff, gaze sweeping toward the sky. "Only from you—”

A deep growl permeates the small space. One of his hands jerks up, long fingers circling your arm with a gentle firmness.

“I thought I told you not to roll your eyes at me, 'evenge (girl).” He towers over you, hard stare slicing straight to your core. It clenches under the heat of his undivided attention, and you squirm in his hold.

“You didn't tell me not to, you asked if I did.” You know you sound like a petulant child, but you can't help but talk back, his domineering stance bringing out a defiance within you.

“You're just begging to be taught a lesson, aren't you?” He seethes, every last bit of strength he has used to contain himself from pouncing on you.

A humorless laugh fans his tight expression. “I don't know, you haven't been the best teacher so far.”

In an instant he lurches forward, free hand moving to grip your throat. Your eyes pop wide, gasp falling from parted lips. He jerks you toward him, molten gaze flicking over your face. A moment of tension passes, ragged breath echoing through the forest before he claims your lips with his.

You instantly press into him, heaving chests flush. His head tilts, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth as his hold on you tightens. A trembling moan flutters into his waiting mouth, and he groans. His hand slips from your arm, moving to circle your back. He hoists you up without warning, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips for support.

“Gonna fuck some manners into you, sevin (pretty). How does that sound, hmm?” He mutters against your throat, peppering your skin with sloppy kisses.

Your head falls back, overcome with desire as it swells in your lower belly, heat so intense you fear you may explode if he doesn't quench it soon.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, yawntu (love).” Fangs nip at your shoulder, and you tremble.

“Yes!” You're breathless, pliant in his hold, all disobedience gone.

“Yes, sir.” He grunts when you roll your hips, core sliding along his painfully hard cock.

A whimper falls from your lips, the rough authority in his voice nestling between your legs. “Yes, sir.”

“That's a good girl.” He claims your lips again, chest heaving under the pressure of restraint, of the effort not to take you right here.

Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly to you as he walks forward, weaving through the trees to find a suitable location to make you his. He lays you in the first clearing he finds, thoughts too muddled to care if it's secluded enough.

Your back bows as he rips your top off, head dipping to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue laps at the sensitive bud, and you whimper, core clenching with emptiness. He shivers at the tender sweep of your fingers along his sides. They slide down, and around, moving toward his straining cock.

They pass over the front of his loincloth and he jolts at the burst of pleasure. Your lips twitch into a little smirk, hands moving to cup him through the thin material.

“Fuck—no.” In an instant he has your hands pinned above your head with one of his.

You squirm under him, but his hold is firm. “Let me touch you, Lo'ak.”

“You're gonna listen." His piercing gaze briefly flicks up to yours before he moves to catch your other nipple between sharp teeth. “Or you won't get what you want.”

You whimper pathetically, head pressing into soft grass. He litters your chest and stomach with sloppy kisses, sucking a few bruises into your skin as he releases your arms and continues moving down.

“Lo'ak!” You cry out at an unexpected lick against your sex. Your head lifts, eyes meeting a heavy lidded gaze as he laps at your pussy again. You fall back, overcome with pleasure.

“You like that, baby?” He hums against you, fingers moving to part your pussy lips. A tentative lick swipes over your clit, your hips jerking up at the sensation.

“Oh, Eywa.” A hand presses to your chest in an effort to soothe it's ragged tremor.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Or I stop.” He pulls back to accent the warning.

A long finger prods at your entrance before sliding inside you swiftly, bottoming out with one quick thrust. Breath catches in your throat for a moment before you force it to reach your lungs.

“Yes!” You wail as he adds another finger before ripping them both out quickly. You clench around the emptiness, stomach tightening.

“What did I tell you to call me?” A firm slap comes down over your pussy, jolting your trembling hips. The pleasurable sting makes your walls flutter again.

“Yes, sir!” You're a whiny mess already, another broken moan falling past your lips when he shoves his fingers back inside you with no warning.

His eyes never leave you as his tongue sweeps over your clit, fingers picking up a steady rhythm. His heart is thrumming wildly, the sight of you at his mercy almost enough to make him cum untouched. His cock throbs beneath his loincloth, but he wants to take care of you first.

When you tighten around his fingers he picks up the pace, tongue drawing a bruising pattern along your clit. Your back arches from the earth, breath stilling, and he knows you're close. After another deep thrust, he pulls his fingers and mouth away, watching you pulse and clench around nothing.

You whimper, brows pinching in confusion. You were right there. Your pussy warms against the abrupt stop, at being left on the edge of your orgasm. Your lips part in protest, but he's quick to tower over you, supporting his weight with one hand and ripping his loincloth off with the other.

“The only way you're cumming is on my cock. Do you understand?” The command is a gruff rasp as he loses the last shred of control.

You nod feverishly. “Yes, yes sir, please!”

He grips the base of his shaft and in one swift motion enters you, bottoming out instantly. His head dips, eyes closing tightly, forehead resting on your shoulder for support at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him.

Your legs circle him, hips rutting against his to encourage him to move. He growls as he's forced even deeper.

“Lo'ak!” You bark when he refuses to move, needing a few seconds to adjust so he doesn't cum after one thrust.

He raises his head, thumb moving up to drag along your lower lip, his own pulling into a frown at your attitude. “Do I need to stuff this pretty mouth to keep it quiet? Huh?”

His thumb forces it's way between your lips at the same moment his hips pull back before slamming into you. Your head tilts back, moan ripping from your throat, tongue circling the digit as you would his cock. He lets out a shuddering breath, stomach tightening with the effort of holding off his orgasm.

You're right there, already so worked up from his earlier ministrations. Moisture wells in your eyes, pleasure spiking more intense than you've ever felt it.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He grunts, his cock rutting into you so forcefully your back slides against the grass.

Your head bobs quickly, breath hitching when he rams into your womb.

“Use your words, honey.” He rasps, pace increasing with his own impending orgasm. “Ask for it.”

“Oh, Lo'ak—sir! Can I cum? Please!” You sob, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure mounting in your core.

