#but like. hes like the closest thing to a father i ever had. which is funny cuz he wasnt even 10 years older but its true

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I can't blame you!" Randall had gaped as he listened to all of this, very grateful to have this moment of peace, spent venting with his bride-to-be and his best friend: He couldn't say he'd had nearly as long and embarrassing a day as they had thus far (at least, not when it came to discussions about having children), but it had been a very busy morning, with a lot of running back and forth, feeling like he was juggling at least twenty tasks at once.

"And here I thought I'd been having a rough morning," he laughed in exasperation, sweeping a hand through his black curls before saying, "But you two have me beat, oh, I'm so sorry you had to sit through all of that! I'm glad you were at least able to escape and come down here!"

"So are we," Dorian laughed tiredly, able to have a sense of humor about the embarrassing discussion earlier. At the very least, he was able to laugh it off, far more than he'd be able to laugh off the gossip, the only part of the brunch discussion he didn't bring up to Randall-he considered it, admittedly, but he didn't want his best friend to know what his parents were saying about his beloved mother...

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐉𝐒

(𝓹airing) — pjs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓼ituationship ; angst & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand five-hundred 𝓹eng's note. for my event! + new layout 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a year later and you still miss park jongseong

you have a recurring dream that happens maybe once a week.

always about the same guy and living the same day. you’ve had it so often that you can recite every little detail that happens if someone were to ask you. though the only person who knows about this dream you keep having is your dream journal. which admittedly seems pointless now if you keep having the same dream, there’s no variety. 

you’ve stopped recording your dreams since it's the same every night that you have a dream worth remembering. you only dream of him.

you wake up next to him, a child that you can only presume is yours jumping on top of you excitedly. she calls you mom and him dad. the three of you get ready, eat breakfast, he kisses you goodbye, and you take your daughter to school.

you drop off your daughter and go to your ordinary office job. then in the late afternoon you drive to pick up your daughter and go home. dinner is premade from the night before and you two wait for your husband. 

a nice family meal. he’d do the dishes while you’d carry the load of laundry.

then eventually you fall asleep in his arms. 

whose? park jongseong, or jay.

you met him in your last year of university. so about two years ago now, but it’s been a year since you saw him.

you knew from the start that he was only spending a year here. 

so the time you spent with him was admittedly short. 

meeting through a mutual friend and spending a lot of time in group settings for the first semester. you still aren’t sure what shifted but you and jay started hanging out in the last semester before graduation alone, which bled into the summer after university until he left the country. 

in those last few months, there was an undeniable amount of chemistry and tension between the two of you. 

it stayed unspoken as you both knew that soon you would be miles apart when jay would leave to start his job for working for his father and you would be running around the city looking for a job, a relationship didn’t fit in the picture. 

you just kind of just acted like a couple without the label or conversation. 

it did more harm than good to your yearning to be with jay. he held you at night like a boyfriend would, took you on dates, and kissed your face. 

you can’t wait to get married. ever since you were a child you’ve fantasized about meeting your husband. when you met jay you were certain it would be him.  

jay is business driven. he wants to continue his father’s company and focus on work for most of his life. jay isn’t looking for anything serious, he doesn’t want to settle down just yet, and he doesn’t do long distance. 

your plans for the future never once intersect with the other. you don’t want the same things. 

you can’t stay away from him though.

one night, the week before jay’s flight, you had the closest talk to about what you were. a conversation that should have happened earlier.

“do you think you’re going to date when you move away?” you ask him while eating the dinner he had made you at his apartment. 

“no,” jay says bluntly, taking a sip of his drink. “i don’t think there’ll be anyone there for me.”

“do you really want to work for your dad?” you pick up a bite from your plate. 

“there’s no one else but me,” he shrugs. “i’ll have to take over eventually, so i might as well start now.” 

“i guess you’re right,” you mumble. “is there anything that would make you stay?”

“you.” jay says honestly. “but we both know it’s too late.”

“i guess you’re right,” you sigh, playing with your food, your appetite is gone. 

“sorry,” he apologizes. “not to get your hopes up or anything.”

“it’s fine, i figured you’d say that,” you get up and walk towards the kitchen to put your dishes in the sink. 

the next day you ask jay when his flight would be leaving at the airport. he tells you that his plane leaves at twelve. you make sure you’re there by ten. 

“jay!” you call out in the crowded airport when you spot the back of his head, his birthmark on his neck showing it’s him. 

“____!” he quickly gets up from his seat at his gate. “you’re early?” 

“i wanted to get you alone before everyone else comes!” 

“oh,” jay scratches the back of his neck. “it’s just you that’s coming.”

“what! why?” you say shocked.

“i said bye to everyone else yesterday, i wanted it to just be us.”

“what if you’re forgetting someone?” you frown. 

“i’m not leaving much behind,” jay shrugs. “moving brings me closer to my family and friends”

that bitter feeling started bubbling up inside of you. it was wrong to want to beg him not to leave you but there was a part of you that always wanted to be just a little selfish. enough to make him stay and commit to you, even long distance would suffice for you, but it wouldn’t for him. you knew that better than everyone. 

“oh,” you look at the ground. “are we not friends?”

“that’s not what i meant-” 

“it’s okay,” you can’t fight the frown on your face. “we’re not anything anyways.”

the rest of the time at the airport you sit at his gate in silence. a spot between you both as an invisible barrier. you badly want to leave and forget about jay but you won’t let him go until he has to get on the plane that will take him thousands of miles away from you. 

you want to talk to him but cannot find any words. tongue-tied next to the boy you’ve grown to love in the short remaining semester of your university career. 

jay cannot seem to find the right words either. you’re here right in front of him and he can’t just hold you close for the last hours you have together. anxiously checking the time on his phone leading up to boarding. 

“boarding starts in 20 minutes,” jay says quietly. 

“oh,” is all you can respond. 

“do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, you nod. 

the two of you walk side by side in circles in the area around his gate. in an uncomfortable silence, you are not used to having with jay. 

“i have to get going,” jay pauses, stopping the both of you in his tracks.

you’re voice is still lost, tears brimming your eyes, you can only wrap your arms around his torso and cry. 

“baby…” he whispers, drawing you in closer, if that was even possible. 

you can’t stop crying, hugging him as your vision turns blurry. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally stutter out, clutching a handful of his shirt. 

“for what?” jay asks in genuine confusion. 

“loving you when you said you weren’t looking for anything.”

“don’t say that,” he replies, feeling his own eyes getting teary. “it’s neither of our faults. time just wasn’t on our side. if i could i’d do anything just to be with you.” he says into your hair. 

you reluctantly let go and find your way out of the airport and to your car. once climbing into the driver's seat you let the rest of it out. sobbing until you could no longer produce any more tears. while jay does the same while he gazes out into the sky from his airplane seat. 

jay regrets not trying with you with every day that passes. he knows that the both of you could have made long-distance work but at the end of the day he knows he cannot live up to what you want. so he deems it best to ghost you while he’s in an american state. for work he claims but it seems more like a form of self-torture.

he can keep it together for the first couple of months of work, but soon his father notices something is up. he becomes frustrated with his son’s work, he hasn’t shown any growth in months and seems overall out of it. he sends him back home and tells jay to find himself before he even thinks about becoming a ceo. 

there’s a knock at your door on a late saturday night. you’re slightly tipsy from some wine you had been sipping on, walking to the door calmly with no idea who it might be.

on the other side of your door is park jongseong. suitcase behind him, with a bouquet with your favorite flowers. 

when he sees your face for the first time in a year he can only hope you’ll let him in to make up lost time.

“jay?” you say in disbelief, rubbing your eyes and wondering if the alcohol has already taken over your system. “you’re home?”

“i'm sorry if i'm coming home too late,” he says handing you the assorted flowers.

“why are you here?”

“‘cause this time i won’t be late.”

[bumblesimagines]

‘i never thought i'd ever see you again.’

‘i never got your name.’

w/ milly’s rhaenyra and male! reader ? like maybe male reader ends up being her betrothed rather than laenor xd

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, Alicent and Viserys marriage, arranged marriage trope, not much tbh?, some lying by omission, some mentions of rhaenyra's complicated relationship with gender

Rhaenyra's veins buzzed with anger, irritation, and exhaustion, the reins tightly gripped in her hands leaving imprints along her palms as she rode through the forest. The wind lashed at her face, her silver hair whipping behind her; the closest thing she could get to mimicking the feeling of flying with Syrax. Her father's words echoed in her mind, reminding her she'd never be the son he always longed for. Always just the princess, always just the daughter meant to marry some noble arse and have a million of his babies, even as the heir to the throne. 

A furious groan escaped her lips, her eyes beginning to sting with tears. She rapidly blinked them away at the sight of another person up ahead by the lake and tugged on the reins, bringing the horse's speed down to a trot. Her chest heaved with pants and her hair had no doubt lost the pristine style her handmaidens had brushed it into, the bright color of it being the only telling part of her royal blood. The stranger crouched by the lake looked over his shoulder at her and stood, wiping his dripping hands on his pants. 

"Princess Rhaenyra," He bent at the waist in a bow, his boots leaving prints in the mud as he approached his grazing horse. He wrapped his hands around the reins and swept his eyes over her, his lips curling playfully. "Which fool has upset the heir of the Iron Throne so soon into the day?" 

Rhaenyra released a dry, breathless laugh. "My father." She answered, half-expecting him to trip over himself to take his words back but he hummed and nodded, heaving himself up on the saddle of his horse. The horse huffed softly and raised its head, chewing on the last bits of grass in its mouth.

"Fathers make the worst fools." He said, gently tugging on the reins in her direction, the calmness in his demeanor reminding her of her uncle in a way. There he stood in the presence of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and he seemed as if he were speaking to an old friend. Rhaenyra relaxed at that, used to most trying to suck up to her or being intimidated by her titles, but she couldn't help eyeing him with a hint of suspicion.

His clothes lacked any specific coloring symbolizing one of the Great Houses for they were mostly brown and akin to what the smallfolk typically wore but even the most confident of peasant men were prone to stuttering or stumbling over themselves. The stranger simply smiled at her, dipping his head as his horse walked past her and back into the forest.

"I never got your name," Rhaenyra called, pulling on the reins and pressing her heels into her horse's sides. The horse complied and moved after him swiftly, slowing down once they were walking side by side on the small natural trail leading back to the Royal camp. With a better look at him, Rhaenyra had to admit he was handsome, especially with the mystery surrounding him. 

"Surely my name is unimportant to a lady such as yourself, Princess." He spoke with a hint of a playful tone, his head tilted back to watch the birds fluttering about overhead.

Rhaenyra hummed quietly and looked forward once again, dread beginning to bubble up in her stomach. She'd made a bit of an outburst after her and King Viserys's little spat in the main tent, and she hardly had the patience or desire to face her father or the other nobles who'd witnessed it. "You claim fathers make the worst fools." She glanced at him. "What makes yours a fool?"

"He's stubborn, as most old men are." He sighed. "He never allows his mind to shift from his opinions, even if it may cost his family. Though, I suppose when my mother is the one making the actual decisions, he desires to show his fellow men he's in charge."

"I'd like to meet your mother." Rhaenyra chuckled softly, the words repeating in her mind and making her throat tighten with intense longing. Nothing would ever be able to replace the immense gaping hole in her heart left behind by her mother's passing and her father's decisions afterward. The vultures circled and circled until her body had been reduced to ash before they swooped down to peck at the leftovers. Otto... Alicent. 

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply through her nose and plastered on a polite yet fake smile, turning to look at him once more. (Y/N) finally dropped his attention away from the sky and turned toward the princess, arching a questioning brow upon noticing the look on her face. "What is it, Princess? We must make haste if we wish to return to camp before nightfall." 

She groaned. "I do not wish to return to camp. I... I wish I were someone else, frankly.. someone nobody would be able to sell off to some fancy man like a mare and made to live the endless cycle of falling pregnant and producing child after child until my husband is content. I am a princess and the heir to the throne yet- yet I am treated no better than your common lady." 

"Us men do have more freedom, though I am afraid you'd be forced to marry regardless of being of either sex, Princess. It is what's expected of the highborn folk." He shrugged lightly, glancing over the branches above and scanning the sky for the position of the sun. "I suppose we may ride through the forest for a while longer but if anyone were to search for us, they'd be... far from thrilled seeing us unchaperoned and alone together. They may even have us wed." He winked playfully.

"Is that not what lowborns dream of? Marrying royalty?"

"Aye, some do. There's many a tale of beautiful lowborn daughters being swept away by a handsome dashing knight. You cannot fault the imagination of the desperate." He spoke and tugged gently at his reins, directing his horse off the path and further into the Kingswood. Rhaenyra followed, pleased to hear the bustle and chatter of camp drift further and further away. 

"Where are you from, man with no name? A distant land?" She questioned teasingly, taking note of the way her thighs began to ache. It'd been too long since she last took to a saddle, she realized. Rhaenyra would remedy that quickly when she returned home. The stranger laughed softly, a pleasant-sounding thing, and gave her a grin. 

"If consider The Reach a distant land, then yes." He responded.

Commonly known for being the home of chivalry and where knighthood was greatly esteemed by its residents, the Reach was perhaps one of the wealthiest regions in all of Westeros. Rhaenyra had heard plenty of it from Alicent back when they exchanged more than forced pleasantries. Her former friend oft' spoke of showing her around Oldtown, the home of House Hightower and the most notable city in the Reach. There were many houses, many places her newfound friend would live and work near. She tried recalling all the houses from the Reach that'd attended the hunt.

"And whom may your lord be? Lord Hightower?" 

"Lord Tyrell." He answered. "He believes I am too young to not be wed with children by now. He is a kind man, if not perhaps rather daft at times. I'm fond of him, truly, even when he becomes aggravating."

"It's rather surprising to hear you are close with Lord Tyrell." Rhaenyra's brows raised. Sure, plenty of lords and ladies favored the servants who took care of them frequently, but they hardly ever got close enough with them to speak so freely.

"Oh," He chuckled. "He's known me since I was a babe."

By the time night fell, they'd strolled through part of the Kingswood in avid conversation, only putting an end to their riding when it was deemed better to collect some wood for a fire. Rhaenyra leaned back against a fallen log and listened to the comforting sound of fire crackling, the embers rising and spinning through the air with each delicate breeze that swept by. She watched them dance with the breeze while her thoughts drifted elsewhere, to what life may have been if she'd been born as her father's desired prince. 

"You should sleep, Princess." The Tyrell boy spoke from his spot beside her, his arm perched up on the log and hoisting up his head. His eyes remained closed but his body seemed alert, fingers twitching with each distant crunch or animal cry. "We'll rise with the sun and return to camp lest anyone realize you spent the night away with a stranger. I'd rather remain off King Viserys radar."

"Is that so? What if I wish to tell my father of how I met an odd man out in the woods? That'll surely garner his attention." Rhaenyra giggled softly and turned to look at him, watching the corner of his lips twitch upward. 

"It certainly would, Princess." He murmured and lifted his head, gently rubbing his knuckle over his eye and glancing over the dark woods around them. The fire illuminated his face in a warm, near-golden glow. Rhaenyra thought of her father's insistence that she wed someone, anyone. What would he do, she wondered, if she told him of a lowborn she liked? 

"You never told me your name."

"It is of little importance, as I said. You will return home to King's Landing soon and all this will become a distant memory in days to come." His eyes slid over to her, and she hummed quietly, her lips parting to insist otherwise but she knew the life of court would sweep her up and she'd only recall him late at night when her thoughts stopped running. "Sleep."

"I do not plan on forgetting you." She told him in a surge of confidence and some rebellion, planting her hand on the forest floor beneath them and leaning forward to press their lips together. Not her first time kissing someone, for she and Alicent had exchanged curious kisses during their youth but her body nonetheless tingled with excitement. 

"Princess," He sighed but she placed her other hand on his cheek before he could draw back and scold her on whichever societal rule they broke. "You-"

Rhaenyra tilted her head back slightly, swiping her tongue over her lips and giving him a small smile. "I wish to be free for a moment. Will you help me?" She asked softly, staring into his (E/C) eyes hopefully, otherwise it'd be a rather awkward night. 

"Whatever the princess's desires."

The time had finally arrived when her father had grown tired and displeased with the lack of progress in their combined search for a suitable husband. He'd strongly considered Laenor Velaryon in hopes of mending what'd been broken when he chose Alicent over Laena, but the rumors of the young Velaryon preferring boys over girls reached King Viserys ears fast enough for him to change his mind and choose another strong contender. 

"I believe you'll be quite content with Highgarden, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke softly, her words directed at her but eyes distant as she bounced little Helaena in her arms. Her handmaiden remained silent as she attempted to wrangle a wiggling Aegon and Rhaenyra could only grimace at the struggle. "It is.. a beautiful place. My mother was friends with Lady Tyrell in her youth and oft' spoke of the beauty of it." 

"I see." Rhaenyra sighed. "I am.. certain it is as lovely as you claim. But I will reside in King's Landing, as it is my duty as heir, is it not?" She lifted her brows at her father.

King Viserys sighed deeply and opened his mouth to speak but the carriage lurched to a stop and their names were called into the air, signaling their arrival at the seat of House Tyrell. Rhaenyra inhaled through her nose and held it to calm the irritation simmering in her veins, reminding herself there was a chance at seeing the mysterious stranger from Kingswood. Her legs shifted under the skirt of her beige-colored dress, thighs pressing together as she felt the ghost of his lips roaming over her shoulders and the touch of his hands when they cupped her face. 

"The Princess and heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen!"

Rhaenyra gathered her skirt in her hands and stood up from the cushioned seat, moving toward the door and carefully stepping down. Her eyes first wandered over the large white stone castle surrounded and protected by three rings of stone walls. Many of the outer walls were covered by sparse greenery, from ivy vines to beautiful roses. She could hear the delicate sound of a harp playing coming from the open doors leading into the castle. Everything felt... calming in Highgarden. 

"King Viserys," Lord Tyrell greeted eagerly, bowing as far as his frail bones allowed him to while his wife gave a short curtsy and regarded them with an air of coolness. Rhaenyra liked her already. Lifting his arms and offering a pleasant smile, Lord Tyrell said, "Welcome to Highgarden. It is an honor to host our King, Queen, and Princess."

"What a beautiful home you have." Alicent complimented, her elbow subtly bumping into Rhaenyra's arm. 

"Yes," Rhaenyra nodded and Lord Tyrell's features brightened with the praise. "It is... incredibly soothing being here already."

"You flatter us with your praise, My Queen, My Princess." Lady Tyrell offered a polite smile, her hand rubbing along the subtle bump in her belly, soaking in Rhaenyra with her eyes before she turned sideways and nodded up the flight of stairs for someone else to join them. "And we are incredibly flattered you answered our proposal. May I introduce my son, Ser (Y/N) Tyrell."

Rhaenyra's gaze flickered away and her eyes widened into near saucers. The stranger from the Kingswood grinned mischievously back at her, no longer clad in dirty clothes and instead in dark green with the sigil of House Tyrell. (Y/N) Tyrell... what a sneaky bastard, he was. Rhaenyra clamped her teeth into her bottom lip and forced herself to be silent under the watchful eyes of everyone around them. Her heart fluttered, a million questions and playful complaints flying through her mind.

"King Viserys, Queen Alicent," (Y/N) bowed in greeting to the two, a fond smile gracing his lips when he gazed upon her half-siblings before a playful twinkle appeared in his eyes once he turned to her. He scooped her hand into his and raised it up to his face, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Princess Rhaenyra, what an honor to finally meet you." Rhaenyra finally smiled. 

"Now with the pleasantries aside, we've hosted a feast in honor of your arrival and this beautiful betrothal." Lord Tyrell said and eagerly beckoned them within the castle as servants swiftly took their belongings into the castle and to their temporary bedchambers. Her father and Alicent followed, the two men chatting blissfully and sharing laughter while their wives walked idly side by side. 

"Would you like a tour of the gardens? They're in full bloom this time of year." (Y/N) offered her his arm and she took it, giving a nod and allowing him to guide her into the castle where the sound of the harp grew closer and louder, the gentle music filling the bright halls. 

"I never thought I'd ever see you again," Rhaenyra admitted, gazing over the light-colored walls. Everything in Highgarden seemed bright and warm, especially welcoming and calming. The Red Keep oft' felt dreary and cold but Highgarden seemed vibrant with life and more open with large windows allowing the light to pour in. "Why did you keep this hidden? I would not have cared if you were a noble."

"I never said I was a lowborn, Princess. You assumed I was." (Y/N) reminded her lightly, guiding her down a flight of stairs and into a large vibrant garden with a gorgeous fountain in the middle spouting water in a continuous flow. He plucked a bright red rose from a bush and offered it to her. "It appears the Gods had plans for us regardless, though."

Chuckling, Rhaenyra took the rose. "It appears so."

[dahliakbs]

I love your toddler reader Batfam story’s. I love them so much

I've been meaning to make more Toddler x Batfam but the writers block is killing me, also Thank You(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡. I was starting to wonder if people really liked my stuff.

Holidays with the Waynes-⑅⁠꒱

"Why did the city give us fireworks?" Tim's gaze was trained onto the large box of fireworks placed on the front lawn of the manor.

Everyone was currently stood outside, relishing in the fact that the city was for once a quiet and peaceful place.

Nights like this were rare, especially on Holidays like this one. Everyone was trying to enjoy it to the best of their ability, including you.

You sat next to the large crate, a blue lollipop in one sticky hand while your other was struggling to wrap your tiny fingers around the lighted firecracker they'd given you earlier.

The strength in your arm was quickly waning away and all you could really do was watch as your arm slowly but awkwardly fall to the side, the weight of the firecracker becoming to much for your poor little arms to handle.

Since you were sat directly next to the large crate, the small sparks of fire that flew off the burning base of your cracker came into contact with the stem of the firework. Soon igniting the closest one to you.

Now you definitely didn't know how a firework worked at your age so the sight didn't alarm you at all.

With childlike wonder you watched as the pretty flame slowly burned the fibers of the stem, finding the dancing flame quite interesting at that moment in time.

"Father told us earlier, were you not listening?" Damian asked in an irritated tone of voice.

"Of course I heard him, all I'm saying is that this city doesn't need a bunch of supposedly airheaded celebraties setting off dangerous flaming objects on-" Tim little rant was cut off by an abrupt popping noise, followed by the familiar sound of his baby sibling's soft giggles.

Both their heads snapped to you immediately, in the short time they'd turned their heads away from you you'd somehow managed to light all the fireworks in that crate?? They looked at each other and for once they definitely knew that they were thinking the same thing.

'Who would give a toddler a mini firework?"

In their stupor the final firework in the crate ignited, causing the crate of fireworks to begin setting off right beside you.

The small sparks coming from the stems of the fireworks blazed the grass below, surrounding you in a small field of fire while you sat excited in the middle.

If those fireworks weren't setting off madly behind you in every which way they would have stopped to admire the wide toothless smile you'd had plastered onto your face.

They'd admire the way the fireworks reflected off your irises, the way the blazing flames seemed to fall so perfectly around you, surrounding you in its blazing heat and lastly they would have admired the way you sat so confidently in the blazing heat as if the sight of fire mixed with the atrocious sounds of the ignited fireworks didn't bother you at all.

They would've have admired all of that but instead they were running around like mad men.

The loud commotion summoning everyone in the area.

It didn't seem like their vigilante instincts had kicked in yet, their bodies being to relaxed by calmness from not to long ago to actually step in and help you. Instead they settled for freaking out and yelling at each other, trying to find out which one of them actually gave a toddler a mini firework.

"It seems holidays never do go well at the Wayne manor indeed" Alfred said from afar, a clicking sound resounding in the quiet, empty hallways of the Wayne manor.

This scene before him was much to beautiful for him to pass up the opportunity to photograph. Your beautiful smile was on display, how could he not take a picture?!

Of course he did this with no worry, already knowing that no one would ever allow the dancing flames to come any closer to you.

Let alone harm you.

No you were much to precious to them for them to allow that to happen...

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟑𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘: 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟐𝐤

⤥ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭; 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡), 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭��𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

“No, I don’t like it so stop pointing it out, snowflake!”

Sunghoon’s young voice echoes in your skull as your eyes remain focused on the little mole on the right side of his nose bridge, a detail to his prince-like features you’ve always noticed yet never acknowledged.

As you watch your archenemy have a good night with his closest friends and cousin, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander all the way back in memory lane to a conversation you’ve never forgotten.

“But it’s so cute, Hoonie”, you had told him, never once looking away from his eyes, the ones you used to find so much comfort in, especially during one of the most difficult times in your life, “don’t you know what the legend about moles marking the spots where your past lover kissed you the most?”

“Hm, they were obsessed with my face then”, he huffed and rolled his eyes, completing the knot on his skates before getting up on his feet and shooting you one of his big, cheeky smiles; the one where a tiny dimply makes an appearance.

“Why would you say it like that? Stop belittling yourself like that”, you pouted back at him and looked at him with big eyes, your skates still not completely tied up, which – just as usual – resulted in Sunghoon getting down on his knees to finish it for you. Something the two of you have always done for some reason, but never in a million years would you have changed it for anything else.

It used to be in those moments right before and after practice which made you feel the closest to your skate partner of six years, the one guy in your life who had always been there for you and your brother, the one who had never, ever disappointed you.

“You know I don’t like my face much because of how much I look like my father”, Sunghoon had casually explained to you before looking up at you with longing, innocent eyes, “you wouldn’t know what that feels like after all.”

For some reason, this particular part of said conversation had never quite left your memories, your heart feeling at ease as you remember how you had tilted your head to the back in confusion, not quite understanding what he was referring to.

“You know in some cultures they say you look like the parent who loves you the most”, he had started to explain, not struggling to read your facial expressions at all, even back then, “you’re a carbon copy of your mother, in every way possible. However, in some other cultures it’s said that if your mother is so in love with your father, it’ll turn you into his twin so I guess we’re yet again on the same line but different ends.”

Sunghoon had always had a way with words, no matter his age and you still remember just how much you had loved listening to everything he had to say. He’d never been one to talk much, but the things he said had always carried meaning.

“But I’m not really sure if I actually read this or heard some random ladies talk about this once so, I’m not a reliable source at all.”

As your brain replays that last statement, you can’t help but smile to yourself and it’s only when Sunghoon suddenly turns his head to meet your gaze that you’re pulled back into reality by brutal force.

You’re quick to avert your eyes, not ready to accept whatever the fuck has been going on with you and to your luck Sunghoon doesn’t seem to care enough (as usual) to acknowledge your staring.

No matter how many times he cums inside of you, your precious archenemy probably won’t ever treat you like an actual part of society before and after your shared orgasms and when in the beginning you actually preferred it that way, you’ve now found yourself doubting and questioning his behavior.

It’s not like Sunghoon’s actually nice to you when the two of you get intimate but besides the first time, he’s never once has he made you feel unwanted or disgusting. In any other situation his behavior and the way he treats and touches you would have provoked and irritated you, but whenever the burning tension between the two of you becomes too much and you have no choice but to give in over and over again, your body longs for those exact things and you actually don’t hate it as much as you used to.

Back when you had first started sleeping with Sunghoon, you’d try your best to just not think about it anymore until the next booty call but now you actually caught yourself going out of your way to get physical with him.

It’s not something that just dawned on you but rather a realization which hit you since you’ve been spending quite a bit of time in close proximity with him for the past three days.

Every time the boys want to head out after your daily activities, you find yourself hoping that Sunghoon decides to stay back in the airbnb too, just because you don’t actually want to rush things with him anymore when it comes to sex. You’ve come to the point where he makes you feel so good, you actually want it to go on for as long as possible.

You still can’t believe that you’re actually admitting this to yourself but after all this time you’ve grown exhausted, tired and mentally drained, which is probably why it doesn’t really matter to you anyway.

To Park Sunghoon you’re nothing but a quick, easy and convenient fuck. That’s it. And it’s good this way. That’s why there’s no point in worrying about why the fuck would your brain start coming up with things and thoughts which don’t even make sense, right?

“She’s ignoring us again”, Jaeyun chuckles and nudges your side with his elbow before he throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer to his body, quickly reminding you of your current situation.

Your eyes almost instinctively shift to Sunghoon’s face, only for instant regret to hit your system when you notice the look of disgust and annoyance gracing his features.

“Sorry, boys”, you sigh and pat Jaeyun’s chest, “this week’s been so exhausting, I think the lack of sleep is finally getting to me.”

“So, you’re not gonna join our night time adventure either?” Sunoo shoots you a pout of disappointment and with a soft sigh you imitate his facial expression and shake your head.

