#when i was a kid and my dad would yell at me and throw things she would immediately run to my room and hide under my bed

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[slutdge]

mmmmm. i wish someone would snipe me from the window right now.

[vaspider]

Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.

It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.

On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.

I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"

That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.

Never.

These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.

And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.

Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.

You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.

But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.

That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.

It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.

Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.

Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.

Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.

They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.

But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.

I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."

(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.

Fucker.)

But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.

I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.

But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.

The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.

That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.

[weyrleaders]

i am. vibrating in place rn

[dcxdpdabbles]

Freelance Inventor Part 2

Dedicated to @jimmysorsprinkles Thank you for enjoying my random dabbles. I saw that you wanted more Dads, Danny/Bruce, who are unknowingly co-parenting, so here it is! (set during the first prompt through the years of Danny just being a dad whenever he's home)

"I just don't know what to do," Bruce admits, watching Dick stomp about in tiny angry circles, muttering in his native tongue under his breath. He's been out there for about a half hour, doing laps in the yard. Danny knows he deliberately chose to do so under the window leading to Bruce's office.

The kid definitely wanted his guardian to know he was mad at him .

It was the fact Dick was unconsciously hunching his shoulders, curling his fist, and even raising his knee slightly higher than he needed for his stomps that were a nod to Bruce whenever the man was upset.

It seemed like Dick had picked up habits from Bruce during his short time here. If anything, Danny thought it rather cute if it weren't for the fact Dick was so upset.

"What happened?" He asked, standing beside Bruce, overlooking the pre-teen throwing a fit.

Bruce's frown is sharp and hinted with just the edge of uncertainty that anyone who didn't know him well would have dismissed. "He was being reckless in one of our extreme sports, and when I rightfully scolded him for it, he took it as me not trusting him."

Danny tilts his head, considering. It's been over three years since he became acquainted with the Waynes, and in that time- between his travels, his inventing, and his general desire to learn all he could in any way he could- he noticed that Dick was very quick to anger as a defensive mechanism.

This clashed horribly with Bruce's own mechanism- which was shutting down or at least emotionally wise. While Dick sneered and raged against the world, Bruce tried his best to forget he was human and detached himself from the situation.

Which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into Dick's insecurities or Bruce's anxiety when they both reacted to adverse situations.

He has spoken to Jazz about it, and his sister has given him some advice that has helped him smooth things over with the young boy. Empathizing and paraphrasing the boy's issues was a big step in letting him feel heard and his feelings acknowledged.

For Bruce, he treated him like a ghost who had never seen a human. Plenty of ghosts were never human, were born in the ghost zone, or had been there for so long that they had forgotten what humans were like. Danny took time to explain why someone reacted the way they did- at least, why he thought so- and never made Bruce feel less for needing the help.

It was fun, in a way, to see Bruce's eyes lighten up with understanding and get him to talk about his rooted issues, but having to do so on carefully balanced tones and word choice. Phantom had so much practice de-escalating ghosts that it was a walk in the park with Bruce.

"I'll talk to him," Danny promised, leaning over to rest his hand on Bruce's shoulder and not batting an eye when the taller man landed down to rest his forehead on Danny's shoulder.

Where Bruce couldn't say in words, he yelled in his actions. It reminded him a bit of Wulf.

Bruce took a deep breath before nodding. "Thank you."

Danny hummed, reaching up to pet Bruce's hair like he would soothe Wulf, on days the werewolf would twitch too much at the door slamming, and suddenly his friend was mentally back in Walker's prison. "No problem. But, I will also be speaking to you later, and you are going to listen to Dick's side of the story without interrupting at dinner."

"Yes, Danny"

Alfred threw him an approving smile as he marched outside to meet Dick's rage-filled eyes and nervous hand twitching. He could catch the ending bits of whatever rant the boy was muttering.

"You're right. Bruce is an idiot sometimes." He starts grinning as the boy's eyes narrow further.

"You don't speak Romani."

"I may not understand what you're saying, but trust me, I feel it." Danny chirps, watching Dick's shoulder relax a little. " What did he do this time?"

"You won't even believe it!" Dick snaps, and then he's off, Danny keeping pace with him step by step as the boy works himself into another frenzy.

Later that night, Dick explained that he hated how Bruce made him feel so belittled and unimportant, his voice tight with a itch to fight, and Bruce carefully- with significant prompting from Danny- explained how he didn't mean it that way. He was only worried that he was about to watch Dick die in front of him, and he couldn't live through losing his family again.

Dick looked shocked to be considered family, and Danny swore he helped the boy sneak into Bruce's office, which so happened to have the adoption papers Bruce was hiding. Alfred gave him a large sample of pudding for dessert.

______________________________________________

"Hey, kid," Danny whispered, watching Jason tense up momentarily. It's not overly noticeable, but Danny has grown used to seeing little ghost blobs show emotions by how they twisted and twirled over the years, so he could tell what the slight tightening of the fingers around the book meant.

Anxious.

It would be understandable if Jason had been present for another one of Dick's and Bruce's explosive arguments. He came from a household that had an older male figure beat him whenever Willis got in a mood, so while he knew that Bruce or Dick would never hit him, Jason still tried to make himself scarce.

Jazz was the one to point out Jason's usage of escapism in the form of books to comfort himself, and so Danny took whatever time he could manage to read the same books as Jason while on his travels.

"What?" The boy grunted, voice soft but weary.

Danny sits across from him, making sure to stay in Jason's eyesight at all times. He had realized in only his second visit after meeting Jason that the boy did not like having someone too close in his space.

He grew up on the streets where being weary of older men kept him alive- Danny would never fault him for what he had to do to survive.

Unlike Dick, who was always down to talk about why he was upset if only to rant, Jason preferred to have a distraction. So he offers him a smile that he hopes projects You're safe with me and pulls out a book from his bag.

Jason's eyes light up at the cover. "I had some theories on Mr. Darcy being in love with Mr.Bingley before he met Elizabeth, and Bruce won't agree with me. Help me find citations as proof?"

"It's so obvious that he was, how can the old man not see that!" Jason snorts, tilting his head in a cute habit that he picked up from Dick. He really looks up to his big brother no matter how tense things can get.

Danny is glad he's gotten Dick to explain to Jason that he didn't hate him, but he was going through a lot, and Jason as a street kid, understood on some level.

"The old just hate listening to other people's suggestions even when we're right!." Jason leans over to read the book Danny places between them, considering Jane Austin's work while Danny files away the real reason he's upset with Bruce.

Later, after Jason and he present a bemused Bruce with a report on why Mr.Darcy is bi and had feelings for his best friend before meeting his wife, he tells Bruce to explain why he didn't consider Jason's suggestion in their extreme sport.

Jason goes to bed that night with a better answer than "because I said so," and Danny forces Bruce to go up to his room and re-read Pride and Prejudice to connect with his youngest.

Alfred offers them extra blankets and pillows since the two get so caught up reading to each other that Danny just decides sleeping in Bruce's bed is easier than walking down two wings to the guest rooms.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm not going to bed," Tim snapped when Danny knocked on his door. His fingers are flying over the keyboard of his computer, his little face glowing from the computer screen, and Danny is almost reminded of himself whenever he gets caught up in his work.

It may worry Bruce and Alfred, but Danny is a Fenton. He knows what it's like to have his brain run over time and sacrifice sleep or meals to get his ideas into the world.

His mother is the same, his father is the same, his sister is the same, and even Danny's clone is the same. It's fitting that the little boy he caught following Batmam around with a camera is the same since he all but forced Bruce to adopt him.

He hadn't meant to.

He had been testing an air purifier when he returned to Gotham since Bruce and the kids were out of state, and his ghost hearing picked up the sound of a camera click.

Imagine his surprise that when he turned to the roof opposite him, he found the tiny little face of an eleven-year-old staring back, holding a camera, and Batman swinging away in the distance. Danny became attached to Tim that night, even after he chased the boy down to ask if he was safe.

He did not like the implications of his parents always "working" while Tim ran amok in Gotham.

It took almost two weeks of following Tim around Gotham to help him with his photos before the boy allowed him to take him to Wayne Manor. It took three more before Bruce realized that Danny wouldn't allow Tim's parents to win him back, and together, they took the Drakes to court.

Danny has never been more grateful that Bruce was loaded with money and that his inventions gained him contacts in high places that wouldn't mind taking the Drakes down.

Tim was a lot like Bruce- where he shut down- but he needed people to be around him more. Sometimes just sitting in the same room- where Tim could glance up and see him- was enough for the boy to be at ease.

This was great for Bruce, who thought he didn't need to do much to make Tim happy- until Danny reminded him that Tim was a poor boy who was gutted for any form of parental approval.

He had to almost punch Bruce after overhearing him tell Tim he was proud of him, but there was room for improvement. Bruce meant it as helpful, constructive criticism, but Tim- whose parents all but drilled how useless he was- only heard criticism.

Only heard, he was not enough.

So now Tim was going, who knew how many hours without sleep, trying to fix whatever issue he thought he had caused. How a fourteen-year-old could have caused issues at his adoptive dad's multimillion-dollar company was beyond Danny, but it meant a lot to Tim, so he didn't need to understand it.

He just needed to respect it.

"Don't want you to," Danny grunts, throwing himself on Tim's queen-sized bed. "I just wanted to know if I could crash here. Bruce pissed me off."

Tim's fingers pause. "What did he do?"