“Fuck! Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my cock.” He pounds into you, and you do just that, pussy clenching around him so tightly he has to slow down.

You gush around him, juices flowing between staggering hips. He rips his cock from your trembling pussy, spilling his cum over your stomach, hips jerking against nothing as his orgasm rips through him. His fists press into the earth beside your head, ragged breaths fanning your face. He lets out a quiet whimper as he settles, spent from the effort.

As the weight of what the two of you have just done gathers, you can't help but giggle at the absurdity of it. His eyes flick down to yours, narrowing into a hard glare.

“I guess you aren't such a bad teacher after all.” You tease, and he wastes no time in gripping your hips, turning so you're perched on top of him, ready to show you who's boss as many times as he needs to.

[thetriumphantpanda]

i don't really wanna fight, 'cause nobody's gonna win | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary | A little slice of domesticity wasn't ever going to be enough to cover the stress of the story unfolding on your desk, but it was worth a shot right?

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of drugs and the drug trade, work frustrations, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie, dirty talk, we ride this man like our LIFE depends on it and some ANGST (I'm sorry, it had to happen sometime.)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | OOOOOF okay we're back with these two. Real life has been kicking my ass so I'm sorry this took so long - but we're moving into the tail end of this now so prepare yourselves for even more drama! Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for this - I hope you enjoy it. If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

The words on the deed to the drug den in town are all forming into one - you’re not actually sure they’re in the English language anymore. You’ve been staring at the pages for what feels like a full week, even if you’d only spread them out for reading on your desk this morning. You don’t know what to do. There is, of course, the obvious option, of walking right up to their front door and asking what the hell is going on, but the more you dig, the more you think there’s something bigger going on here.

You pour over your notes, trying to make sense of it all. It was nothing to do with Tyler Johnson, but it had something to do with his family, that was for sure. There’s no way that this whole thing would have been brushed under the rug and dealt with by the police saying ‘oh well, we don’t know’ if there wasn’t something incriminating behind it all. You tried not to think about that possibly meaning your dad was implicated somewhere along the line.

Instead of sitting around and feeling useless, considering the words on the page weren’t leading you anywhere at all, you tidy up your desk, stick your head around your managers door to tell her you were heading out for the story, and you get in your car and drive.

They lead such dull lives, is all you can really think at this point. The sun is setting and it’s finally starting to cool a little. The thought process had been simple, if you weren’t going to catch them in the act on paper, you would have to catch them in the act for real - whatever that act might be.

You’d started with Tyler’s dad, following behind him as he went about mayoral business, driving from his office to some meeting in town and then back again. You’d waited an hour in the parking lot to see if he moved again, but gave up after a while. Deciding on following Tyler’s brother instead - but he’d been more of the same. You’d found him getting into his car at work once the day was done, driving to the grocery store and then going home. That was it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Thinking about it, what would you even do if you did find them doing something? Tyler’s brother getting a package handed to him down a dark alley - there’s no way to get any proof, you don’t have a camera, and no-one’s going to believe you against them. The more you sit there, the more you think maybe you should have taken the story at face value, published it and moved on.

You suppose that these kinds of operations take time and patience - two things you were running seriously low on by now. You’re thinking of all the time’s Javi must have needed to do this - sitting around in a car waiting to catch someone doing something and wondered how he’d lasted so long. You weren’t made for this kind of work.

Sighing to yourself, you turn the key in the ignition and head home, trying not to let the frustration bubble over. You just had to wait. Bide your time. Surely somewhere along the line you’d catch someone doing something.

“You look stressed.”

You look at Javi through your eyelashes, taking a sip from the glass of wine in front of you on the counter. Your parents were taking their two week annual vacation - some place near the coast in Florida. You remember going when you were little, playing in the sand and swimming. They’d invited you this year but now you were older, it didn’t hold quite the same amount of charm as it used to, so you’d opted to stay at home.

The upside to not getting to lounge in the sun for two weeks was definitely this though. Javier Peña, hunched over the hob, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, cooking dinner for you. It was dangerous to think about how domestic it was, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. There was no-one to lie to about why you were late home from work for now, no need to rush through whatever it was that the two of you were doing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t need to be sorry,” He smiles at you, picking up his beer bottle to drink from, “You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, “It’s alright, just stuff at work.”

“In all my years of working with journalists,” He speaks, stirring the pot of sauce in front of him, “I don’t think any of them were ever as stressed as you.”

“I just care about my work.”

“So did they,” He counters, picking a strand of spaghetti from the pot to test to see if it’s cooked, “Just trying to say there isn’t a story out there worth getting this worked up over.”

“I appreciate it,” You mumble, “But can we not talk about work?”

He holds his hands up in surrender, focusing his attention on dishing up the food - spaghetti with tomato sauce. It’s simple and you know it’s probably the limit of his cooking ability outside of being able to grill meat on fire, but it’s the thought that counts. You sit at the dining table and eat together, talking about nothing really, just enough to fill the silence. Even though he cooked, he insists on clearing up and packaging the leftovers for you to eat tomorrow.

You sit and watch TV on the couch and when it gets late enough and your head starts to rest on his shoulder, Javi asks if you want to go to bed.

“I do,” You answer, “But not to sleep.”

So he slowly leads you up the stairs and into your room, softly closing the door behind him. You settle yourself under your sheets, pushing them back on the other side for him as he takes off everything he’s wearing apart from his underwear and gets into bed with you. He shuffles you around so your back in pressed to his front, his big hands wandering from your hips up to your chest, where he gently cups one of your tits in his hands over the shirt you’re wearing.

You can feel his mouth trailing kissing up your shoulder until he reaches the delicate skin behind your ear, the tickle of his facial hair there making goosebumps rise on your skin, regardless of how warm it is under your sheets.

“What do you want?” He whispers softly, snaking his free arm under your neck so the side of your face is pillowed against it.

You don’t answer, you just take hold of his wrist, dragging his hand from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. You let his hand go then, feeling his big palm cup you through the material, “Like this?” He asks, teeth nipping at your ear lobe.

“No,” You shake your head, “Under.”