“I really need to get some sleep for our day trip to Koto tomorrow”, you respond and look at each of the boys individually but intentionally skip a certain someone, “we’ve been up and on the road for twelve hours straight, fourth day in a row and as much as I want to, I know my body’s not gonna cooperate much longer if I don’t rest.”

The thought of a warm shower, a few cigarettes on your airbnb’s balcony, a nice glass of wine and absolute silence remains the only thing on your mind despite the slight pengs of guilt hitting your chest for not joining your boys yet again.

“It’s okay, mother”, Jungwon quickly responds and puts on his coat with a big, dimply smile, “you probably didn’t hear it but I’ve always been against forcing old people out of their comfort zone.”

With a soft scoff you roll your eyes and thank Riki as he hands you your jacket, all of the boys taking the last sips of their soft beverages before saying your goodbyes and leaving the sweet little restaurant you had decided to have dinner at.

You quietly listen to the boys and their plans, Jaeyun quickly offering you a cigarette as he lights his own and with a tight lipped smile you thank him, way too tense and absentminded for your own liking but too exhausted to question it.

“Alright, I’ve ordered you two an uber too”, Riki says casually and runs one of his ring clad hands through his bleached hair, his statement leaving you nothing but confused.

“Huh? I’m the only one going back to the airbnb”, you say and furrow your brows with your eyes focused on your younger brother’s face.

“No, Hoon’s also not tagging along”, Jaeyun replies casually and blows the smoke out of his nose as he looks at you just as confused.

“What the fuck? Why?”

“That’s none of your fucking business”, Sunghoon almost instinctively spits back at you, his thick brows pushed together as he stares at you with annoyance gleaming in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up”, you hiss and roll your eyes, too exhausted to even bother with his weird attitude. It’s not like you haven’t noticed his change in behavior and attitude these past few days but with everything that’s been going on in your own brain you simply can’t find the energy to read more into it than absolutely necessary.

“Please, don’t chop each other’s head off on your way to the rooms”, Jaeyun chuckles but as soon as his gaze flickers between the two of you, you realise just how much seriousness there actually is behind his words.

Without saying anything else, you say your farewells to the boys as the cars you had ordered come to a stand in front of you and just as expected (and hoped for), SUnghoon gets comfortable on the passenger seat while you slide into the back and pray the taxi driver isn’t as chatty as the other ones.

To your luck, Sunghoon uses hsi limited Japanese to give the man your address and the rest of the drive passes by quietly, almost peacefully. There’s never been a place like Tokyo to you; not a single spot on this earth has ever managed to make you feel at such ease and comfort the way your mother’s birthplace has.

You’re so caught up watching the streets of your favorite place, you don’t even notice the way Sunghoon has been watching you from his peripheral vision the past ten minutes, something he can’t help but beat himself up for because why the fuck does the urge to look at you just doesn’t seem to disappear?

Never in a million years would he admit this to you but there’s definitely a reason why he’s been making sure to always push you into a position where he can look at your face. He’s not quite sure why or where the sudden urge has come from but for some reason he just can’t keep his eyes off of you.

Sunghoon still hates your guts.

He really does.

But the more he gets to touch and kiss you, the deeper this weird hunger and lust seem to run and at this point he has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s actually thinking. Or feeling.

You still annoy and irritate the living hell out of every pore in his body, yet these past few days he’s found himself upset and even disappointed about the fact he can’t spend more time with you after fucking your brains out. He doesn’t necessarily want to hold you, nor does he really want to cuddle or be close to you but there’s definitely been a few times where he caught himself wishing the boys weren’t on their way back so he could just spend a few more minutes just watching you.

Maybe it’s the way you seem so relaxed and at ease after he’s pushed you over the edge over and over again, or maybe it’s because the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and a cigarette dangling from your pouty, bit swollen lips in combination with your messed up hair and the fresh memory of your sweet noises echoing in his head, which make things so much more difficult for him but at the end of the day the reason doesn’t matter.

Sunghoon hates you.

You’re the only person who’s disappointed and betrayed him in such a cruel, such a raw way and every time he finds himself caught up in thoughts about you, he can’t help but remind himself of all the nights he spent on the ice rink, crying, sobbing and silently praying you’d just come back and make your shared dreams become reality, only for his heart and soul to break all over again when he remembered your betrayal.

With his hands balled into fists and a soft huff, Sunghoon angrily averts his gaze from you and as his eyes start to scan the area you had just entered, a wave of relief hits him.

“That’s the one, Sir”, he casually says and almost immediately bites his tongue when he realizes the falling of his mask.

Nobody on this earth knows how all those years ago, Sunghoon had decided to learn Japanese, simply because he wanted to feel even closer to two of the most important people in his life, only for your betrayal to take away the joy and excitement of it.

But despite his broken heart, he knew he had to finish what he had started, initially for you, not because he necessarily needed it but because he didn’t want you to take this away from him too.

Never once has he mentioned his fluency in his best friend’s mother tongue to anybody, not even his other close friends and at times he definitely forgot about it only for his chest to tighten whenever he listened to your little conversations with your brother, the both of you so much more relaxed and outspoken in your mother tongue than the one you both had grown up with.

When at first Sunghoon had intended to talk to Riki about it, he never really knew how to explain the actual reasoning behind his decision to study and become fluent in Japanese, so after a few years, he just decided to keep it to himself for as long as possible.

There’s no point in letting you know when you don't even care anyway.

Fortunately you seem way too immersed in your thoughts to pay any attention to his slip up and by the time Hoon gets out of the uber, you’ve already lit yet another cigarette.

“What are you waiting for?” You suddenly ask when you notice his lack of motion.

“Just finish that god damn cig and get your ass inside”, Sunghoon sighs, “I promised not to leave you alone so stop making this even more difficult for me than it already is.”

“What a gentleman you are”, you roll your eyes in response to his annoying comment, the little fire in the depth of your chest burning up just enough to irritate you, “I’m not in the mood to fuck, just piss off already.” For a quick moment you catch yourself in a lie and you hate how your hormonal self almost instantly regrets your little come back.

Because no matter how hard you try to deny it, your body craves Sunghoon’s touch which has now resulted in a libido you have never experienced before. So, no, you actually are very much in the mood but for some reason you can’t help but feel stressed and anxious just thinking about all the feelings, doubts and thoughts which come hand in hand with the pleasure he’s providing you with.

“Can you not be so fucking difficult for once? I’m not waiting for you to come inside to fuck, I promised Riki to keep an eye on you, that’s it.”

While your first instinct is to shoot something back at him, a tiny, almost inaudible yet strong voice in the back of your head somehow manages to stop you from giving into the urges and with an annoyed sigh you kill your half-smoked cigarette and through it into the next trashcan before wordlessly heading towards the entrance of the apartment building.

You both continue walking up the stairs without saying another word and you hate how much the lack of verbal communication bothers you. If it wasn’t for your best friend pointing it out, you would have never noticed just how little you and Sunghoon actually talk to each other and ever since your conversation about it, you haven’t stopped thinking about it.

“What the fuck?”

The suddenness of his exclamation as well as the unusual volume of his voice are quick to pull you out of the mess in your head and with your brows furrowed in confusion you follow Sunghoon’s cold gaze.

For a moment, you don’t actually know what or who you’re looking at.

Maybe it’s one of you body’s defense mechanisms or maybe it’s the fog clouding your brain but in no universe should it take this long for someone to recognize their younger brother – and father.

“Is this a fucking joke?” The switch in language comes almost naturally and the longer your eyes roam the figures of the two men in front of you, the quicker the blood starts pumping through your veins.

It’s one thing to see your younger half-brother again, his impact and affect on your life in no way harmful or very much life altering. But the sight of your father, the first of many men to not only disappoint and break you but also the first of many to make you feel unloveable, disgusting and unworthy of everything good in this life easily leaves you speechless.

You can feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your side, his attention remaining on you as if he was trying to read your body language but miserably failing to do so when all the trauma responses hit you at full force.

“Just listen to us for a few minutes”, Kenta says and looks at you with genuinely pleading eyes but for the first time in your life you feel actual resentment towards the brother you had tried so hard to protect and keep safe. You’ve always reminded yourself of his age, of his lacking experience in life, his brain still developing but as your eyes anxiously roam his features, all those excuses seem to disappear when you realize just how much he’s grown.

He’s now three years older than Riki when he had decided to ask his parents to sign off their parental rights to you, his older sister, because he knew exactly what type of people they were.

“Please, Y/N”, he suddenly pleas and takes a step forward, only for you to back off and Sunghoon quickly comes to stand between you and your brother.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Kenta”, he says nonchalantly, not giving a single fuck about the current chaos in his own head at the sight of your father, a man he’s never, ever associated anything good or positive with. Sunghoon hasn’t seen your father in over a decade, despite the close bond your dads used to share back in the day and as he remembers all the times he had punished you for a minor mistake or a failed move, his blood suddenly starts boiling.

“This isn’t about you, Sunghoon”, your father suddenly says and the sound of his voice sends chills down your back, the urge to burst into tears and yell at him for failing you suddenly overwhelming.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here? You’ve never called, never texted me back. The only times you actually contacted me were because you wanted something from me”, you don’t find the energy and guts to push Sunghoon away and actually face them again, so without giving it much more thought you opt to stay very much hidden behind your archenemy’s impressive height.

“Please, hear us out, Y/N”, Kenta pleads yet again, skillfully ignoring your accusations, “Yuki needs your support. We can’t do this without you.”

At first, your brain struggles to process his words but as soon as you manage to read in between the lines, you feel every last bit of oxygen leaving your lungs and a thin veil of tears blurring your vision.

“What?”

“Kenta, take your failure of a father and fuck off”, Sunghoon is quick to spit back at your brother, anger and wrath lingering in his voice as he threatens your brother.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Kenta? What do you mean Yuki needs my support? For what?”

You know the answer to your question but deep down you know you need to hear it from him or your father to finally close this chapter for good. All these years you’ve believed in ideas and wishful thoughts of your other siblings finding their way back to you, but not anymore. The few bits of information Riki had shared with you were enough to block Kenta’s number but now that you’ve actually got the chance to hear him say all those things, just casually crushing your soul and taking away the tiniest drops of hope you had left, you definitely weren’t gonna let it slip away.

“Y/N, sweetheart”, your father begins calmly, his voice a lot less vengeful and harsh than you’ve remembered; his choice to not only address you by your actual name, something he had refused to since the day of your eighth birthday, but also to use the nickname he had only used for his second wife send jolts of anger through your veins and before Sunghoon can even react, you’ve made your way around him to get into your own father’s face.

“Don’t you fucking dare play innocent now”, you spit and bite back the tiny sob threatening to escape your throat when you notice the lack of emotion in the eyes of the only parent you had left.

“Alright, seems like the nice way still doesn’t work with you”, he suddenly sighs and straightens his back, the faux softness in his features quickly vanishing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down at you the way he’s always done during every conversation the two of you ever had.

“Yuki wants to attend the same boarding school as Kenta and as her older sister it’s your duty to step up financially when we can’t.”

You’ve never expected anything from your father, not a single thing ever since the day your mother passed away. It’s not like he actually ever cared about you anyway, so it’s never made sense for you to put any effort into whatever the fuck kind of bond you two had or didn’t have.

But for some reason you did expect him to have just the tiniest bit of dignity and pride, maybe a little bit of ego or self worth, just enough not to be desperate and shameless enough to ask the daughter he had abandoned, disowned and shamed for money.

“My duty? Are you mentally challenged?”

“Watch your fucking language when you talk to him, he’s still your father”, Kenta suddenly intervenes and as soon as your head shoots into his direction, you notice the shift in his facial expression. All of a sudden you can’t actually unsee the resemblance to your father, something you’ve always preferred to ignore for your own sake.

“He’s nothing to me, you fucking bitch”, you hiss and not once avert your gaze away from his, knowing he’s gonna use the difference in height to his own advantage when he has no idea of the people you’ve gotten in fights with over the years. To his defense, he doesn’t actually know anything about you in the first place.

“it’s the middle of the night, just stop wasting our time and give us the fucking money, you worthless cunt.”

Your father’s heartless words hit you like a punch right in the guts; the feeling something you haven’t felt in a while and probably something online he’s ever been able to make you go through. His choice of words and tone isn’t something new or surprising to you because even after five years of barely any contact with each other, your father has never bothered to hide his resentment for you as an individual. Every person you’re close with has heard your own father talk to you like this at least once and no matter how much time passes, the waves of humiliation and shame just don’t seem to become any less overwhelming.

“I don’t owe you shit, you old fuck”, you defend yourself once you’ve finally found your voice, hating the little shake in your breathing, “you took everything I’ve ever loved, ever card about. Fuck you, fuck your ugly ass wife and fuck your kids.”

“Watch your fucking mou-”, this time Kenta doesn’t get to step even closer to you, nor does he get to finish his threat as Sunghoon comes back into your peripheral vision and before you can physically react, you watch your former cie skating partner reach for your younger brother’s collar and swiftly push him up against the wall.

“I don’t give a fuck about your age, back the fuck off or I’ll rearrange both sets of teeth in that big mouth of yours, got it?”

“What exactly did we take from you, huh? Come on, name me one actual example and I’ll leave”, your father scoffs and rolls his eyes, reminding you of all the times he had manipulated and gaslit you into thinking and genuinely believing every insult and criticism he had thrown into your face.

“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, yeah typical Nishimura Y/N behavior”, he suddenly chuckles and looks at you with mockery gleaming in his exhausted gaze, a sight so surreal and sad it actually has your blood boiling, “screaming, swearing, pointing your fingers at others when it’s usually your own fault – you really haven’t changed, have you? Still the silly little girl who expects the world to revolve around her when she couldn’t even sacrifice anything for her own blood.”

“What?”

Your father tilts his head to the side as soon as he notices the tears blurring your vision, knowing very well what his words have done to you and where one would expect him to finally back off, the pain and agony in your facial features only make him want to take things as far as possible. He’s always pushed you past your breaking point, not because he wanted you to grow, but because he actually enjoys seeing you in such pain. He’s always referred to it as his own way of torture since he’s never been powerful enough to use his hands on you.

“What do you mean ‘what’? First you claim that we’ve taken something away from you and now you’re surprised when I point out your lack of sacrifices for the family?”

“I – My childhood, my youth, my dreams – I sacrificed everything I’ve ever had to please you”, your voice is quite and steady, more confused than angry as you struggle to understand what the fuck is actually going on, “I was never enough. Nothing I’ve ever done or achieved was enough to please you and that bitchass wife of yours.”

“Don’t talk about her like that”, your father suddenly spits and reminds you of his biggest trigger, “she’s never done anything but love you like her own but all you did was badmouth her because you’re an ungrateful, spoiled little bitch who’s bound to fail in life.”

“What the fuck – are you even talking about?” This time you refuse to keep your cool as you raise the volume of your voice and actually push him away, too disgusted by his words to bear with the close proximity any longer.

It’s then that Sunghoon finally lets go of your younger brother to come in between you and your father, knowing he won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary. He knows you can handle this by yourself but at the end of the day he would never, ever let that fucker or anyone lay a hand on you.

“Your step-mother alway tried her best but you never–”, “Shut the fuck up. That fucking bitch took away my biggest dream and all you did was give her the approval she needed to ruin my life”, you don’t care about the time and the current location you’re in, too exhausted and emotionally drained to hold back any of it any longer, “go ahead and keep praising that ugly bitch because that’s the only thing you’re good for anyway. Trying to please one tyrant because the one in your childhood never loved you enough to give a fuck about his fucking loser son.”

You’ve only ever met your paternal grandfather a couple of times in your life but from all the things your maternal aunt had told you, he’s never really been a big fan or supporter of his own son, finally explaining your father’s lack of basic human decency.

“You fucking bitch”, and as those words leave his lips, you actually watch the way your father lifts his arm, only for his hand never reaching its goal.

Yet again, Sunghoon happens to be way faster than your brain can actually follow as the next thing your eyes witness is the sight of your archenemy casually holding onto your father’s wrist before twisting his arm into the other direction and eliciting a painful scream from the old man’s throat.

“Not on my fucking watch, you loser”, Sunghoon presses through gritted teeth and twists your father’s arm a little further, “you’re never, ever going to come close to her again, di you hear me? Now take that scumbag of a son and fuck off or I’m gonna finish what your daddy started.”

“You little–”, “You don’t want to see what happens if I have to repeat myself, you fucking cunt. Now fuck. Off.”

The following few minutes pass by in a blur as you watch Kenta and your father really doing as they’re told and as soon as you step into the somehow comforting space of your airbnb, you feel a wave of exhaustion roll over you.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything, yet refuses to leave you alone.

But why? Why does he care so much about you and why does he genuinely want to run after two two fuckers and beat the living shit out of them for hurting you like this?

He hates you.

But the sight of your tear filled eyes send him into a literal panic mode.

He can’t fucking stand you, your personality, you as an individual, everything you say and stand for.

Yet he quietly follows you into one of the bedrooms knowing he’s gonna argue with you if you dare to send him away.

“Just fuck off”, you spit, as if you could read his thoughts and usually your words would rub him the wrong way, but after all these years, Sunghoon is just too familiar with your coping mechanisms, so without giving it another thought, he shakes his head, yet not responding verbally.

“Sunghoon, just get the fuck to your room and leave me alone. I really can’t deal with your shit right now”, you sigh and rub your temples, throwing your jacket off like it’s the reason for the heavy feeling on your chest.

“Take it out on me.”

What the fuck is he saying?

“What?”

“Stop bottling your anger and frustration up like a fucking child”, he hisses and runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes focusing yours as he watches hsi words finally make their way through your thick skull, “punch me, scream at me, curse me the fuck out but stop pushing it all away like it never happened. You’re ruining yourself for people who are worth shit.”

“Sunghoon, I–”, but to your surprise, his words actually trigger something deep inside of you and before you can actually realise it, tears have started streaming down your cheeks, ruining the make up you had spent so much time on.

“Fucking finally”, he grunts and reaches for your wrist, only to pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around your body, not expecting you to instantly melt into hsi touch as your cries and sobs start growing heavier, louder and more desperate.

You bury your face in the fabric of his hoodie and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about anyone else but yourself.

Sunghoon remains silent as you allow yourself to wail and cry in his arms like a little girl, the one you had refused to let out as the mere thought of someone seeing you like this makes you nauseous but for some reason, you don’t seem to care that it’s him, of all people.

Maybe it’s because you know he actually doesn’t give a fuck, not about you or anything and anyone else. Or maybe it’s because of how tired and exhausted you are, but the more your father’s words ring in your ears, the heavier your cries become.

As you lose yourself in the pain and agony of your fate, SUnghoon can’t help but think of all the times you had cried in his arms when the two of you were just little kids trying to find a home in the arms of someone you had always trusted. The more memories and mental images of your ten year old self rush through his head, the stronger his hold on your body becomes and with a soft sigh, Sunghoon finally allows himself to lift his hand and gently caress the back of your head, your back and even your cheeks.

You have absolutely no idea just how long the two of you stay like this but by the time your cries finally die down, you feel lightheaded and sleepy.

There’s so much you want to say, question and ask, so much to discuss and talk about, so many things left unsaid yet the second you lift your head to look up at him, the only thing you can think about is the comfort and peace of mind his touch comes with.

Neither one of you dares to speak a word as the tension in the empty bedroom grows thicker and thicker, leaving you gasping for air and from the inconsistent movements of his chest, you can tell that Sunghoon’s probably going through the same mental dilemma as you.

“I need you”, you suddenly whisper against his lips, his nose nudging yours as he waits for you to ask for it the way he always does, “please, Sunghoon. I don’t wanna think anymore.”

As soon as you say those words, he’s a goner.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, at the end of the day he simply can’t hide the fact that all it takes is for you to ask for him, his body, his touch. No matter how much he hates it, he knows his body belongs to you and at this point he’s more than willing to look past whatever the fuck has happened between the two of you if it meant he gets another taste of you, the most forbidden of fruits.

The next thing you know is the feeling of his plump lips capturing yours in a needy kiss, a soft whimper bubbling up your throat the second his tongue grazes yours and without giving it much more thought, you push everything else into the farest corner of your brain and make sure he becomes the only thing on your mind,

Sunghoon’s kisses are hungry, they’re sloppy and needy; something you’ve grown obsessed with ever since the first one you two had shared all those weeks ago.

With every motion of his lips, the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your warm skin and his saliva slowly coating the entirety of your tongue you feel yourself ascending into the highest parts of your lust.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to grow impatient, the only thing on his mind being your pleasure and the urge to give you exactly what you need.

With his big, ring clad hands roaming your body, kneading the soft flesh of your waist and your thighs, Sunghoon quickly gets rid of your little black skirt, but also not wasting much time with the rest of your clothes. By the time he’s guided you to the king sized bed on the other side of the room, you’ve lost every piece of fabric separating your soft skin from his needy touch and you don’t even care about the fact that Sunghoon has yet to take off any of his own clothes.

“Lay back, spread those legs for me”, he grunts after letting go of your bottom lip, his own swollen and red, the sight so sinful you feel lightheaded by the time the fog clouding your brain finally clears up.

Usually you’d protest and tease him, too proud to give him what he’s asked of you right away but as you look up at him with glossy eyes, you notice the hunger in his gaze and all you can do is obey his request without hesitation.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, snowflake”, Sunghoon grunts and gently places his hands on your knees right before pulling your legs apart, revealing your drenched cunt to his hungry eyes, “she’s all mine, after all. Isn’t that right?”

His words leave you speechless, something you have yet to grow used to when it comes to Park Sunghoon and yet you don’t actually question him and silently nod in response to his hypothetical question.

For the first time since the two of you had started being intimate with each other, you’re actually feeling much more than just this deep burning wrath and hatred, so much more than hunger and lust. It’s deeper, darker and so, so much scarier.

“Eyes on me”, Hoon suddenly hisses and pinches the soft flesh of your inner thigh to get your attention back on him, mostly because he knows he’s gonna lose you to those dark thoughts and doubts if he doesn’t.

“Just cum when you need to”, he whispers against the wet flesh of your pussy, his tongue lapping up the few drops leaking out of your sensitive hole almost casually, “I’m not gonna stop until you’re crying again. But this time it’s gonna be because of how good I’m making you feel, got it?”

Yet again, all you can do is nod but this time it’s not enough. Sunghoon needs to hear you.

“Use your words or I’m not gonna let you cum at all”, he groans and lifts his head up to look at you, “don’t disappoint me now, snowflake.”

“Yes, Sunghoon”, you quickly reply, your head back to its cloudy state as the anticipation for what’s to come overwhelms your senses, “please, just make me feel good.”

And Park Sunghoon has never needed to be told twice when it came to a request of this kind.

The following minutes are filled with loud slurping, a mixture of your high pitched moans and Sunghoon’s muffled grunts, as he makes sure to lap up every single drop of your sweet juices, genuinely afraid to waste any of it and losing himself in the taste of your perfect pussy. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of your archenemy between your legs, his face flushed, tinted in the sweetest shades of shade, the skin of his chin and his cheeks, even the tip of his nose glisten from your juices and his eyes filled with so much lust and hunger, you actually can’t remember seeing him as fucked out as in this particular moment.

With every single swift motion of his tongue against your sensitive clit, you feel yourself falling deeper into the haze of your pleasure and as he manages to push you over the edge not once, not twice but three times in a row, you have to use every bit of your remaining strength to push his head away from your pussy; the sensitivity and overstimulation too much for your exhausted body to handle.

“E-Enough”, you sob softly, your hand firmly holding onto the thick strands of his hair as Sunghoon casually litters your inner thighs in open mouthed kisses, sucking the skin into his mouth every now and then to leave his marks to make sure they remind you of him the following days.

What the fuck is he thinking?

“Think you can do one more for me? Wanna fuck you to sleep so you’re properly rested for our day trip tomorrow”, Sunghoon teases you with a shit eating grin on his face as he comes to stand on his sore feet, calmly taking off his hoodie as well as his jeans, knowing how much it actually annoys you whenever he takes too much time with it.

“Fuck off”, you huff and pull your swollen bottom lip between your teeth, impatiently waiting for him to finally reveal his hard cock to your hungry eyes.

“Should I?”, he suddenly mumbles and pushes his boxer briefs down his thighs, his big cock slapping against his toned stomach and instantly leaving a tiny stain on his spale skin.

Without even replying to his sneaky comment, you sit yourself up and wrap your fingers around the length of his hard cock, looking up at him with glossy, needy eyes and tear stained cheeks, a sight so sinful and breathtaking, Sunghoon can’t physically stop himself from taking your face into one of his hands as he calmly thrusts his cock into your fist.

His eyes roll into the back of his head the second your tongue darts out to lick over his angry tip but after tongue fucking you for almost an hour straight, he simply has no patience left.

“Head back , stick your tongue out and keep your eyes on me”, he grunts and pushes his hand into your hand to help you follow his instructions, only for his cock to give away just how much he likes just how quick you are to follow his demands as it twitches in your grip and actually makes you smile cheekily.

Sunghoon tugs at the roots of your hair and takes a whole moment to admire how good you look all fucked out and ready for him and him only.

What the fuck is going on? He hates you. Hate.

This time he won’t let those confusing thoughts get the best of him as he puckers his lips and lets a thick drop of his spit fall onto the back of your tongue and carefully watches the way you swallow it without hesitation.

Within just a few minutes he makes his way on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs and casually rubbing his rock hard cock against your needy, yet overly sensitive slit.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, did you hear me? I want you to look at me when I fuck and fill that little pussy up”, Sunghoon breathes against your lips and lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when your little hole starts clenching in response to his touch.

“Just fuck me already”, you hiss when the impatience finally catches up on you, “the boys will be back soon and I really want you to cum inside of me.”

Why the fuck would you say something like that? And why the fuck don’t you regret it as much as you're supposed to?

“Will you look at that?” Sunghoon chuckles and pushes his tip a little deeper inside of your tight cunt, grunting and groaning as soon as your hot walls embrace him again, “got so used to being filled to the brim with my cum, can’t go to sleep without it anymore, hm?”

“F-Fuck off–oh, my God”, your voice breaks into a high pitched moan as soon as Sunghoon thrusts a few more inches of his impressive length inside of you and if it wasn’t for the weird urge to keep your unspoken promise of maintaining eye contact, you would have lost you remind already.

“There we go, just a little bit more.” Did he just praise you? No, encourage you? No teasing? No bickering? Actual encouragement?

“S-So big”, you whisper the second he bottoms out and you actually feel his tip graze the entrance to your womb, “more, Sunghoon. Stop fucking with me.”

“Don’t brat out on me now, snowflake”, he chuckles, not necessarily bc of how amusing you are but mostly because he’s desperately trying to hide how good you’re making him feel, “I’m gonna cum inside of this pussy tonight, I don’t give a fuck if the boys hear or see us or not.”

“Stop fucking playing and fuck me like you mean it already”, you hiss, this time genuine annoyance wavering in your tone and from the way you’ve been clenching around his cock for the past few minutes, Hoon can tell just how close you are. To his luck.

Without wasting anymore time, Sunghoon slowly pulls his cock out of your tight cunt only to thrust himself all the way back inside of you with one swift motion of his hips. It doesn’t take much time for him to find the perfect rhythm, his thrusts deep and hard, yet still fast and coordinated enough to hit the right spots and turn you into a nonsense babbling mess. Every time the tip of his cock hits the sweetest of spots deep inside of you, you feel yourself getting closer, your noises growing higher and louder, yet still not loud enough to overpower Sunghoon’s deep grunts and guttural moans.

The closer he gets, the deeper he loses himself in the sweet feeling of your cunt, the more he buries his face in your neck and as you tug on the strands of his freshly dyed dark hair, Sunghoon can’t help the little whines from escaping his sore throat.

“C-Close”, you finally whisper and push his big hand holding onto your tit down in between your legs hoping he just does what you silently requested instead of making you ask for it.

“Me too”, Hoonie grunts and pulls away from your neck, his cheeks even redder than, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead and his pretty lips parted as not a single breath he lets out is anything but a shaky moan.

“Look at me”, the demand comes out of nowhere but as soon as your eyes flatter open to find his, Sunghoon starts picking up the pace of his thrusts all while his fingers apply just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive clit.

And just when you’re about to stumble over the edge, Sunghoon quickly pushes his lips against yours and finally gives you the last thing you needed for the coil in your lower tummy to snap.

With a loud, dragged out whimper, your nails digging into his back and your vision blacking out, you loser yourself in the overwhelming waves of your orgasm, falling even deeper and harder when Sunghoon quickly follows you into sweet relief as he paints the insides of your tight cunt in several shades of white.