"He tried to tell me how to handle my inventions' payment. I'm a freelancer! I know how to do that." Danny complains while twisting under the covers. Tim slowly turns around to look at him, but he acts like he doesn't notice. "I know he'll try to talk to me in the guest rooms, but he won't find me here. I just don't want to listen to another "I can do it better" lecture."

After a moment's pause, Tim admits. "He did the same to me and my team."

He means Cassie, Bart, and Conner. The little team of photography buddies Bruce introduced Tim back when they started homeschooling him. Dani suggested pulling Tim out of school is one of the best advice his clone ever gave him.

Tim took the pictures, Cassie and Conner modeled, and Bart made the clothes. Their work was slowly gaining traction online, and Tim seemed to glow whenever the Team was mentioned.

"Course he did." Danny sigh. He leans back into the pillow. "Know why he did it, too. Bruce doesn't want me to be taken advantage of, but it's hard not to hear him think I can't keep up, especially when my family is doing the same thing."

"Yeah," Tim's voice is soft. "It's frustrating that all your hard work is overshadowed or that everything you've done so far doesn't prove that you know you can."

Bingo. Danny discovered Tim's issue; now he just needs to bring it home.

"I know I'm great at what I do. You said so yourself- my past proves I am crazy good at work. I leave other people breathless in awe all the time. I can adapt and overcome so much faster than others. Bruce can see that, but he forgets to praise it." Danny huffs like he's trying not to be forgiving, and it causes a smile to unwillingly appear on Tim's face.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow but today I'm being petty and hiding. Thanks for letting me sleep here"

"You're welcome, Danny." Tim goes back to his typing, but only after a minute or two of Danny asking if he can turn off the light does the boy save his work and shut his computer down.

The room is plunged into darkness but Danny doesn't need the light to see how Tim sinks into his mattress. Tim is smart- crazy smart that every part of him that's Fenton crows with pride- and he can easily see through Danny.

"Thank you Danny" He doesn't say what for but he doesn't need to.

Danny reaches over, grabs the blankets, and makes sure they cover the small shoulder, tucking Tim in properly. "Any time kid"

The next morning, Bruce wakes them up with a powerpoint of all the things he thought were impressive about Tim and his team's last photo session. A powerpoint for Pete's sake.

But it makes Tim smile so much that Danny lets it slide. At least he listened when Danny chewed him out for forgetting to praise Tim.

Alfred offers Danny some of his private tea jars, which according to Dick, means Danny is in for life as Tim, Jason, and Bruce go over the PowerPoint again. Jason has begone to heal for his bitch of a mother's betrayal a few months ago.

Thankfully, Danny was in the area when he called and reminded the lady why she should not mess with Bruce's kids. Dani paying her a visit in her jail cell was just the Fentons' sending their regards.

(His dad gave Dani the ani-creep stick, and his mom hacked the cameras to loop. Jazz just watched hours of her to realize what made the woman scream and cry before sending the clone on her way. It was a good family bonding moment)

No one believed the woman claiming to be haunted that her son was Robin. Honestly, where on earth she got that idea Danny would never know.

His Jason, the sweet school-loving boy who graduated as valedictorian, running around punching criminals? Honestly, what was she going to claim next?

Bruce being Batman?!

Please.

[vagabond-umlaut]

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

Or: you and the two fearsome monsters, your knightly husband must wage a war against everyday, for the sake of a glimpse of you.

▸ dad!gojo satoru x mom!reader; 1.45 wc; fluff, fluff, gallons and gallons of fluff; a pair of cute, possessive and too-wise-for-their-age babies who love their mama wayyy too much; poor miserable deprived 'toru; sprinkles of humor too added in there; implied no curses!au

▸ i dump the blame of this on @afortoru's shoulders. A, look what you made me do ▸ writing this genre for the 1st time! characters, image or divider used aren't mine. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Do you know what’s the best thing about work? 

Every evening it ends early. 

Do you know what’s the best thing about home? 

Every evening you’re there.   

Walking into the barely-lit flat, a soft smile lights up the expanse of Satoru’s face as the quiet sounds of snoring float over from the bedroom. Dumping the bag on the sofa and shrugging off the coat, the man moves silently further into the apartment – weary mind conjuring images of you in an oversized black tee [of his], curled into yourself in the king-sized bed, the cutest little pout on your lips as you babble in your sleep – then pauses, a hand on the doorknob.  

Two pairs of blue eyes sparkle at him from the almost-darkness of the room.  

Satoru closes the door behind and slumps against it.  

Two matching grins aim at his heart from the human blanket over your form. 

Sharp. Shrewd. Cruel. 

You wrap an arm round each of those two monkeys – the latter back here from their grandparents', two days before schedule.  

Ten years ago, were anyone to tell Satoru there would be a day in the future when he would have to fight for you, only to taste defeat, again and again and again, the man would have emptied his glass of champagne on their clothes, then kicked them out of the reception party. 

Yet, now... as he trudges closer to the door and extends a hand to brush a few wily wisps of hair away from your forehead – only to have it slapped away harshly by a little palm – he can’t help but wonder what sin he committed in his previous birth, to have received an angel like you as his wife, but two demons like them for his children.  

Sachiko, the older of the twins, glares up at her father. “Papa, no!! Mama’s sleeping,” She whisper-yells, eyes darting from him to you than back to him, lips tugged down in a scowl, the likes of which he has only seen in a mirror. On your other side, a mop of white hair nods, albeit not without a tiny yawn – Sachiro’s definitely inherited your sleepiness in a rainy weather.  

Satoru lifts an eyebrow in return. “I can see that, you two. Now go, play with your toys or something. I wanna cuddle with my wife.” 

“But we too wanna cuddle with Mama,” Sachiko retorts as she slips out from under your arm and sits up on the bed. The tiny ponytail on her white head stays in a complete disarray; your husband watches your daughter tug at it a couple of times, frowning, before she gives up, returning her glower to him as she continues, “So, you can’t cuddle with her. Mama is ours now.” 

Your son again gives a small “yes” at her words, followed by a yawn – a reaction which Sachiko doesn’t deem to be enough, apparently, given how she throws a glare his way next. “Hey, whose team are you on, dumbo? Mine or Papa’s?” 

The answer arrives in an instant, in the most matter-of-factly voice possible from a five-year-old. “Yours, obviously. I don’t want Papa to steal Mama away. She’s ours.” 

The smug grin directed his way next makes Satoru want to flick two foreheads pretty hard – but he doesn’t. Any rash or impulsive action can only do him more harm now, driving him further away from his goal.  

So, cogs whirring in his brain, he crouches down to his kids’ eye level and smiles.  

“What do you think of a compromise, kids? Why don’t you make a deal with me?”  

Two pairs of blue clash with the original pair of blue for a while, suspicion in one, suspicious curiosity in the other, while challenge swirls in the last; before a huff breaks the staring contest and your daughter folds her arms across her chest. Exchanging a glance and a nod with her, your son too sits up and announces, “Okay, we’re interested. What’s the deal?” 

Your husband lets out an internal whoop of victory. 

“Belgian chocolates in exchange for a cuddling session with my wife.” 

“Bleh!” Sachiko makes a disgusted face – something which takes him back to his younger days when Suguru and Shoko used to imitate his expressions – and whines, “They are so bitter, yuck! Suggest something better.” 

“A doll house for you and a car for Sachiro, if that’s the case.” 

The latter is the one to turn down this time. Tone brimmed with disappointment – something he can only ever learn from you – he says, “But you just bought us one last month, Papa! Mama always asks you to save money... why don’t you ever listen to her?” 

A knife of guilt lodges itself into his heart and twists. Satoru sighs. “I do... I try to, always, but you two make it so difficult for me to! Why are you like this? Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her? She is as much my wife as much she’s your mom.” 

“We know,” The addressed two answer in unison with sage little nods of their head. The girl continues with a grave expression matching her brother’s, “But we can also ask you the same, Papa. She is as much our mom as she’s your wife. Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”  

“Besides, you spent five extra years with her, before we were born. We just want to make up for the time lost,” Sachiro chimes in with a pout. “Tell us, Papa,” The two again speak in a heart-wrenching chorus, “Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?” 

“The kids are right, y’know?” A mumble pops the gravity of the situation at hand, and Satoru looks down to find you awake, cracking an amused smile at them. He huffs, rising from the floor and plopping on the bed next to you, arms folded against chest.

“Can’t believe I am so unloved and unwanted in this world. My kids don’t love me. They don’t listen to me. My wife too doesn’t love me. She never supports me. Welp, got to be the unluckiest to be in my shoes right now, I guess.” 

Your husband pauses, giving a small break for the words to sink into everyone, before you let out a long exhale and send him a minor twitch of your lips. Sachiko moves to pat his head, the same moment Sachiro reaches over to clasp his small arms around his neck. You too rise and embrace him from behind, placing a small kiss in between his shoulder blades.  

“Y’know, it’s not like that,” You say, placing your ear on his back, “Just ’cause the kids love me more doesn’t mean they don’t love you. And it’s not even your fault – my personality is so awesome, everyone can’t help but adore me the moment they see me – isn't that right, babies?” 

“Right, Mama,” A pair of wonderstruck voices ring out in reply to your jocular question – you continue in the same note, with another kiss, this time on the nape of his neck.