That big hand drags up just a little, fingers finding the waistband again, dipping below this time. He tuts into your ear when he finds you bare, having not bothered with underwear when you’d changed out of your work clothes.

His hand is warm against your skin as it envelops you again, fingers dipping ever so slightly between the folds of your pussy to find you already wet, it doesn’t take much at all when he’s around.

Fingers dragging through the slick, up to circle your clit, he speaks again, “Like this?” He asks, feather-light touches of his fingers making you gasp.

“Y-yeah,” You choke out, “Just like that.”

So that’s what he does - let’s you rest your head against his arm, lazily rolling his finger across that bundle of nerves like he has all the time in the world for making you feel good. It’s slow, the only punctuation to his fingers are the moans he lets out into your ear whenever he pushes his hips against the plush of your ass, his bulge prominent against the clothes that are separating you.

“I want you to come for me,” He whispers gently a little while later, teeth biting gently into the skin of your shoulder, “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

You nod your head, unable to speak through the short, sharp gasps that the friction between your legs is drawing out from you. He speeds up a little, lets his finger add more pressure there. He lets you roll your hips, chasing at the high that is just there, coiling in your tummy. Your body starts to shake, thighs clamping down on his hands as he brings you over the edge.

“Fuck yeah,” He rasps into your ear, “So fucking pretty when you come for me, mi querida.”

Through the haze of pleasure, you can feel him rolling you over, pressing your back into the sheets. He’s settling between your thighs, pulling your shorts off altogether, but you don’t want it like this, so you press a palm to his warm chest to stop him.

“I want…” You trail off, “I think I want to be on top.”

You watch his eyebrows raise a little but he doesn’t protest, because of course he doesn’t, he simply lies himself back down on his side of the bed and waits for you. You let yourself straddle his thighs, marvelling just a little at the bulge of his underwear, before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband to drag them just far enough down his thighs to let his cock spring free, resting on his lower stomach.

Shuffling up his thighs a little, you lower yourself, letting your soaked folds drag across his length whilst your mouth moves up to suckle at the skin of his neck. You can feel his hands on the globes of your ass, helping to drag you up and down his cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks as you moan when the head of his cock brushes against your still-sensitive clit.

You don’t have any words, so you press yourself up, palms against his chest as you lift your hips just enough for him to reach between you, base of his cock fisted in his hand, to nudge at the weeping hole of your cunt. He holds it there for you as you slowly start to sink down onto him, moaning with your head thrown back at the stretch of taking him inside. When you reach the bottom, feeling him sucked right into the depths of you, you stay still, rolling your hips a little, feeling him so deep inside you.

Javi brings his hands to your hips, looking up at you as he guides your movements, slow forwards movements matched with even slower movements backwards, until the two of you are panting together.

You push yourself back, letting your arms fall behind you onto his knees, which have come up to rest against your backside, slowly starting to lift off him until he’s almost all the way out of the tight heat of your cunt, then you slide back down onto him, finding a rhythm of bouncing up and down on his cock.

Javi moves one of his hands from your hips, letting the flat palm run up your stomach, through the valley of your tits to lightly grip at the base of your neck. He doesn’t add any pressure, just holds his hand there, but you can feel the effect it has on you, pussy clenching around his length as you continue to bounce up and down on him.

“Look so fucking pretty like this,” He manages to choke out between moans, “Like you were made to be right here bouncing on my cock.”

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come again.” You hiss, feeling that familiar tightening in your tummy.

“Yeah?” He goads, but not unkindly, “You gonna come around my cock for me?”

To help you get there, Javi starts to thrust up into you, hand still at the base of your neck, hitting into your perfectly on your downward motion to fill you right to your depths, making your orgasm hit you head on. You feel yourself tighten around him, body collapsing forward to rest against his chest as he fucks you through the aftershocks of your climax, gripping onto your ass to keep you spread so he can find his own high, thrusting a handful of times before he’s stilling inside you, spilling himself inside with moans right into your ear.

He slips out of you as he softens, shifting you so you’re led down, both catching your breath.

“Sorry, I should have asked about that.” He mumbles, and it takes you a minute to realise he’s talking about coming inside you.

“It’s okay,” You say, turning your head to smile at him, “Although it does mean I have to go to the bathroom now.”

You drag yourself up onto all fours onto your bed, dragging yourself to the door to cover yourself in your robe before you leave Javi in your room to head to the bathroom.

He doesn’t know why he does it. In hindsight, it was out of order, but when you close the door behind you, he can’t help himself. He stands up, pulls his underwear back up and puts the rest of his clothes back on. Then he sits down on your edge of the bed and gingerly opens the top drawer of your bedside table.

There’s nothing much of note in there, a few lip balms and an old notebook, but that’s it. He opens the bottom one next, which is much more full, mainly with notebooks and sheets of paper. He knows he shouldn’t, but he reaches in and picks the first up, flicking it open to a random page somewhere in the middle, running his thumb across a loose sheet of paper before his eyes circle in on what the paper actually is.

It’s a newspaper article, reporting on Escobar’s death. When Javi looks underneath the paper there are notes written in your handwriting, detailing parts of the story that are interesting. He flicks to another page, another article about Escobar dying, with more of your handwritten notes. He can feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to take hold of his throat.

He puts that notebook on the bed, reaches in and picks another up, flicking through to find more of the same - articles about the entire Escobar case, more handwritten notes - some written in red ink that only ever say his name with a question mark, like you’re asking yourself if he was responsible for the ill-reported heroics. Javi is too caught up in flicking through that he forgets about your return, letting you catch him red-handed when you come back through the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, making him look up.

Your eyes are wide, like you’re shocked to find him with your notebooks in his lap.

“What’s all this?” He asks, instead of answering your question.

You surge forward, grabbing the notebook from his lap, slapping it shut, picking up the other one and then shoving them back in the drawer, “Did you go through my things?” He can tell from your tone that you’re worked up.

“Why do you have all of that?” Javi asks, standing up from the bed to take some steps away from you.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Well then tell me what it is.” He’s getting more annoyed as the moments go past.