Just as usual, neither one of you can actually say anything as the sound of your heavy breathing remains the only thing to fill the emptiness of your bedroom.

However, this time Sunghoon refuses to just pull out and step away.

For some reason, the urge to take proper care of you becomes overwhelming, so with a soft sigh, he pulls away and starts caressing your heated skin.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what would be appropriate, so after soothing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, Sunghoon slowly pulls his now soft cock out and quickly reaches for his boxer briefs. Usually this is the moment where he hurries ot the bathroom to get you a towel, but this time he actually bends down to grab his hoodie from the floor before he holds his hand out for you to grab, only to help you put on right, and then heading out of the room to grab a towel.

Your brain is too foggy, too chaotic to read much into it and by the time he finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, Sunghoon casually lays on the other side of your bed and quickly pulls you into his arms.

Never in your life have you expected to find yourself in bed with Park Sunghoon’s steady heartbeat pounding underneath your ear. Yet for the first time in your life, you actually feel at total ease. Nothing matters and nothing will matter, not as long as you’re both like this.

And as Sunghoon attentively watches the way your lids grow heavier right before you drift off to sleep, he catches himself playing with a few strands of your hair and it’s then that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to his feelings than pure hatred.

Maybe he doesn’t actually hate you as much as he’s always thought.

But when his boys notify him about their arrival in a few minutes, Sunghoon has no choice but to pull away to save you both from a situation neither one is ready for and before he can overthink it, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and leaves after tucking you into bed properly.

Fuck. This actually just happened.

And he’s not even upset about it.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: HELLO MY BABIES!!!!! i missed you guys and CH so, so much!!!!! i’m so excited about this it’s lit 3:30am but i missed writing sm i just knew i had to finish this tonight! thank you guys so, so much for your patience and support, your understanding and sweetness. i love and appreciate you all so, so so much! i hope you enjoyed this chap and can’t wait to go back to regular updates!!!🥺🩷)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @jongszn @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @ariadores @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @luvkpopp @heeslut4life

[celestie0]

Some headcanons about Kickoff college!Gojo, please!

hellooo my love i’m so sorry this took me a while i wanted to post ch9 first!

kickoff!gojo headcanons pt.1 unserious & fluffy edition lol

ᰔ these headcanons are based off of my fanfic “kickoff” which is about popular frat boy soccer college athlete gojo lol & there are spoilers below ᰔ for my kickoff readers: most of these are so unserious and/or fluffy (not rly much nsfw) hope u enjoy!!

kickoff!gojo who almost got arrested once for running away from the cops. he wasn’t even in trouble for anything they just started chasing him bc he started running 😭

kickoff!gojo whose primary love language is physical touch and so all of the times he’s had to NOT touch you has driven him absolutely fuckin nuts. positively BONKERS he’s practically been lobotomized by the restraint he’s had to exercise to not touch you

kickoff!gojo whose frat once hosted a date auction to raise money for rush and gojo singlehandedly raised $20k in one night from the bidding bachelorettes (and bachelors)🧍🏻‍♀️he has yet to go on all of those dates he owes them 😅 he runs away anytime his frat president tries to bring it up LOL

kickoff!gojo who is actually a pretty decent student, i mean he’s a business major so womp womp ofc he’s getting by just fine. i think his favorite class he’s ever taken was freshman year econ bc him and todo got into sm shit in that class and it's some of his fondest memories

kickoff!gojo who was literally picturing a life with you on the italian countryside when you were telling him about it. self inserted to the MAX

kickoff!gojo who is always the first to like all of your film photography slideshows on instagram because he has your post notifs on :”) you and messi are the only ppl he’s got post notifs on for 🤣

kickoff!gojo who thought he would be okay with watching your life from afar, through small pictures on his phone, but the thought devastated him more n more w every waking minute

kickoff!gojo who realized that having you wrapped in his arms at the end of ch9 was the closest thing he’s felt to peace since before the night his father passed away

kickoff!gojo who hasn’t really kept too much memoribilia of his father since a lot of the memories are painful for him, but he’s kept that old soccer ball w his dad’s signature n word of love for his mom on it

kickoff!gojo who wouldnt have been able to get through the trauma of losing his father if suguru wasn’t there by his side. he would’ve really lost himself, and would’ve given up on soccer if not for suguru's support. he's truly really grateful for him

kickoff!gojo who knows what his sun, moon & rising signs are because he’s been ran through 🙄 smh. WHORE

kickoff!gojo who plays for charity soccer tournaments on the weekends whenever he can 🫶🏼💕 he loves it bc there’s less pressure to play super well & also he loves getting to meet the people that the events are helping out

kickoff!gojo who has a massive sex drive (he got that athlete testosterone 😔🤚🏼) esp around someone he genuinely likes AHEM YOU so beware that if you start dating him he’s gonna beg you to put it on him at least 15 times a day and you’ll have to reject him 13.5 times

kickoff!gojo who is not ready to be a father at ALL at this point in his life but he’s thought ab how nice it would be to teach his kids how to play soccer someday :”) he’s givin me girl dad vibes tho, and you just KNOW he’s gonna be cheering on his lil girls when they’re tearing through the little league w their sparkly princess tiaras & tutus on 😤 he’d be the little league coach for sure LMAO

also little league coach!gojo would 100% promise to let the kiddos shave his head if they win the championship game 😭 i can just imagine you yelling at him when he randomly comes home bald one day

kickoff!nanami&choso&suguru who would be such protective soccer uncles to yours and gojo's duaghters. not a single boy would ever get NEAR those girls i'm telling youuu. pls pray for them haha

kickoff!gojo who figured out you were mina’s roommate through a little bit of facebook stalking. and yes, he scrolled all the way down to your embarrassing middle school photos. and yes, he still likes you despite seeing them. more, even, when he thinks about it. also, he’s pissed you had a digimon themed 9th birthday party and you didn’t invite him 😒 what’s up w that

kickoff!gojo & kickoff!choso who once illegally played an off-season tourney abroad in spain for a lump sum lmfaoo and it was a pretty decent cut of cash. but shhhh dont tell the NCAA ab that pls or else they’re fucked 💀

this is all i could think of rn haha thank you anon for the ask and hope you enjoyed them <333

[rafesslxt]

Hi! Would you write a smut fic about getting high with Mattheo?

R U High Mine⎥Mattheo Riddle

summary: you come back from the holiday's with some weed for you and the boys. When you and Mattheo smoke while showing him some songs, it get's a little heated between the two of you.

warnings: Filthy smut yasss, getting high, so drugs/weed, smoking, best friends to lovers, making out, vocal mattheo (ugh), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v, aftercare, mattheo calling reader slut and whore

note: I saw this in the car and had an immediate idea how to write this, had much fun. Thank you for the request I hope you like it. 💚

song: I recommend listening to the song "R U Mine" or "Why'd you only call me when you're high" by Arctic Monkeys, trust me babes. Or hear the playlist "Are you high mine" from my Spotify.

The boys and Pansy already waited for me in the common room as I arrived at Hogwarts again. It was like Christmas for them, knowing I would always bring them their favorite treat after the holiday's.

I smiled at them, knowing they were thinking the same as me as they smiled back at me. "Y/n!" Pansy was the first to stand up and hug me. From all the people I called my friends, I was closest to her. " Hey Pansy, how are you?" I asked, letting my bags fall to hug her back.

"I'm great! We're waiting for you girl. Everyone's here already." she giggled as she let go of me so I could great the rest.

I gave everyone a hug, at last Mattheo, who kissed my cheek. " How are you princess?" he asked, scanning my face. " I'm good Matt, thanks." I smile at him and sit beside him on the armrest. " What about you?" " Fine now that you're here." I rolled my eyes playfully at his answer.

"You know we're all happy to see you y/n, but do you have it?" Draco asked, shifting impatient in his seat. I think from all of us, he was the one with the most need for it. He was constantly on the edge, maybe even worse If it wasn't for Pansy who comforted him the best she could. He had all the pressure of his father on his shoulders and It was clear to see what it did to him. So a little smoke from now and then did good for him.

"Of course I have it, how could I forget when all of you reminded me the whole 2 weeks of it in each letter you wrote?" I say sarcastic, with a little smirk on the edge of my lips.

I grabbed my purse and pulled out a big black bag with already little packed baggy's, also black so you couldn't see what's in it, for each of them.

"Oh my god it's more than usually, right?" Enzo said, gawking at the little bags in my hand. I chuckled as I gave each one of them their own little bag so they could divide it up for the next few weeks.

"Yeah it is indeed more than usual. Got a good prize for it." " Wait let me pay what we didn't give you." Draco said, grabbing into his pockets but I shook my head. " No it's good. I'm friends with him since we were kids." He nodded and opened his bag to smell it, saying "You know I never thought I would say that but I wouldn‘t have thought I would ever be this happy to have a friend who is part of the muggle world."

I laughed at his comment, before giving the last bag to Mattheo. "I've got something else for you." I grinned at him, knowing he'll love it.

Obviously things like wifi don't exist here so I buyed him an MP3 player with lots and lots of battery's so he could listen to music. This time I brought an CD player and made a few Playlists for him.

His smile got bigger as he saw me pulling it out of my bag. "What's that?" Blaise asked, watching us. " It's an CD Player so you can hear Music a little louder than with headset."

"You wanna hear it?" I ask, Mattheo nodding. " Yeah princess, let's go." He grabbed my bags and gave me my purse. "See you later guy's." I waved at the rest of them.

It became a ritual for us to listen to music every time I came back from holiday's, so the group already knew what's going on.

We walked towards mine and Pansy's dorm we shared which was no issue to her as Mattheo and Draco shared a dorm so she would always go over to Draco's.

"You roll the weed and I'm gonna put on the music mkay? Grinder is in the top drawer." I say while walking towards my desk and putting the CD player on it, putting the battery in it and the first CD I wanted to show him. In the meantime he sat down on my bed and grinned the weed smaller before rolling it into a J.

"Ready." He smiled at me and tapped the place beside him on the bed. "Okay, so this is a band I want to show you, they're called "Arctic Monkeys" and I think you'll love them." Confident I sat down next to him after starting the Music. He lit the J and handed it over to me. "Here, you go first." "Thanks." I took the first drag and inhaled it deeply into my lungs before grinning and exhaling the smoke. " Oh it's good. Marc didn't disappoint." "Marc huh?" he asked as he took his first drag. " So you two are close or anything?"

I shrugged with my shoulders before laying down on my back. " Kind of, but not as close as I'm with you guys. I know him since I'm a kid, he's also the only one who knows about Hogwarts beside my parents."

He scanned my face as I was talking, slowly dragging his gaze from my eyes to my lips. I saw it but didn't think about it as I slowly but surely felt the weed have an effect.

"Damn, you were right. The music is great. It's a bit..edgy." " Yeah I know but it's great for smoking." I giggle and turn my head back towards the ceiling as the song "Why'd you only call me when you're high" started to play. " That's my second favorite." I tell him, feeling the weed calming me down but also making my senses and nerves more sensitive and reactive.

"What's your favorite?" "It comes after a few songs, just wait, I will tell you."

We layed down a little longer, smoking the J until it was ready and we were high as fuck. "Shit, it feels so good to be like this again." he groans, sending shivers down my spine. I turned my head towards him, seeing him looking at the ceiling.

I always had a crush on Mattheo. I loved when he was all flirty with me, while with nobody other. We both had partners before but I always felt some kind of pull towards him. My eyes scanned him, looking at his sharp jawline at first. I also loved looking at it, made me feel some type of way. Especially when it moved while he smoked.

Suddenly his eyes hit mine and maybe it's the weed but I had a feeling as If there was more in his gaze. Again, he looks at my eyes and then at my lips, licking his own.

Then my favorite song started playing. " That's my favorite." I said, watching him looking to the CD player. I wait a litte before he reacts to it. He breathed out heavily before looking at me. "You know where I would love to hear it?" "No tell me." "When we fuck." he says bluntly.

My eyes widened in shock, not knowing If I imagined things now. Before I could say anything he rolled over on top of me, grabbed my neck and kissed me with passion I've never felt before in my life. I opened my mouth as his tongue licked over my bottom lip. He groaned against my lips and pressed his body even more against mine, letting one hand beside my head to support himself and the other which was at my neck, now wandering over my stomach.

My breathing got faster and heavier due the haze and the arousal I suddenly felt. "Fuck, you don't even know how long I've been wanting to do this." He lowers his head down to my throat in a rush, leaving my lips trembling.

Goosebumps erupted over my skin as I felt his tongue licking my skin and his teeth carefully biting it. " Mattheo.." I moaned and let my hands go trough his hair, pulling on some strands. "What princess? What do you need hm?" he mumbles against my neck.

I arched my back and pressed my hips against his, feeling he's already hard. I gasped at the friction and bit my lip right after. " Need to feel you." "Where, tell me where. I wanna hear you say it." he groans, pressing against my hips.

"Everywhere. Fuck me." I would have never said that so bluntly without the weed, but I'm so grateful that we did smoke.

He growled against my skin, leaving wet kisses all over it before sitting up between my legs and letting both his hands roam over my skin under the hoodie I wore. It didn't take him long before pulling it over my head together with my shirt under it, seeing I was wearing no bra.

His lips parted and a smile formed on them. " You're so beautiful y/n, shit why didn't we do this sooner." His hand wandered up to my chest, massaging them and playing with my nipples teasing them. I mewled at the feeling and arched my back again. " Mattheo please. I need more."

"Don't have to ask me twice, princess." He opened the button of my jeans and pulled them down. He got rid of his clothes too until we were both only in our underwear.

I looked down and saw how big he was, just trough his boxershorts, making me gulp a little. "Don't worry, I'll go slow. Or do you want it rough?" I nodded quickly. " Rough. Fuck me like - " " Like what?" I gulped again before answering in a whisper. " Like a slut." " Oh you mean like my slut? Because after this you'll go nowhere but to me If you need to be fucked. Understood?" Ahh imagine him saying this ugh

I nodded. "Good girl." he said smiling, his voice and words making me even wetter. His fingers slowly stroked over my slip, making him biting his lip and almost moan. "Feel how wet you are you fucking slut? Wet for your best friend?"

I moaned and closed my eyes as he slipped a finger under the fabric and right inside of me. "Fuck, you're so tight. Nobody fucked you good the last few months huh?" I shook my head as I couldn't form any words. " Yeah that's gonna change from now on." He pumped his fingers a few more times inside of me, putting pressure to my clit with his thumb before pulling down his boxer shorts and my slip.

He pressed his tip against my entrance, looking at me. " Ready?" "Yeah.." I breathed out. He slowly pushed inside me, scanning my face, his eyes a little hooded.

My hands grabbed his hair again as he completely bottomed me out. "Oh yes.." I moaned, closing my eyes and parting my lips.

"You feel so good princess." he groaned and started to thrust inside me fast and rough, not thinking twice If someone outside in the common room could hear the bed hitting the wall. I wanted to say something but every word got stuck in my throat at his merciless fucking.

"What huh? Am I fucking you stupid you little whore? Fuck I love this, how fucked out you already look, not even able to speak." he growls into the air.

The only thing I felt was him inside me, thrusting faster and faster every minute that passed. I couldn't concentrate on anything else beside him. "M-mattheo I'm close.." " You wanna cum baby? Beg me like the little slut you wanted to be."

His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I heard his breathing getting harder. "Fuck, please let me cum Mattheo. Please, I'm begging you." I moan loudly as my walls clench around his cock.

"Fuck fuck fuck.." he groaned, thrusting hard one last time before spilling inside me and circling his fingers on my sensitive clit. "Come around my cock baby." And I did. I did so hard that my vision went black for a moment and his name left my lips over and over again.

"Yeah, love how you almost look possessed. Possessed by my cock." he grins down at me, slowly pulling out of me.

I swallowed and looked at him, mind dizzy." "That was so good Mattheo." I said, trying to catch my breath.

"Oh believe me princess, that won't be the last time. You're mine now."

I hope you had fun reading, I had so much fun writing this. 😍

Let me know what ya'll think about this hehe. 👀

My Masterlist

xoxo Sarah <3

[ak-vintage]

I'd Like To...

Pairing: Modern DILF Din Djarin x Plus Size F!Reader

Summary: Din has always struggled to prioritize his own happiness, even more so now that he is a single father. When some well-meaning friends create a dating app profile for him without his knowledge, he finds himself on his first date in years with a woman who seems determined to bring some much-needed softness to his life.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Present-day AU, dating app AU, dual POV, no use of Y/N, private security Din, photographer reader, reader is a plus size woman but otherwise minimal descriptions provided, age gap (unspecified but enough to be noticed), Grogu is a human toddler, Cara is the ultimate wingman, good dad Din, touch-starved Din, fluff, SMUT – exhibitionism, semi-public acts, brief oral sex (m! receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, rough but sweet, switch-y vibes for both Din and reader

Word Count: ~18.3K (I have no excuse...)

Written for @hellishjoel's Hot DILF Summer Challenge. I am unforgivably late to this event, and I’m so, so sorry. I hope the truly preposterous length makes up for it – it really got out of hand!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Cara Dune had never been good at subterfuge.

She was loud, decisive, commanding – a “do no harm but take no shit” kind of person who wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty in a risky situation or to stick her neck out for what she believed. Cara didn’t have the constitution for stealth. She didn’t do subtle or – god forbid – sneaky; it simply wasn’t a part of her DNA. All of her colleagues were well aware of this, of course, so why, out of all of the consultants of Fett Security, Inc., she was the person that the group had selected for this particular mission was something she would never understand.

But, as a former soldier, if there was one thing Cara knew how to do, it was follow orders, so when the task fell to her, she took it on the chin and threw herself into it headfirst.

Which was how she found herself awkwardly hunched over at her desk, broad shoulders rounded protectively around her phone as she scrolled through various social media accounts, screenshotting as she went. A suspicious behavior for anyone, but even more so knowing that the images she was grabbing were all of the same man – her best friend and coworker, Din Djarin.

Nearly a decade ago, Din had been one of the first people Boba Fett had recruited to join his private security firm, and ever since, he had been the kind of man who ate, slept, and breathed the job. There was no doubt that Fett Security owed a great deal of its growth and success in the industry to Din’s expertise, but that hadn’t left him with a lot of opportunity for a full life outside of work. Or, perhaps more accurately, Din simply hadn’t made such a thing a priority.

When pressed about it, he would say that it hardly mattered; all of his friends eventually came to work for the firm anyway, Fett collecting them all like trading cards over the years, so he saw them plenty. What more could he need?

Of course, he came to eat his own words about a year ago when he rather unexpectedly became the foster parent – then adoptive parent – of a little boy, a tiny thing with no living relatives in a part of the city that had had a severe shortage of foster families for years. Din himself had grown up in the system, a fact he talked about rarely, but nevertheless, the experience had shaped him in a fundamental way. He had jumped at the opportunity to take in the kid, and overnight, he transformed from a man who buried himself in his work to a man who lived for the whim of a little boy with floppy, sandy-brown curls, wide, dark eyes, and comically large ears.

It was clear to anyone who knew him well – Din had been meant to be a father, and as his closest friend, Cara had found a great deal of joy in watching the new role shape and soften him into a version of himself that felt truer and more authentic to who he was at his core. But all of his friends agreed: when it came to his personal life, having a child had done nothing but exacerbate the problem. He was still working just as many hours as he had before, only now, when he did have time to himself, he rarely left the house without his son in tow. He had stopped joining the team for drinks after gigs, his appearances at company barbecues were fewer and farther between, and who knew how long it had been since the man had been on an actual date?

Din was lonely – Cara could tell. He loved his job, and he adored his son, but it wasn’t enough anymore. There was a hollowness to him, a shadow around his eyes. Something had to give, and so during their last group outing, the team had come together and formulated a plan. A plan which involved Cara harvesting a selection of photos of Din from various corners of the internet, writing up a quick bio, and creating an online dating profile for him.

Without his knowledge.

Cara hardly relished keeping this secret from her friend, but she knew that if she or anyone else had broached the subject with him beforehand, he would have dismissed it out of hand. He would have made up some excuse about doing just fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone else when he had his son; she could almost hear his low, rasping scoff now. His refusal would be swift and final, and that would be the end of that.

But sometimes, being a good friend meant doing something in the best interest of the other person even when that person would disapprove.

And Cara had found that sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.

Sending a surreptitious glance around the open office space, Cara breathed a quiet sigh of relief at Din’s empty desk. The man didn’t have any of his own social media accounts, finding the whole concept frivolous and a little bizarre, so she was stuck scrolling through her own and those of their friends in an attempt to harvest a few that would be acceptable for a dating profile. It was taking longer than she had anticipated, and she still had to set up his age, gender, and location preferences and write up a brief bio for him before she was due at a job in an hour. The time crunch had her clenching her jaw as she worked.

Tonight at the bar, she planned to recruit some of their friends to help her get Din set up with a selection of matches. And all of them would owe her a beer for her trouble.

 Din, the profile read. 45, 5’11”, Private Security Consultant.

Hardworking, outdoorsy, handy. Love vintage cars and motorcycles. Former boxer, teach self-defense classes at the community center on the weekends. Single father to a little boy who is my whole universe. Looking for someone to give me an excuse to get me out of the house, curb my workaholic tendencies, and show me the softer side of life.

“‘The softer side of life?’” Bo smirked around the rim of her beer as she read, Cara’s phone in her hand sticky from being passed around all night. “Cara Dune, you’ve been holding out on us. Who knew you were such a romantic?”

The crew gathered around the end of the bar all laughed as Cara rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her own drink. “What can I say? A bitch contains multitudes,” she replied with a shrug. “But the profile’s good, right? We can start swiping?”

The redhead nodded, neat bob brushing her sharp jaw as she passed the phone back to its owner. “Yeah, I think you’ve got him down.”

“Good call including the bit about the motorcycles,” Axe quipped with a grin. He waggled his dark eyebrows significantly, adding, “Ladies love that stuff. Speaking from experience.”

From her place tucked into his side, arm wrapped around his waist beneath his leather jacket, Koska offered him a tongue-touched smile and butted her head against his chest affectionately. “You’re not wrong.”

Paz returned from the other end of the bar then, shouldering his way through the crowd with six overflowing pints balanced in his massive hands. “What did I miss?” he asked as he passed each of them out to his waiting friends.

Fennec curled her lip in mild disgust as he sloshed a portion of her beer down the side of her glass, soaking her hand. She sat the pint down on the edge of the well-worn bar and drug her fingers demurely across her black jeans as she said, “Nothing, we’re just about to start picking matches.”

“Good.” He downed half of his own pint in a single glug, thick neck working in the low light. “Let’s do this. The guy needs to get laid.”

With a mock-salute of his glass, Axe groaned his agreement. “Maybe if he loosens up a little, he’ll get off my ass about taking over the Organa account. I swear to god, if I have to spend one more fucking charity dinner trailing after those stuffed-shirts, I think my head is going to explode.”

Fennec shot him an icy, closed-lipped smile. “We both know that was my suggestion, not Djarin’s. You’re a good fit for it, Woves. The sooner you learn how to play ball with the politicians, the sooner we can start putting you on more high-profile jobs.”

“Yeah, babe.” Koska’s dark eyes flashed teasingly. “Maybe then you can come join me and Bo on the Skywalker account. Finally start playing with the big boys.”

Bo snorted into her beer, sending a fine spray of the stuff flying as the rest of the group broke into peals of laughter.

“All right, all right, settle down,” Cara urged, passing Bo a napkin. “This has nothing to do with any of us, right? This is about Din. He’s busted his ass for every one of us for years – it’s his turn to catch a break. So let’s stay on task, okay? Now…” With a few taps and a swipe, she brought up the app once more and flipped to the matches tab. “What do we think of her?”

“Dune.”

“Djarin.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

The dark-haired, hawk-eyed woman quirked an eyebrow at him, phone in hand, the thing still extended toward him, waiting for him to take it. “I could do that. But then I’d be lying, and we both know that doesn’t fly with you.”

Din Djarin gritted his jaw and turned his back to her, focusing instead on tossing his towel, lifting gloves, and empty water bottle into his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for Cara to join him for his daily pre-shift workout. She was a reliable spotter, and he liked the playlists she piped through the Bluetooth speakers in the company gym, but there had been something off about her that morning – something cagey and distracted where she was normally the picture of focus. After one too many attempts at getting her attention had resulted in a distant “huh?”, he had decided that enough was enough and demanded an explanation.

With only the faintest traces of guilt shadowing her gaze, she had made her confession. A dating app. She had signed him up for a fucking dating app, and apparently, the whole team was in on it. The bunch of traitors.

“You can go ahead and delete it,” he growled, casting a scathing glance over his shoulder as he made for the locker room. “I’m not interested.”

A strong, blunt-nailed hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling his retreat up short. “Oh, come on, lighten up a little,” Cara entreated. “When was the last time you went out with someone, huh?”

He shrugged her grip off of him. “I go out with you and the team all the time.”

Behind him, his closest friend groaned dramatically. “You know that’s not what I meant. But, while we’re at it, you haven’t exactly been doing much of that, either, big guy. In fact, maybe if you did come out with us once in a while, you could meet a nice girl at a bar or a sporting event or a festival like a fucking normal person, and I wouldn’t have to resort to mining photos of you off our friends’ socials and making you a dating profile in secret.”

“That isn’t fair,” Din snapped, whirling around to face her. “I can’t just be out until all hours of the night anymore. I have my kid to think about. I thought you understood that.”

“Of course, I understand that! No one expects you to be there every time. Not even most of the time! But Din…” Cara let out a sigh, and he watched as that contentious spark fizzled out of her dark eyes, fading into something softer and more earnest. “You are an amazing father. Anyone who has ever seen you with that little boy knows that. But that isn’t all you are. Just like work isn’t all you are. How long have we known each other?”

He ground his teeth and ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it back from his face. “About eight years.”

“Eight years,” she echoed, nodding. “I know you, Din Djarin, and I can tell. You’re burning out.”

Something squeezed in his chest at the raw honestly of his friend’s words, and he found himself having to look away. She was right, of course, as she often was. He had always struggled with giving too much of himself – first as a boxer in the ring, then as one of the founding members of Fett Security, then as one of its most senior consultants, and now as a father. As a younger man, he had thrived on it; the busier he was, the harder he worked, the more he proved himself, the better he felt.

But now, knocking on the doors of middle age, he found that the breakneck pace of his life was starting to fray him at the edges. He felt worn through in places and dangerously thin in others, and although he would never admit to anyone, his bed had never felt colder. The small handful of meaningless, one-night flings he had permitted himself over the last few years had left him feeling ill-used and unsatisfied, and when he took his son out to a new restaurant or to the zoo or to the beach, he couldn’t help but feel the distinct absence of another person.

There ought to have been another person holding his kid’s other little hand in the park, patiently walking the unsteady toddler between them. There ought to have been another person feeding the boy ice cream afterward, singing him songs, telling him stories, settling him down for a nap.

There ought to have been another person in his bed – holding him close, playing with his hair, whispering his name in the dark as soft lips traced down his neck…

Fuck. Din Djarin was lonely.

“Listen, I’ll tell you what,” Cara said eventually, pulling him out of his musings. “We’ll get the app set up on your phone, you can log in to your profile, and you can just…take a look at the matches we already got for you. You don’t have to go through any on your own, just the ones we’ve already found. And if you hate them all, we’ll delete your profile and be done with it. But if any of them look even remotely interesting, I really think you should try to connect with them. There has to be more to your life than work and your kid. There has to be, or you’re going to run yourself into the ground. I’m not going to let that happen on my watch.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, blunt and painfully sincere, and then Din was squeezing the pressure points on the sides of his nose and releasing a reluctant sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll take a look at them over lunch. Happy?”

She grinned victoriously and cuffed him on the shoulder, the gesture warm and fraternal. “Ecstatic. Now hit the showers, Djarin, you stink.”

Cara was at his desk at noon on the dot, barely waiting for him to finish sending off an email to a potential client before she was closing his laptop, dragging him bodily out of his chair, and escorting him out of the building and across the street to their favorite sandwich shop. A few minutes later, equipped with a pair of overstuffed Reubens and a couple bags of chips, the two were settled into a back corner booth with Din’s phone between them.

“Okay, there you go,” she proclaimed, sliding the thing across the table to him with a triumphant grin. “App’s installed, and you’re all logged in.”

The man wiped a napkin across his face and fought the urge to sigh. “Let’s get this over with.” Thumbing through the interface, he fumbled for a bit before finally landing on the tab that contained his list of users with bright pink heart icons next to their profile pictures.

“Now these are people that already matched with me?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit out of his depth.

“Yep! Me and the crew did some swiping for you the other night.”