“And because your awesome Mama’s asking you now, will you two be good babies and let Papa too sleep here with us? Look at him: he’s so tired and sad. You don’t want your dearest Papa to be sad and tired, right? You will let him cuddle with us, won't you?” 

Satoru watches the twins look at each other for a second, then the younger acquiesce, “Papa can cuddle with us. That’s okay, maybe.” The two then proceed to shoot a particularly sharp look at him; one he responds to with a cheeky smirk, which disappears into a soft smile when he feels you manoeuvre his face towards yourself, a light grasp on his chin.  

“See, the kids agreed. Now, are you feeling loved and wanted?” 

“Infinitely more,” He replies with a peck on your lips – however, before he can deepen the kiss a tad more, you bring him into a sleeping posture beside you, the kids immediately piling on top of the two of you. You offer him something between a cute pout and a sorry smile, which earns a wink from your husband. 

Turning to one side, Satoru drags you, Sachiko lying on top of you and Sachiro lying in between him and you, into himself, letting him be lulled to sleep by the melody of your laughs and your kids’ half-hearted harrumphs.

  

Do you know what’s the best thing about life? 

Every tiniest bit of it he gets to spend beside you, the light of his life, and the two imps, your and his love brought into this world – even if he knows he’s going to get kicked out of bed the very microsecond you fall asleep again. 

▸ masterlist

[humansofnewyork]

“Picture it, okay? Mardi Gras. New Orleans. Bourbon Street. I’m on college break with my three best childhood friends. Zak is there with his parents. He’s got his mom and dad with him. So it’s two different vibes, but somehow we all end up on the balcony of the same bar. Everyone’s got beads in their hands. We’re all yelling to see boobs. Well, I’m yelling to see boobs. That was just me. But Zak had a perfect mustache. He used to grow it much longer and curl it with wax. And I normally don’t approach people, I’m not that person. But his whole family seemed cute. They didn’t seem like normal New Orleans vacation people. So I was like: ‘Can I take a picture with you?’ Then we ended up adding each other on Snapchat, because that was the thing back then. And we agreed to meet up the next day after his family was done with their gator cruise and I was finished visiting the strip club. That night we walked along the river until the sun came up. I remember doing handstands on the levees. Then at the end we kissed. It was just a kiss because I was leaving early the next morning, and honestly I thought that would be the end of it. I thought for sure I was never going to see this kid again. But we kept talking, and two weeks later I’m taking his virginity in a Las Vegas hotel room. There was something going on with his stomach that day. Right when we finished he went to the bathroom and started throwing up. I called my girlfriend and said: ‘I don’t think he likes me.’ But it’s been love ever since.”

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen as dads part 3 (All members)

I am so obsessed with this series, I’m weak for dad!seventeen More dad!SVT and other fics on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Genre: FLUFF

→Choi seungcheol

"Will you help dada fix the showerhead?" Seungcheol asks your first born daughter, Siah. Seungcheol was in the bathroom being stubborn that he could fix the showered in the bathroom himself. Your 2 foot high daughter leans on the door frame looking up at her father.

She nods as her dad asks her to help.

"Can you hand me that wrench?"

"Wench?" she repeats wrongly.

"W - RENCH" cheol corrects her again.

"This one?" she points her little finger to every tool in the box and finally gets to the one he wanted. Cheol was very patient with her. He believed in her, it helped built her confidence too.

She handed her dad the wrench.

Cheol did some pushing and pulling, meanwhile siah really wanted hands on experience in this plumbing apprenticeship.

"How are my two star plumbers doing?" you ask walking into the bathroom to see what trouble these two were up to.

Cheol now had Siah on his shoulder while she played with the showerhead acting like she was helping fix it.

"We're almost done, my associate here is new so she's a bit confused" he says pointing to her daughter on him.

Suddenly there is a 'thak" sound and water comes down pouring on cheols face.

You burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” He asks playfully and pulls you into the shower area so now you’re also soaked. This is responded with some sqeals and squeaks.

“Never calling this plumber duo again” you say laughing.

“Well the plumber duo loves you” he says with a cheesy smile and takes siah off his shoulder to bring her between the two of you, now shes soaked too.

→Yoon Jeonghan

"Stop pushing our kid into the pool" you say giggling as Jeonghan playfully throws your 5 year old son, Hyun woo into the water.

Hyung woo hated the water when he was younger, especially the sea. But now it's a mammoth task to get him out of the pool.

"Again! Again!" Hyun woo screams while you could see jeonghan's energy battery running low.

"He'd make you do this all day" you say sitting poolside, reading a book.

"That's all, that's enough" Jeonghan says and pulls Hyun woo out of the pool, now comes the tantrum. Jeonghan uses the last of his power to pull his son out of the pool and airplane him to where you are sitting. He dropped your tantrum throwing son on you. He made you scoot in the small pool chair and stuck close to you, putting his head on your shoulder, boy was he exhausted.

"Does your battery have enough power to pass me the sunscreen?" you playfully ask him.

"There's always a reserve battery for you my love" he says and also gives you a complimentary peck on the shoulder before he retracted to the same position as before.

→Hong Joshua

There was chaos in the Hong Residence as two boys, Dojoon 7 and taehyun 5, run around yelling and screaming. Two hyperactive boys were definitely a lot to handle.

"Boys, Boys!" Joshua claps his hand to get their attention.

"I have a mission for you"

their eyes light up and Joshua has their full attention. They loved missions, they recently got into spy movies and when they hear the word mission, they snap into their alter ego, little spies.

"Dojoon's mission is to clear up your toys on the floor and Taehyun's mission is to bring all the clothes from the dryer to the living room then mom and I will teach you how to fold laundry" he recites all the tasks. You loved doing chores as a family, it was possible on the weekends and you thought the boys would learn how to do things. It was the easiest way.

The kids rush to do their chores and the first one to finish was the elder one. This made the younger one upset, he came crying to you. The two boys are very competitive.

You end up giving them both some cookies. The calmed Taehyun down.

“We need to get them off cookies”

“Just this once please” you tell your husband pulling a cute puppy face. The boys loved cookies and it was easier to calm them down that way. Joshua hates it.

“Last time, promise?”

“Promise” you say pecking his cheek.

→Moon JunHui

“Noo I don’t want to, what if I hurts, and you flush it away”

“You want to keep it?”

Your son nods.

Your 2 and a half year old son is sobbing on his potty chair, not pooping because he thinks its a part of his body and he’s going to lose an arm if he poops.

You knew if was something Jun might’ve told him so you call him over.

“Hes not letting me flush his poop, he thinks we can raise it” you explain to jun sighing.

Jun ends up laughing at this.

“Please?” Your son asks in a small timid voice.

“Its going to start stinking baby”

“It already does” Jun chimes in.

“Caterpillar”

“You think its a caterpillar?” Jun asks and your son nods.

“Its just rubbish, it goes into the dustbin, the toilet is the poop dustbin.” Jun tells his son.

After half and hour of discussion, your son was finally ready to let it go.

“Where is he learning all this?” Jun comments in general.

“Are you sure its not you?” You ask playfully.

“No wayyy!” He says clearly lying.

“You’re lucky we didn’t have to raise his poop”

→Kwon Hoshi

"Appa, I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall" you 6 year old son, Ji ho screams at the top of his lungs. Both the tigers are very loud, it took you some time to get used to. You literally gave birth to a Soonyoung junior. They're too similar. So they clash a lot.

“I haven’t even let go, stop screaming”

“Appa appa!” The little boy screams and goes down the small hill at the park.

“Don’t look back, look ahead, you’re doing it”

“Im going to hate you if you let go!” Your son screams at your husband.

Knowing your husband, he definitely let go and you hear your sons screams again.

“Appa i hate you!”

“You’ll never learn if i don’t let go, you want me to hold the back all the way to school? Whats the point of riding?” Hoshi scolds him.

Your son comes running to where you were sitting and he takes his shoes off to sit on the blanket.

“Appa is not trust worthy”

“You’ll thank me one day!” Soonyoung says and plops himself next to you on the picnic blanket, putting his head on your lap.

Your son joins him and now the two boys were playfully fighting to keep their heads on your lap.

“She’s my mom!” Jiho tells his dad to grt off of you. All this makes you giggle.

“Shes my wife! Get your own wife!” Soonyoung tells him off playfully.

“Im 6!” Your son exclaims.

→ Jeon Wonwoo

“See, now if I move my piece 4 places, I catch one of yours, so you take it back to your house” wonwoo explains to your 5 year old daughter.

She was suddenly on the verge of tears when her dad captured her piece in a game of ludo. She clearly hated losing.

“Appa is cheating!” She kicks her feet in annoyance.

“Thats the rules” Wonwoo says very logically defending himself from a 5 year old. It was hilarious to watch.

“She’s 5! Let her win” you say from the couch shile you watch the two cuties play ludo on your living room floor.

“She’s going to become a brat if I let her win” wonwoo comes back to you with more logic. Hes not wrong but once?

“Just let her win once!” You ask him again. He shakes his head.

“Come here, you and me, we’ll be one team” you say as you slide down the couch on to the floor.

Your daughter calms down a little while she sits on your lap. “Lets make daddy lose” she says and rolls the die again.

You very strategically play and capture 2 of wonwoos pieces in the next 3 rolls. Your daughter was happy now and wonwoo was stressed.

“Yes! We won! Daddy lost!” She sticks her tongue out at Wonwoo.

“See? This is what I meant” he says and bites his lower lip acting like he’s angry about the gesture.