“It was for my degree,” You say, shifting from foot-to-foot, “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“The problem is, it’s all fucking lies!” He runs a hand over his face, more annoyed at himself for shouting at you than anything else, “It’s all fucking lies and you believe it.”

He watches as your face drops, he can see the glassing over of your eyes, “I-” You try to speak, “I’m sorry?” It’s more of an offering, like you don’t know what else to do.

“All of that shit?” He asks, pointing to the now closed drawer, “Fucking propaganda for this country to seem like it had control, when all it fucking did was make everything worse.”

“Javi, please,” You beg now, taking a step towards him with your hands open in surrender, “Why don’t you sit down and take a breath?”

He can feel himself shaking his head, stepping backwards until he can feel the handle of your door, twisting it to open. He thinks he’s saying sorry, telling you that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has to get out of there and away from you, almost running from the house and into his truck.

It’s not until he’s halfway to home that he can feel that panic take over, pulling over on the side of the road, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. He takes some deep breaths, trying to understand why his brain has gone from 0-100 so quickly, and all he can think of is that you’re just like everyone else in this damn town, thinking that he was a hero, that he’d played his part properly, correctly, in bringing that bastard down. I’d the wondering about what you’d think of him if you knew what he’d really done, the amount of blood actually on his hands, the fact he wasn’t here there when Murphy shot the bastard.

It’s that feeling of inadequacy that haunt him in bed that night, led against the pillows, other side cold and empty when all he wishes is that he’d stayed, let you curl into him so that he could get at least a few hours of rest. Even though he never stays the night, always leaving you with a press of lips to your head, the small hours of the morning where you’re sleeping against him are the most peaceful he thinks he’s ever had.

So, staring at his ceiling, red numbers from his clock staring him down as the hours pass, all he can think about it what the fuck he’s going to do, how he’s going to explain that this has nothing to do with you and what it had to do with your degree, and everything to do with the way he thinks if you knew exactly what had happened, outside of what the American press has told you, you’d probably hate him.

[igotanidea]

Laugh: Jason Todd x fem!reader

requested by @thefandomdiaries07 - I AM SO SORRY!!

“Oh my god!” Y/N started laughing at another Bad dad joke Dick Just Said. Honestly, she wasn’t sure whether it made her giggle like a silly teenager because it was so stupid or because Dick was ginning and being so full of himself. 

“That’s a good one right?”

“No....!” she gasped wiping the tears away, smudging her mascara in the process. “It was terrible. Terrible, Grayson! I swear every time I believe you reached the bottom of the groaner well, you surprise me with another one!”

“Now that’s hurtful!” Dick grabbed his heart, pretending to be deeply cut by those words. “Your words are like knife to my soul!”

“Please stop watching soap operas….” She laughed even more at his choice of words.

“Hm.” Dick smirked. The position he was in allowed him to see behind Y/N’s shoulder and notice something she could not.

Once her laugh reverberated through the room in the Manor, Jason, who was just casually passing by, with his signature face expression being the mix of broody and smug, stopped in his tracks. To give it justice, he looked like he was just struck by the lighting by the sound. Rooted to the ground. Frozen. Transfixed. Taken into another dimension. Whatever words might come to person’s brain – he was just that. With his eyes almost turning into hearts he looked like a love sick puppy. Just because he heard her chuckling at something.

“Hey Jaybrid!” Dick called to his younger brother, unable to stop himself from a little bit of teasing. Todd might have been lying about how he felt for Y/N, denying the obvious, but his actions were pretty self-explanatory. Especially in the family of self-appointed detectives, trained to read into every detail and gesture. “You look surprisingly non-threatening.”

“Shut up Dickhead.” His face expression turned back to resentful, the slightest blush showing on his cheeks due to being called out like this. He was a grown ass man acting like a boy who saw a girl’s bra for the first time.

“What’s with the attitude, little bird? Someone step on your toe?”

“Shut up!”

“Oh come on, cheer up! How about I give you a joke to relieve the tension?”

“Oh, no!” Y/N cried out in despair, turning to face Jason “Jace! Save me! Dick won’t let me go until I die from the embarrassment from his jokes! Please, don’t let me suffer alone!”

Once she looked at him with those pretty, pretty, shining, smiling e/c eyes he was gone. Like gone. How could he possibly tell no to her? How could he…..

“Not in the mood…” he muttered, looking down, terrified to death to meet her gaze.

“Come on Jay! Pretty please? We’re friends. It’s kind of I’m in shit you’re in shit situation. You can’t run from it.”

“I hate you.” He hissed crossing his arms

“I give you a chance to realize that you hate Dick’s sense of humor more than you hate me. So? what’s it gonna be?”

Yeah, he couldn’t tell her no.

***

“Did you get home safe?” Dick texted a few hours later, once Y/N left the manor and got into her apartment.

“You could have given me a ride with that fancy porche of yours, so you wouldn’t have to ask after.”

“I was kind of hoping Jason will pick you on a bike and give you a romantic trip, but seemingly we can’t always have what we want.”

“Jason?” if they were talking not texting she would raise an eyebrow at the moment

“Sure? My younger brother? Do you remember Jason?”

“Fuck you Dick. Stop playing around. We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Y/N for crying out loud. I saw that boy almost snap his neck because he heard your laugh and wanted to see why you were laughing.”

What?!

“but yes, keep telling yourself you’re friends.”

What the hell?!

She lost her patience in an instant and dialed Dick’s number.

“Y/N.”

“What the hell was that Dick?!”

“I believe it’s something you call telling the truth”

“I believe it’s acting like a freaking gossip girl!”

“It’s not a gossip!

“stop playing with me!”

“Am not! Did I ever lie to you?” he trailed and for a moment there was silence in the phone as they both were thinking about the years of keeping a little secret of his vigilante persona. “It’s true. I swear. “

“so why tell me now?”

“Cause I am seriously scared of what injuries Jay maysustain if someone doesn’t speak up. Last week Steph did as much as mentioned your name and he fall off the stairs.”

“You’ll never let him live it down, will you?”