Din simply blinked at her. “Swiping?”

Cara’s mouth twisted into a thin line, as though she were attempting to swallow a smirk and failing miserably, and he felt the distinct desire to melt into the plastic cushion of the booth and disappear. “It’s how you indicate whether you’re interested in matching with someone. Swipe right for yes, swipe left for no.”

“So these are the people you…swiped right on?”

“Not quite,” she clarified with a shake of her head. “These are the people we swiped right on who also swiped right on you.”

Din’s brows nearly met his hairline at that. “They wanted to match with me, too?”

“Yeah, dumbass, they did.”

“Hey. Watch it,” he growled, jabbing a finger in her direction as he felt his hackles raise. “You know I don’t know anything about this shit. Cut me a little bit of slack, okay?”

Cara sighed, and her expression shifted from needling to softly exasperated. “Yeah, no kidding, I’m aware. I didn’t call you a dumbass because you don’t know anything about online dating. I called you a dumbass because you act like you’re surprised that people want to match with you.”

Oh.

Cocking his head at her, he replied, “Why wouldn’t that surprise me?”

“Umm…” All of the softness in her face disappeared, and instead she glared at him like he had just grown a second head. “Have you seen yourself? I don’t even like men, and I recognize a DILF when I see one.”

“A DILF?”

Cara smirked lasciviously. “Yeah, a dad I’d like to – ”

“I know what a DILF is, Cara, fucking hell, can you keep your voice down?” Din instinctually ducked his head, his gaze darting around the sandwich shop as he prayed to whatever deity might be listening that no one had heard them.

The woman let out a bark of laughter, dark hair swinging and eyes crinkling with mirth. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, old man. No one’s paying any attention to us back here.” Gesturing at the phone in his hand, she added, “Now quit stalling and start scrolling. I think we ended up with ten or so matches before we called it a night? And we were really picky about it, too. There’s gotta be at least one lucky lady in there that tickles your fancy.”

“Hmm.” He hummed dubiously to himself as he opened the first profile in the list, a blonde woman a couple of years his junior with her head tilted back, face in the sun as she posed on some tropical beach. Pretty. Nice smile. Looked friendly. “Suppose I just didn’t think so many women would be interested in dating a single father.”

“Like I said,” Cara shrugged with a wink. “Ladies love a DILF.”

Nearly an hour later, and Din couldn’t help but feel a bit…underwhelmed with the selection of matches his friends had chosen for him. Not that any of them were bad choices, per se. They were lovely women, all of them, with their sunny smiles and their glossy, perfectly-posed photographs and their quippy bios. They were from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of interests, though all struck him as approachable, intelligent, witty. He couldn’t find a red flag in the bunch, which he supposed was a credit both to them and to his friends for sifting through the masses so thoughtfully.

No, it wasn’t the women. It was him, he was sure. What else could explain the…nothingness he felt when he looked at them? The utter lack of interest? Perhaps he had missed his opportunity for such things, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long, been too content with his own company for too many years.

He could feel Cara’s eyes on him across the table as he came to the last few matches, could sense her impatience at his silence, at his steady, unenthusiastic scrolling. Their plates sat picked over and abandoned between them, chip bags empty and crumpled, sodas drained dry. They were due back in the office any minute, the lunch hour quickly expiring around them, and as reluctant as Din had been to agree to this entire endeavor, he somehow still felt a twinge of guilt at leaving Cara to report back to the rest of the group empty-handed.

But at least he had held up his end of the bargain. No one could say that he didn’t give the idea a chance. It simply wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, that was until he reached the second-to-last match on the list.

Absently, Din tapped on your picture, opening your profile, and almost immediately, he felt himself straighten in his seat.

You were…stunning.

Wide, bright eyes. A warm, mischievous smile that teased him through the camera’s lens, as though you had a secret you were taunting him with, daring him to ask, to figure it out. Your photos were unique – mostly candids, the focus soft, enhanced with a touch of grain and flawlessly lit. And you had a lot of them, more than any other profile he had viewed. As he swiped through them, he came upon one of you in an easy, flowing blouse, hair windswept around your face, a DSLR camera with a colorful, well-worn strap slung around your neck.

He quickly scanned your profile header, taking in your name, your age, your distance from his location. Photographer, the profession field indicated.

And…shit. You were young. More than a decade his junior, on the very edge of what he would consider an acceptable age difference in typical circumstances. The gap wasn’t enough for it to be an immediate disqualifier, but it certainly was enough that if the two of you were to walk down the street together hand-in-hand, others might take a second glance.

He should un-match with you. It would be the right thing, the responsible thing to do.

And yet…

Din swiped through a handful of your other photos. Fuck, but you were sweet. Full, soft curves with wide, plush hips, heavy breasts, thick thighs. Little glimpses of soft skin peeking through comfortable clothing, airy cottons and silky satins and well-loved denims that his palms itched to touch. He wanted to feel the texture of you under his hands, the lush and the give of you beneath his fingertips…

Your last photo was one taken of you at sunrise, your soft body clad in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of barely-there spandex shorts. Your limbs were stretched and bent into some strange configuration he recognized as a yoga pose, your leg pressed back near your face at an angle that had blood rushing to his cock, his head immediately filled with images of your body contorted in a similar position as he pressed you into his mattress.

New to the city, looking for someone to show me all the best places to get a couple drinks and people watch. Professional photographer living my dream of documenting the most important moments of people’s lives. In my spare time, I like to get out in nature and go hiking, practice yoga, and travel. Excellent home cook, terrible at karaoke. Love dogs, love kids. Let me take your picture so I know it’s real.

Damnit.

You were perfect.

“Okay over there, Djarin?”

Din’s gaze snapped up to meet Cara’s over the table, taking in the quirk of her brow, the suspicious twist of her mouth, and he felt a flush of heat rush up the back of his neck and settle high on his cheekbones. He had been staring. Really staring, and with his mouth open, he realized, mortified. He slammed his jaw shut, his teeth clicking unpleasantly in his skull, and he shifted in his seat.

“Uh,” he muttered dumbly. This throat was so dry, his voice crackled around the syllable as though he hadn’t spoken all day. He cleared it quickly and nodded once. “Yeah. Fine. Uh – ” Flipping the phone around to face his companion, he slid it back across the laminate tabletop. “Her,” he said, tapping the screen with the tip of his finger. “I’ll go out with her.”

Had he not already been blushing, the cat-like grin of victory that Cara sent him certainly would have done it.

“Gonna have to message her first, big guy. Think you can figure out how to do that, or you want me to show you?”

Din’s flush darkened as he yanked the phone back toward himself, feeling a muscle in his jaw tick. “I can manage,” he snarked, and she scoffed a laugh.

However, as it turned out, as he opened the messages tab from your profile, he discovered that you had already taken the initiative and messaged him.

hey din – such a cool name! looks like we have a few things in common. i’d love to get to know you if you’re interested! 😊

Short. Sweet. Polite. Direct.

He swallowed thickly, feeling something suspiciously like butterflies take up residence in his gut. Scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he looked back up at Cara sheepishly.

“Actually…yeah, maybe I could use some help.”

You were sitting cross-legged in your oversized office chair, headphones on and iced coffee leaving a ring of condensation on the surface of your desk, when you saw the dating app notification pop up on your phone screen.

1 New Message, it read.

You glanced back and forth between your phone and your computer screen for a moment, debating. You had promised yourself you would be heads-down today, having started to accumulate more of an editing backlog than you typically preferred. The shoot you were working on this afternoon – an engagement session taken in the gardens outside the local art gallery – was due to the clients by the end of the week, and if you wanted to meet that deadline, you couldn’t afford to get distracted.

And yet you couldn’t help but wonder whether the message was a response – finally – from the man you had matched with a couple days ago. The one with the unusual name, the dark curls and even darker eyes, the strong nose and the sharp jaw and the soft, gentle smile. Broad shoulders, big, masculine hands, and a handful of pictures featuring a little boy, no more than two or three years old, his face either turned away from the camera or covered with a little green frog emoji for privacy.

Din the security consultant. Din the vintage car enthusiast. Din the self-defense instructor.

Din the DILF.

You had fired off a message to him as soon as you had gotten confirmation that he had liked you back, and he had been taking up space in your mind ever since. You had always preferred your men a little older, a little more experienced, and the fact that he was a dad, and a proud one at that, had gotten your motor running immediately. He looked like the kind of guy who knew the best bar in town to get an old fashioned and how to grill a good steak. He looked like the kind of guy who would open your car door for you, who would drive one-handed while the other rested calmly, possessively on your thigh. He looked like his palms were calloused and like his skin smelled good even fresh from the gym.

He looked like he had a big –

Fucking hell. It had been a long time since a man had given you this kind of brainrot without ever even meeting him. It was embarrassing and very much not consistent with your independent woman-about-town image you wore like a suit of armor. But you had never been the type of person to deny yourself. If you saw something you wanted, you went for it – full speed ahead. And Din…you definitely wanted Din.

If there was even a slight chance it was him…

Before you could overthink it any further, you saved your progress on your current edit, dropped your headphones around the back of your neck, and scooped up your phone. Tapping the notification, you brought up your messages tab and found one unread message staring back you.

It was from him.

Hi there. It’s nice to meet you. You seem like an interesting person. I would like to get to know you, too. Where is your favorite place you have traveled?

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, smothering a grin as though others might spot it and tease you despite being alone in your apartment. Something about the way he wrote – the dry punctuation, the complete, grammatically-correct sentences, the lack of emojis – all of it screamed someone who didn’t spend much time communicating electronically, let alone online dating. It was a refreshing change from the men you typically met on the apps, the whole thing endearing rather than off-putting and doing nothing to discourage your impression of his “dad” persona.

Poking out your tongue a little in concentration, you tapped out a quick response before you could lose your nerve.

ooo good question! hard to pick a favorite, but if i have to choose, i’d say thailand. i went there with some friends after we graduated college and we got to volunteer at an elephant sanctuary for a few days. coolest experience of my life hands down! what about you? are you a traveler?

His response came much faster than you expected, certainly faster than his response to your initial message.

I used to be. When I was first getting started, I used to travel a lot for work. I have been all over. I am more settled these days. It’s difficult to travel with a toddler on my own.

You nodded to yourself. That made sense. His boy looked young, and he was a self-described single father. You wondered what the story was there, but that was a level of personal that you didn’t need to dive into just yet. For now, your focus was on making sure this conversation didn’t fizzle out.

Frowning slightly, you realized he hadn’t really included anything in that message to prompt much of a response. However, before you could begin to fish around for something to send in reply, another message appeared.

Your profile says you’re a photographer. Your pictures are very unique. I don’t know much about photography, but I can tell that you have an eye for it. What made you interested in that field?

With a huff of a laugh and a mortifyingly strong flush, you closed out of Lightroom and abandoned your headphones on their stand. You weren’t getting any more work done for a while – you could already tell.

The two of you messaged back and forth several more times that day, then again in fits and spurts over the next three days.

You shared how you got your start in photography and the way your best clients were the ones who embraced your photojournalistic style. You didn’t care for shots that were staged or overly posed, you told him. You liked capturing people’s authentic feelings in the moment, and he quipped that he had never been comfortable posing for photos anyway, so you should get along just fine.

You talked about how both of you desperately wanted a dog but neither of you were in a place where getting one would be a responsible choice. You compared your favorite local hiking trails and determined that although he had lived in the area for far longer than you, you had significantly more experience trekking through the nearby national park. You learned a lot about the ’81 Honda Goldwing that he had lovingly restored, how he used to ride it to and from work every day but that now it sat under a protective tarp in the back of his garage most of the time. It wasn’t exactly a toddler-friendly form of transportation, he explained.

In a moment of vulnerability, you confessed that you had moved to the city as a result of a breakup, in an attempt to get a change of scenery far from the place where you had made a home with another man. He confessed that he had never really made time for relationships in the past, but that his son had made him realize that there was plenty of room in his life for love. He finally felt ready to try, and you finally felt ready to try again.

You told him you thought he was stupidly handsome, that you had no idea how he was single if he didn’t want to be. He told you that he had thought the same about you.

Except I would call you beautiful. Not handsome. I guess unless that’s what you prefer?

no lmao, you wrote back. beautiful is fine. beautiful is perfect.

On day four of…whatever this newfound acquaintance was, you spent the full day shooting a wedding – from getting ready to first looks to family photos to the ceremony to the reception. You swore you could feel your phone burning a hole in your pocket the entire time, but you managed to stay professional and present throughout the length of your contracted hours. By the time you stumbled into your apartment, you were so exhausted, you couldn’t have been more eager to pour yourself some wine and melt into the couch with some trashy reality television. You were changed into your pajamas and a glass and a half deep by the time you allowed yourself to check your phone.

Buried beneath all of the other notifications you had gotten throughout the day, there was a single pop-up from your dating app.

1 New Message, it read. Received four hours ago.

Skipping past all of the other demands on your attention, you opened that notification first.

Hi sweetheart. I know you were photographing that wedding today, so don’t let me interrupt you. We can talk tomorrow, but if you could please message me when you’re done for the night? It would make me feel better to know that you made it home safe.  

Hi sweetheart, he had said.

Sweetheart.

A rush of heat passed over you at his words, and you swallowed thickly, wine burning its way down your throat at the thought of Din at home thinking about you, worrying about you. Had this been any other man, you might have found the message a bit overbearing, especially this early on, but rather than feeling controlled or stifled, instead you felt only warmth and safety. You felt…cared for. Protected. Important.

The sensation had you shifting in your seat, gulping down the remainder of your glass in a single go as you felt the apex of your thighs pulse with interest.

Din was so fucking hot, and he had no idea.

Setting your now-empty wine glass on the coffee table, you typed out a rapid reply and hit send.

heyy! made it home okay, thanks for checking in!

Fatigue pulling at your eyelids, arousal burning low in your belly, quickly-consumed wine flushing your limbs with a soft weightlessness, your thumbs seemed to move of their own accord as they tapped out a second message.

din idk how much longer i can keep this up without meeting you. i wanna see your handsome face in person. can i take u out sometime soon? please say yes.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, then immediately tossed your phone to the other end of the couch as though it had burned you. It disappeared into the stack of throw pillows there, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t look at it, couldn’t stand to wait for his reply knowing that it was after midnight, knowing that he likely had been asleep for hours and wouldn’t see your messages until morning. Taking a deep, calming breath to steady your nerves, you forced yourself to refocus on the television. One episode, you promised yourself, and then you would get some sleep.

Less than 10 minutes later, you felt the faint vibration of your phone travel through the couch cushions to where you sat, and your show was abandoned without question.

You tossed several of your unnecessarily large throw pillow collection onto the floor in your hasty search, and though you knew you would be annoyed at having to tidy them in the morning, in that moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

1 New Message, your phone screen read as you recovered it from the pile. With something akin to nausea roiling in your stomach, you opened the notification and resisted the urge to physically cross your fingers.

Glad to hear you made it home safely.

…

That was all. “Glad to hear you made it home safely.”

Your stomach sank like lead in your abdomen, all of the soft, fuzzy warmth of the wine and your arousal evaporating from your body like sweat on a hot day. Only exhaustion was left in its place – exhaustion and the surprisingly poignant hurt of rejection sitting heavy on your limbs. You had come on too strong, it seemed, stated your desires and intentions too boldly and directly. You ought to have held back more, ought to have waited longer before asking or maybe couched the question in a joke or a suggestion of something more casual first. Or maybe you shouldn’t have asked at all and instead waited for him to ask you out. You supposed men probably preferred that – to be the one to initiate, the one to take charge. Fuck, you were always so impatient, so goddamn eager –

In your sweating palm, your phone buzzed once more, interrupting your string of self-curses.

Nerves roiling beneath your skin, you risked a glance down at it.

1 New Message

You had no control over your body as you opened it, watching the action from inside your own mind as though walking through a dream.

As for your other message, of course my answer is yes. I want to meet you, too, sweetheart. But be warned. Even though you did the asking, I WILL argue with you if you attempt to pay for the whole date yourself. It’s against my personal creed to let a lady pay my way without contributing.

All of the breath left your lungs as you took in his words, reading them over and over again until you could recite them from memory.

He wanted to meet you. He wanted to go out with you.

A high, breathy laugh bubbled over from your chest, spilling through your lips into your quiet apartment like the glistening champagne tower at the wedding this evening. You laughed as you typed, as you hit send. You laughed as you turned off your TV and as you completed your evening skincare routine. You laughed as you crawled into bed, as you burrowed under the covers, delirious and giddy.

i think i can allow it just this once. wouldn’t wanna violate your creed.

It took a handful of messages to determine the best place to meet. Din had offered to pick you up, wanting to treat you right, to be a gentleman, but he did not hold it against you when you turned him down. He understood that meeting a stranger from the internet, particularly as a woman, came with a particular set of risks, and he had no desire to make you uncomfortable in the slightest. He was happy to simply meet you there instead if that would make you feel safer.

Eventually, you settled on a moderately popular restaurant not far from your neighborhood. Din had never been there before, but over the last several days, he had discovered that the two of you shared a love of spicy food, and you had promised that the “modern Mexican fusion” menu did not disappoint.

they also have the cutest patio so we can sit outside if the weather’s nice 😊 , you had said, and he had been sold.

Under the assumption that Din would have a difficult time finding a sitter on a weekday evening, you agreed to wait until Friday to meet. However, the moment he had attempted to discretely broach the subject with Cara while on a jobsite, he immediately had three additional volunteers in Bo, Koska, and Axe, all of whom assured him that they hadn’t been eavesdropping and insisted that he had just been “really fucking loud” with his question.

So perhaps finding a sitter would not have been as challenging as he presumed.

Regardless, the two of you continued to chat throughout the week leading up to your date, first using the dating app’s messaging platform and then, eventually, via text. Din had grown weary of the limitations of the messaging interface days before, but he had been concerned about coming across as too forward if he were to ask for your number. But he needn’t have worried. You offered it freely late one night when the two of you were deep into a discussion about your favorite music artists, and something about getting to put your name and phone number into his contacts made the whole situation feel startlingly real. It had felt…personal, almost intimate. And it was nice.

If he was being honest with himself, it made him nervous – how much he liked you, how quickly he had begun to think of you as part of his daily routine. A text good morning after his pre-shift workout, when he knew you were just rolling out of bed. Checking his phone over lunch to find a whole stack of little videos you had found on the internet during your morning scroll, watching every single one of them as his coworkers rolled their eyes and laughed at how quickly he had fallen into line for you. Countless late-night conversations after he had tucked his son into bed, his tired body sprawled out on the couch or propped up against his headboard and wishing you were there with him.

He wanted to experience the laugh that went with that stunning smile from your photos. He wanted to hear you talk for hours on end about whatever crossed your mind while he just…listened. And fuck, did he want to touch you. It had been almost two weeks since he had first matched with you, and that need he had felt deep in his gut that first day he had seen your pictures had only gotten more acute over time. He had to know – for certain – whether the skin at the small of your back was as soft and warm as it looked. He had to know whether your plush thighs and generous hips would give beneath his hands.

He wanted you in his arms, in his lap, in his bed. He wanted you in his life, and he had never even met you.

He needed to rein it in, he knew. He didn’t want to come on too strong, and he didn’t want to dive headfirst into something without the proper consideration. It had been over a decade since he had last been in a relationship, and he was a completely different person now than he had been then. Not to mention his son. His boy was his top priority – the most important thing in his world. He would need to be cautious about dating anyone seriously with him in the picture.

But something told him that he had nothing to worry about with you, that you wouldn’t resent his priorities or demand things of him that he couldn’t give. And if things went well, and he liked you as much in person as he did online… If after a while, you earned his trust, his commitment…

You and the kid would get on like a house on fire. He could sense it.

But.

Before you could meet his son, before Din could welcome you fully into is life, he had to meet you.

Din beat you to the restaurant that Friday.

You wouldn’t describe yourself as the type of person who was chronically late (though some of your friends might have had a different opinion on the matter), but in your defense, you had had a new client intake call right at the end of the day that had gone on for longer than you anticipated. Thankfully, you had gotten yourself ready before the call so that by the time the talkative new parents were done describing in great detail their precise vision for their new baby photoshoot, all that was left for you to do was slip on your shoes, grab your purse, and run out the door.

The walk to the restaurant was brief but pleasant, the weather having worked out perfectly for an outdoor meal, and as you approached, you spotted him immediately. Tall and absurdly broad, posted up outside the restaurant’s main entrance with his hands on his hips and one leg popped in a stance that absolutely screamed “dad,” even from a distance. He wore a long-sleeved, charcoal gray henley with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows and a couple buttons undone at the collar, well-fitting, dark-washed jeans, and a pair of black boots with thick soles that you had a feeling he favored when riding his motorcycle. A classic pair of dark sunglasses perched on his prominent nose, and in spite of the warm weather, he had a black leather jacket grasped in one fist, hanging down by his side by its collar.

In the golden hour sun against the worn brick of the restaurant’s exterior, he looked like something out of a movie. Or maybe a men’s cologne ad – something clean but rugged, so masculine you could die. Taking a deep breath against a sudden wave of nerves, you made a mental note to bring your camera the next time the two of you went out. If he was going to look this fucking delicious every time you saw one another, it would be a crime not to document it.

You were in the middle of crossing the street when he spotted you, and you watched with heat rising in your cheeks as he visibly paused and swept you from head to toe with his gaze. His adam’s apple bobbed, and then he was straightening himself and eating up the sidewalk in a handful of long strides to meet you when you arrived.

“Din?” you found yourself asking as you came to stand before him, as if you didn’t know, as if you wouldn’t recognize that striking face, those powerful shoulders anywhere in the world.

He offered you a gentle half-smile, ducking his chin in a single nod, and you took notice of his free hand balling up into a fist at his side, like he was physically holding himself back from reaching for you. After a beat, he replied, “It’s…good to see you, sweetheart. Happy you got here safe.”

His voice. Low and rasping, worn and manly, strangely reminding you of metal scraping against leather. It was painfully attractive, and you felt your cheeks darken further even as a grin spread across your lips.

You had been right. The man was a certified DILF, and he couldn’t have been any more your type if you had designed him in a lab yourself.

“Same to you,” you said, your voice sounding a bit breathless even to your own ears. “Should we go get a table?”

Din made an affirmative noise and gestured for you to precede him down the sidewalk. “I put our names in when I got here. The table should be ready any minute.”

A small thrill went through you at the realization that he must have gotten here at least 45 minutes ago if your table was nearly ready. This place notoriously didn’t take reservations, and there was always a wait, especially for the patio. Which reminded you…

Before you could think better of it, you asked, “Oh, did you request the patio by chance? Sitting out under the lights is the – ”

“ – best part, I remember,” he interjected, his tiny smile quirking up in one corner. “Yes, I requested the patio. They should text me when the table’s ready.” No sooner had the words left his mouth and he startled unexpectedly, glancing over his shoulder as though to look at his own back pocket. He reached behind himself and pulled out his phone, the sleek, black thing dwarfed in his broad palm, and you caught a glimpse of his background picture as he unlocked it.

A little boy with floppy, too-long, sandy-brown hair, huge dark eyes, and big ears, grinning up at the camera with a toothy smile. He was adorable.

“Ah. Speaking of. It’s ready,” he said, showing you the automated text. “After you.”

He gestured again for you to walk ahead of him, and you drew your lower lip between your teeth as you acquiesced. Not a moment later and you felt the soft, warm press of his palm against the small of your back, the steady, unobtrusive pressure gently guiding you toward the entrance to the restaurant. The sensation had something low and hot simmering in your abdomen, the way the heat of it sank through the fabric of your dress into your skin, the way your body listened to his touch instinctually. It was protective in a way that felt comforting rather than overbearing, and it occurred to you that such a thing would be easy to grow accustomed to.

You had always needed to be the one to look out for yourself. How freeing would it be to be able to trust another person to carry that for you, even if it was only every once in a while?

Your restaurant recommendation proved to be a good one; the food was rich and delicious, the atmosphere was lively, and Din indulged in a couple of their house cervezas throughout the evening, which he found pleasantly light and refreshing. As the sun set behind the city skyline, casting long shadows across the flagstone patio, colorful strings of lights crisscrossing the seating area flared to life. The effect was charming, particularly the way the lights cast a warm glow over your face, arcs of gold and red and green streaking across your hair and illuminating your eyes. You were so pretty – even more than he had expected, even more than in your photos. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt “enchanted” by a person before, but he would say that was close to describing how he felt sitting across the table from you.

To his great relief, Din found that the time passed just as quickly while talking to you in person as it did over the phone. You were sweet, funny, and quite talkative, so even when he found himself dipping into introverted lulls or long silences, you were there to pull him back out of himself. You seemed to have an endless fount of things to chat about, which was perfectly fine with him, as it meant he didn’t have to wrack his brain for things to say, and he got to listen to your voice.

You also seemed to find him funny, snorting cutely into your glass every time he said something even faintly amusing, and he would be lying if he said that didn’t have his ego swelling a bit. He liked the idea of being able to make you laugh. And when your eyes flashed at him over the rim of your margarita, when you drug the tip of your slick, pink tongue across the line of salt there, when you offered him a slow, knowing smile with just the barest flash of sharp little teeth…it wasn’t only his ego that threatened to swell.

That was one thing he had not accounted for, he found, one facet of your personality that he had only barely glimpsed over text that was now staring him in the face as the two of you wrapped up your meal. You were powerfully, blatantly flirtatious in a way that felt completely foreign to Din after more than a decade of singlehood. Your lowered lashes, your intentional eye contact, your sweet compliments. Your little touches across the table, burning the backs of his hands and the insides of his forearms with the warmth of your skin. And that wasn’t even mentioning the surreptitious peeks at your ample cleavage your dress kept allowing as you leaned and shifted in your chair. That one, perhaps, wasn’t intentional, but it was still making it difficult for him to avoid embarrassing himself in the middle of this restaurant.

When it became clear that the two of you could no longer draw out your meal, the debate over the check began. Thankfully, you did not propose to pay for both your meal and his, seemingly taking his warning to heart. However, you did suggest that you pay for your own meal and drinks, and something about that still rankled. Eventually, after much back and forth, you compromised and agreed that Din would pay for the meals while you would cover the drinks. The waitress had looked at you a bit oddly when you made the request, but she hadn’t protested, and a handful of minutes later, the two of you had paid and were making your way back out onto the sidewalk outside.

Din wasn’t ready for the night to end. Spending time with you was the most fun he had had with anyone that wasn’t a coworker in…well. Too long. You were sweet and funny and full of life, and every moment he spent in your presence, he could feel warmth and vitality being breathed back into his lungs. He wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.

Thankfully, neither, it seemed, were you. Slipping one of your manicured hands into his, you said, “You know, there’s a park a couple blocks from here with a really nice walking path. You want to go check it out?”

He glanced down at your joined hands, dragging the pad of his thumb across the ridge of your knuckles almost absently as he reveled in the feeling. You were so fucking soft, just like he knew you would be, and the sensation of your skin under his almost distracted him from his response. After a beat, he nodded, and you hit him with a thousand-watt smile that Din couldn’t help but return.

You kept up a steady stream of conversation as you made your way to the park hand-in-hand. Din had proven just as easy to talk to in person as he had online, and although the evening had confirmed your suspicions that he was much more introverted than you, he was by no means reticent. He had matched you beat for beat all night, and even in the moments where he seemed to need a bit of prompting, you chalked it up to him simply being out of the game for a while and didn’t hold it against him.

More than anything, though, your impression of him as you made your way down the block was one of an old-fashioned gentleman. There was an earnestness, a seriousness about him that you had never really seen in a guy your age, and it made you feel like you were the only person in the world to him. It was a heady feeling, to be the center of such focused attention. You wondered if he knew that if he wasn’t careful, that attention was going to give you ideas. Ideas you weren’t certain someone with his sensibilities would be interested in on a first date.

Just when you thought you might need to pull him to the side of the walkway and give him a little taste of what you had in mind, his phone rang, and he dropped your hand to fish it from his back pocket.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a glance at the screen as he examined it. CARA DUNE, the caller ID read, and the photo that lit up the background was of a striking woman with raven black hair, sharp eyes, and smug smile.

Oh. You felt something in your chest deflate a little. Another woman.

Din pulled up short, looking at you with dark, apologetic eyes shadowed by the streetlamps. “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he said, and you found yourself nodding your agreement even as your stomach sank further. And to think, you had been convinced that this man was nothing but a bundle of green flags held together by a gap-necked henley and a pair of slutty black combat boots…

Turning away from you slightly, putting one of his broad shoulders between you and the view of his phone, he swiped up to answer the call.

“Dune? Everything okay?” he asked, a flavor of urgency to his tone that had you frowning.