You giggle at your cute husband.

→ Lee Jihoon

“Im going to throw it now, eyes on the ball okay?” Jihoon tells his 6 year old daughter who is wearing a hand glove thats bigger than her face. It was cute to watch.

You could see them through the living room window where you sat to read a book.

Jihoon makes the first throw that goes over the little ones head.

Her eyes follow the ball like her dad asked her to.

“Its too high”

“Jump to catch it” he teaches her but she groans.

“Just throw me a ball I can catch”

“Jump jump” he repeats stubbornly throwing another ball over her head.

She hates running to get the ball. This time she makes it her mission to make her dad run and get the ball. She throws the ball full swing and it hits jihoon right where the sun don’t sun.

You burst out in laughter watching the love of your life fall to the ground and groan in pain.

“Thats it for the day” he says between the pain and finally gathers himself enough to come back to the living room.

“That was some revenge shot”

“Our daughter is very powerful” he says remembering the pain and almost wincing again just at the thought.

“Im sure she takes after you honey” you smile at him.

→ Xu Minghao

Your younger daughter and your husband, Minghao, were standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

Minghao lost a bet yesterday about something silly and the punishment was to make your daughter hair. It was punishment because your daughter hated it when someone touches her hair or brushed it. It's a recent development. She would throw tantrums and it was just difficult.

It was minghao's first time touching her hair and he was visibly nervous too. He didn't want to hurt his little princess. Understandably.

"What do you want me to do today, princess?" he says hovering his hand over her hair, not sure where to put it.

"I don't want to!!" here it starts.

Minghao gets down to her level on his knees to talk to her. That's how he gets everyone. He has a way with words. A smooth talker you fell for.

"Why not?"

"It hurts"

"Daddy will do it softly, very very softly, and we stop the second you feel hurt okay?" he explains to her and try to touch her hair again.

He does it so softly like even the slightly touch would hurt his daughter.

"Ah" your daughter lets out a yell and Hao begins to inspect that area softly pushing hair away so he can see.

"Look, she has a rash"

she was not throwing a tantrum. She really was hurt, it made you feel horrible. you immediately apologise to her and bring some ointment for it.

"I'll brush it softly okay? so the knots are out" he tells her before he continues. She trusts him, you trust him.

You take some ointment out to put on her but she refuses.

"I want daddy to do it" she says and you nod understandingly.

He helps her with the ointment and your daughter finally has brushed hair. She hops away happily while you watch.

"I can't believe I missed it"

"It's normal, don't worry" he reassures you.

"This wasn't even punishment, she loves you doing her hair" you complain and he chuckles.

"Want me to do your hair?"

"Only if you do it as softly"

"Always"

→ Kim Mingyu

Kim mingyu, your husband of 5 years was working out in his work out room, he made a area attached to the living room a work out area so he didn't have to go to the gym, but occasionally still sometimes ends up going to socialise with friends while he exercises.

He had become much more of an exercise person once Bora was born cause he wanted to be as energetic with her as possible. He wasn't ready for his body giving up if he had to play with Bora or worse save her life.

You were passing by his work out area with the laundry basket but watching him working out your feet stopped and you ended up staring at him.

"What are you looking at?" his voice snaps you out of your staring.

"Huh?"

He smirks and you throw a sock at him at shut him up. If you stared longer you would've drooled physically.

You watch Bora's little legs run to her dad.

"Hello, to you too!" you say sarcastically and playfully as your daughter ignored you. Bora found Mingyu's gym contraptions very fascinating. She might be into exercising too. She loves being active.

Bora climbs her dad and somehow gets to his shoulders. What a total monkey. Only her tail is missing.

He ends up doing chin ups with bora on his back, no idea how he is this strong, but you were glad that he is.

while you come back to the living room with dry clothes to fold you see mingyu doing push ups with Bora on the floor.

"You're too sweaty" she screams as Mingyu's seat drops on Bora who was under him, every time he came down he would shower bora with kisses as she counted.

It was the sweetest thing to watch.

"I'm done, you can stop staring"

oh the things you would do to wipe that smirk off his face, right now all you could do was throw a dry towel to his sweaty face.

→ Lee Dokyeom

"What is this you do daddy?" the little girl asks her dad while he puts on multiple toner pads on his face.

Since it was a Sunday, dokyeom scattered all his skincare on the living room floor, ready with a bare face to pamper his.

"This is for my skin, so it's soft and pretty, like yours" he explains to her while she listens intently.

"My skin is soft and pretty?"

"of course it is, because you're a baby"

"I'm a big girl, I want to do this too" she whines a little. You overhear this conversation.

"should I cut you some cucumbers to put on your eyes?"

You take your child to the kitchen and she watches you cut some thin slices of cucumber, she was very excited. She ends up taking the plate to her dad rushing to be a part of this salon play.

You follow her out while she lays on the floor next to her dad. You sit by her feet and suddenly DK starts a salon skit.

"Hello Ma'am, what would you like today?"

"Cucumbers" she responds cutely.

DK places the cool cucumbers on her eyes that make her shiver.

"Would you also like a foot massage ma'am?" you ask her as you rub her feet. You hadn't done this since she was a little baby. It brought back memories and how much she had grown.

Your daughter, meanwhile is busy munching on the cucumber she's supposed to have over her eyes.

"Hey, are you just eating it!" DK scolds her playfully.

She giggles in response. Her giggles are the most adorable sound.

Between the massage and the cucumber facials, your daughter falls asleep in the middle of the both of you. DK slides his butt to sit next to you. You subconsciously put your head on his shoulder.

"She's growing up too fast, I don't like it"

"Wait for the day she says 'I don't need you' I'm going to start bawling my eyes out" DK says and a visual of him doing that dramatically flashes in your head that makes you giggle.

"I'll be right next to you probably also sobbing my eyes out" you mention and he gives you the sweetest smile.

→Boo Seungkwan

Your husband was pacing back and forth with your 2 year old son in his arms trying to get him to go to bed. It was 11pm already, way past his bed time, but you just couldn't get him to sleep.

It had become practice that Seungkwan sings him a soft lullaby and some walking in his father's arms knocks him right out.

You saw him whispering a song and couldn't help but hum it yourself while you put away all the toys he played with today so they don't poke your feet in the morning.

Your humming perked his eyes and seungkwan gave you a side eye for waking his baby up, you mouth a sorry.

"Mommy's here?" you wakes up to find you. He never gets to see you in the night because you come home late from work.

He immediately wants to come to you, you take him for a second say hi give him some kisses and give him back to seungkwan, despite all his whining, sleepy whining.

You pat seungkwan's back as a 'best dad' pat and move on to the toys on the living room.

→Choi Vernon

You were surrounded by paper and scissors and scrap paper. Your kindergarten going son, Derek had a project at school to make a jar full of cranes to bring to class.

Of course, a child's project is the whole house's project. Now, it was you, Vernon and Derek Sunday afternoon, making a jar full of cranes.

You were teaching Derek how to make a paper crane and the folds were too tough for a 3 year old.

Vernon folded one crane a little too big and filled the entire jar.

"Tada! We're done!" he announces clearly with so much space left.

Derek giggles. "No daddy, there is so much left"

"No look? It's all done, one big crane fits the jar, just tell your teacher that" he jokes with him.

It makes you giggle too.

You end up having a nice family bonding time when you do arts and crafts with Derek.

→Lee Chan

“The same one?”

Your daughter nods.

Your daughter, 5, has been asking for the same story about the elephant and the ant for the 100th time. She only sleeps once shes heard that story.

Chan can recite that story in his sleep. Its the same thing over and over. Your daughter could finish his sentences at this point. Once the story was done, Chan tucks her in and turns the light off.

“How can I forget?” Chan pretends to gasp and showers your daughters face with kisses.

Your daughter wipes her face.

“Don’t do that, Im a big girl now”

“Okay okay” He says and shuts the door, it does break his heart a little bit.

He comes to you looking a little mopey.

“Is she in bed?” You ask your husband. “Yeah” he says and comes to cuddle you.

“She said she doesn’t want to be tucked in with kisses anymore” he mutters. You run your fingers through his hair. “She’s growing up a little too fast, I don’t like it” he pouts.

“She’ll always be your little girl” you tell him.

“Always”

[aestheticaltcow]

The Night When It Went Wrong

Finally, part two to the Six Months multiverse.

More parts coming soon...

MDNI 18+

Six Months

Carmy walked toward a modest white-paneled house with a long brick walkway. A knot formed in the back of his throat as he walked up the steps to Selena’s front door. This was a mistake. He could turn back now, drive home to you and Mia, and pretend this had never happened. He'd pushed the doorbell before he could stop and think about what this would mean for his relationship. 

Selena opened the door quickly. She stood in the doorframe wearing a cropped white t-shirt and the same pair of lacy panties she’d been wearing in the picture she’d sent meer hours ago. She greeted Carmy with an overly seductive look. He swallowed and looked her up and down as she reached out to hook a finger in a belt loop of the Dickies he’d worn to work that day. She pulled him into her house quickly, closing the door behind him. She pushed Carmy against the closed door and pressed her lips to his. Carmy was cautious but felt it melt away when Selena’s fingers tangled in the roots of his hair; her lips were different from yours, but the desire behind them was intoxicating. Carmy felt a chill go down his spine when his hands moved to Selena’s hips to pull her body closer to his. 