“Not a chance!” Dick laughed “but hey, we both know you have a crush on him too so…”

“This reverse psychology is not going to work on  me Grayson. No circus for tricks.”

“Please don’t tell me you tease him absolutely absentmindedly…..”

“Tease? Dick this is just who I am. I play and twist words with everyone. I do that all the time with you.”

“can you at least talk to him about it?”

“wouldn’t that make it a bit awkward?”

“sure. And I’ll be right by the corner with the camera to video it.”

“I swear to god you’re the definition of an older brother.”

***

For three days Y/N was trying her best to avoid the conversation. No matter what Dick said, Jason was her friend and taking their relationship to another level was…. Hard. Honestly, Y/N wasn’t even sure how she herself felt about it. Did she like Jason as more than friend?

Yes,

no,

maybe?

How do you even recognize the moment when you stop thinking of someone as a buddy and move to I want to be more stage?

Sure, there’s physical attraction but that is not necessarily the sign of deeper feelings.

Just cause you feel you want to kiss someone doesn’t mean you love him.

So how did she feel?

She was postponing even thinking about it, but there’s no escaping when you serve as an emotional support and voice of reason for the whole family of vigilante seeing them *him* on a day to day basis.

So yes, Y/N was pretty much conflicted and feeling like a silly teenager, even though her metrics was showing quite a different age number.

And she was sad.

And that was something Jason could not stand.

“did you switch the position of your bed lately ?” he asked her after a few days of her being shy, withdrawn and silent. Obviously he did it in-character with the teasing tone and that freaking edgelord attitude.

“What?” she raised her gaze from the bat computer, frowning in confusion “there’s still no place for you to crush at my place one way or another.”

“Oh, please…” he rolled his eyes, plumping onto the seat next to her “as if that was what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“You seemed like you’ve been getting off on the wrong foot, hence the question. I thought you were smarter than that and will get the reference.”

“Haha… very funny Todd.”

“I’m serious though.”

“You are never serious.”

“I miss your laugh…..” he babbled without thinking and his eyes grew wide at the words. “oh, fuck…I mean… you have terrible laugh. Terrible. And I miss laughing at your laugh. That’s what I meant to say.”

“I swear you’re the only person I know who can both offend and complement someone in one sentence.” She scoffed, turning back to computer away from him 

“Yeah, kind of my signature.”

“You’re a terrible person Jason Todd and I hate you. God I swear you’re so annoying. I can’t believe Dick was thinking you likelike me….” She babbled and this time it was her turn to blush because of saying too much. “oh, shit….I mean… Dick is delusional obviously and I’m pretty sure he was drunk while using the word.”

“Grayson told you I liked you?” Jason smirked.

“Yeah…. Funny, right?” she chuckles awkwardly

“Extremely funny.” Jason looked down avoiding meeting her eyes.

“Haha ….” She muttered.

And then, once they mocked Dick and the whole situation to the most possible extend and there was nothing more to say the silence fell between them. At first it was normal since they were both lost in their heads but after a while it started getting uncomfortable. Even the air in the batcave became heavier and it was becoming hard to breathe.

“Y/N…..” he looked at her

“Jace…..” she looked at him

And when their gazes met they were gone.

Acting on impulse they both moved forward, meeting halfway when their lips connected.

It was not like they write it in the books or how you see it in the movies or not even how you imagine kissing someone you like.

It was their first kiss together and yet, there were no sparks, no electricity, no butterflies in the stomach.

No.

Nothing so obvious and, well, spectacular.

And yet, there was something more to this display of affection.

The deep sense of doing something right.

Something pure and perfect.

Feeling of finally belonging somewhere.

With someone.

The inner peace.

It was….natural, but it didn’t take away the wonderfulness of being in the bubble together with that person.

Getting out all those emotions they were trying to hide.

And at this moment Y/N knew she was fooling herself. She did like him more than friends.

“Y/N…..?” he pulled back after a second, both pair of eyes closed, foreheads connected.

“Hmmmm?”

“I like you.”

“Yeah, I kind of notice……”

“Y/N……?”

“Yes, I like you too.”

“So what do I have to do to make you laugh again?”

She pulls back, opening her eyes and smirking teasingly.

“You can just be yourself. I swear sooner or later you will do something silly or stupid enough to make me laugh. At you…..”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of liking someone.”

“Maybe….but if there’s anyone I want to work towards creating joint meaning…. It’s you , Todd.”

“Oh….” He cooed “don’t give me diabetes with all that sweetness.”

“enjoy it while it last, Todd…..” she laughs and hearing that sound after a few weeks of silence he couldn’t help but grin widely.

Like a man in love.

Who he was.  

[lipglossanon]

Magic Man

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

boyfriend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

ao3 request from do; I hope you like it! And thank you for your patience! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cheating, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, slight noncon (but reader’s into it, just pretending to be reluctant), nipple teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

title from Magic Man by Heart (seemed fitting haha)

PSA: I definitely don’t condone cheating; find it vile to be quite frank. In this case reader is breaking up with the guy just hasn’t talked to him yet when stuff happens (not saying it’s right but she’s not going to stay in the relationship at the least)

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Since an extended holiday weekend’s on the way, your boyfriend invited you to stay with him at his dad’s place. 

“He’s been bugging me to visit for ages and I thought it’d be fun for you to meet him,” he tells you over the phone. 

Frowning at your history book, you tap your pen against it, “You sure this isn’t too fast? Or weird? I mean we’ve only been dating for a month.”

He laughs flippantly, making you frown harder even though he can’t see it. 

“It’ll be fine,” you hear a muffled voice from his end, “Jeremy’s here with pizza, gotta go. We’ll talk more later!”

The line beeps letting you know he hung up before you could even say goodbye. Opening up your calendar app, you mark off this weekend. At the very least, it would be nice to leave campus for a bit. Although you have a good feeling this’ll probably be the last time you’ll spend any quality time with Keith. 

He’s a nice enough guy, but still acts really immature and you’re not really interested in that especially when you’re only dating casually. 