Wait – Dune? He was calling her by her last name?

You couldn’t hear what the voice on the other side of the line said in reply, but you watched as Din’s shoulders dropped from up around his ears, and he brought his free hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, put him on.” A pause then, and he sighed deeply. “No, I don’t mind, really, you just scared the shit out of me. A call from you at this time of night? I thought something was wrong.” Another pause, and you could hear what you would swear were several voices talking over each other ringing from the phone’s speakers even as they were pressed against his ear. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Put him on.”

Din pulled the phone away from his face then and tapped the “video call” button on the glowing gray call interface. Half a breath later, the screen flared to life, blinding you a bit in the darkness, and the image of a little boy with unruly hair and dark, sleepy eyes blinked at him from the phone.

“Daddy!” the boy cried, a toothy grin splitting his chubby little cheeks as he seized the phone from whoever was holding it on his end. He was too close to the camera, the angle giving Din a spectacular view directly up the toddler’s nose, and you smothered a giggle as you watched the boy make faces at himself in the viewfinder.

“Hey, kiddo,” Din said softly, and oh, but you could hear the smile in his voice, could feel the fondness radiating off of him in waves even though you couldn’t see his face. Every sinking feeling that had taken over your body disappeared at the sound as you realized what exactly you were witnessing. The other woman was his babysitter.

“Are you being good for Aunt Cara? Hm?” he asked, and you could just melt at the gentleness in his low, rasping voice.

“Good!” the little boy replied, nodding vigorously in a way that bounced his floppy curls across his forehead.

Another face appeared on the screen, the same woman from the caller ID photo, and you watched as she scooped the squirmy kid up into her arms with an exaggerated, theatrical groan. “Tell him,” she prompted playfully. “Say we played with your airplanes and your cars.”

The little boy grinned toothily. “Yeah, cars!”

“And we wrestled with Uncle Axe and Aunt Koska,” Cara prompted, to which the kid giggled.

“I winned!”

Cara nodded with a fond smile. “That’s right, you won.”

From somewhere off-camera, another voice – this one male – called out in protest. “Debatable! I still say the ref was biased!”

The boy laughed again, the sound high-pitched and full of joy, and even the woman holding him seemed to be fighting back a chuckle as she plowed on. “And then Aunt Bo made dinner, and this little dude ate alllll his vegetables!”

“You did?” Din replied, genuine surprise coloring his words. “That’s great! I’m so proud of you!”

“Daddy! When you come home?”

From your angle slightly behind him, you could see your date’s shoulders fall slightly at the question, so sweetly and innocently asked in that little baby voice. On the other end of the line, Cara offered him what you would call an apologetic smile and shook her head. “Someone doesn’t want to go to bed without Dad.”

“Kiddo, Dad’s not going to be home until after your bedtime,” Din sighed. His words were slow and patient on the surface, but you swore you could hear a note of guilt underlying them, and it made your heart ache in your chest. “Remember, we talked about that before I left tonight? Aunt Cara is going to do bedtime tonight, and then when I get home, I promise I will come give you kiss, okay?”

The boy was clearly disappointed by this response, his eyebrows pulling up in the center and his wide, dark eyes shining pitifully through the screen, and he let out a wordless little whine that you were sure would have had you caving in an instant had it been directed at you. However, Din held strong. Voice low and gentle, he offered, “How about this – let’s say goodnight to each other right now instead. Is that okay? Just for tonight?”

He seemed to weigh that response for a moment, uncertain, but after a beat of silence, the kid tucked himself snugly under Cara’s chin and sighed. “Okaaaay.”

“Okay. I love you so much, kiddo. Get good sleep, have good dreams, and I’ll be there in the morning when you wake up.” Din’s words, so soft and intimate, sounded almost rehearsed to your ears, and you realized that this man was completing a long-standing bedtime ritual with his son via video chat in the middle of a darkened sidewalk on a Friday night. The thought had your heart swelling behind your ribs, the core of you warming and softening with a rush of fondness that you were helpless against.

Fuck. Din wasn’t just a DILF. He was also just a really good dad.

On the other side of the connection, Din’s little boy yawned widely and snuggled his curly head deeper into his babysitter’s chest. “Love you, Daddy,” he murmured sweetly, and you knew that if it were possible to die of cuteness, you would have done so that those words.

“I love you, too,” Din replied softly. “Good night, buddy.”

“Night night.”

Cara shifted the phone away from the kid’s sleepy face then, refocusing herself in the frame. “Okay, that should do it. I’m gonna go tuck this guy in while he’s still feeling cooperative.”

He was quick to nod his agreement, clearly not wishing to make this task any more difficult on his friend than he needed to. “Yeah, go. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

“Hey.” She sounded rather serious then, making intense eye contact with Din through the phone screen. “Take your time, ‘kay? I got this.”

“Have fun, Djarin!” another woman’s voice chimed from a distance, off-camera and seemingly getting further and further away as Cara carried Din’s son to bed.

There was a chorus of good-natured laughter, then the man’s voice from earlier returned. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, eh?”

This, of course, was met with an uproar on the other side of the connection, none of which could be seen. All you could really make out was a stern woman’s voice, one you hadn’t heard before, groan, “Axe, I swear to god – ”

You laughed softly at that, hiding your smiling lips behind one of your hands and Din quickly started to fumble with his phone. “Oookay, that’s enough of that,” he muttered, and with a swipe of his thick thumb, he ended the call.

Slipping his phone into his back pocket once again, he finally turned back around to face you, guilt and embarrassment tightening the corners of his eyes. Even in the dark, you swore you could make out a flush high on his golden tanned cheekbones as he said, “I’m…sorry about that. My kid, he’s got some separation anxiety issues. He’s not used to me being out of the house at bedtime. Tried to talk to him about it before, but he’s not even three yet, and – ”

“Din,” you interjected, closing the narrow distance between the two of you and resting your palm on his arm. “You don’t have to explain. Or apologize. You’re a dad. Your kid comes first.” With a slow, sly smile, you slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, holding tight to it as you proceeded down the sidewalk once more. “Besides, that was an interesting look at your family dynamic. Or were those your friends? The one called Axe sounds like a character.”

He huffed a laugh at that. “Friends. Well, also my coworkers, but they were friends first. I’m an only child, so they’re the only aunts and uncles my kid has ever known.”

“How many of them are watching him tonight?”

“Four,” he replied with a grimace. “I had originally only asked Cara, but the others overhead and…wanted to support me, I guess. I think I mentioned, I don’t exactly do this often. I haven’t been on a date in…well. Let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling your cheeks heat at the idea that this man who didn’t date had decided that he wanted his first date in however long to be with you. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t going to go to your head a little. Leaning your forehead against his bicep so he couldn’t meet your eyes, you asked, “And how are you finding it?”

With a low, rasping chuckle, Din brought his free hand up to cover yours, wrapping his long fingers around the back of your hand where it cupped his elbow. “I’m thinking…if it means I get to spend time with you, I should do it more often.”

Not even an hour later, Din found himself in the back of a cab, arm around your shoulders, fingers linked together, your beautiful face flushed and grinning wildly as you traced the very tip of your nose along his jugular. Your voice breathless and on the verge of laughter, you gave the driver what must have been the address of your apartment, but he couldn’t have repeated the words you said if you had paid him. He was far too distracted, too overwhelmed with where the night was heading to pay attention to such details. You were so soft against him, plastered up against his side. Your mussed hair on his cheek, your breasts against his chest, your round hip snug against his, and fuck, your lips – plump and swollen and glistening with his kisses, the ones he had stolen under the lamp light during your stroll through the park. He couldn’t believe he had done that. He couldn’t believe you had asked him to.

When the two of you had planned this evening, he had had a firm talk with himself – he would keep the physical contact to a minimum, he would not allow his eyes to wander inappropriately, he would be a perfect gentleman, he would treat you like a lady. First of all, because it was the bare minimum of what you deserved, and second of all, because tonight would be your first ever in-person meeting, and he wanted to be very clear that this meant more to him than just some casual hookup. Din had had plenty of those over the years to know that what he felt for you ran so much deeper than that, and he was loathe to give you the wrong idea about his intentions with you.

The moment he saw you walking across the street toward him – backlit by the golden hour sun, hair dancing in the breeze, all your perfect, curvaceous softness swaying with your perky stride – all of that chivalry had nearly been abandoned by the side of the road. And he had been fighting tooth and nail all evening to keep hold of the reins of his desire for you.

But the two of you had meandered through that park for a while. You had stopped along the shore of a little pond to admire the water, and you had looked up at him with these wide, soft eyes, your long lashes casting intricate shadows across your cheeks, and god, it had nearly killed him to keep his hands balled up in the pockets of his jacket.

And then you had taken the smallest step forward, eating up what little distance still remained between you.

And then you had whispered, in a voice so low he could barely hear you, “Will you kiss me, Din? Please?”

How could he have refused you?

Now your breath was on his neck, your lips softly brushing his skin, and he was slithering his arm down from around your shoulders and instead pressing his palm to your thigh. His fingers dug into the softness there of their own accord, tucking the tips inward and brushing his thumb across the cap of your knee firmly, possessively. He felt you exhale against his collarbone at the sensation, the softest, faintest sound of need reaching his ears, and then he was ducking his chin, finding your mouth again, pressing his lips to yours with an urgency that ought to have felt out of place with the poor cab driver sitting right there but somehow didn’t.

Your kiss tasted like lime from your margarita, like salt from the rim. Your fingers threading through his hair felt like heaven. Your body under his hands melted like putty, warm and pliant and so fucking soft that it had blood rushing to his cock, the swell of it pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

And it wasn’t enough. You needed more. He needed more.

Breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, Din pressed his forehead against yours, brushed the tip of his nose against yours. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and gravely in the hot, moist air between you. “We’ve got to slow down, or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

You shifted beneath his grip on your thigh, hips squirming in your seat, thighs pressing together, and when he met your heavy-lidded gaze, he was struck with how dark your eyes looked just now, how wide your pupils had blown. Shaking your head, you whispered, “Don’t care.”

He bit back a curse at the way his cock throbbed at your words, at the soft, panting tone of your voice. “Not going to fuck you in the back of a cab, baby.”

Giggling breathlessly, you tucked your face into the side of his neck to hide your blush. “You can’t talk to me like that and not expect me to be all over you, Din Djarin,” you huffed, the tip of your tongue darting out to taste the little patch of skin just beneath his earlobe. “S’not fair.”

“Not fair?” With gritted teeth, pure electricity running through his veins, he returned the favor and buried his nose in the soft, fragrant skin of neck. The scent of you there was intoxicating – warmth and musk with a touch of floral, a touch of sweetness. He wanted to sink his teeth into you, might have had you been alone. “Fine. You want not fair? I’ll give you not fair.”

Shooting a furtive glance at the driver, who mercifully seemed committed to keeping his eyes on the road, Din delicately slipped his leather jacket from where it had been tucked around your shoulders and instead draped it over your lap.

You pulled away from him slightly at that, meeting his gaze with bright, burning interest in your eyes as you realized what he was about to do.

“If we’re doing this,” he whispered, “you have to keep your eyes forward and your mouth shut. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Din watched as you swallowed hard, your swollen lips parting with lust. You nodded wordlessly, and your thigh muscles tightened under his hand, now hidden by the drape of his jacket.

“Okay then. Not a sound.” He cocked his head toward the front of the cab. “Now face forward, behave yourself, and I’ll take care of you.”

He felt the sharp exhale of your breath against his face, and then you were obeying – shifting your hips square to the front of the car, turning to face the windshield, and balling your fists up at your sides. Din shifted, too, turning to face forward and tapping into every ounce of discipline his profession had ever instilled in him to school his expression into something carefully blank and neutral. Beneath his jacket, however, was a different story.

He started with a soothing caress of his palm from the cap of your knee to the top of your thigh, using the heat and the weight of his hand to ease your tense muscles. After a couple of passes, he could feel that softness return, and unprompted, your knees eased apart – not quite spread, not yet, just parted slightly as you relaxed into his touch. The realization sent a surge of satisfaction through him, and he could not stop himself from slipping his fingers down, down, down to the very edge of your knee and slowly starting to gather the fabric of your dress in his grip.

Din heard your breath catch for a moment as you realized what he was doing, and then it sped up, and your knees dropped even further apart. Before he could wrap his head around what he was about to do in the back of a cab car, he had hiked the skirt of your dress up far enough to slip his hand underneath.

Now it was his turn to not be able to breathe. Fuck, your thighs were soft – smooth like silk, supple and pillowy and forgiving as his calloused fingers traced slowly across your skin, seeking your warmth. He could feel a muscle in his jaw jump as his fingers drew higher, as you subtly adjusted yourself in your seat so you could open your legs even wider, permit him even closer to where you both knew you needed him. Every instinct in him begged him to go faster, to give you more, to whip the stifling cover of his jacket off your lap so he could take in the sight of his fingers reaching the smooth, cotton gusset of your panties with his own eyes. Instead, he pulled his face into a scowl of concentration and kept his pace measured.

By the time the side of his pinky bumped into the apex of your thighs, Din felt ready to combust with urgency. He could feel the heat of you there through the fabric, could feel the slickness seeping through it to dampen his skin, could feel the tension in your hips as you tried desperately not to arch into his touch. You were being so good for him, staying silent, never looking his way, just sitting there, the picture of innocence as you let him touch you. It had something hot and nearly feral rising in his chest, the fact that he could give you such impossible instructions in such an impossible scenario and you would drive yourself mad in an attempt to obey them.

It made him wonder what else you would do, if he asked, and just the question had his cock pulsing in his jeans. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Din tucked his fingers under the seam of your panties and slipped them softly, gently through your folds.

A groan bubbled up in his chest, and he allowed his eyes to fall shut for a moment as he collected himself. You were absolutely dripping for him – hot and wet and slippery, trim little curls sticky with it, underwear soaked against the back of his hand. It coated his fingers, and it took every ounce of restraint in his arsenal to stop himself from pulling his hand from under the jacket and popping his fingers directly into his mouth. But no, he told himself. There would be time for that later. Now, you were practically vibrating in your seat trying to keep yourself together, and he needed to watch you fall apart before the cab arrived at your apartment.

Din allowed himself to gently pet you for another moment, reveling in the feel of your soft wetness, and then he was seeking your clit, finding it swollen and puffy and begging for attention near the top of your folds. With the first delicate caress, you lost the battle with your own vocal chords and let out a quiet, breathless whimper, and a rush of pride raced through him at the thought that he had finally overwhelmed you to the point where you couldn’t keep silent anymore. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over into your space and murmuring into your ear, “I said keep quiet, sweetheart. Or I stop right now. Understood?”

You let out a shaky exhale, and Din felt more than saw you nod your agreement.

“Good girl,” he growled, and he swore he felt your clit pulse under his fingertips at his words. Interesting. That was something he was going to need to explore more later.

For now, he offered you a few more gentle caresses, a few soft, tight circles around your clit as acknowledgment of your suffering, and then he dipped down to your entrance and slowly, sweetly slipped his middle finger into your throbbing pussy.

God, you felt incredible – hot and wet and so fucking tight that he could feel his cock leaking in his jeans at the idea that he might have the opportunity to be inside you with more than just his fingers. Your velvet walls fluttered around him in desperate little waves as he gently thrust inside you, in and out, in and out, pressing deeper on each pass, seeking that elusive spot inside that he knew would make you see stars. After a handful of strokes, he added a second finger, and your hips stuttered at the stretch, hitching against his touch in a way that felt both needy and overwhelmed. You were so tight, and his fingers were so thick; it was no wonder it was a shock.

Din turned and dropped a tender, comforting kiss to the crown of your head. Fuck, you were so good, just sitting there in the back of the cab, letting him touch you, letting him finger you, letting him make you feel good. The ease with which you gave it all up to him was driving him insane. How long had it been since he had been with someone like you, someone who seemed to know innately what he needed, who fit with him so perfectly it was as though some divine being had had a hand in your introduction? Had it ever been this good? Had he ever needed someone as badly as he needed you?

Grinding the heel of his hand into your clit, Din sped up his thrusts. In and out, in and out, pressing, stretching, seeking. Your knees fell farther apart seemingly of their own accord, as your eyes had taken on a faraway look to them, staring unseeingly out the front windshield as you took what he gave you. In your lap, his leather jacket began to slip, and one end of it fell suspiciously down between your spread legs. Although his hand and the apex of your thighs were still hidden, if the driver were to take a look in his rearview mirror, he would clearly be able to tell what was happening in his back seat.

The same idea seemed to occur to you then, because in that moment, you broke his second rule – you glanced over at him with a fucked-out look of urgency on your face, and Din could swear he felt you starting to tighten. Fuck, this was turning you on. The near-exposure, the precarious position the two of you were in, it was making you drip around his fingers, making you clench around his thrusts.

You were a wild thing; Din had known it from the moment he laid eyes on you. Now here was the proof. You were going to come on his fingers in the back of a cab car, and then you were going to invite him up to your apartment and let him fuck you senseless –

“Here we are,” the driver said, his voice slow and unaffected, almost bored as he pulled the cab off to the side of the street and turned on his blinkers.

No matter how nonchalant his words, the sound of them sent a bolt of terror through the both of you, and in a flurry of limbs and fabric, each of you scrambled to put yourselves back together as the car came to a stop. Din yanked his fingers from your body, the quick withdrawal pulling a little hiccupping whine from your throat, but he paid it no heed as he tugged your skirt back down where it belonged around your knees. You gathered up his jacket and draped it over your arm, running your fingers through your mussed hair. By the time the car rolled to a complete stop, each of you were looking mostly put together, save Din’s raging hard-on tenting his jeans and your flush-cheeked, glassy-eyed stare.

Although he had already paid for the fare, as the two of you slid out of the back of the car, Din pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and discretely slipped it into the driver’s hand.

“Thanks for the ride,” he murmured hoarsely, and before the man could reply, he threaded his fingers through yours and followed your lead to the door of your apartment building.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been hoping that this would be where the night would end – Din’s broad, calloused hand in yours, your dress askew and your thighs damp, the two of you moving with urgency down the hall outside your apartment, breathless laughter on your tongue. You had never been strictly opposed to sex on the first date, if the chemistry was there and you felt comfortable and safe with the person, and he had checked all of your boxes and then some from the moment you spotted him outside the restaurant that night. You had decided then and there; if the date went well, and he seemed to be on the same page, you would be taking him home with you that night.

You had worried that your advances might be a bit much for Din, but clearly, those fears had been unfounded. He seemed a bit overwhelmed, a bit in disbelief, but that hadn’t stopped him from jumping at every chance you had given him – holding your hand as you walked, kissing you down by the pond…

Giving you one of the hottest experiences of your life by stealthily fucking you with his fingers in the back of the cab while you struggled to stay perfectly silent and still…

Your pussy clenched at the memory of his thick fingers inside you, the perfect stretch of them, the way they had both soothed your ache for him while also somehow making it worse, knowing how much better it would be if it were his cock filling you up like that. Fuck. You needed this man, and you needed him now.

Thankfully, Din seemed to have no interest in stopping. When you finally reached your door, he wasted no time in crowding up behind you as you fumbled for your keys, hands slipping around your waist as he dropped hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. Your eyelids drooped at the sensation, your hands halting in mid-air, keys dangling from your grip, and you felt more than heard him chuckle against your skin.

“Don’t get distracted, sweetheart. Open the door,” he murmured, breath hot on the shell of your ear, making you shiver. What a little shit.

After another second of fiddling with your keys, you finally were able to work open your door, and the two of you nearly fell inside. He slammed it shut behind you as you tossed your keys onto the nearby countertop, and then he was on you – one hand gripping the swell of your hip, one hand slipping along the side of your face to cup your jaw, fingers tangling in your hair at the base of your skull as he cradled you. You could smell yourself on him, the scent of your arousal clinging to the hand that now held your face, and god, you could swear your insides turned molten at the idea. His mouth was covering yours before you could comment on it, and then every lucid thought evaporated from your mind.

For a man who claimed to have been out of the dating pool for a while, Din certainly knew how to kiss – he was passionate, meticulous, and completely relentless in the way he took you apart. His lips were soft, his tongue precise, and the single-minded focus with which he stroked your jaw, coaxed you open, and devoured you was enough to make you blush.

Almost absently, you realized his other hand had swept around the crest of your hip and taken a palmful of your ass, and you whimpered into the kiss, your hips hitching toward him of their own accord. His hands were fucking huge, warm through the fabric of your dress, callouses on his palms catching on the fabric. You needed them all over you – on your skin, in your hair, between your legs –

Pulling his lips away from yours with a gasp, he groaned, “If this is too much – if this isn’t what you want – ”

You shook your head, digging your fingers into his dark brown curls, pulling his neck down to your mouth so you could suck on the skin there. “I want it, Din. I want it,” you reassured him.

You felt a shudder pass through him, and then both of his hands were on your ass, dragging you closer, pressing the full length of your torso along his. “Know it’s early, know we just met, don’t have to do anything you don’t want – ”

“Din!” Yanking his hair sharply until he hissed, you watched as he finally seemed to focus on you, eyes darkening as he took in your flushed face, your swollen lips, your glossy, heavy-lidded eyes. “I want to fuck you,” you proclaimed bluntly. His mouth dropped open, just slightly, pouty lower lip trembling as he stared at you. “Do you want to fuck me?”

The man blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback, but he didn’t allow the question to hang in the air for too long. With a heavy, audible swallow, Din replied, “Yeah, baby, I want to fuck you.”

A bright, electric thrill of victory surged through you, and you couldn’t have smothered the grin that split your face if you tried.

“Okay, then fuck me. And don’t hold back.”

You winked at him playfully, and a dangerous smirk that had your pussy fluttering pulled at the corner of his lips. No sooner had you registered the expression and he was toeing off his boots, leaving them abandoned in front of your door, and driving you backward into the apartment. A breathless yelp followed by a laugh escaped you as you allowed him to push you into your living room, shedding your own shoes as you went, and then you were kissing again, and just like before, all of your surroundings melted away.

A rush of cool air met your thighs as balled fists pulled up the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in worn palms as more and more of your body was revealed, and you let it go gladly. Lifting your arms above your head, you allowed him to pull the whole thing off over your head, and through the wild, fluffed-up strands of hair dangling in your eyes, you watched as he took you in – your blushing cheeks, your heavy, heaving breasts cupped in a black cotton bra, your soft, rounded belly, your thick thighs and wide hips, the narrow strip your black cotton thong completely soaked through and clinging to your pussy lips. You had no name for the expression on his face, but if you had to relate it to something, you would say it was close to awe.

Din was in awe of you, completely and utterly gone for you, and the surge of power that sent through your veins was like a drug.

“Take off your shirt,” you murmured, lip between your teeth, and as he rushed to obey, you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t – ” he groaned, but your hands were already working his belt buckle open, already thumbing at the button of his jeans.

“But I want to.” Looking up at him through your lashes with wide, soft eyes, you held his gaze as you slipped his zipper down, as you felt the hardness poorly concealed behind it swell and surge against your palm. “So let me.”

He gave no further protests, simply watched as you tucked your thumbs into the waistband of both his jeans and his charcoal gray boxer briefs and shoved, pulling them both down around his knees in one, smooth tug. One more push and they were pooled around his ankles, and then Din was stumbling out of them, holding onto the back of a nearby armchair for support as he kicked them aside.

He was naked now, staring down at you with dark, heated eyes, broad, muscled chest rising and falling with every labored breath, and fuck, if he wasn’t the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Thick and strong with long, powerful limbs and a soft stomach, a fine dusting of dark brown hair from his bellybutton down, and miles and miles of golden tanned skin decorated with a heavily curated collection of black and gray tattoos that you hadn’t been able to see earlier. They looked like beautiful work, and you were eager to examine them later, but for now, something else was begging for your attention, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer even if you wanted to.

Inches from your face, long and thick and curved, flushed and leaking precum, his cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him, and you needed it in your mouth. Now.

Holding yourself steady with one hand on his narrow hip, one hand around the base of him, you leaned forward and dragged your tongue along the underside before taking the tip of him in your mouth and suckling gently. Slick musk coated your tongue, and you moaned at the taste, immediately surging forward and taking more. Above you, Din let out a colorful string of curses and dropped a hand to the back of your head, cupping the bowl of your skull in his palm as you worked yourself over him. He never put any pressure there, never thrust himself deeper than you were choosing to take him, but you could feel his restraint in the tension in his hips, in the grip of his fingers in your hair.

He was trying so hard to be a gentleman for you. You kind of wished he would give it up already.

Pulling back, letting his cock fall from your mouth, you took up your strokes with your hand and said, “S’okay, baby. You can take what you need from me. M’not gonna break.”

Din groaned, low and gravelly in his chest, and then he was using his grip on your head to coax you up and back onto your feet. “Need to fuck you, sweetheart – I can’t wait any more.”

Your cunt bottomed out at that, the swooping sensation deep inside you almost leaving you dizzy, and although you had been looking forward to sucking him off, you found yourself nodding your agreement anyway. “Where do you want me?” you asked, and the question had him tugging you forward into a hard kiss.

“On the couch,” he growled. “Just need to feel you around me.”

Pulling him deeper into the living room, you shed your bra as you went, tossing it who-knows-where in your eagerness. You could feel his eyes on you – on them – as your breasts swayed with your movement, and perhaps such direct attention ought to have made you self-conscious, but instead in made you bold. The moment the backs of your knees collided with the couch, you stripped your thong from your body while holding his gaze, and the pure, molten want in his stare had you feeling like the sexiest woman he had ever seen.

“Lie back,” he rasped, and you were quick to obey, laying down with your head at one end and your legs stretched out along the length of the couch. Snagging one of your many throw pillows, Din tapped the side of your hip twice, adding, “Lift your hips for me, pretty girl.”

You did, and he slid that pillow underneath your ass. Then he was clambering up onto the couch with you, all long limbs and big hands and sweat-damp curls, kneeling between your legs, urging one of them up to drape over the back of the couch, nudging the other down to drip limply onto the floor. You went where he guided you, happy to arrange yourself however he pleased as long as it meant you got to feel that gorgeous cock inside you.

But he started with his fingers first, coaxing and petting and caressing your dripping folds in much the same way that he had in the back of the cab, only this time, you were free to arch your hips into his touch and let out soft, breathy moans with every delicate stroke.

Din seemed to realize this at the same time you did, as he began to nod slowly, encouragingly as he slipped two fingers into your quivering, grasping pussy. “That’s it, let me hear you now. You don’t have to be quiet anymore, sweetheart. Let me hear you feel good.”

And fuck, but it did feel good – his fingers stretching you, filling you, pressing steadily against that soft, elusive spot inside you with every thrust, making you want to thrust against him, to drive him deeper, to take even more of him.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking wet. Is that good? Is that what you need?” he groaned, and you nodded furiously, too overcome to speak, just knowing you needed him to keep going…needed him to give you more.

Again, it was like Din realized what you wanted at the same time you did. Gently slipping his fingers from you, he used the thick coating of your wetness on them to stroke his cock as he shuffled forward on his knees. Pressing down on the blunt, swollen tip with his thumb, he dragged his length through your folds collecting your slick, starting at your entrance and sliding smoothly up to your clit. You let out a low, startled moan at the feeling, and you couldn’t help but grind against him, letting the tip of his cock press and circle against your puffy, throbbing clit. Shit, when was the last time you had hooked up with someone and been this outrageously turned on? You felt like you were on the ragged edge of your orgasm already, and he had barely touched you.

However, just as Din began to trail the head of his cock back down to your entrance, a shock of reality broke through your dazed, lust-fogged mind, and you found yourself pressing your hand against his stomach, stopping him from thrusting in.

“Condom,” you panted, sex-addled and breathless. “We need a condom.”

His dark brown eyes widened with a sudden wave of awareness, and you felt him pull back immediately. “Shit. You’re right, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You let out a winded laugh and shook your head. “Me, neither. Did you bring one? I have some if you need.”

Din nodded, hopping up from the couch and crossing back over to where the two of you had abandoned his jeans. Digging his wallet out of the pocket, he slid a conspicuous foil packet from inside then dropped the wallet back onto the pile of denim. A moment later, he was settled back between your legs, perched up on his knees with his hands on your thighs and the condom tucked securely between two of his fingers.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, and you nodded urgently.

“So ready. Beyond ready.”

Your eagerness seemed to be all he needed to get back into the moment. With a few quick strokes of his cock, he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slid it on. You watched with hooded eyes, lower lip trapped between your teeth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to stroke him yourself as the latex stretched over his skin. Din groaned at your touch, and then he shooed your hands away and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl. Want to see your face while you take me,” he groaned, and with one long, smooth thrust, he filled your cunt with his throbbing length.