She ended the heated make-out session and pulled Carmy upstairs and down a short hallway. Before entering what Carmy assumed to be Selena’s bedroom, he noticed the framed pictures on the wall. They were the typical pictures you’d see in a family home, although one stuck out: Selena in a princess-y white dress next to a tall man in military regalia. “You’re married?” Carmy questioned.

Selena quickly shook her head, “I’m divorced. My husband cheated on me after I had our kid- he was a shitty husband, but he’s a great Dad.” Carmy nodded, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. He was being a shitty husband. 

Once in her bedroom, Selena took charge and pushed Carmy onto her bed. She straddled Carmy’s hips and yanked at the hem of his shirt. He followed her lead and allowed her to remove his shirt and throw it across the room before putting his hands on her face to bring her lips to his. Selena pushed her tongue into Carmy’s mouth and felt herself gag at the overpowering taste of tobacco and artificial spearmint- how she hadn’t tasted it before was unbeknownst to her. She pushed his forearms down to the mattress beneath their bodies and moved to kiss down his jaw. Carmy moaned softly when her lips pressed against his collarbone. 

Selena sat on her heels as she pulled Carmy’s pants down his thighs. Carmy swallowed and closed his eyes when he felt Selena’s hand grasp the base of cock. As she stroked him and licked at his tip, both of them realized that he wasn’t… excited to be there with her. Selena huffed and stood up abruptly, “Am I not hot enough for you or something!” she angrily stared down at Carmy, crossing her arms over her chest. Carmy sighed and pulled his boxers and pants up in one swift movement.

“I can’t do this,” he said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He stood up and grabbed his shirt from the floor before quickly exiting her bedroom. He couldn’t make out what Selena was yelling as he exited her house, the only thing on his mind was you and Mia.

Carmy pulled his shirt on as he got into the driver’s seat of his car. He saw his phone in the cup holder where he’d left it. The screen was illuminated with texts you’d sent between his arrival at Selena’s house and now.

Where are you?? I’m sorry for blowing up at you We should probably talk Can’t sleep without you… come home soon, Carm I love you, even if I’m mad at you

“Fuck.” Carmy laughed as he turned on his car. He pushed a hand through his hair and quickly turned on the radio before turning his phone off. He tossed it in the passenger’s seat before quickly driving down the suburban street lit with the occasional street light. Carmy couldn’t go home to you right now. He needed to get his head straight. Did he just cheat on you? He didn’t have sex with Selena- he couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. Carmy drove through the downtown streets of Chicago for a couple of hours before deciding to go to work when he saw it was almost 4 AM. 

Carmy unlocked the door to the kitchen and turned on the lights before walking to his locker. He changed his shirt before going into the office to try and get a couple hours of sleep before the produce delivery came in. 

~

The night came and went, you couldn’t sleep. While you’d been upset with Carmy’s comments the night before, you’d grown accustomed to him sleeping beside you. When you’d rolled over that morning to see him missing, dread and guilt washed over you. You checked your phone to see he hadn’t texted you back. What if he was dead? He was tired when he’d come home from work last night. What if he fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed his car or drove into the Chicago River? You groaned and decided to call off work that day. The last thing you wanted to do was go into the office to edit some documentary about butterfly migration.

As the morning went by, you felt your anxiety increase. You still hadn’t heard from Carmy and you couldn’t shake the intrusive thoughts of him being hurt and alone. “Okay Mia. We’re goin’ to Grandma’s house!” you faked your enthusiasm hoping Mia hadn’t picked up on your energy, or notice that Carmy hadn’t been home all morning. You shot Carmy another text and threw your phone into your purse before picking Mia up out of her highchair. She squirmed in your arms as you unlocked your car from the front porch. 

After strapping Mia into her car seat and offering her a pacifier, which was promptly spit out, you laughed and kissed her cheek before walking around to the other side of the car. You took a deep breath as you sat in the driver’s seat for a moment; Mia happily babbled to herself as you pushed your hands through your hair. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and texted your Mom, asking if the two of you could come by. She immediately responded, demanding you get there ASAP. You shook your head as a soft smile came to your face. 

As you pulled into your Mom’s driveway, you saw her step onto the porch. She waved excitedly and came to help with Mia as you turned the car off. “There’s my girls!” she smiled as you exited the car. “Hey, Mommy.” You greeted her and watched as she walked around the car to get Mia from her car seat. Mia squealed as your Mom peppered kisses on her cheek.

“Let’s get this little princess inside. Coffee?” she offered. You nodded and followed her inside, locking the car before entering your childhood home. As the two of you entered the kitchen, you couldn’t help but notice the framed pictures on the wall. You and your siblings throughout the years, pictures of your nieces and nephews, when you saw a picture from your and Carmy’s wedding, your breath hitched. Your Mom noticed immediately. She balanced Mia on her waist and shot you a look, “Are you okay, peanut?” 

You looked up to see her face softened with concern. You shook your head, trying to hold back your tears. “Uh, Carmy and I got in a fight last night… he left and didn’t come home… now he isn’t answering his phone. I'm tempted to go down to the restaurant, but I don’t like mixing our relationship problems in with all that—I just—I just feel like such a fuckin’ failure, Mommy.” you confessed as you quickly blinked away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. “Hey. You’re not a failure. Get in here.” your Mom cooed, gesturing for you to hug her with her free arm. You frowned and closed the space between the two of you. 

As you rested your head on her shoulder, little fingers pulled at your hair. You laughed, feeling a little bit better. You looked at Mia to have her hand brushed against your forehead. “Thank you, princess.” You grinned, breaking away from the hug before taking the baby from your Mom’s arms. You held her close to your body as you watched your Mom pour coffee into two matching bunny mugs. 

“Do you want me to watch Mia for a couple days?” you shook your head at your Mom’s initial offer. “Mom, I couldn’t—" you were interrupted by your Mom insisting that it would be no problem and that she wanted to spend more time with her granddaughter before she could talk back. You sighed and reluctantly agreed. The two of you hung out for a bit before you decided to go home and wait for Carmy.

Natalie was doing paperwork in the office when her phone buzzed.

Carmy’s at the restaurant, right?

Yea Is everything okay?

Yeah He just isn’t answering his phone

Want me to kick his ass? I might be pregnant, but I can take him

Lol Just annoy him for me but like subtly…

She laughed at the text chain and slipped her phone into her pocket as she got up from her chair. She poked her head into the kitchen to see Carmy prepping vegetables for the night's special menu. “Bear? Can you come in here for a sec?” she asked, disguising her intention well enough not to raise suspicion in him. He looked up at her to say, “Give me a minute,” before returning to his chopping.

 Natalie nodded and leaned against the desk. A moment later, Carmy came in, wiping his hands against his apron. “Yo. You good?” he questioned, looking at the apathetic look on his sister’s face. She shrugged, “Why aren’t you talking to your wife?” 

Carmy rolled his eyes, “Sugar. It’s really none of your business.” 

Natalie clicked her tongue and gave Carmy ‘the look.’ The one that said she knew something was going on, and if he wouldn’t tell her, she’d find out one way or another. Carmy sighed and closed the door to the office before leaning against it, “Okay. I fucked up.” he scoffed, pushing a hand through his hair. Natalie shot him a perplexed look and crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/N and I haven’t… since the baby came,” Carmy said, gesturing toward Natalie, hoping he wouldn’t have to delve too far into his sex life with her. Natalie grimaced at the thought and nodded softly, signaling Carmy to continue explaining the last 24 hours, “So last night was the boiling point, I guess? Um- I uh- I blew up at her a little bit and uh left.”

Carmy scratched the back of his neck questioning himself, should he tell his sister the full truth of what he did? He knew she’d tell you in a heartbeat. Maybe he could convince her to let him tell you before she took the lead. “I uh… I sorta- I sorta fuck.” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He stared at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek. “Natalie, I cheated on her.”

~

Tag list @namjoons-crabssss @sl-ut @thottae @cuddlehye @prurose @1184p @chaoticfanficfanx @ok-boke @literatureluster @bxtchopolis @americanprometheuss @buckystwilight @earth-elemental18 @thebearlily @siren-melodies @thel0v3hashira143 @innercreationflower @unpoqu1todetodo

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Warnings: depictions of blood/blood kink.

Mean Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

-----

Miguel isn't the type to ever be smitten. He's not the kind to stare after some pretty girl that gives him eyes, and he's not the kind to flirt around. Ever. And he was pretty sure you were going to be just another of the many spiders he's worked with.

You're not. He's head over heels for you.

Funny, witty, persistent. You take no shit from anyone. Not even from him. You've never been afraid of him, when he snaps or yells or makes his usual snarky comments, you don't even blink. You cross your arms, level his gaze, shift your weight to one of your hips and call him out. Calm and collected, your voice full of authority and confidence, and it always manages to shut him up. He'll purse his lips and turn away from you. Then you know you've won.

Not today.

Today, you walked away first. He yelled at you in a fit of rage even though the issue hadn't even been your fault.

"Miguel. Take it easy,” you tried to calm him down. “We'll fix this. We always do.”

“The fuck would you know? All you do is make more of a mess.”

“No. I don't. I'm here to help.”

He scoffed. “Help? You're useless. All you ever do is annoy everyone around you. No one stands you.” His eyes had met yours and he'd snarled, “Everyone hates you.”

And you knew it wasn't true. But it still hurt. You'd clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing at him. And then you turned around and walked away.