The weekend rushes up on you and before you can say bon voyage, Keith picks you up and drives you the couple of hours upstate to his dad’s house. It’s a nice neighborhood and his dad has a lovely home. 

You know it’s lovely since Keith basically ditched you here to go hang out with some old high school buddies for the evening. 

“Promise I’ll be home tomorrow and I’ll show ya around!” he kisses your cheek as he heads out the door, “my dad will be home shortly so you can get to know each other.”

You give him a tight smile as he shuts the door, muffled laughter and talking dissipating as he gets into his friend’s car. 

You flop down on the couch and scroll through your phone, certain now that you’re dumping Keith as soon as you guys get back to campus. 

Later, the doorknob jiggles and you raise up to look over the couch into the entryway. All of the spit in your mouth dries up when you actually see Keith’s dad for the first time. He’s built, big biceps and thick forearms, not to mention his chest and shoulders and thighs and—

You pull yourself away from ogling your boyfriend’s dad, even if said boyfriend’s a complete ass. 

“Hi, you must be the infamous girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” he walks further into the house after kicking off his shoes, “the name’s Leon.”

“Hi,” you clear your dry throat, “yep, that’d be me.” 

You give him an awkward little wave as his gaze roves around the living room before settling on you, a more serious look on his handsome face. 

“Where’s Keith?”

“Ah,” you give him a bashful grin, “he wanted to hang out with some buddies so he—“

“Ditched you?” His blue eyes narrow as he drums his fingers against his leg, “just a second, sweetheart.”

He steps back outside and you feel your heartbeat amp up from the nickname. Straining your ears, you can sort of hear Leon’s low voice but not what’s actually being said. After a few minutes, he comes back inside looking irritated. 

He walks over to the couch and rubs the back of his neck, “I’d like to apologize for my son’s shitty behavior. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to convince him to come back and actually spend time with the pretty girl he decided to bring home.”

Your fingers tingle as shyness steals over your demeanor, “Not your fault. Thanks though, I appreciate it.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose letting you steal this moment to take in his chiseled jaw and spot a few freckles on his neck that you’d love to kiss.  

“Well, I can order takeout and we can watch something,” he offers with a half smile, “not the company you probably planned for.”

You smile at him, “That sounds really nice, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Oh uh,” a small pink blush fans put across his cheeks, “please just call me Leon.” 

The afternoon passes pretty lazily between Chinese takeout and some cheesy action movies. Leon’s a lot of fun; way more interesting than Keith, but you try not to dwell on the fact you’re starting to crush on his dad. 

Leon eventually offers you something a little stronger to drink which you gladly take him up on the offer. He must carry some high shelf liquor cause you feel the effects pretty quickly with a nice little buzz. At least, it’s the excuse you give when you slide into Leon’s lap and grind your wet cunt against his thigh as you kiss his neck. 

“Baby, what about Keith?” 

He doesn’t move you away but holds your hips still on top of him. 

“Gonna break up with him,” you murmur, “he’s a shitty boyfriend. No offense.”

“None taken,” he laughs, kissing you softly, letting you lick into his mouth. 

From there it’s a sloppy makeout session on his couch as you dry hump his thigh. He picks you up to let you straddle his chubbed cock, rocking your hips back and forth until you find the rhythm he likes. 

His phone rings and although he ignores it at first, with the constant noise he pulls away to check the caller ID. 

“It’s—I’ve gotta take this, honey,” he pats your hip and helps you move off of him. 

Embarrassment floods your body as you see how wet his pants are from your dirty grinding. 

“I’m so sorry,” you shakily stand up, “I’ll—it won’t happen again.”

“Wha—“

“I’m going to get out of your hair,” you give him a wobbly smile, “it’s slutty of me to not at least breakup with Keith first. It’s pretty fucked up actually.”

Reality’s a cold shower wiping out your arousal in a flash. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.”

You disappear up the stairs toward the guest bedroom Keith pointed out earlier; you definitely weren’t going to share his room with him now since you practically fucked his dad on the couch. Grabbing your luggage from Keith’s room, you beeline it for the guest room. 

You change out of your clothes feeling horny and gross. As much as you don’t like Keith, you feel a little bad to just do something so scandalous. 

You hear two pairs of footsteps out in the hall making you pause as you shut the light off. 

“Fuck off, dad, what does it matter if I got a little drunk,” Keith slurs, “I wasn’t driving!”

“You’re irresponsible is what,” Leon’s deep tone makes your thighs press together, “you even left your girlfriend here alone for god’s sake!”

“She’s fine,” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes, “‘sides where is she?”

“In the guest room,” Leon states bluntly, “I heard her go in there a little bit ago.”

You hold your breath as you hear Keith stumble closer to your door. 

“Go to your room,” Leon’s sharp tone stalls Keith’s footsteps and you listen as he stumbles back over to his room. 

“You’re a fucking buzzkill, y’know that?” Keith mutters as he shuts his door hard. 

“What a fucking brat,” you hear Leon mumble to himself. 

Your heartbeat picks up when he pauses outside your door but then smooths out as he walks off down the hallway. 

“Wow,” you whisper to yourself, turning off the light and climbing into bed. 

 You toss and turn for what seems forever until you settle on your side. Cunt still thrumming with arousal, you slowly slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. 

Losing yourself to the sweet pleasure drifting through your body, you miss the door opening until a warm, bulky body slides in behind you. 

“Want some help?”

Before you answer, a hand slips down your body to cover the one you have in your panties.

“Gotta keep quiet.”

You press your lips together tightly as Leon spoons you from behind.  He puts his hands inside your panties to push yours away and slowly touches your clit. You’re laying on one arm so with the one he shoved away you try to grab his wrist to stop him but he pinches your clit roughly. 

“So wet,” he whispers hotly in your ear. “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Nothing,” you whisper back, “now s-stop and get out please.” 

“Nah you like it too much,” he gloats letting his fingers circle your wet clit over and over.

You can’t really argue with him as you find yourself pressing your hips into his hand. Your hand is still gripping his wrist only now it’s to hold his arm while his fingers tease across your cunt. You honestly don’t mind picking up where you left off, even though it feels dirty. 