“Ah! Fuck, Din!”

It took everything in you not to let your eyes fall shut as he thrust inside you. The stretch was incredible – just the slightest burn, but even with his size, it wasn’t too much after how he well had prepared you, how long he had teased you in the cab, how turned on you were. It was enough to feel truly full – stuffed to the brim, the weight of him absolutely gorgeous as he bore down on all your most sensitive spots. Above you, your date was gritting his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his nostrils flared, as he dug his fingers into your thighs with a grip so hard it would likely bruise. He seemed to be fighting very hard to keep himself together, and you immediately felt the sinister urge to clench around him just to watch him struggle. Instead, you chose to take mercy on him and simply roll your hips against his, driving him deeper.

“No – shit, baby, you can’t – ” he stammered, hands tightening on your legs even harder, hips surging forward in the smallest of thrusts completely out of his control. “I am…hanging on by a thread here, and if you – ”

“If I what?” you taunted, the power you had over him flowing through you like an aphrodisiac, making you bold, making you reckless. “If I do this?” You rolled your hips against his again, smooth and lazy, and you could actually feel his cock throb and twitch inside you.

Deep in his chest, Din released what could only be described as an animalistic growl, and in an instant, he had one hand tucked behind the back of your knee – the one up on the back of the couch – and the other gripping the couch cushion beside your head. Arching his broad, muscular body over yours, bringing his face down to your level, he pressed your knee back toward your head and thrust so deep into you, you couldn’t help but whine at the feeling.

“Naughty girl,” he rasped.

You nodded with a smile. “You like that about me.”

He huffed a laugh into the hot, humid space between you, shaking his head at you exasperatedly. “You’re right, I do. But right now – ” He pulled back his hips until just the very tip of his cock remained inside you, brows drawn low in concentration. “ – right now, I really just need to fuck you. Can I, sweetheart? Can I just fuck you?” He thrust back in, all the way to the hilt, and you could swear your cunt was literally dripping at the intoxicating feeling. Your body was writhing beneath him, completely out of your control, and you swore that if he didn’t just fucking rail you in the next three seconds, your head might explode.  

“I swear to god, Din, if you ask me one more time – ”

His mouth sealed over yours before you could finish your sentence, and then he was finally – finally – fucking you.

With swift, firm thrusts, he drilled you into the couch cushions, all hesitance and restraint fully evaporated. The angle was perfect, the extra height and the little tilt added by the throw pillow exactly what you needed to have his cock dragging against your G-spot on every thrust, and that combined with the way his pubic bone ground against your clit had you moaning and whimpering and digging your manicured nails into his shoulders in your ecstasy. Din was like a force of nature, the way he fucked – gripping your thigh, driving your leg back toward your head, holding your eye contact, watching with deep, unflappable intensity as you trembled and shook beneath him. Every once in a while, he would drop his gaze to trace over your soft, folded stomach or to watch the hypnotic bounce of your tits, but mostly, he kept his eyes on yours, and rather than making you self-conscious, it simply drove the heat between you higher, made it more powerful.

“Thought about this,” he confessed, a whine creeping into the edge of his low voice as his thrusts sped up. “All those fucking pictures of you – doing yoga – all bent and twisted and – flexible.”

A smirk made its way onto your face, and you ran your fingers through his hair, brushing his limp curls out of his eyes. “Yeah? You like a bendy girl, Din Djarin? How’s it live up to the fantasy?”

He groaned, leaning even further forward to press his sweaty forehead into yours, driving your leg even further back toward your face. Tucking your knee up onto his shoulder, the angle of his cock inside you deepened. “Even better,” he admitted. “You’re perfect – so perfect.”

“P-Perfect?” God, that soft, spongy tip was hammering your G-spot now; you could barely comprehend any of the words he said to you, let alone string together any of your own.

“Perfect body,” he elaborated, gritting his teeth, groaning loudly. “Sweet, soft, perfect p-pussy. Perfect – hnng fuck – perfect girl.”

“Din!” you gasped. That low pool of heat in your abdomen was starting to tighten, starting to pulse. You could feel it rising inside you, threatening to take you over. It felt…massive, life-altering in a way you hadn’t known orgasms could be, but fuck, if this one wasn’t promising to do it.

“Shit, baby, can feel you,” Din groaned. “You gonna come for me? Gonna come all over my cock? Hm?”

“Y-Yes, I’m gonna – you’re gonna make me – ” You hiccupped a sob, raking your fingernails down his arms in a move that had him hissing and his hips stuttering as he thrust. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

“What do you need? What’s gonna get you there?”

“My clit – can I – ?”

He cursed, dropping a wet, sucking, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Yeah, baby, touch yourself. Make yourself come. Need to feel it.”

Wiggling one of your hands into the tight space between your bodies, the tip of your middle finger found your throbbing clit and immediately began to play. You wouldn’t need much more – just something a little more direct, a little more concentrated, a little more –

“Yes! Fuck, Din, right there!”

And then you were gone – that tight, wet heat inside you bursting, dripping down his cock and flinging you into the stars on the edge of the event horizon. The walls of your cunt pulsed around him as you rode out your high, and Din was quick to follow you into his own abyss, unable to hold back anymore the moment he had felt you start to fall apart. With one final, deep surge of his hips, you felt his cock pulse and twitch inside you, and for a brief, wild moment, you regretted the use of the condom. You would have liked to have felt the warmth of him spilling inside you.

In the aftermath, Din was tender, as you had had no doubt he would be. After the two of you had taken a moment to catch your breath, he reached a hand down to hold onto the base of the condom as he pulled out. A low, husky groan escaped him as he withdrew, and you felt a sympathetic throb deep inside you at the sound. Even now, everything he did was unthinkably hot.

A moment later, he had removed and tied off the condom and retreated to your kitchen to toss it, returning with a warm rag he had clearly dampened in your sink. He was gentle and methodical as he cleaned you, wiping between and around your swollen pussy lips with steady hands before he moved on to cleaning himself.

He would need to go now, you realized. He had likely already stayed out later than he had planned, already imposed upon the generosity of his friends long enough. His little boy was waiting for him, and as much as you wished he could stay, you knew it would be unreasonable to ask him to.

So without prompting, you pulled yourself up to sitting, and when he came back from tossing the rag back into the kitchen, you rose to your feet.

You had to admit, you felt a bit exposed, a bit awkward, but even now, as Din looked at you, you could see all of the same warmth and affection you had seen in his eyes before the sex, and that eased your nerves a bit. The first real nerves you had felt since the start of the night, you realized.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but I have to – ”

“I know,” you interrupted, giving him a smile you weren’t certain would reach your eyes. “I understand. It’s late. You have to be getting back.”

“I do,” he agreed. Crossing to stand just in front of you, he reached out a hand and traced the backs of his fingers down your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Thank you for tonight. I had a great time with you. And not just…this.” He gestured awkwardly at the surrounding room, at his own nakedness that matched yours, at the trail of clothes between the couch and the apartment door. You giggled in spite of yourself, and he joined in, the whole mood lightening considerably as the two of you found your way back to laughing with one another.

“I had a great time with you, too,” you said, draping your arms around his neck. “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you’re interested.”

Din smiled, soft and genuine, and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I’m definitely interested. And, ah, maybe next time I’ll call in a few favors. See if I can arrange an overnight sitter.”

You snorted, tucking your face into his neck as joy began to bubble beneath the surface of your skin, making you feel light and filling you with an impish energy in spite of the hour. “Hey, if you can swing it, I’m definitely not going to say no. I’d like to actually, I don’t know, make it to the bed next time? Maybe?”

He playfully squeezed your sides in response, and you let out a squeal. “Can you blame me?” he quipped. “Driving me insane all night.”

Offering him a tongue-touched smile, you pulled away and started collecting his clothing from around the room. “Again. You like that about me, baby,” you teased. With a wink, you dropped the bundle of clothes into his waiting arms. “Now get your cute ass back in these jeans. And go kiss your son good-night.”

A handful of minutes later, Din was fully dressed and hovering by the door to your apartment, the scent of you still lingering on his skin, his heart lighter and freer than he had felt in years. You had gone and gotten yourself a robe to cover up with while he dressed, and now you stood, hip leaning against your kitchen cabinets, arms crossed over your ample chest, watching him attempt to delay the inevitable of having to say good-bye.

He didn’t want to leave you – he hoped you knew.

He didn’t want to sleep away from his son, but he also didn’t want to leave you. An impossible conundrum, and one that didn’t bear examination seeing as this was only your first time meeting in person. It was far too early for the direction his mind was heading; he headed it off before it could travel any further down the road.

Instead, he gathered you into his arms one final time for the night, cradled your face in his hands, and planted a soft, gentle kiss on your swollen lips. “Good night, sweetheart. Can I text you in the morning?”

“You can text me anytime,” you replied with a smile. “You could even, um…call me. If you wanted. When you have some free time.”

Din drew back for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you. I’d like to call you.”

Your smile widened, and he could swear he felt a piece of his heart leave his body and lodge itself in you at the sight. “Great. Then I’ll look forward to hearing your voice again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, and with one final kiss, Din slipped out the door.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”

[kakitetan]

Yandere! Glisten x GN! Reader | His One And Only Desire

Synopsis: Toodles was helping Dandy with some work in the museum and gets lost. You decide to help Rodger find her, which inspires other toons to help find her. Along with all this, one by one, everyone gets infected by ichor. You're the last one, and you find Glisten.

WARNING: Contains mentions of gore, obsession, stalking, murder, torture, and child endangerment. Your discretion is advised.

You were a toon, and so were your friends. There were eight, then seven, then six. Then one, you. You were the last one, you regret it. You should've listened, but with that optimistic mindset, everyone had disbelief. You made a mistake, you didn't even know what death was before this, and that reflection of innocence was shattered. Staring at your reflection in the haunting elevator, was a constant reminder of how this all began...

"What? Toodles is missing?" You repeated, "I'm afraid so... She went to help Dandy with some machines. I have to go look for her." Rodger spoke, and you felt for him. Toodles meant a lot to him, he was practically a father figure. Plus, she must be so scared! The museum is so big!

"I'll come too!" You said, "Why, I might as well tag along." Glisten spoke up, inspiring your other friends to tag along as well.

You never saw it coming...

"Great! I can help supply you guys, why now there's nothing to fear! Toodles will be just fine!" Dandy said.

Why was it that Dandy was never worried in the first place, he just grinned at you and your friends. All he wanted in exchange for his help, were some tapes and supplying the museum with an odd black fluid. Dandy always had a smile on his face, no matter what the situation. He seemed almost amused by the difficult situations you seemed to constantly find yourself and the rest of the toons in. It was unnerving, the way he could remain unruffled when everyone else was in a state of conflict, and his confidence bordered on arrogance. With his relaxed attitude, he was the star of the show. He acted like it too... All he wanted in return for his help was some tapes and the occasional delivery of a strange black fluid to supply his museum's exhibits.

On the first floor, Boxten found Toodle's plush. Toodle's beloved plush toy lay abandoned on the floor, its battered stuffing peeking out of a tear in its side. Boxten paused to pick it up, feeling a pang of sympathy for its owner. The worn edges and faded fabric hinted at many nights of comfort and companionship.

"She would never leave this lying around," Boxten spoke, giving the plush to Rodger. He had no words.

We had never experienced anything like fear, grief, or anything like that. We had lived a life of privilege, shielded from the harsher realities of the world. The closest thing to sadness we ever experienced was Shrimpo's bullying. That was tame compared to the sinking feeling of loss, and fear. It was strong, it took the words right out of everyone's mouths. But nothing could have prepared us for the feeling that washed over us at that moment - a heavy, sinking sensation that left us all breathless and afraid. We stood there, frozen and speechless, as the realization of what was happening slowly sank in.

When we got back to the elevator, Poppy tried to lighten the mood. Poppy, ever the optimist, attempted to alleviate the tension by making a light-hearted remark as we gathered in the elevator.

Boxten's voice cut through the silence as he voiced his concern. "I'm scared maybe we missed something on the last floor," Boxten spoke.

"Boxteeenn! You worry WAAAAYYYYY too much! Everything's gonna be okay!" She cheered.

Boxten's voice cracked as he countered Poppy's question. "We didn't check everywhere, what if there's something important we missed?" His words hung in the air, the fear of the unknown hanging over him heavier than the silence.

"You're doing it again!" Poppy replied, causing some of the toons in the elevator to laugh.

The next floor took us by surprise as we came face to face with copies of ourselves. They were aggressive and unsettling. Twisted Boxten let out a distressing, gurgling sound as if he were submerged in water. It was a chilling noise that lingered in your mind long after the encounter. Your arm was still scarred by the arms that grew out of his box.

Out of everyone to take it harshly, it was Boxten.

"I can't-- can't do this!" He was pacing in the elevator.

"Boxten... It's okay." Poppy spoke, placing her hand on his shoulder

"No! It's not, Poppy!" Boxten snapped, slapping her hand away. She gasped.

Poppy stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears, reflecting the deep well of emotions within her.

"Alright, enough. It's hard for everyone, let's just stay calm. I'm sure Dandy will know what to do." Rodger spoke, it calmed everyone down, but that was only temporary.

We never did get an explanation...

"What? Monsters? What are you guys talking about?" Dandy spoke.

"There's been monsters of us, explain yourself," Glisten leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in a display of defiance as he spoke.

"Now now, there are no such things as monsters. That's only in nightmares, right, Astro?" Dandy replied to the group, Astro held up his blanket to cover his face. Astro didn't like being put in the spotlight.

"Why don't you all give me the tapes, and I'll give you some candy in exchange?" Dandy spoke.

And before we knew it, it became a cycle. A repeating cycle.

We lost Poppy first.

"Boxten!" She yelled, trying to reach out for him. He saw a twisted version of himself, grabbing Poppy, and then eating her alive.

"BOXTEN! HELP ME! IT HURTS! BOXTEN! HELP ME!" She screamed, blood filling her lungs. Her screams became more gurgled, he watched in horror.

His little legs trembled in fear before he ran off from her mutilated body.

After that encounter, Boxten fell silent. It seemed as though he had relinquished his voice, leaving the air heavy with his unspoken words. The departure of Poppy and Boxten only seemed to thicken the atmosphere.

Before the elevator door opened, Goob took out a box of bandages and bandaged your cuts. He carefully began to unwrap them and apply the adhesive strips to my injured wrists, wrapping them with a gentle and practised touch. His hand slumped back and forth to each one, he always had a bit of difficulty controlling his arms.

"I couldn't help but notice your arm was bleeding." Goob smiled at you, you smiled back.

"Thanks, Goob! You're the best." You spoke with a grin.

We tried to defend ourselves from the twisted versions of our friends, but it became clear that they were stronger, faster, and more dangerous than us. Every blow we landed was met with a counterattack, every dodge was followed by a swift and brutal strike. We fought desperately, trying to keep them at bay, but the twisted copies seemed almost untouchable. Our every move was countered, and our attacks met with swift and brutal responses. Every time one of us gained an advantage, the twisted versions would quickly find a way to turn the tide back in their favour.

"It's okay! I'll distract them." Goob offered, carrying the line of twisteds. His self-sacrifice helped keep many toon's fear at bay, however, that didn't last long.

Goob left next...

Astro found his mutilated body, Astro's normally shy demeanour was replaced by a quiet resolve as he stumbled upon the mangled body of his friend. Astro closed Goob's eyes, a silent tribute to the fallen toon, before forcing himself to move on and continue onward, dragging his blanket along.

The elevator became quieter after those three were gone... The air felt thicker than ever before. The elevator ride to the next floor was sombre and still, the loss of our friends weighing heavily on everyone left. The air felt thick and oppressive like a heavy blanket suffocating any attempts at lighthearted conversation. Every glance at each other felt like a constant reminder of the reality of the situation.

As everyone diligently worked in quiet concentration, you found yourself engrossed in turning a pipe handle. Lost in the repetitive motion, your heart leapt into your throat and you were brought crashing back to reality, you were startled out of my trance by a sudden, piercing shriek. The ear-piercing shriek took us all by surprise, jolting us out of our thoughts and back into reality. No one spoke aloud, but the shared look of alarm and confusion was enough to tell me that we all felt the same way - startled and uncertain as to the source of the noise. Footsteps pitter-pattered into the room.

"GOOB! You're back! I just knew you were okay!" That sounded like Scraps..

You walked out of the room you were in, into the large corridor. Scraps was running over to the twisted version of her brother.

"SCRAPS, NO!" The words ripped out of your throat like a furious roar, and you were filled with urgency as you saw her charging towards danger. Your voice was raw from the force of my yell, and though it burned your throat, you couldn't let her put herself in harm's way.

Goob picked up Scraps, squeezing her mercilessly, tightening.

"No! NO!" You yelled as Goob grabbed Scraps and squeezed her mercilessly.

"GOOB! It's too tight! You're hurting me! IT H--" Scraps yelled, her little body straining under the pressure. Scraps' screams were abruptly silenced by a sickening SPLAT. Her blood, flesh, and cartilage stained the walls. Scraps of flesh splatted onto you, but your hand was still reached out for her. Her body parts fly off from the impact, hitting every surface imaginable.

But Scraps didn't exist anymore.

As you took a step back, Goob appeared unfazed by the fact that he had just taken the life of his sister. With a chilling calmness, he extended his arms towards you, and in a panic, you turned and sprinted back towards the elevator, desperate to escape the terrifying scene. The doors close behind you with a metallic clank, providing a momentary reprieve from the horror that awaits outside. But even as you attempt to distance yourself from the carnage, the echo of Scraps' final moments lingers.

One by one, everyone left this world.

Everyone except for you, you aren't even sure why you're still going. In a trance-like state, you exit out of the elevator. You had been alone for a while, so suddenly hearing a familiar voice speak caught you off guard.

"D-Did I just hear someone?" Glisten spoke.

You never ran so fast, running over to him. Your heart pounds fiercely in your chest as you approach Glisten. Your speed slowed down as you saw his appearance, half of his face was broken, and his hands were tied by his belt. Half of his face is disfigured beyond recognition, and Glisten's torso is mutilated., a mangled mess. He looks up at you with vacant, hollow eyes, the light within them extinguished forever. Blood trickles slowly from the gaping wounds, staining the floor beneath him. Despite the horrific sight before you, you can't help but feel a pang of pity for this once graceful man reduced to have such a horrific fate.

You felt vomit in your throat, tasting a bit of the candy you had earlier. The sight of ichor instantly made you sick to your stomach. Causing your stomach to churn violently. Your body recoils instinctively, refusing to accept the sight before you. Ichor, the thick, dark fluid of life, spills from Glisten's wounds.

His voice, once commanding and confident, now comes out as a weak plea. "Oh, it's you.." he murmurs, barely above a whisper. "Stop! Please don't run!" Glisten begged, stumbling towards you, his movements slow and laboured. One of his eyes is a ghastly shade of pink, the other staring blankly ahead.

You nodded, showing any fear wasn't a good idea. This was scarier for him than it was for you. "What.. What happened?" You asked him. Yet, despite everything, you extend a sliver of compassion, reaching out to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the horror that was around the both of you.

"I was attacked earlier, I found myself here. I'm so glad you're here, Y/N. I don't want to be alone.. Please... Don't leave me, please stay." He begged.

You nodded again, albeit lacking confidence. You didn't want to say it, but you knew what you had to do. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt at all. I'll keep you company. I just have to do these pipes." You said to him, reassuring Glisten.

"Alright.." He responded.

You navigate the dimly lit corridor, your steps deliberate and sure. Reaching out, you grasp the cold metal of the first pipe, twisting the handle firmly. The pipe groans in protest, releasing a torrent of ichor that cascades downwards.

"How have you managed to avoid getting infected?" Glisten asked.

That perked your attention, it was a hard question to answer, due to his own circumstances. You felt your mouth dry up.

".. I'm very careful." You responded, trying to play it safe. You flashed him a smile, that faded as you turned back your attention to the pipe.

"That's smart.. But I believe even the most cautious people would break under these circumstances." Glisten said.

You glanced at him, thinking. You wondered if this was even your Glisten or some kind of clone. In all honesty, you were going mad. This was hell. How could you not tell the difference anymore?

"Why haven't you given up yet?" Glisten asked.

You turned the pipe handle in thought, before turning your head in thought. "I think I have, I'm just bad at showing it." You answered back.

"Nonsense, Y/N. That doesn't sound like something someone who has given up would say." Glisten responded.

You were just trying to be honest, "It’s true, I can’t accomplish my dreams if I have no one to share it with, and.. Everyone is depleting so fast. But.. I still continue to do these pipes. I don’t know why I do it, ever since I’ve been here, I feel like I’ve been out of touch with myself. I’ve been running on adrenaline." You expressed, gripping the pipe harder. This whole time, you were just trying to do it for Toodles, but now you have no one to live for, no one to continue for. You've just been working in a trance-like state.

It made no sense to you.

Glisten listened to your confession, his single red eye reflecting a depth of empathy that belies his twisted exterior.

"You're doing this for yourself and for those who came before," he says gently, stepping closer as if offering comfort despite his monstrous appearance.

It made you uneasy, but you didn't step away. This is one of your friends and the only one you have left...

You fake a smile, "Mhm." You nodded.

Glisten stared at you, admiring you. Feeling a sense of connection with you, Glisten allows himself to relax slightly. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to open up.

"There used to be so much life here," he murmurs softly, looking around at the desolate lobby. "People laughing, music playing..."

A melancholic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he remembers happier times.

"But now... it's just us." He said rather quietly.

A chill ran down your spine at that sentence alone. You never felt so unsafe with someone you trusted before. You catch a glint of your reflection in his mirror, you make your way to another pipe. He followed you like a lost puppy. You struggle to come up with something to say in response, trying to hide your fear.

"That may be true, but it can always happen again. Even if things seem rather dull right now, it doesn’t have to stay that way forever." You walked over to another pipe, turning the handle, letting the ichor pour into the pipe. Just what was this stuff anyway, and why does Dandy need it so badly?

Watching you guide him towards the pipe, Glisten can't help but admire your determination. Despite all odds, they refuse to give up. "Even amidst this chaos," he whispers, gazing down at the swirling ichor filling the pipe. "You find ways to bring back some semblance of normalcy." His pink eye follows every movement of your hand as it manipulates the pipe handle. "It's... inspiring," he admits quietly, feeling strangely uplifted by their actions.

This didn't sound like Glisten at all, maybe he's just saying this out of fear, or maybe even regret.

"I guess so, I’m not really sure why. Even before all of this, Shrimpo used to bully me for it. He said I was just being stubborn. I think it’s pretty funny at times, kinda like now. I’m not stupid, I see what’s going on around me, but I believe that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I try to think that way anyway.. I have nothing else to lose." You confess to him, you were being honest.

Glisten listens intently as you share your thoughts, a flicker of respect igniting within him. The resilience and optimism in their words strike a chord deep within his own psyche.

"You know, I never thought of it that way," he muses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he ponders your perspective. "Maybe holding onto hope, no matter how slim, is what keeps us sane." He said, which was a huge contrast to his appearance.

You look at him again, as he stares at you with fear and admiration.

Slowly, he raises his head to meet your eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If anyone can find that light, it's you," he says rather sincerely, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. "And I'll be right here beside you, trying to do the same."

That caught you off guard again, as much as you wanted to bring him with you, you couldn't. Maybe he was saying all of this as a means of survival.

As you stood there silently in awe, the pipe slowly filled with a dark, viscous ichor. You then proceeded to explore the expansive corridors, scanning for additional pipes. He followed you silently, fidgeting with the bonds on his wrists.

Observing your silent resolve, Glisten watches you move around the room, searching for more pipes to fill. A strange warmth begins to spread throughout his chest — a sensation he hasn't felt in quite some time.

"Hey," he calls out after a moment, "Do you want some help?"

As you paused in your tracks, his words echoed in your mind, stirring up a sense of unease. Despite feeling unsettled, you made a conscious effort to conceal your internal turmoil. You managed to mask your inner thoughts with a smile as you turned to face him. "Oh come on, Glisten! The last person that should be working is you, you’re hurt. Focus on resting, okay?" You choked out.

Glisten pauses, considering your words carefully. They carry a weight that he hadn't expected, stirring up emotions within him that were long buried.

"I appreciate your concern," he replies, his tone sincere despite the slight edge of frustration seeping through. "But right now, I'd rather focus on helping you."

You didn't look at him, staring at his reflection through the pipe. He didn't blink, he stared at you.

He stepped closer to you. "And besides..." A soft sigh escapes from between his lips as he gestures vaguely around them at the desolation surrounding them. "...What else do we have left to do?"

"Pipes, pipes, and more pipes. But really, I got this. Maybe if you rest, your body can heal too. So don’t worry about it, okay? I got this." You walked over to the next pipe, turning the handle. Your smile faded when he wasn’t looking.

Noticing your subtle change in demeanour, Glisten remains silent for a moment. He watches them work, admiring their dedication while also sensing their underlying unease. Glisten's eye narrows slightly as he notices the shift in your demeanour, a flicker of understanding dawning on his battered face. He observes you working, his gaze lingering on the focused determination etched across your features. At the same time, he senses the unease simmering just below the surface, a tension that threatens to erupt at any moment. The air grows heavy with unspoken questions and fears, the silence between you two becoming almost palpable.

"Are you alright?" he finally asks, breaking the silence. "It seems like something's bothering you."

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for signs of distress that might indicate otherwise.

"You don't have to keep smiling all the time, you know." he continues gently. "We're in this together." He spoke

There it was again, together. He must've been delirious or something, or delusional. Maybe both! You weren't taking him with you.

".. No, I’m just listening for any noise that may cause concern. The darkness.. I’m afraid of the dark, so I’ve been having to rely on my other senses for comfort in these situations." You confess.

Hearing your admission, Glisten feels a pang of sympathy. Despite everything, their vulnerability touches him deeply.

"That must be hard." He acknowledges, his voice softening even further. But you're braver than you realize. Moving closer, he offers a comforting touch on your shoulder. "Just remember," he insists firmly, 

"We're not alone here. And I promise, I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe." He murmured darkly.

You faked another smile, "Thanks Glisten." The pipe finished filling up, moving on to the next one, the last one. Turning the handle to fill it up.

As you move onto the final pipe, Glisten finds himself drawn to watch them. There's an almost hypnotic quality to their movements, their dedication serving as a stark contrast against the eerie stillness of their surroundings. As you move toward the last pipe, Glisten's attention becomes fixated on your every movement. Something is captivating about your unwavering commitment, a relentless pursuit of survival that contrasts sharply with the oppressive quietude of your environment. His battered form leans against the wall, watching intently as you twist the final handle, triggering another wave of water that cascades down.

"Almost done," he murmurs appreciatively, "And then we can rest."

If only he knew that statement was far from the truth...

A faint glimmer of satisfaction shines in his red eye as he takes in the sight of all three pipes filled with ichor. The sight of the three pipes brimming with ichor elicits a minuscule flash of satisfaction in Glisten's single functional eye.

"But until then," he adds with a tired smile, "I'm just glad you'll stay with me forever, Y/N."

You stayed silent, filling the pipe with ichor, twisting and turning the handle. You didn't want to break him, not now. You knew it was inevitable, but you had to focus on your survival. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the ichor-filled water gurgling through the pipes. You maintain your focus, twisting and turning the handles with mechanical precision, your mind numb to the grisly nature of your task. There's a certain detached efficiency in your actions, a desperate attempt to cling to sanity in the face of unimaginable horror. You know what must come next, but for now, you push those thoughts aside, channelling all your energy into the singular goal of survival.

Observing your focused concentration, Glisten allows himself a moment of quiet contemplation. Their steadfast commitment to making the best out of such dire circumstances is nothing short of remarkable.

"Incredible," He cooed. He steps closer, his presence offering a silent testament to their shared struggle.

As your hands leave the wheel, the reality of your situation crashes over you like a tidal wave. You can't bring yourself to meet Glisten's gaze, the shame and guilt gnawing at your insides like ravenous twisted. Your eyes drift downward, fixating on the grimy floor beneath your feet, as if searching for answers in the cracks and stains. The silence between you two is deafening, a physical manifestation of the chasm that has opened up, threatening to swallow you whole. It was all eating at you.

"Glisten?" You asked him, your voice wavered.

Startled by the unexpected sound of his name, Glisten snaps back to attention. His heart skips a beat as he locks his one eye with you, their gaze heavy with unspoken questions and concerns.

"Yes?" He responds softly, leaning in slightly to better hear them. "What is it?"

Your head perked up, turning your head to face him.