No one saw you the rest of the day.

Guilt has been eating at him all day. He's in his bedroom, pacing from one side to the other, hands tangled in his hair, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he growls at himself. He doesn't want to, but he's going to do it anyway.

You're sitting on your bed, a cigarette between your fingers. You exhale the smoke slowly, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek.

A portal opens in your room and you sigh. You're expecting Peter to show again, fully intending on comforting you again.

Instead, Miguel shows. When you see him, surprise rushes through you, but you're quick to mask it.

“Took a wrong turn, did you?” you say flatly. You take a drag from your cigarette and he frowns.

“Didn't know you smoked,” he mumbles, not waiting for an invitation. He steps closer to you and sits beside you on the bed.

You hum.

He swallows his pride. “That's not good for you, sabes. It'll kill you.”

“Yeah, thanks, dad,” you spit. “Is that what you came here to do? Point out all my mistakes and tell me how I'm gonna die?”

He sighs. “I'm trying to apologize, kid.” That stuns you into silence. “I...overstepped.”

“Understatement,” you mutter, putting your cigarette out.

He huffs silently. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he sighs. “Look. I didn't mean what I said. I was...upset. You-you know how I get when things don't go my way. And it...It was a low blow. I'm sorry.”

You blink at him. “Say that again?”

He throws you a glare, but sucks it up. “I'm sorry,” he says between clenched teeth. “I didn't mean it, alright.” He huffs a thick sigh, looking away from you, his gaze focused straight ahead. “And it's not true anyway. It was a cheap lie.”

You smile slightly, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I know that. I'm too much of a likeable person.”

He turns to look at you, that sharp gaze making you freeze. Your breath hitches, mouth inching open, and his eyes fall to your lips.

You swallow, drawing his eyes to the dip of your throat. He meets your gaze.

“Miguel...” Your voice is a soft, quiet sound. A low purr that makes his blood rush south.

“Ven acá,” he growls, huge hands moving to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kissing you roughly, sharp canines poking your lower lip.

You gasp, palms pressing to his chest. He kisses you rough, hungry, like he's been aching for you all this time.

His hand slides from your cheek to your neck, down your arm to your waist. He tugs you closer, your leg pressing against his.

Your hand finds one of the buttons of his shirt and starts fiddling with it. He smirks against you, hands moving to your hips to drag you onto his lap.

He makes a low, contented sound against your lips when your clothed core rubs against his hard cock. He slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting the cigarette you'd been smoking.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin slightly. Almost instinctively, your hips start grinding on his, a whine leaving you.

He grunts slightly, starting to guide your movements in small circles, your clit rubbing against the thick tip of his cock, making you jerk in his grasp.

“Princesa,” he hums, “let me make it up to you.”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with lust. You don't even have to _think_ about it.

“Alright,” you say. “As long as you don't leave me waiting.”

He chuckles lowly. His hand moves to your thighs, thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs, inching higher until he's rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You exhale softly, swallowing hard. He pops the button open, unzips your jeans, his knuckles grazing against your soaked folds.

You quiver on top of him. “Miguel.” It's a soft sigh, a breathless plea for more.

He dips his mouth into the crook of your neck. His tongue is warm, wet as it drags over your pulse.

He lifts you slightly, helping you out of your jeans before pulling you back onto his lap. His rough fingers caress you through your panties, gathering your slick until his fingers are dripping with it.

He raises his fingers to his lips, licks your arousal off. You blush as you watch, a wave of desire crashing over you and flooding your senses. He can barely contain himself at your taste.

He wants to toss you onto the bed, bend you over it and fuck you hard and fast. He wants you on top, wants to make you bounce on his cock until you're crying with ecstasy. He wants to tie you up, watch you squirm as he makes you come over and over and over, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

He pulls your panties aside, his digits quick to find your clit. You barely have time to react when he's already rubbing the nub in tight circles, his sharp teeth dragging over your jaw.

You whine, hips bucking, thighs tightening around his hips. “Fuck,” you hiss, eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry, princesa,” he says. “Didn't mean to make you feel bad. Never meant to hurt you.” He nibbles your shoulder, his fingers pulling away from your clit. He tugs your panties and you lift your hips to take them off. Instead, he holds you down against him and tears your panties off.

You gasp at the sound of the thin fabric tearing, and he chuckles. “Después te compro más, princesa.” I'll buy you more later. “Don't worry about it.”

You nod. “Yeah, alright.”

He considers throwing the ruined panties aside, but he ends up tucking them in the front pocket of his jeans. He knows he's going to find a bunch of uses for it on those late nights he can't fall asleep.

He runs his fingers up your slit, spreading your folds and tracing your slick entrance with his middle finger. You shiver and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Princesa,” he groans, “look at how wet I've got you. You pretty, pretty thing...” He kisses your jaw, sharp teeth grazing your skin. He slides his thick middle finger into you, feeling your soft walls clench around him.

You moan softly, a breath leaving your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a shaky exhale escaping you. “Miguel,” you say quietly, beginning to move your hips against his hand. “Ahh...”

He slides a second finger into you and grunts at the sound you make. He curls his fingers, pressing against your g-spot and making you whimper. His thumb catches your clit, drawing neat circles on it.

“Princesa, there's something I wanna teach you,” he says against your shoulder. “Want to make you feel something new.”

“Yeah?” you question, breathless.

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Has anyone ever made you squirt?”

You shudder. “No,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut. “Never.”

Miguel smirks. “Then it'll be my pleasure to teach you, princesa.”

You shiver, whimpering lowly. His fingers touch every right spot, with the perfect pressure and rhythm.

He pulls his face back a little so he can see you, his eyes watching your every reaction. He admires the way you tremble, your plump lips open as moans and whimpers leave you.

His eyes glisten with a predatory lust that has you shivering. And then he kisses your mouth, hard and hungry, almost bruising your lips with his. He licks you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you.

You whine softly, legs quaking, and he moans lowly, a deep rumble in his chest that makes your arousal spark.

He slightly grazes your lips with his sharp canines, making you gasp, and the sound sends an animalistic heat through his body. Almost involuntarily, he bites your lower lip, hard, not only bruising the soft flesh, but also drawing a little bit of blood.

You hiss at the sensation, the pain adding to the endless flow of pleasure within you. He licks at your blood, groaning at the taste of it.

You move a hand from his shoulder to the hair at the back of his head, tugging at the soft locks there. He growls out a moan, a sharp breath leaving him. “Princesa,” he says lowly, as if in warning.

You whine in response, your hips beginning to stutter against his hand. You can't breathe right and you're trembling almost violently. You can feel your orgasm nearing, growing within you like a balloon of warmth low in your stomach.

He can tell you're close. His eyes shine as he watches you, his cock twitching as your velvet walls clench around his fingers.

“Come on, princesa,” he says lowly, leaning closer to your ear,licking your earlobe. “You can do it for me, yeah? You can come for me, can't you?”

You nod, moaning. “Yes...Mhmm!”

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises, eyes darkening. “Almost there, aren't you?”

You whimper, trying to reply. But the sensation within you is dizzying, stupefying. Your orgasm grows closer and closer, making your every moan nothing more than a pathetic little whimper.

And suddenly a new sensation takes over you, growing deep in your womb and spreading to the rest of your body.

“Miguel—” You don't get the chance to say anything else to him. Your body shivers and your orgasm is suddenly dragging you under, your eyes fluttering shut.

He gasps softly as you come, your body shaking as you squirt onto him. He can't glance away, can't stop moving his fingers. He just keeps going, stuck in a trance as he watches your arousal gushing all over him.

You whimper when the pleasure becomes too much, one of your hands racing to grab onto his wrist weakly.

“Miguel, 's too much.”

He stops his movements then, eyes rising to yours. “Oh, princesa,” he says, voice rough and deep. “You did so well. So good, cariño.” He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean as you watch.

You lean towards his ear and whisper, “Miguel, please, fuck me.”

He shudders as your breath caresses the skin of his neck. “Say it again,” he orders quietly.

You grin. “Miguel, fuck me. I want you inside of me. Need your cock in me.”

“Dios,” he grunts, eyes shutting as his cock jerks in his pants, eager. “Esa boca tuya, princesa...Tienes carita de ángel y aun así...” That mouth of yours, princess...You have an angel's face and yet... “Capable of being so, so dirty. It drives me fucking crazy, princesa.”

He picks you up, placing you face down on the bed, one of his hands on your hip while the other one pushes you down against the mattress.

You gasp, back arching as he teases your raw, soaked folds with a finger.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt before moving them to your ass. His hands splay over the soft flesh, kneading it and squeezing it before he delivers a soft slap to it. You whine and his lips curl into a slight smirk.

He undoes his pants eagerly, pushing his jeans off, his underwear falling away with them. His cock springs free, the tip glistening with precum. He's so hard, he can't believe the way you affect him. It's insane how easy it is for you to turn him on and make him forget about everything else.

He runs the thick head of his cock between your folds and you shudder, hips jerking away before pressing back against his in search of more.

He holds tight onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he slides his cock into you.

You mewl at the sensation, gummy walls stretching to their limit, your legs trembling as he fills you to the brim. You gasp softly when the tip presses against your cervix and then some. You clench your hands around the bed sheets, your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck,” Miguel groans, his eyes locked on your cunt and how his entire cock has sunk deep into you with so much ease. “Oh, princesa, you've no idea how much I've wanted this.”