“Mmm so fucking sexy, y’like your own boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy, huh,” he mocks.

“N-no s’wrong, L-Leon,” you hiss, eyes clenching shut as he pinches your clit again. 

“Didn’t seem to think so earlier when you were grinding that wet pussy on me.”

Slick gushes from your cunt, feeling hot embarrassment and arousal from the truth of his words. You feel his dick press against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. 

Leon groans into your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin causing goosebumps. 

“Roll over and show me your tits you little tease,” he rasps in your ear. 

You ignore him and try to shove his arm away, but he grabs your hip and forces you to your back. He slides an arm underneath you then throws a leg over your hips to keep you from moving or pushing him away. His hand goes back down and dips underneath your panties to play with your clit. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, show me your tits already.” 

As much as you try to fight it, arousal is flooding your body. And it’s not like you aren’t interested in him. You feel more slick leak into your panties to coat Leon’s fingers. 

Your arms and legs are limited in their movement, but you’re able to do as he says. Feeling hot, you pull up your top to expose your breasts and hard nipples to his dark gaze. 

“There we go,” he groans, “look at those sweet fucking nipples.”

He grinds his dick into your thigh as his fingers rub across your swollen clit. 

“Really wanna taste’em,” he murmurs in your ear, “just suck on those pretty nipples til you’re creaming my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back, pressing your heels down into the bed. 

“C’mon, I’ll treat you right if you just let me,” he stops teasing your cunt and drags wet fingers up to flick your hard nipples. 

You’re panting now, hips writhing from the stimulation. 

“Let me suck’em baby.”

You bite your lip, brows furrowed with worry. 

“If you keep me waiting, I’m not gonna be nice,” he bites at your shoulder, blunt teeth scraping your skin. 

“O-okay,” you agree, feeling a sick thrill at the low groan Leon lets out. 

He moves his leg and helps twist your body towards him so you’re facing each other. Ducking his head, he drags his mouth across the swell of your breasts. 

“Hang on a sec,” he mutters into your chest. 

Leon’s hand moves to his boxers and pushes the band down until his cock’s free. He grabs your panties and pulls them down until he can slip his dick inside. You gasp at the feel of his hot cock rubbing all along your pussy, slipping in between your wet folds to drag against your clit and leaky hole.  

“There we go,” he grins at you, “try not to let me slip inside that wet little cunt. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Wide eyed, you shake your head no even if the thought of your boyfriend’s dad plowing you in this bed is driving you a little crazy. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine. 

You grind yourself down on Leon’s cock, dripping slick all over him. You feel him moan into your breasts as he slowly drags his dick back and forth inside your panties. The head of his dick leaks precum making your panties even stickier. 

Your hands drag through Leon’s soft hair, nails scratching at his scalp, as you sigh and mewl from his mouth suckling at your sensitive buds. 

“G-good, so good,” you arch your back, pressing more of your breasts into his face. 

The next time he catches your gaze you can see his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes and a pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose. Leon bites and sucks a hickie under the curve of your breast, teeth digging into the soft skin. 

You gasp at the dull ache, hands tightening in his hair to pull him away.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left, “you were just gonna leave me with blue balls earlier, weren’t you honey? So mean to tease me with that wet drippy cunt.”

You whine and arch up into him more, “We really shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?” his grin is wicked as he kisses across your breasts, “don’t want my son knowing your little pussy’s aching for my cock?”

You gasp sharply as he roughly sucks on your nipples, swapping back and forth until they’re puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he slips your panties off leaving your lower half completely naked. 

He grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further. 

“Want it, sweetheart?” he moves up to whisper in your ear as he rubs the tip of his dick against your clit, “want my fat cock splitting you open? Show you how a real man fucks a gorgeous girl like you.”

His words make your brain feel like mush, nodding up at him before you can think twice. 

“Please, Mr. Kennedy, want you to fuck me,” you whimper, nails digging into his shirt. 

He groans and eases the head into your slick cunt, “Just call me Leon, baby. Y’r gonna make me cum too soon calling me mister.” 

Your body goes hot all over as he rocks his hips against yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching heat. 

Wanting to tease, you pout up at him, “Sorry Mr. Kennedy— I mean Leon.”

Growling, he thrusts hard and buries himself balls deep inside your pussy, making you squeal. 

His palm covers your mouth, “Wanna get us caught? Want him walking in to see his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You clamp down on his dick hard and he clicks his tongue. 

“What a slut,” he murmurs, making you buck your hips up. 

He keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt, really drawing your attention to how split open your pussy feels. You constantly whine and moan as his dick bullies into your fluttering walls again and again. 

“You’re so fucking tight, honey,” he grunts, “never had a cock this big stuffing this slutty pussy?”   

You shake your head no as best you can and he chuckles. 

“S’okay, you got one now.”

He moves his hand away to drop his mouth down onto yours. Trading sloppy, wet kisses between your moans, his fat dick ruts into your squelching pussy, dragging all along the spongy spot of your cunt that makes you clench down on him. 

Your mind goes fuzzy, completely oblivious to everything but the orgasm slowly coiling in your belly. 

“Cockdrunk already?” He laughs, “nothing but a sweet little hole to dump my load into, right pretty girl?”

You shiver and cling harder to him, “Yes, please, want you t’cum in me.”

“Mmm don’t worry, your hot little cunt’s getting creamed,” he kisses you messily, hips snapping harder against you. 

Leon fucks you quick and deep now, plunging his cock into your sopping wet hole making him have to cover your mouth again for being too loud. His other hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit. Your head thrashes back and forth, tears running down your temples as he drives you closer and closer to climaxing. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, let that little pussy squeeze down on me, bet it feels so good,” he goads you, fingers rubbing over your pudgy clit until your back bows off the bed. 

You cry out behind his sweaty palm, eyes fluttering shut as the coil in your belly snaps, orgasm hitting you. Legs clamping around his waist, your cunt clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as slick gushes around his throbbing length. 