".. I think you’re incredible. You do defy beauty. Now, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, alright? I’ll whack them if they try." You said, trying to add confidence to your tone. What was left of your sanity, and confidence felt like it was thrown out the window when the light turned green. Suddenly, a loud shatter noise filled the room. The ichor was consuming Glisten, your unease turned into fear in an instant. Your initial unease morphs into sheer, primal fear as you watch in horror the ichor begin its relentless assault on Glisten's ravaged form. He recoils instinctively, his body tensing as the corrosive substance envelops him, seeping into his wounds and devouring his flesh with alarming speed. Panic sets in, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrashes about, desperately trying to escape the inexorable grip of the ichor. Glisten instinctively recoils. As the ichor engulfs him, panic surges through his system.

"H-HELP ME! DON'T L-LEAVE ME!" He stammers out, struggling to maintain control as the familiar intoxicating rush of the infection takes hold. His words trail off into a guttural growl as he loses himself to the transformation.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled desperation, you sprint towards the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Behind you, Glisten's frantic cries echo through the corridors, each plea slicing through your already fractured composure. Every step you take seems to drag behind you, weighed down by the guilt and fear that threaten to consume you whole. The chase is a race against time and your own failing sanity.

His one and only desire.

Feeling your retreat, Glisten lets out a low, menacing snarl. His remaining eye blazes with an unholy glow as he struggles to retain his sanity. you crash into the wall trying to make your way to the elevator, causing him to bump into it, trying to catch you. Your head was dizzy, running, sprinting to the elevator!

You ran into the elevator, chasing the elevator doors, you knew at that point, that wasn’t Glisten speaking, but rather the infection of ichor. He was already gone.

As you back away, Glisten's form begins to contort under the influence of the ichor. His yellow appearance darkens, taking on a sickly hue as his once-toon features morph into something far more monstrous.

You jump into the elevator, as the elevator doors slam shut, sealing you inside, you tumble forward, your body crashing against the cold metal walls. You manage to pull yourself upright, turning your head to catch one final glimpse of Glisten's agonized form. His crimson eye blazes with pain and desperation, reaching out his arm to you. The door shut all the way, crushing his arm. You heard his guttural scream of agony, the elevator began to ascend. It pulled his arm down, and he screamed in agony, choking on his spit and the ichor that consumed him. His skin was being crushed by the weight of the wall and elevator, it became too much. The sound of his flesh and bones cracking filled the air, before completely detaching itself from Glisten. His arm lay on the floor, in a pool of ichor.

AUTHORS NOTES: Soooo I'm completely aware this came out of no where, and literally no one asked for this, buuuuttttt I decided to do it anyways, because MAN I love my Roblox games. I also just couldn't get this idea out of my head, hrrrmmmmm!! I know I know, "TAN WHAT ABOUT YOUR SEBASTIAN SERIES!! IM WAITING?!?!?!???!!" YEA I KNOW. I KNOW. But, I did want to write something new, something FRESH as some squids may sayy. So yea! Enjoy!!

[cosyvelvetorchid]

After watching a romcom with Tommy (who mentions offhand that nobody has ever romanced him like that), Buck activates his inner romantic (ie Season1Boyfriend!Buck) with one mission in mind: to completely and utterly sweep Tommy off his feet.

Tommy is this cool, confident and unflappable guy 24/7, and Buck has this need to see him blush.

Flowers, a candlelit meal, slowdancing in the moonlight. The whole shebang, and Tommy melts.

Im so sorry that this took an absolute age to get to! Lots of stuff going on and illness blah blah blah ANYWAY! Here it is, I hope you like it.

As Always if you have a bucktommy or saltommy prompt send to my ask box. Smut, fluff, whump.. whatever you want

🩶

********

RATING: T

TW: 1 use of the f-slur

WORDS: 2,432

********

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige - he always was - but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay - insisted - that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so fucking perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before Tommy had kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own.

“Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s.. we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until like 10 minutes ago so I don’t have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you.

You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned - minus is own spontaneous proposal - and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part - Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s kinda difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears fell from his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so.. it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring. Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently placed back an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

HELLOO COULD I request earth 42 miles morales saving reader from someone who tried to kidnap them and what he does after? Hope ur havin a gud day

Here

Earth 42!Miles Morales x fem!reader 

Earth 42!Miles Morales x black!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Langauge, mentions of death, a tiny bit of nudity, and mentions of violence

Requested: yes 

A/N: OKAY ONE REQUEST DOWN MANY MORE TO GO. I wrote most of this sleep deprived on a plane so it might not flow the best but I tried. Still wanna try out headcannons so I might use that format for another request. I'm almost at 200 followers tysm I might do a prompt list and blurb night type thing.

300 Follower Special <3

Masterlist

“I’m gonna kill him.” Miles declared a little too calmly for Y/N’s liking. He looked for his shoes so he could get out of there. 

Her heart had finally slowed enough to process what had just happened, the adrenaline wearing off. 

Y/N worked the graveyard shift at a gas station a couple of blocks from her apartment complex. She had to save up for school and it rarely got busy that late. It wasn’t a bad deal. 

She emptied out the register, but before taking out the trash, she texted Miles to see how far he was. 

He always walked her home from work, however today she felt especially tired and Miles wasn’t answering his phone and it was barely a 10-minute walk to her apartment. 

What she hadn’t expected was for someone to try and grab her on the way home, Miles had shown up at the exact right time to scare him off. 

“Miles,” She called softly, using her voice to beg him to look at her. After a moment's hesitation, he finally looked over at her curled up at the edge of her bed. 

He was so angry he was shaking. He snapped at Y/N on the way to her apartment he wasn’t mad at her but he needed someone to be mad at. 

“Can you please come sit down?” She patted the spot on the bed beside her. He continued to pace around her room as if he were looking for something.

 “Miles,” she begged again. 

“I have to do something,” 

“Just sit down,” The shakiness in her voice seemed to get him to listen. She grabbed the hand closest to her and held it tightly in her own, before leaning into his side. 

She inhaled deeply, relaxing into his warmth and earthy scent.

“Don’t go, won’t change anything,”

“What would’ve happened if I wasn’t there?”

“But you were,” She reminded him. 

“You could’ve been killed or worse.” He said. “And you want me to just do nothing?” 

“I don’t want you to leave,” She countered. “Need you to stay with me,” 

“I’m so sorry I was late,” He kissed her hand. Miles rarely apologized even when he absolutely should so she knew he meant it. 

“Not your fault baby,” She mumbled into his shoulder to which he huffed incredulously. “I mean it.”

Instead of corroborating his innocence, he shed light on his thoughts.

 “I keep thinking about you dying and it’s all because I didn’t get to you fast enough.” He sighed. “I can’t lose you too.”

Ever since his father's passing Miles had some pretty big shoes to fill. Head of the house, the son of a late police captain, but never just a kid. 

Sucking in a breath Y/N immediately shifted her body to grab Miles’ face. She pressed his ear over her heart letting him listen to the continuous thump. 

“I’m alive,” She whispered for only him to hear. “I’m right here.” 

He twisted himself to hide his face in her chest and wrap his arms tightly around her waist, she ran her hands over the hair at the back of his head humming a song. Miles spoke up never moving his face “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you,” 

With a smile never stilling her hand movements she responded. “You don’t have to be a big macho man all the time you know?” 

He finally released her with a small dismissive yeah. She pushed herself off the edge of her bed with a groan, bending backward to stretch her back. Miles leaned back on his elbows to watch her. 

She made her way over to her dresser before he sat up and then spoke up. “Where you going?” 

“I wanna take a shower,” She answered grabbing a plain cotton shirt and some underwear. “I feel dirty,” 

He seemed content with her answer and leaned back on his elbows again. “Will you come with me?”

He raised his eyebrow suggestively before she laughed and threw the shirt at him.

 “Not like that,” She clarified “You’ll just sit there. I don’t wanna be alone.” 

He nodded grabbing the shirt off his chest before following her to the bathroom. 

The stuffy humid air surrounded Miles as he sat patiently on her toilet seat. 

“You still here?” You called over the running water. 

“Yeah babe, still here.” 

“Can you talk to me?” 

“What’you want me to say?” 

“I dunno,” She shrugged despite the fact he couldn’t see her behind the shower curtain. “Just tell me about your day,” 

He told her about how in AP BIO they did fetal pig dissections and he got to cut into the brain. By the end of his spiel, she was listening to the creaky twisting of the knob to turn the water off. After asking for the towel she was making him turn around so she could get dressed shushing him before he could make an offhand comment. 

He followed her back to her room pulling her comforter back so she could slip in. The second she hit the cool sheets her eyes fluttered shut, sleep dragging her down. He tucked her in, and before he moved to grab her bonnet she gripped his arm keeping him still. 

“Don’t go home” 

“I won’t, I’m just gonna grab your bonnet, swear,” 

“Mhm,” She agreed, releasing his arm and curling in on herself. 

He slipped into the bed next to her wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back into his chest. She let out a hum of discomfort before turning to face him, her eyes still shut. 

Miles stayed still watching her until her breathing evened out and her body relaxed. Shuffling onto his side to reach into his pocket he pulled his phone out pausing when she stirred at the noise. 

Opening the messages app he swiped on his uncle's contact texting him 

Some white guy in Bushwick green civic and skull neck tattoo. Call me when you find him. 

Shutting his phone off with a click he readjusted himself. 

Y/N could say whatever she wanted he was going to kill that man.  

©guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

conrad thanksgiving fic please!!

This has been in my drafts for a long time...sorry. I might delete later, I don't really like it. It's not giving what I wanted it to...

Request: You’ve done Conrad dating a Haley James type of character, what about a Blair Waldorf type character? Old money, fiercely strong, rich, and outspoken. She and Belly would NOT get along, at all. He takes her to Thanksgiving dinner and Susannah is still there and she loves her

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Thanksgiving had always been a massive celebration in your family. Every year, your parents would go all out and host a dinner with their closest friends and their families. Your mother would direct the caterer team and make sure everything was perfect before the guests’ arrival. At the end the meal by having a slice of your father’s infamous pumpkin pie — which was your personal favorite part. 

This year, Thanksgiving was going to be different. Your father was in Paris for business and your mother somewhere in Europe, expanding her collection of vintage designer handbags. Had you not been in college, you would have happily joined her.

‘’Why don’t you come with me to Boston?’’ Conrad asked as you watched him pack a bag for the weekend.  ‘’My mom keeps asking me when she’ll get to meet you.’’ 

The thought of spending Thanksgiving alone had been looming over you, and Conrad's invitation was like a ray of light. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. ‘’You told your mother about me?’’

‘’Not really,’’ Conrad explained, picking another sweater and adding it into his bag. ‘’She heard your voice when she called the other day and Jeremiah told her all about you. He’s such a big mouth...’’ He shook his head, wishing his brother could hold his tongue sometimes. 

Susannah was ecstatic to have another guest for dinner. It was on very short notice and most of the preparations were already done when Conrad informed her of your addition to the table, but she would never pass up an opportunity to meet her Connie’s new girlfriend.  

When you and Conrad walked in, Susannah was all over you, complimenting your dress and how gorgeous you looked. You were quick to return her compliments, pointing out how her eyes looked exactly like Conrad's.

You met the other guests — Conrad’s father and brother, then Laurel and her kids —, and all were surprised by who Conrad had brought home. No one ever expected him to date someone born of old money. He’s dated Nicole, but she was nowhere as rich as your family. 

‘’Look at this amazing table,’’ Susannah said as she brought in the turkey, looking very proud of herself. ‘’Martha Stewart can kiss my ass!’’

Your eyes went wide for a short second, not expecting such words from her. She looked so sweet and delicate. 

Conrad shook his head at his mother, happy to see her being herself again. 

Everyone got seated, then Susannah spoke again. ‘’Before we eat, let’s go around the table and say one thing that we’re thankful for. Jere Bear, you can start.’’  

You lifted your eyes at Jeremiah across the table, who looked nothing like his brother. If you hadn’t known, you would never have guessed they were related. 

‘’I’m thankful for my mom,’’ the younger Fisher began, ‘’who reconsidered trying this new treatment for us. I don’t know what I would do without you, Mom.’’ He glanced at his mother, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

Susannah squeezed his hand over the table while everyone was trying to not get emotional. 

Conrad had told you about his mother’s breast cancer having come back in the spring. He tried to hide her sickness from you, but when you found him crying in his dorm on a Saturday afternoon, you knew something wasn’t okay. It was a tough subject for the entire family — especially since it was the second time she was going through this. For that, Susannah didn’t like to talk about cancer. She didn’t want her whole life to revolve around it just because a nasty tumor had returned in her body. She wanted to live her life the way it’s always been…and take a few more sitting breaks when needed.

In turn, the other guests said what they were thankful for. It went from Steven getting a car for his birthday to Belly becoming captain of her school’s volley-ball team and Laurel being a typical mom and being thankful for her children. 

‘’Connie, it’s your turn,’’ Susannah said, motioning to her eldest son.

Conrad nodded at his mom, then cleared his throat. ‘’Jeremiah took the words out of my mouth, so I’ll say something else I’m equally thankful for.’’ His lips tugged up into a little half smile and he reached over the table to take your hand in his. ‘’I’m thankful for meeting my amazing girlfriend, who came into my life at the most unexpected, yet perfect moment.’’ 

You smiled back at Conrad, giving his fingers a little squeeze. 

Seated before you, Belly snickered lightly. ‘’Can we eat now? Mom didn't want us to get snacks on the way here and I’m starving.’’ 

Laurel gave her daughter a pointed glare, wishing she would behave. 

Although the pumpkin pie didn’t come close to your father’s recipe, you made sure to tell Susannah it reminded you of home. 

‘’I hope your parents are not too sad that you came to Boston instead,’’ Susannah said, incapable of imagining spending Thanksgiving without her family — especially her boys. 

‘’Not at all, Mrs. Fisher,’’ you politely replied. ‘’My parents were both out of the country this Thanksgiving. Business related travel.’’

Susannah raised an eyebrow. ‘’Oh? What is it that they do?’’ 

You didn’t mean to brag, but she had asked. ‘’My mother is a fashion designer and my father is a lawyer at my grandfather’s firm.’’ 

You caught Belly rolling her eyes and muttering something. You didn’t care what she thought of you, you were the one who got to share Conrad’s bed at the end of the day. Ignoring her childish reactions, you continued talking to Susannah about your parents. She was very interested in your mother’s designs.

When dinner was officially over, you all vacated the table. Jeremiah and Steven went to the living room to set up a game for the five of you to play — another family tradition. You had never played cards against humanity before, but you’ll give it a try. 

Before you reached the living room, Conrad pulled you in a corner near the stairs, wanting some time alone with you. 

‘’Belly despises me,’’ you pointed to him, keeping your voice down so no one would hear.

Conrad rolled his eyes as he curled an arm around you, knowing how you had the tendency to exaggerate things. ‘’She does not. She’s just…having difficulty accepting that I moved on.’’

You made a face at him. ‘’Don’t you defend her. Have you seen all the sour looks she gave me during dinner? Your eyes might be the most beautiful shade of blue, my love, but I believe they are in need of a visual acuity test. You should schedule one when we get back to Palo Alto.’’ 

Conrad chuckled, amused by your theatrics. 

‘’Belly is going to be tougher to win with your charm. Like every ex-girlfriend, she’s gonna try to paint you as a mean girl, so you just have to show her that you’re the opposite. Compliment her. Tell her you like her sweater.’’

‘’But it looks itchy. It’s probably polyester.’’ 

The corner of Conrad’s lips turned into a smile.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802  @CZARINERA

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr  @bchindureyes @bellysbeach  @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster  @johannelis2302nely  @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise  @sickntiredtoo  @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl  @hopelessromantic727  @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2  @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer  @alllriseabove  @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog  @r1vrsefx

[redstarwriting]

protected

hobie brown x o’hara!reader

request?: yes

request: “I know you’re probably busy 🙏🏽 but can I request a hobie x reader Where reader is miguels kid but from another universe and we were known as “dangerous” to the multiverse and miguel had to watch over us and we find out while hanging out with hobie and hobie has to comfort us as we try to process the fact that Miguel wasn’t our real dad and just someone keeping the mutliverse safe?

I really hope this makes sense i just don’t know how to make is make sense uk? 😭 💀”

requested by: @millerworld​

word count: 1.7k

genre: angst with some fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of childbirth death, big feelings of betrayal, probably horrible spanish, honestly a lot of angst

A/N: apologies for the wait for this one! i love writing angst though so i was rubbing my hands together like an evil lil bitch writing this. i apologize if the spanish is wrong/not how it would actually be said/worded. been a minute since i took a spanish course, so i am a little rusty. please enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting, love! :)

───────────────────────────────────

Ever since you remembered your dad, Miguel O’Hara, was there. Of course, there are certain moments of your childhood you don’t remember, as every child has, but your earliest memory is your dad picking you up and soothing you as you cried at two years old. And ever since then, he was always there. Your friends at school would always say you were so lucky that you had a dad that was so devoted to you, and you agreed. To an extent. See, he was very particular about what he allowed you to do. It wasn’t in a negative way, necessarily, he was just protective. His favorite saying and your least favorite saying in your house was ‘I just want what’s best for you, cariño.’

It resulted in you staying home from school events, friend events, and generally any type of event where your safety could have been compromised. It caused you to be a bit of a loner, always hearing about the parties, the gossip, all of it instead of actually experiencing it for yourself.

Of course, it annoyed you.

It still does.

He’s loosened up a bit eventually, though, allowing you to go to work with him. Which also meant you got to meet many spiders. Quite a few of the spider-people quickly became your closest friends, as it was simpler and easier for your dad to keep tabs on you in Spider Society. Much to his chagrin, you quickly became best friends with Hobie Brown. The two of you were around the same age, and since you were annoyed at your dad and in your rebellious era, you got along swimmingly. A little too swimmingly, actually, which Miguel purposefully chose to ignore for the most part. Until he saw Hobie sucking his little one’s face off. Regardless, Hobie was always quick to validate all your conflicted, annoyed, and even positive feelings about your father. He even helped you come out of your shell and rebel against Miguel occasionally.

Miguel didn’t like this very much, but he also knew that Hobie was still a good influence on you. No matter how many times both of you tried to convince him that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Hobie would talk you into doing things that he very much disliked. Hated, even. And this time was one of those times. While he was out, containing a particularly difficult anomaly, Hobie convinced you to search through Miguel’s personal files on his supercomputer because he bet if your birth certificate would be anywhere, it would be there. When you found a folder with your name, you expected to open it to see some family pictures, hoping for your birth certificate with the name of your mom. Your dad never really talked about your mom, just that she passed away during childbirth. You stopped asking because every time you did, he would get very quiet and a guilty look would appear on his face. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. So you went into this endeavor excited to see what you might find out. Unfortunately, that excitement didn’t last for very long. See when you opened your file expecting these mundane things, that wasn’t what you were met with.

In fact, that was nowhere near what you found.

You found detailed notes all about you.

“What the hell,” you mumble, scrolling through the various pictures of you as an infant, with two adult strangers. Hobie said nothing, looking at all the pictures and skimming the important parts of all the files you were pulling up with a frown on his face. You stop on a specific picture of a woman holding you in a hospital bed. She was smiling.

And she was very much alive.

Tears immediately start to well up in your eyes as Hobie gently pulls your hands away from the computer. “Think that’s enough a’ that, love,” he says softly. You yank your arms away from him. “No.” You scroll to the next photo, seeing a man you’ve never met before holding you in the same hospital room, with the same strange woman right next to him. The next time you scroll, it’s a detailed account from Miguel about who you are. Notes from your dad declaring you a ‘danger’ and that you ‘must be contained somehow.’ Talk of your biological parents, their names, and how you had to be separated from them before ‘irreversible damage was done to the multiverse.’

You stare at the screen, and Hobie pulls your hands away again, successfully this time. He steps between you and the screens, blocking your view and slowly walking you backward and away from the files. You’re too shocked to say anything, the only thing you can do is quietly cry. Hobie opens his mouth to say something when Miguel’s voice rings out. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?”

The two of you turn your heads toward Miguel, and his annoyed frown turns to one of concern as soon as he sees the look on your face. “¿Qué tienes, mi corazón?” Miguel asks, his voice much softer as he approaches you. Hobie moves, positioning himself between you and your ‘father,’ and scoffs. “Think you got some explainin’ to do ‘ere, mate,” Hobie says, and Miguel looks at him confused. Then he sees what’s on the screen. A look of horrified realization spreads across his face, and he looks at you. “(Y/n), cariño, I can explain.”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice, albeit shaky, finally comes back to you. Hobie turns his attention to you, squeezing the hand you’ve been holding onto for dear life ever since he pulled you away from the computer. “(Y/n)—”

“Who am I? Who are you to me?”

“…Please, let me—”

“WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?!” you shout, desperately yearning for your dad to say they weren’t what was said in his reports. But all he does is frown. “They’re… they are your biological parents,” he confesses, and you make a choked noise. Hobie subtly begins turning his watch to his universe, ready to make an escape from your dad at any point. “If you just let me explain—”

“I’m a threat to the multiverse?” you choke out through your tears, “What the fuck does that mean, papá?! If I can even call you that.” Miguel’s jaw clenches. “Don’t forget who raised you.”

“How could I?! How could you?! Is this why you never let me do anything?! Too worried your querido bebecito would destroy the fucking multiverse?!”

“(Y/n). I did it to protect everyone.”

“What about me?! Did you ever plan on telling me?! How is separating me from my family protecting me?!” Hobie places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and keeping you shielded by him as Miguel tries to step closer to you. Miguel glares at him, and Hobie glares back. Miguel holds out his hand in a surrendering way. “It was to protect you just as much, if not more, as it was to protect everyone else. If you would just listen—“

“No. No, I’m done listening to you.”

“Cariño—”

“I am not tú cariño. I am not tú corazoón. You are not mi papá,” you say, venom behind your words. You can practically see Miguel’s heart shatter into tiny little pieces.

That was the worst thing you could have ever said to him.

Before he can say anything else, Hobie opens the portal, pulling you through and closing it almost immediately. You find yourself in the familiar atmosphere of his flat. “C’mere, love,” he mumbles, pulling you into his arms. You grip his shirt, sobbing into his chest as he rocks you back and forth, softly shushing you occasionally and rubbing your back. After what feels like hours, but was really maybe a minute, he swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal style to his bed as you continue to cry into his shirt. He sits down, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and rubbing up and down your arm. He can’t help but feel guilty for this. If he didn’t convince you to look at the computer…

“Don’t blame yourself, Hobie… please,” you whimper, and he sighs. “Love, you needa stop bein’ so good at knowin’ what i’m thinkin’,” he mumbles, and you look up at him with a soft smile. “Can’t help it. Even your thoughts are loud,” you say, and he snorts. “Chuffed to see the cryin’ made ya feel better,” he says and you shake your head. “I still feel like shit, Hobie,” you whisper, and he frowns. He gently wipes some tears away from your cheeks. “Reckon all ‘at cryin’ has you knackered?” he mumbles, and you nod softly. He lays backwards, maneuvering the two of you to be laying down. The two of you face each other, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other soothingly rubs up and down your side. You grip onto his shirt, and he places a soft peck on your nose. “‘m sorry, love,” he says, and you sniffle. “I already told you it isn’t your fault.”

“‘Kay, still feel like it was,” he says, and you sigh. “That’s not important right now,” he mumbles, gently pulling you closer. “What’s important is that I make you feel better.” You look at him, your eyes are still glossy from tears. “Never met someone who looked so stunnin’ when they cry,” he says, gently stroking your cheek. You smile softly, and he does too. “There’s my favorite smile,” he whispers before softly placing his lips on yours. It’s only for a second, but it makes all the pain go away. And you’re grateful for that. Even if it is just for a second. “Get some sleep, love.” He kisses your forehead, tangling his legs with yours and pulling your head into his chest. You relax into him. He was right. The crying was exhausting. Before you know it, you’re asleep as Hobie gently traces shapes into your skin, whispering anything and everything he loves about you to you so softly that if you weren’t really listening, you wouldn’t hear any of it. No one makes you feel protected quite like Hobie does.

And even if it’s just for a moment, thanks to Hobie, you feel like everything will be okay.

───────────────────────────────────

[shadowsndaisies]

athena; the preamble

WC: 3k

synopsis: athena at a glance basically

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: i know I should be working on cnng, but this idea has just fully taken root. the brain rot is real.... please come talk to me about it... please

Having Maverick for a dad is exactly what it sounds like.

He played fast and loose with the rules of the Navy, which made him a highly decorated captain, but at the end of the day, he had two loves in his life, the Navy and his daughter. Despite the risks he took and the chances he played with, you never doubted your dad's love. You did, however, have to learn to speak his language.

That meant early mornings in the hangar, learning how to fix up engines and motors of relics. It meant doing homework on base after school. It meant learning ranks and callsigns as a kid. And so you did. You did it all. You learned poker and swindled more than a few Navy men before you'd even hit puberty. You smiled pretty for every commanding officer your father's managed to piss off. It also meant developing a need for speed.

Having Maverick for a dad meant being on edge every time he got deployed. It meant spending his deployments with Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah and your summers with Aunt Carole and Bradley.

Every deployment that fell during the school year was spent based out of the Kazansky house. You didn't mind too much. Uncle Ice and your dad always had each other's back, a bond forged in loss, that much you knew. Aunt Sarah acted like a mom; she cooked hot meals and taught you how to make some of your favorites. You spent time with their kids and went to school with them, too. It was fun spending time with Ryan and Elizabeth Kazansky. Ryan was about five years younger than you but a ball of energy, and little Lizzie was a planner and was often your partner in crime despite being eight years younger than you.

There were the odd in-betweens when your dad would have someone he trusted enough to watch you. That being said, you'd only ever spent a few deployments with someone not named Bradshaw or Kazansky; the exception was always one woman, Penny Benjamin.

You weren't an idiot.

Having Pete Mitchell for a dad meant wising up quick. Meant quick humor and a reckless streak that you had to work twice as hard to overcorrect and suppress because you both knew he'd never be the one to police you on it. It meant a semi-stable home life but so much love and too many role models. It also meant a fluctuating Penny.

Penny, who met your dad years before you were born. Penny, who you knew your dad loved and who loved your dad, even though they never seemed to get their timing right. Penny, who taught you how to sail, throw a proper punch, and French braid. Who showed you how to open a beer bottle without an opener in several different ways, using a belt buckle, a spoon, and your house keys? Penny, who was.. a mom. As much as you are reluctant to admit it publicly, Penny Benjamin was probably the closest thing you had to a mom because even though Aunt Sarah loved you and cared for you like she did with Elizabeth, she was always Aunt Sarah, never Mom. Even Aunt Carole, who was your godmother, could never truly fill the void of mother even though you know she tried her best to help you with the parts you missed out on. Penny was the only one who came close, at least when she was around she was.

Summers, though, were your favorite. Whether or not your dad was on deployment, you spent every summer in Virginia with the Bradshaws. You had a room that Carole always referred to as "little Miss Mitchell's room" and a best friend who taught you so much more about life.

Bradley.

Bradley, who taught you how to swing a bat and throw a football. Bradley, who gave you your first driving lesson when your dad got deployed before he could. Bradley, who you talked with weekly when you weren't living under the same roof. Bradley, who let you make fun of his name when you needed an easy out, Brad Brad, had been the running joke.

Bradley always had your back; he piggybacked you home when you skinned your knees during your skater girl summer. He took you out of the way to your favorite ice cream place whenever you had cramps and planted himself on the sofa with you to watch Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, and I Dream of Jeanie when you refused to move. Bradley, who ate the things you cooked when you'd test out Aunt Sarah's recipes and forgave you while throwing up when you gave him food poisoning when you were thirteen, who still trusted what you put in front of him even after that (though he had gotten you a meat thermometer and written up a cheat sheet to ensure you knew when it was fully cooked).

And you had his.

When Aunt Carole died, you mourned for months. Navy royalty knocked on your dad's door to share their condolences with the teen for weeks. Bradley had been seventeen at the time, about to start his senior year of high school. He completed that year back in San Diego. He'd had friends and people who cared for him in Virginia, who'd offered their homes for his final year of high school, but when your dad offered, he clung to the familiarity that was Mav. That year, your dad had a few deployments, and all of them were short. Looking back, you wonder if Uncle Ice had pulled strings to ensure that. Either way, when Bradley went to his senior prom, Mav was there. He filmed the awkward getting-ready stage, caught on camera as you helped Bradley tie his tie, and you got a great moment of Mav doing the last inspection before Bradley left to pick up his date.