You whimper in response, not really able to say or do anything else.

His thrusts start out slow, measuring how much you can take while giving you time to adjust to his size. But soon, when he feels you're wet enough and you're rolling your hips against his in a desperate plea for more, he starts going faster, harder.

Your entire body quivers with each thrust, the breath leaving your lungs accompanied by little whimpers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you, and you're absolutely certain that you are going to pass out from the ecstasy.

“Princesa,” Miguel grunts, “I wanna try something else with you. May I?”

You nod, moaning out a squeaky, “Yeah,” as he keeps going.

He smirks, one of his hands leaving your hip to grab your hair and tug it hard, forcing your back to arch even more. He leans down to you, his chest against your back. You feel his lips on your shoulder, slowly trailing up to your neck, and then his teeth graze over your skin.

His sharp, sharp canines, send shivers down your spine. You shudder out a breath as he slightly bites you, the tip of his teeth digging into your skin.

He bites down a little harder, the pressure gradually increasing until his teeth sink into your flesh. You shudder, crying out as a shock of pain slices through you.

Miguel groans as blood starts flowing from you, its taste invading his senses. He licks your blood, reveling in the taste, and then he kisses the small wound he's inflicted.

You whimper, the pain adding to the pleasure and making your body shiver. You can feel the bliss within you growing into an unbearable entity within your womb, and you can't take it anymore.

“Miguel!” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, stars dancing behind your eyelids. “Miguel! I-I can't—! Fuck!”

“Shh,” he coos. “It's okay, princesa. Respira.” Breathe. “You're almost there.”

You cry out, biting down on the duvet to keep yourself quiet. Still, your little sounds echo in the room, growing louder as you reach your release.

Your orgasm tears through you, destroying whatever little was left of your composure. You shudder violently, body falling limp against the bed.

Miguel gasps as your cunt tightens around him, your arousal gushing out onto his cock. He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you up as your legs falter and give.

He thrusts into you a couple more times and then he comes, spurting his load deep into your pussy. You mewl weakly at the sensation, truly fucked dumb, and you can't do anything but feel him fill you up.

He grunts softly, grinding his hips against yours lightly before pulling out.

The two of you stay there for a moment, breathing heavily, bodies shaking from the shared effort. And then Miguel's quickly taking care of you.

He helps you onto your bed, laying you down gently and pushing your hair out of your face. He cleans you up with a towel, gathering your combined release with the soft material before tossing it in the laundry basket. He helps you into his shirt and he slides a pair of clean panties onto you.

Then, he lies beside you, his fingers tracing your skin, his eyes stuck on the way his shirt is too big for you because he's huge.

You cuddle up against him, your nose nuzzling into his chest. He smiles softly. “Am I forgiven, princesa?” he asks quietly, caressing your jaw.

You smile up at him, sleepily and pleased. “Yes. You absolutely are.”

-----

Blog masterlist

[rafesveryrealgf]

JJ Maybank x pregnant!reader

Summary: no plot fr, just a cute moment w jj and his pregnant gf

Warnings: pregnant reader, mentions of sex (no actual sex), cursing, dad!jj, pet names (baby, sweetheart + princess)

“J, can you please take a break for a second,” you yelled from the living room in hopes it would carry all throughout the hallway and into your unborn baby’s room where JJ had been working on building the crib for hours at this point and he’d barely had any luck. JJ wasn’t the type to follow directions and the nerves of being a dad soon sure as hell made it harder to focus on anything for more than a minute.

He was scared. He was nervous. but he was excited too.

The clacking and banging stopped for a minute so you could hear him speak clearly. “Just a minute, baby.” He yelled back.

You groan when you hear things banging around some more, crib pieces hitting the carpeted floor. You throw your head back against the couch, rubbing your stomach in hopes it would make you less miserable.

“You said that an hour ago, J. If you don’t get your ass over here, I’m coming to you.”

“Don’t- don’t move! M’coming!” He’s drops everything instantly, afraid that you’d injure yourself by simply standing.

As soon as you told JJ you were pregnant, doing anything for yourself was absolutely out of the question.

When you hit your third trimester, JJ was even worse. You need water? JJ will get it. You need to go pee? JJ is either carrying you there or holding your hand the whole way. If he had to work he’d make Sarah and Kiara take turns checking up on you throughout the day until he was back home.

You were now seven months pregnant and he decided since he was off of work for the day, that today would be the day he finally puts up the crib.

He ran to the living room just before you could stand up all the way straight.

“What do you need, baby? You hungry? Thirsty?” He questions whilst out of breath, now standing in front of you. He grabs your shoulders and sits you back against the couch. “Stay put. I’ve got it.”

He’s a second away from making his way to the kitchen to get whatever you need before you speak again.

“No,” You whine, throwing your head against the couch once again in annoyance. “I miss you, J.”

“Baby.. we don’t have much time left before the baby gets here. I’ve gotta put this crib together now.”

“Let’s just get Pope to do it.” You plead. “He’s good at following directions and shit.”

“You want another man working on my kids crib?” He scrunches his face up, waving you off and shakes his head. “S’not happening, baby.”

You look up at him and roll your eyes. “JJ, if you don’t get help, it won’t ever be put together.”

JJ scoffs at that, offended by your choice of words. “Wow.. okay, rude.” He presses a hand to his heart dramatically.

“I’m serious, J.” You inhale deeply following it up with a huff.

“Baby, have some faith in me.”

“Last time I had faith in you, it resulted in a pregnancy. So, I’d rather not.” You referred to the time JJ promised to pull out.

You were now seven months pregnant with his child.

He cringed at that, ashamed that he had such a weak pull out game. “Anyway,” he changed the subject quick. “It’ll be done by tonight, baby. Just wait and see.” He bent down to give you a quick kiss to your cheek before running off to the baby’s room again.

You exhaled sharply. You just wanted attention.

You got up from the couch quietly, afraid he’d come running to you before you could make it down the hallway.

When you got to the baby’s room, you stood in the doorway, admiring the way he looked while deep in his thoughts. He was sitting on the floor, his back turned to you and his back muscles moving as he picked up pieces from the white crib, from off of the floor. His biceps straining as he tried piecing them together.

“Baby,” you said quietly, leaning your head against the door frame, placing your hands on your swollen belly.

He looked back quickly. “Sweetheart, what are you doin’?” He questioned, standing up swiftly to grab you. “Go sit down.”

He put his arm around your waist to walk you back down the hallway.

“I need to walk around. Stop hovering.” You twisted your body so that you were no longer in his grasp.

He was a little taken aback by that. “I’m not hovering.” He scoffed. “I’m just tryin’ to care of my girls.”

You were silent for a bit. He was hovering. “I wanna be able to move around, J.” You whine. “I’m bored of just sittin’ on the couch. If you won’t spend time with me, I’d like to at least be able to walk around.”

“Alright, m’sorry. I’ll spend time with you, the crib can wait.“ He wraps his arm around your waist again. “What you wanna do princess?”

The corners of your mouth pull into a smile. “Wanna cuddle?” You say excitedly.

“Yeah.” He looks down at you, his ocean blue eyes staring into your soul, his lips form a big closed mouth smile. “Yeah, of course I do.”

[hecateslore]

I feel like papa Simon is the type of father to raise his in a way that’s just wholesome.

Like, instead of thinking “shit, my dad’s gonna kill me” when a problem arises, to “I need to call my dad” knowing that Simon will be there for them no matter what.

Just that wholesome level of trust, knowing that he might be disappointed with some of their actions but never mad at them. He doesn’t want to be seen as an angry parent or something. Brain ran out juice.

(Awkwardly asks you if you could write something like this (•̆ꈊ•̆ ) )

one thing about the rileys they're gonna call simon and he's gonna pull up but please don't be shocked when he's annoyed.

"Aw shit." Nova mumbles, she sits in the driver seat, her middle brother in the passenger while her youngest brother sits in the back shaking his head in disappointment. "I told you this was a bad idea." Jude scolds, "what's happening?" Oliver leans over to look at the dashboard. "I don't know." She mumbles, turning the car off then starting it again.

"God we're gonna be in so much trouble," Jude frets, scratching his head. "I'll just call dad." NovaLynn sighs, "Don't do that!" Oliver yells, reaching for her phone, "Maybe we ran out of gas, we can just walk to the station." He tries. "I'm not walking that far, Plus, no gas can." She explains while snatching the phone back. Unlocking it quickly searching for her Dad's contact.

Jude let's out a big sigh, "I don't know why I listened to you two. All we do is get in trouble." He looks out the window, shaking his head again. "It's fine, we're fine." Nova chuckles, holding the phone to her ear.

You and Simon were sitting in a restaurant, waiting for your dinner to come. But it's interrupted by Simon's phone ringing extremely loud, making every one turn and look at you two. "Hello?" He answers the phone confused, not expecting to hear his daughters voice on the other line. "The car broke down." She says, "It's Me, Judy and olive in the car, on third street."

"Why are you guys out?" He says quietly into the phone, "Cause I thought it would be a good idea to go get snacks."

Simon rolls his eyes then stands up, signaling for you to get up to, "What now?" You whine, throwing the cloth napkin on the table. "The kids," Simon points to his phone, your eyes go wide with worry.