“Oh so good, such a good girl for me,” he pants, hands grabbing your thighs to press you open more, “gonna fucking cum in you baby, watch it spill out of your tight hole.”

You whine pitifully as he rails his dick into your sensitive pussy until, with a low groan, he thrusts deeply and spills, hot and sticky, all in your pulsing walls. He sighs as he rocks against you, stuffing your cunt with jizz until it leaks out around his cock. 

Pulling out with another sigh, he looks down at you with a sly grin. 

“Nice that we’ll be spending the weekend together, huh sweetheart.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the water heater

lilac, chapter three

a/n: ...don't ask me how late it got when i wrote this.... i was on a roll that day and time just turned into a weird soup.

summary: “Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, totally inaccurate description of tinkering with a water heater just for the sake of making them fall in love

word count: 1137

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“Well, maybe if you just–”

“Dad! Just–…” you swallowed the rest of the heated statement that nearly escaped your lips, mentally counting to three before glaring back at the man who was breathing down your neck, “do you remember when I was 12 and you had the clever idea of attempting to install that new sink in room 5?”

Already knowing where this story was gonna go, Harvey quietly replied, “…yeah…”

“And just who, pray tell, fixed it after you made the pipes uncontrollably spurt out water, consequently flooding the entire room?”

“…you did…”

“That’s right,” you sucked on another tense breath before continuing, “so, unless you’ve somehow improved that skill since then, which, I’m sorry dad, but I highly doubt that you have, please, just let me handle it alone.”

“…alright, fine,” he ultimately backed off, nearing the basement stairs, “but I’ll be right up by the front desk if you need me.” 

“I won’t,” you called over your shoulder as you redirected your attention to the hopeless pipes, “but thanks.”

Letting the illuminated spot from the small flashlight clutched in your palm guide your vision, you checked each and every rusty tube. 

After too many pokes and prods, you finally found the source of the problem. Stepping over towards the main pipeline you bend down and reached through tickling cobwebs to turn the paint-chipped knob clockwise, shutting all of the water off.

Before your spine managed to straighten back out, you felt your blood begin to boil as you heard the sound of heavy footsteps once again ascending the crooked staircase.

“Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

“Hey,” Pete’s deep voice echoed throughout the dim space, sounding the way that hot chocolate felt. 

“Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to see you here, in my basement of all places, but, um, what are you–, what can I help you with?” 

“Nothing ma'am,” he took a step closer, “it’s what I can help you with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Harvey sent me down here to take a look at something.”

“Oh, did he now…” that was the last you needed in order to lose your patience.  

“Yeah,” Pete’s eyes tracked your form as you riffled through the open metal toolbox and yanked out a wrench. 

“Well,” you huffed as you began to loosen the various hexagon-shaped fittings snug on the pipes spiderwebbing out from the bulky water heater apparatus, the labour of the task presenting itself in your vexed voice, “you can tell my dad that I’m still just fine and don’t need any help!” the tool on your palm then inadvertently slammed against one of the pipes, the clanging and therapeutic blow snapping you enough out of your ire to take a step back. Squeezing your eyes shut a moment, you let out a deep sigh before parting your lips once more to speak, “I’m sorry, it was very kind of you to offer your help, but I’m okay.” 

Fully expecting him to just take off, his stationary stance caught you off guard, “so, the water heater’s acting up?”

“It’s fucking ancient, that’s what it is,” you replied as you returned to twist the remainder of the fittings, “should have updated it long ago, but no, no, that never happened,” you continued to grumble mostly to yourself at this point, “of course it’s much more fun to let me handle it down the line when the hot water outlet is completely rusted over and clogged up to the point of no return, you know, that’s just so much more fun…” your words then faded away as you attempted to turn a knob that in no way wanted to corporate.

Quietly cursing underneath your breath, you tried to put all your weight into it as you strained to turn the stuck fitting. 

But just then, from out of nowhere, you felt the wrench begin to turn, but that victory wasn’t the only thing you suddenly felt. Engulfing your own, the comparatively massive hand of Pete enveloped yours as if it wasn’t even there to begin with, helping you turn it as though the metal was made out of butter. 

Blinking up at him after it finally twisted completely, his intimidating stature seemed even more towering up close. 

“Uh,” you slipped your hand out from under his calloused palm, “thank you…”

“No, problem,” you promptly whirled around to avoid his piercing gaze, busying yourself by riffling through the toolbox without any purpose whatsoever, “so your old man’s not helping you out in renovating this place?”

“Well, he’s brilliant at a lot of things, but those skills in particular have never really been in his bailiwick–, wait…” you kept your back turned to him as you asked, “how do you know that I’m renovating?” 

“People in this town like to talk, a lot,” he breathed out the essence of a laugh, “and that includes your father.”

“Ah, okay…”

Spinning around once again, you kept your eyes steadfast on the dusty pipes, though after what only felt like a second, Pete unexpectedly proposed, “hey, what do you say I lend you a hand?”

“What?” 

“Well,” hands clasped together in front of him, the digits on one of them dug into the palm of the other as he spoke, “I’m no stranger to fixing things, so it might help make it fly by a bit faster than if you try and get through it all on your own.”

Unable to detect if this was just some strange joke or not, you verified, “I’m sorry, but are you legitimately offering me your help in renovating this place right now?”

“Yes.” 

“Seriously?” you bellowed a little louder than you’d intended, earning just a small nod from him in confirmation, “I–…” you blinked back at him, downright dumbfounded, “that’s incredibly generous of you, but I can’t really afford to hire you right now…”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to hire me, just let me help out a bit.”

“Pete, I can’t let you do that, not without any form of compensation.”

“Well, then just pay me in free coffee till it’s done,” he attempted to joke, though it didn’t manage to crack a smile on your lips. 

“This is not funny, Pete.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, still in a startlingly light-hearted tone, “you clearly don’t know yet just much coffee I tend to drink on average every day,” seeing you not budge an inch, he then dropped the attempt with a gentle nod, “fine, how about we just take a look at a price at a later date? Decide on it later when it’s all done, and you start making a profit again?” 

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