You spent all your free weekends that spring at every single one of Bradley's baseball games. Aunt Sarah would come to every home game, and little Lizzie and Ryan loved screaming and cheering for Brad's mama. Look at Brad Brad go!

Bradley grieved and cried, and he was so incredibly sad and heartbroken. But he was still Bradley. He was still your best friend. He intimidated any guy who got too close and was the only person outside your father who you could love one second and be planning his murder the next. Bradley was your best friend; he was until he wasn't.

Until papers were pulled and words were exchanged, Bradley stormed out one day and never came back.

You found him; of course you did. He was your best friend. And even though you coaxed him out of his hiding spot, words were said. Phrases hurled at you that targeted the softest of spots that only he knew about. You held together; you had to. You got him at Viper's and left him there. You went to Ice's. You didn't talk to your dad for months, and Bradley never spoke to him again.

He reached out to you during your senior year of high school in an email apologizing for how he lashed out at you. You never responded. A scabbed spot in your heart that used to belong to him, still too raw to touch. He kept emailing, though. Random updates, more apologies, congratulations, and happy birthdays. You read every email, but you never could bring yourself to respond. Then, four years had gone by.

Bradley's bi-weekly email arrived when you were in your second year of university. You read it, reread it, and then read it a third time. Aviation Officer Candidate School. You weren't surprised; you knew Bradley wouldn't abandon his dream. You never thought he would, but being faced with the reality of it weighed heavily. Bradley being selected for AOCS was proof of his dedication. OCS, in general, required sponsors within the Navy and was much more difficult to get into than the Naval Academy; they only took individuals with a bachelor's degree to start with. However, for Bradley to get into AOCS, specifically the aviation program, someone up the ladder had to have helped. The more you sat with it, the harder it became to figure out who. It could have been Viper, who had dealt with an Angry, Confused, and Isolated Bradley for the remainder of his senior year and the summer, probably every summer after that. Or maybe it was Ice, cleaning up the mess your dad had made, just as he always did.

Your dad had cost Bradley four years in the Navy, but this program might help him bridge it, at least to some degree.

For the first time since the day you dropped him at Viper's, you respond.

Congratulations, Bradley, I'm glad you're achieving your dream.

That was it.

You didn't tell your dad. But you heard about it when he found out. Ice, thankfully, had given you a heads-up. You played dumb; you knew better than to admit to the emails. Your dad was strong and stubborn, but you'd seen what his and Bradley's blowout had done to him. The hollowness that followed him, the pain in his eyes at every memento and reminder. The ache in his heart is located between the gaps titled Goose and Carole.

He hadn't told you why he'd pulled Bradley's papers. You'd made (somewhat) peace (begrudgingly) with that when you finally let your dad back into your life nearly two months after the Pulling of the Papers, and only because he almost died in a bird strike and you as his next of kin had been notified upon his hospitalization.

When he heard about AOCS, though, the secret came spilling out. Carole asked me, and she gave me one request. You'd known your dad had a private conversation with Carole Bradshaw on her deathbed. You and Bradley had been asked to stand outside her hospital room while they talked. When you were allowed back in, they both had tears in their eyes. You'd always assumed it had something to do with Goose, and to an extent, you were right. Carole Bradshaw was one of the strongest women you'd ever met, but it seemed even she was afraid of the price you pay to the Navy for the honor of serving your country.

You weren't sure what drove you to it.

It could have been Bradley's transition into AOCS.

The truth your dad had finally shared.

Or because you still felt like you had something to prove.

Maybe even that need for speed that had never been handled properly.

But you enrolled in your university's Navy ROTC program that same week.

The most surprising part of the change was how easily it came. Orders sounded like they did on the bases you grew up on. Your history, lineage, and contacts helped get you started and acted as an excuse for your late decision to join. You found some semblance of peace in ROTC as if the missing parts of the puzzle were starting to become visible.

You weren't sure how you managed to get through ROTC and into your first year as a Naval officer without your dad finding out, but you did. And by then, it was too late for him to do to you what he'd done to Bradley.

Bradley, to his credit, had a mellower response, only because he didn't have your phone number anymore and could only type an email in caps lock to convey his yelling. He did include it on the bottom, though; I wish I'd thought of ROTC. I could've sped the pipeline along more.

You hadn't responded to any emails since his admission into AOCS, and if you watched his college graduation and sent a gift to Ice to pass off to him, that was nobody's business but yours.

Your dad was… displeased.

But he kept calling. He didn't freeze you out, and you didn't have it in you to do it to him again. So you talked, told him how training was, and when he finally asked you why? In such a pained voice, you told him the truth. There was no tangible reason, just that you had to do it, that this was your path. Safe to say, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear.

Becoming an Aviator was difficult. Not only because of the requirements and the toll it takes. Not only because you were a woman. But because you faced accusations of nepotism at every turn. You were, however, your father's daughter, and his lack of movement within the Navy did not diminish his accomplishments. You learned. You learned from the best. From your teachers, from your peers, from your dad, and from the men you considered uncles. And you showed everyone what you were capable of. You were a Naval Aviator within a year of graduating from college and the ROTC program, achieving the rank quicker than almost anyone following the same pipeline. You made a name for yourself using your brain. Where people were quick to assume nepotism, you were quick to show them your dry wit, sharp tongue, and tactical thinking.

That's where the callsign came from. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, daughter of Zeus, and king of the gods. It fit well.

You did two and a half years as a Naval Aviator Officer in training in Norfolk and another two in Japan as a Junior Officer before you got the call.

Top Gun.

Returning to San Diego was… nostalgic. Being on the Miramar base even more so. You faced criticism of nepotism from your peers here as well; never mind that only the top two percent of naval aviators are invited to Top Gun to begin with. But you worked hard and proved your calling had more to do with wisdom and war than whose daughter you were. You came out of it with two friends: a pilot named Brigham Lennox, callsign: Harvard, and his WSO Logan Lee, callsign: Yale. Both of whom were the only two to wise up within the first day and realize you are so much more than your name.

It's also why the three of you were at the top of your class.

Afterward, Yale and Harvard are sent to Oceana, off the East Coast, where you knew Bradley had been based on his emails. And you were kept in state and sent to Lemoore. You preferred that, not that you'd say so. But being in-state meant being able to visit with Ice, even when you knew he wasn't doing so well, and it meant you could continue to avoid Bradley in peace. At Lemoore, you got placed with the VFA-14, the Tophatters, also known as the oldest currently active aircraft squadron in the US Navy. There's a lot of history attached there, a legacy to make proud of, as Ice and Viper would like to remind you when you'd join them for a monthly poker game.

Being stationed with the Tophatters came with two significant perks: Natasha Trace, callsign: Phoenix, and Jake Seresin, callsign: Hangman. Stationed with the VFA-41 (Black Aces) and VFA-151 (Vigilantes) respectively. Despite the fact that the two of them could not stand each other, you formed friendships with them both. In Natasha, you found someone who understood the uphill battle for women in service, but more than that, you found someone who kept it honest, called it like she saw it, and loved you for who you were.

With Jake, it was different. His bravado and charm worked, but not on you. Where other pilots got fed up with his cocky bullshit, you were able to stay leveled and see through. A benefit you shared once after a few beers of being raised by the best of the best. There must have been a sharper edge to your reminisces than you remember because Jake never made a nepo baby joke after that. A casual one here or there, but none at the heart of it, none with genuine malice. Not like he had in the beginning.

Jake allowed you to be. Rough edges and jagged ends. He kept your feet on the ground when you spent most of your day in the skies. You like to think you balanced him out a bit, too. Able to keep him from getting too stuck in the clouds, too sure of himself. You were always happy to knock him down a peg or two; truthfully, sometimes, he needed you to do so.

You found happiness on Commander, Carrier Wing Nine in the Strike Fighter Wing Pacific. You excelled in your squad and gained recognition and honors, ribbons that decorated your lapel. You talked with your dad, mostly about random things, given the confidentiality of both his and your assignments, but you found time. Ice and Sarah checked in, and Viper, too. And every time your feet were on solid ground, they found time for a barbecue or a poker game, or both, usually both.

You still read Bradley's emails. Bi-weekly had turned to monthly, and even then, they didn't come every month, but they did come, always with a reason, just as they had been for the last decade and change. You never could figure out why he kept sending them. You'd thought about replying, now, years after the rage and pain and grief you'd held onto had been let go of, nothing productive ever came from holding on too tight, you'd learned. But Bradley sent the emails, sometimes signing his name as Bradley or Rooster, but on the nostalgic ones, he'd always put Brad Brad, an olive branch, you knew, but you never could get yourself to click send on the drafts you'd write out, dozens of them sitting in the drafts folder as it was.

You'd found your space; it wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

And then you got recalled.

And so did 'Nix.

And Jake.

Then the email came in, and they're calling me back to Top Gun for some detachment. Maybe I could find time to come to Lemoore?

And then your dad hit Mach 10 and was missing in action for over five hours, only to be found in some small-town diner in the middle of nowhere Idaho.

He was sent back to Miramar, too.

And you were left wondering what the fuck was happening now, flying down with Phoenix and Hangman on your wings, and why it seemed to be colliding all the fragments of your world.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[callsign-dexter]

Family Under Fire

Request: Tim’s daughter works a part time job (yknow like to earn a little extra money while in high school) and while she’s working one day someone attempts to rob the place…And Tim and Lucy are the closest to the robbery and Tim recognises the name of the shop way too quickly

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, inaccurate police talk, inaccurate hospital talk, robbery, guns, blood, caring Tim Bradford, Dad!Tim Bradford

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you @justabigassnerd for requesting it and also this is payback for sending angst TikTok videos.

Summer. You always liked summer but it could become unbearable in Los Angeles but it was 2 months away from school work, which you did not miss. You 18 which meant that you were in the last of high school and you couldn’t be more excited. Sure, you loved seeing your friends and most teachers but you could care less for the cliques, bullies, jocks, etc.  During the summer you had gotten a part time job at Cozy Corner Café, a cute little place for people to hang out, meet up with friends, do school work, eat, and drink. Everyone there was so nice and it was refreshing. It was a fairly big café and it did really well so well it became popular fast. The café also was a 24-hour café which meant that sometimes you worked well into the night, that part sucked but it paid well and you loved it so you stuck with it. You had your driver’s license which helped with giving you freedom during the summer. You drove a Ford Bronco but recently it was acting up and when you told your father, Tim Bradford, about it the night before he said to bring it down to the station and he would trade vehicles out with you and he would get it looked at either have the mechanics at work look at it or take it down to a mechanic shop after work and get a ride from someone. 

Monday morning rolled around and your alarm clock started to go off abruptly waking you up with a groan. You opened your eyes and turned it off and looked at the time which was 7:00 AM. It was the first official day of summer break and the first day of work for you. You sighed and rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom while grabbing a towel from the hall closest, you needed a shower before you switched cars with your dad and headed off to work. You turned on the shower and got it to the right temperature before shedding your clothes and hopping into the warm water. The water cascaded over you, you quickly did what you needed and then turned off the shower and grabbed your towel drying off and then started to get dressed in jeans and your work shirt. You then brushed your teeth and brushed your hair leaving it to air dry. Once you were done there you grabbed your phone and shut the lights off and walked downstairs to drop your dirty clothes and towel in the washer. Kojo happily greeted you and you smiled petting the dog “Hey there boy. Are you gonna be good while we are gone?” You asked, smiling and not expecting a response but he barked and wagged his tail. “You’re always a good boy, aren’t you?” You asked and he barked and put a paw on your hand making you chuckle. You filled his food bowl and water bowl and then grabbed your backpack and keys. “I gotta get going. Be a good boy.” You said he barked again and then you were heading out of the house and to your Ford Bronco. You got in and put the key into the ignition and turned it “Come on please don’t do this now.” You said as it sputtered for a few seconds before turning over. “Thank you.” You said and then reversed and headed to the station. It didn’t take long before you got there and parked beside your dad’s truck and as soon as you did it died. “Right on time.” You said and got out grabbing your things and throwing on the jacket you would have throughout the night. You walked into the station and literally ran into Wesley Evers, aka your Godfather. “Oof.” You said stumbling back.

“Woah, are you ok?” He asked catching you before you fell backwards.

“I’m good. I promise.” You said looking up at him and then going to hug him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be getting to work?” He asked and you nodded as you pulled away from him. He knew you started work today because you had excitedly texted him and Angela about it.

“Yes, I left the house a little bit early to drop The Bronco off.” You said

“Is it acting up again?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes unfortunately.” You replied

“Why don’t you trade it in and get a different vehicle?” He asked

“It’s my baby, I can’t just get rid of her.” You said and he shook his head.

“I get it. I get it.” He said smiling.

“Dad is letting me take his truck while he figures out what is going on with it.” You said and he nodded. “You know where he is so I don’t have to do a scavenger hunt for him?” You asked, chuckling and so did Wesely.

“Last I checked everyone was in the briefing room.” He said and you nodded.

“Hey, you should stop by later.” You said and he smiled.

“I will make sure to do that. I have to go but I will see you later Y/N.” He said and he hugged you again and kissed your head. 

“Sounds good. Bye Wesely.” You said and he smiled and then you both started to walk your separate ways. You nodded and smiled at the front desk and they smiled back, everyone knew who you were so you got a free pass. You got on the elevator and pressed the button and when it dinged signaling that you were on your floor you got out and instantly spotted everyone in the briefing room it looked like they had just finished as you walked onto the floor. Angela was the first one to spot you and she smiled, which was rare for her, and nudged Tim who looked your way and smiled, something rare that only few people have seen. They both walked out. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Angela asked walking up to you with Tim.

“I’m dropping The Bronco off for dad to get looked at and getting the keys to his truck.” You said and she smiled as you handed Tim your keys.

“Right, I’ll be right back. Let me go and get the keys.” He said and you nodded.

“Why don’t you trade it in and get a different vehicle?” She asked and you laughed.

“That is the same thing your husband said. I’ll tell you what I told him. It’s my baby, I can’t just get rid of her.” You said and she chuckled.

“I remember my first car. I had it until he upped and died on me on the interstate. Had to let it go then. It was truly a sad day.” She said

“Dad got me The Bronco when I got my permit when I was 15 ½. I learned everything in that car. I can’t let her go.” You said 

“When do you start work?” She asked

“8. I left the house early to switch out vehicles with dad.” You said as Tim walked back up and held out the keys to you.

“Be careful and remember it is very sensitive with the gas and breaks.” He said and you nodded.

“I remember. Oh, and the engine died as soon as I parked it.” You said and he nodded.

“I’ll get Seth to look at it while we are gone.” He said 

“Thank you.” You said and he smiled and hugged.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later. Call or text if something doesn’t sit right with you.” He said and you nodded.

“I will.” You said as Lucy came up. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked with a smile.

“My car started to act up and dad said he would get it checked out so I’m switching vehicles with him.” You said and looked down at your watch and saw it was 7:20 AM. “I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later. I love you dad.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you too.” He said and hugged you and kissed your head and then you were heading to the elevators. When you got down to the main level you waved at the front desk and walked out of the building to your dad’s truck. You got in and put your stuff in the passenger side seat and turned the ignition. You reversed and headed to the café ready to start your long shift for the day/part of the night. When you reached the café, you parked in the back where the employees parked and killed the engine. As you were getting out, leaving your bag in the truck, your friend and coworker, Valencia, got out of her car as well.

“You’re in a different vehicle.” She said and you chuckled and smiled.

“Yea, The Bronco was acting up.” You said as you locked the truck and the both of you headed into the back.

“Oh man you love that thing.” She said and you nodded.

“I do and I’ll be heartbroken when it has to go.” You said as the both of you began putting your stuff in the lockers. “Damn, I left my bag in the truck. I’ll just get it later.” You said as Mark walked in overhearing the conversation.

“You sure? We still have some time before we start.” Mark said, your other friend said.

“Yea, I’m sure. I’ll get it on break.” You confirmed and they both nodded and the three of you clocked in and walked to the front and the shift began. The beginning of the shift nothing exciting happened and not a lot of people came in. Some college students came in to grab coffee and maybe something to eat and then they were on their way to class and then the customers died down. You spent the down time by cleaning up and making sure everything was stocked and swept while Remi, Amelia, and Carlyn came and greeted you three, they were also your friends.

“So, you have any plans for the days you’re not working?” Valencia asked and you shrugged as you wiped down the counter as she tended to the cash register along with Amelia.

“No, not really. Might take Kojo out for a run one day and work on some college applications.” You said shrugging.

“Are you really serious about getting into the police academy?” Remi asked as he restocked the higher up things.

“I am. My dad went through it and I love helping people so why not? It runs in our family.” You said not bothering to say anything about your mom since she wasn’t in your life for most of it.

“That would be so cool when you get in and graduate. You’re badass now but you’ll be even more badass.” Mark said, leaning against the counter. You rolled your eyes and smiled and then playfully shoved him off of it.

“Hey I just cleaned there.” You said and wiped the counter down again.

“He’s right, you know. Y/N Bradford certified Badass.” Amelia said and you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“It is only the truth.” Carlyn said and everyone nodded and you blushed but smiled.

“Stop you guys.” You said as the door chimed and a flood of people came in and when you looked down at your watch you knew why, it was already noon and this was the lunch rush. Mark, Remi, and Valencia took to the cash registers and getting the food and you, Amelia, and Carlyn started to make the coffee and whatever drinks were ordered, you took this role because you were fast at it and everyone agreed. You three really worked in harmony and got people out quickly. Your boss said when you six were out of school and either going to college and needed work or just needed work in the summer you all had a job, you six were that good. Mark, Remi and Valencia were fast at making coffee too but you and Amelia were a tad faster but they could get the job done just as well and it tasted just as good. You had finished serving the last customer and they were out the door when you sighed in relief. “What a rush.” You said and the other two nodded.

“You got that right.” Mark said turning to you as did Valencia and now it was time to wait. While you waited you wiped down the equipment and cleaned it with the help from Mark. “What time is it?” He asked and you looked down at your watch.

“It is 2:00.” You said 

“Damn time flies by when you’re having fun.” Valencia said and everyone chuckled. As the afternoon went on you served customers and talked. Around 5:00 PM the college crowd started to come in. Mark took the coffee making and you took one of the registers. You were taking orders when a familiar face popped and you smiled.

“Wesley! You came!” You exclaimed and he smiled and nodded.

“I sure did. This is actually one of my favorite spots to hang out and get coffee. I got excited when I knew you were starting to work here.” He said and the two of you talked and he gave you his order and he got it and went to sit down. 

“Y/N take your break.” Mark said and you nodded and clocked out for your 15-minute break. Just as soon as your boss Jason Alderman walked in.

“Taking your break?” He asked and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes, Sir.” You said

“Good. Can’t have one of my best baristas breaking down on me.” He said and then walked to the front as you did and Mark handed you your favorite drink and food.

“You know me so well.” You said and he smiled.

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend.” He said and you rolled your eyes and went and sat down with Wesley while you texted your dad.

You: Hey, I’m on break and Wesley was here as well. 

Tim: You two have fun. I love you 

You: I love you too. 

“So, how have things been with you?” You asked as you took a sip of coffee and looked up at Wesely.

“I’ve been good. A lot of cases have been happening.” He said

“How are you and Angela?” You asked 

“Good. We’re good. Actually, we are trying for a baby.” He said and your eyes got wide.

“Seriously? That is amazing. I can already see a mini-Angela and Wesley running around.” You said and he chuckled.

“Yea, we are pretty excited about it too.” Wesley said 

“Sir, I can’t do that.” You heard Amelia say which made you and Wesley look up and him over to the counter and the both of you froze. The man was tall and slim, he had light brown hair and from the looks of it brown eyes. You got up and made your way to the counter to protect your friend and coworker kicking in. 

“Y/N no.” Wesley said but you ignored him.

“Is there a problem, Sir?” You asked

“Yes, there is, this little bitch won’t give me the money.” He said

“Sir, she cannot do that.” You said voice going into a commanding tone.

“I tried being nice but you made me do this.” He said and pulled out a gun and everything stopped.

“Give me the money now.” He growled out. Jason was quick to come out of the back.

“She is not going to do that.” He said and got in front of him and Amelia. As someone called 911.

“Fine.” He said and turned the gun on you and pulled the trigger. White hot pain is all you felt and then you were falling to your knees as someone was catching you and calling your name.

“Y/N!” Wesley said as he caught you and gently laid you down head in his lap as he applied pressure to the wound. It made you cry out. “It’s ok. I got you. Your dad is on the way.” He said.

“It hurts.” You said tears escaping your eyes.

“I know it does. Just hang on for me. Ok?” He asked and you nodded. There was commotion and Mark and Remi had tackled the man but not before more gunshots went off but thankfully nobody else was hurt as bad as you. They may have some scratches from glass and graze wounds but that is about it. 

“Ok.” You said through gritted teeth. You just wanted your dad.

-----------------------------------------‐-------------

After you had left the station everyone else had gone and got ready and they started to do the same and as they were at war bag station and they grabbed their cameras Tim turned to Lucy “Get the shop ready. I need to go down to the garage.” He said and she nodded.

“You got it.” She said as she grabbed the bags as Tim made his way down to the garage and straight to Seth, the main mechanic, to ask for him look at your Bronco and they agreed, he knew that Grey would allow it since Tim was a sergeant too, before they even left, they were already giving him an update. 

“So, the engine blew up and the transmission is bad as well.” Seth said.

“How is it possible that it was running fine for months?” He asked as they stood outside by your Bronco and hood up.

“Driving on a blown engine and a bad transmission is possible. Is it good? No.” Seth said

“It never showed any signs of going out or being a bad transmission.” He said and Seth nodded 

“That is not out of the norm. Most people don’t know about it until something happens. Has the light ever come on?” He asked 

“No never.” Tim said and Seth nodded.

“There could be a loose wire or connection. Don’t worry. We will get it up and working. It’ll be good to go by the end of your shift.” Seth said

“Thank you so much.” Tim said and gave him the keys.

“Not a problem. Have a good shift.” Seth said and Tim nodded and he was on his way to Lucy.

“So, what is the news?” She asked

“Blown engine and a bad transmission.” He said

“Oh man. That’s not good.” She said and he shook his head.

“What is even worse is that it didn’t even give warning that it was blown or had a bad transmission. No light ever came on.” He said

“Damn.” She said as they got in the shop and they started their shift. “So, are you going to have to take it somewhere to get fixed?” She asked and he shook his head.

“No, Seth said they would get it fixed by the end of our shift.” Tim said 

“Well, that’s good.” She said and he nodded. Their shift consisted of several noise complaints and several arrests. He drove by Cozy Corner Café and smiled seeing all the cars there and knew you were busy and thankfully Lucy didn’t pick up on what he was doing.

Around 5:00 PM Tim and Lucy were driving back from the station after having just booked someone when he got a text from you. He quickly pulled out his phone before starting to drive.

You: Hey, I’m on break and Wesley was here as well. 

Tim: You two have fun. I love you 

You: I love you too. 

As they got back out on the road the radio went off “7-Adam-100 respond to a 10-66 at Cozy Corner Café. One GSW reported. Multiple injuries. RA requested.” Dispatch sounded and Tim’s heart dropped and he had gone somewhat pale. He was quick to grab the radio.

“7-Adam-100 responding.” He said before Lucy could even make a move towards the radio. He turned on the lights and sped off towards where you worked.

“10--66 is an armed robbery. Tim, what is going on?” Lucy asked

“Y/N works there.” Is all he said and Lucy got a sinking feeling that something wasn’t right. 

“7-Adam-07 responding.” Angela came over the radio.

“7-Adam-19 also responding.” Harper’s voice came through and Tim was grateful for that.

Tim and Lucy were the first to get there and parked in a hurry and they quickly got their guns drawn and went in. “We have him held down over there.” Jason said and pointed to where Mark and Remi were keeping him at bay.

“Officer Chen, you go and take care of him. Where is the gunshot-” Time started but was cut off by Wesley.

“Tim over here. It’s Y/N.” He said and Tim was over there in a hurry. 

“Holy shit.” He murmured. “Y/N, Sweetheart, can you hear me? If you can hear me, open your eyes.” He said and so you did. 

“Daddy?” You asked, he nodded.

“I’m here, what happened?” He asked kneeling beside you not caring if he was getting blood on his uniform.

“He came in demanding money and A-Ameila said we couldn’t give it to him and I got up and went over to him, asked him what he wanted and he repeated himself and I told him that. He got mad then pulled out a gun and and pointed it at me and pulled the trigger. I was just trying to protect my friend, I’m sorry. It hurts, Daddy.” You said and and he put a hand on your face and you leaned into it.

“I’m not mad at you I promise, mad at him yes. I know it hurts, Sweetheart.” He said “Just hold on.” He said as the others arrived and Angela came straight over to you, Tim, and Wesley. 

“Fuck. Is she ok?” She asked 

“I think she will be.” Wesley said

“Are you hurt?” Tim asked and he shook his head.

“No. I’m fine. She didn’t hit anything as she went down. I caught her.” He said Jackson came over.

“Suspect is secured and the RA should be here any second.” He said and then walked away to help Nolan and Lucy and Tim nodded as he helped put pressure on your wound and you groaned in pain.

“RA is coming through.” Harper said. Lucy, Jackson and Nolan were checking in on everyone else and getting statements. The EMTs came through and quickly started to take your vitals and pack the wound as best as they could and then they were putting you on a gurney and ushering you out of the building. 

“I’m going with her.” Tim said and body stopped him. They got you in and he followed and they were off to the hospital. His hand never left yours and it would stay like that as long as they didn’t need it and thankfully, they didn’t. Everything was blocked out for Tim all he could hear was the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat and your unconscious form, when you passed out, he didn’t even know. He couldn’t lose you not now, not ever. Finally, the ambulance arrived at the hospital and you were ushered in and taken to surgery immediately and left Tim out in the waiting room. Not even 10 minutes later here came Jackson, Angela, Nolan, Harper, Lucy, Wesley, and even Grey. They spotted him immediately.

“How is she?” Nolan asked 

“Don’t know yet. They rushed her back to surgery. Wesely, I have to thank you for being there and keeping pressure on her wound.” Tim said, looking at Wesley at the end.

“She asked me to stop by and I’m glad I did. I hope she’s going to be ok.” He spoke

“She will be. Have you not seen who her dad is? Also, she is a Bradford.” Angela said and everyone chuckled and Tim smiled. Finally, the doctor came out and Tim was quick to get up and walk to him. 

“She is going to be ok. The bullet didn’t do major damage but just one more centimeter and it would’ve hit her kidney. All intestines were spared. We repaired everything and got the bullet out and I’m happy to say she’ll make a full recovery.” He said and Tim sighed in relief “You can see her now. She may be a little groggy but that is to be expected.” He said and Tim nodded. 

“Give me a second.” Tim said and the doctor nodded. Tim walked over and told them what he was told and everyone sighed in relief.

“You go and be with your daughter. Someone will bring your bag by and your truck from the café. I’ll let the garage know that you won’t be picking up The Bronco tonight.” Grey said and Tim nodded.

“Thank you.” He said

“Now go. Tell her we say hi, we love her and are proud of her.” Wesley said everyone nodded in agreement and he nodded and headed in the direction of the doctor who took him to your room. 

“Remember she will be groggy and may be in some pain. If you need anything or if something goes wrong just press the button.” He said and Tim once again nodded and then was left with you. He walked over and sat down. You must’ve sensed that he was there because you started to wake up.

“Daddy?” You asked and looked over at him.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” He said

“I’m sorry.” You said and he looked at you confused.

“For what?” He asked

“For trying to stop the robbery.” You said

“Sweetheart, it is ok. You did stop it. Even though you got shot it gave Mark and Remi enough time to tackle him.” He said

“I did good?” You asked and he nodded.

“You did excellent. I’m so proud of you.” He said and leaned up and kissed your forehead. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the anesthesia left in your body.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Oh, and everybody says hi and that they love you and are so proud of you.” He said and you nodded with a smile as you closed your eyes and got comfortable.

“I love you, Dad.” You said and he smiled and cradled your face with one hand and you leaned into it.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. Get some sleep.” He repeated the last part and he waited until your breath evened out before taking his hand away slowly and leaned up and kissed your forehead. He sat back down and let the tears fall. He could’ve lost you today but he didn’t and he was so glad about that. He doesn’t know what would’ve happened if he had lost you but he doesn’t have to think about that because he could hear your steady heartbeat projected by the monitor and he could see your chest rising and falling. He held your hand and stroked your knuckles. “You did excellent, Sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” He said again but softly and quietly and then sat back just watching. You were going to be ok.

Tag list:

@callsigns-haze

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading 

@callsign-revenge