"Talk to your mom," Simon hands you the phone, "Are you guys okay?" You freak out quietly, waiting for Simon to finish paying for the meals you didn't get to enjoy. "Car broke down." Nova shrugs on the other line, "I told her we shouldn't have done this." You hear Jude's voice in the background. "Mom, tell dad to not yell at us." Oliver says.

When you get to the kids you can see them sitting in the car, what looks like arguing. Simon pulls up behind them turning his hazard lights on. You both get out, and then see Nova get out of the Drivers seat. "I think its dead," She yells over the cars passing by, "I think you're gonna be dead, move." Simon says, moving her towards you.

He gets in the car the boys are still in there, "Be quiet." Simon says, and Jude's mouth shuts before he says anything. Simon sits in the drivers seat, cursing when he has to adjust the seat for his legs, Oliver and Jude looking out the window trying their hardest to not laugh at their father struggling.

Once he figures the car is in fact dead, he lets out a big sigh and gets out, "Call the insurance, we need to tow it back home." He rubs his eyebrows, "It's dead?" Nova worry's, "What do you think?" Simon stands with his hands on his hips.

On the drive home its quiet, The boys looking out the window with NovaLynn between them. Smoke coming out of his ears while he drives in silence. When you all get home the boys get sent to their room while Nova, you and Simon are in the kitchen.

"Did you leave any lights on?" You ask, doing the talking instead of a seething Simon. She shakes her head no, You let out a sigh, "Go upstairs." You pat her shoulder. You watched her walk up the stair sadly like she just hit a family of five with said automobile.

Simon let's out a even bigger sigh, groaning after. "I don't understand," He shrugs, "Where do they get these stupid ideas?" He stands to his full height, letting out a whine when he realizes he's got two more waiting to drive. "At least they're safe and the called us." You try to assure him, Simon shakes his head and makes his way to the living room. Leaving you in the kitchen alone.

"I know where they get the ideas." You mumble to yourself while opening the box of food.

[jordyn14]

Hi can you please write a Joe x reader where they’re getting ready for a wedding (or some other formal event) But Joe is playing catch with their son and reader keeps telling them to come inside and get ready and Joe keeps saying 5 more minutes

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem first person

Words: 2739

Notes: I have been swamped with finals this week and probably most of next week as well, but I’m still trying to find the time to write. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

“I’m almost done doing my hair, can you put Benji’s shoes on?” I called out to Joe who was just in the room building legos with our 5 year old son a little bit ago. As soon as I finished curling the last strand of hair, I flipped all of my hair to the front and looked at myself in the mirror for the millionth time and to my pregnant belly which was showing through my dress. About a week ago I started to show and I couldn’t wait to have another kid, especially if he or she was anything like Benji.

Today is the day one of my good friends get’s married to her high school sweetheart, and I am so excited. When we met at college my first year, I always talked about how I wanted a love just like hers. For one, their relationship was so stable. There was never a time when they wouldn’t trust each other or went behind each other’s backs because their relationship was built around honestly and loyalty. I never thought I would have that kind of relationship until I met Joe. People always talk about love at first sight, and I didn’t believe them until I experienced it with Joe.

After a few seconds of not hearing any response from Joe or Benji and not hearing the clattering of legos as they tried to make something new, I peaked my head out and saw the empty bedroom. I raised my eyebrow in confusion since Joe said they were all done and didn’t need to do anything else to get ready except put shoes on. Thinking that maybe they were one step ahead of me, I headed out of the room and downstairs where I searched and searched and found no sign of either of them.

All of a sudden, I could hear them playing outside. “That was a perfect throw dad!” Benji yelled from outside. I couldn’t help but smile as soon as I heard him and headed for the back door. I should’ve known that they were outside. As soon as Joe found out we were having a little boy, he bought all kinds of sporting equipment for kids so his son could try out every sport with him to decide what he liked best. Joe bought baseballs, basketballs, soccer balls, golf clubs, volleyballs, tennis rackets, and of course footballs. Every day leading up to the day our son could actually really use all of the equipment, Joe talked nonstop about how much he wanted him to grow up.

As soon as I turned the corner and looked out of the huge glass sliding door, I saw Joe and Benji throwing a foam football around the yard. The first thing that caught my eye was my perfect husband in a suit. Yes, a suit. Even though I knew the jacket and tie would come off towards the end of the night, I was so excited when he told me he was wearing one. Joe looks great in almost everything he wears, and he wears some pretty questionable things, but a suit always looks absolutely amazing. I could barely take my eyes off of him and the way his fluffy hair hung on forehead. Oh and that smile. It never left his face when he was with the people he loved.

After practically drooling over my husband for a few seconds while I walked to the door, I looked down at little Benji who used all of his might to throw that foam football all the way up at Joe who looks huge compared to Benji. It was adorable seeing him use every ounce of strength to muscle it up to him. Benji is a lot like Joe in the way that they are both extremely competitive. In baseball, Benji wants to field every grounder and hit home runs every single time. When he doesn’t, he cries. It’s heartbreaking to see him so worked up over something as simple as him not getting a hit or not being the best on the team yet even though he’s the youngest, but then I remember that he’s a lot like Joe in pretty much every fiber of his being. Benji is sensitive as well as competitive, and Joe’s been helping him so much with his little emotions.

When Joe caught the ball which was a perfect throw to his chest, he had the biggest and encouraging smile on his face and leaned his arm back to throw it back gently. Although I couldn’t hear Joe because he wasn’t yelling like Benji was, I could see him say, ‘that was great, Benji. This time, make sure to step with your left foot like I taught you.’ Benji jumped a little bit and yelled with a laugh, “oh yeah, I forgot!” Joe just chuckled and threw the football back to Benji who caught it.

When I got closer and Joe saw something walking towards him, he looked over at me and as soon as he saw me, his face lit up and he gave me that adorable and toothy smile that I love so much. The way he let out a relieved breath to see his wife coming over to him, the way clenched and unclenched his hands nervously, and the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of me made butterflies fly around in my stomach. Even though we’ve been together for years, it still feels like a little teenage romance. It always feels young and alive. I also couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed red when he looked me up and down repeatedly, keeping his eyes on not only my pregnant belly but my face extra long.

As soon as Benji heard the door start to open, he looked at the door super quick and instead of throwing it to Joe like he was about to, smiled up at me, showing me that big gap in his teeth where he lost his first ever tooth just a few days ago. Just to make sure Benji didn’t wake up that night when the ‘tooth fairy’ came, Joe dressed up as a little fairy and went into his room to put the money under his pillow, although I said I could do it since I would be a more convincing fairy. Luckily Benji didn’t wake up to see just how different the tooth fairy looked in person.

“Did you see me throw the ball? I’m getting better!” Benji said and looked back to his dad and threw the ball. This time, he stepped with his left food and threw it perfectly to Joe. “You’re getting so much better at throwing. Pretty soon, you’ll be just like your daddy on the field.” I said with a smile. Watching them together brought me so much Joy, especially watching Joe be a dad, which he’s always wanted. “Really?” Benji said with a shocked look on his face. Joe chuckled at benji’s reaction. “If you keep practicing, I can guarantee you that you’ll be the best football player around. But right now, we need to go or we’ll be late.” I said, trying to get them to come inside and finish getting ready, since Benji now had dirt on his hands and they both had dirt on their shoes.

Right when I said this, Benji’s bottom lip stuck out slightly but was about to walk over to me when Joe said, “aw, 5 more minutes?” I glared up at Joe jokingly. Of course he decided to do this now when we had to go somewhere. We both held eye contact as he gave me those adorable puppy dog eyes, and then I looked to Benji who looked excited. “Yeah, 5 more minutes! Please mommy?” He asked me. Benji looked over at me and then to Joe who was still giving me those pitiful eyes. The next thing I knew, Benji was copying Joe and was now giving me puppy dog eyes as well. After a few seconds, I caved. “You guys are impossible. 5 more minutes if you promise to put on your outdoor shoes so I can clean up your good ones.” I said. “Okay!” Benji said and ran over to me.

Like his life depended on it, he took off his shoes and ran inside of the house, not wanting to waste any of those 5 minutes I gave him. “Grab your dad’s shoes too!” I called out to Benji who disappeared. While Joe headed over to me, I heard something hit the floor extremely hard and was about to run in to see if Benji fell when he yelled, “I’m okay!” Joe and I both let out a laugh as I turned to him as he was taking off his shoes. After picking up Benji’s, I grabbed Joe’s shoes from him. Joe then leaned down and placed a kiss on my lips.

“Thank you, we’re just having so much fun.” Joe said, wrapping an arm around me to pull me closer to him. “I know. I love watching you guys have fun. And you know what, you are a fucking dilf. Guaranteed, I will have the most handsome and sexy man at the wedding tonight.” I laughed. Joe reached down and squeezed my butt. I let out a little yelp, not expecting it, and slapped his arm while laughing. “Oh yeah? Well you’re going to be the most gorgeous and sexiest woman at the wedding tonight.” Joe said with that smirk on his face.

Just as Joe and I closed the distance between us and were about to kiss, Benji ran between the both of us and back outside so he could continue playing with Joe. Joe and I just looked at each other, wishing we had more time alone. “C’mon, we only have 5 more minutes!” Benji giggled and threw the ball up to himself so he could play catch with himself. “Okay, okay, I’m comin’.” Joe said and placed a kiss on my lips. Before he went over to Benji, he leaned in close to my ear until I could feel his breath on my neck. Shivers ran down my spine and I could feel my cheeks heating up. “We can continue this after he goes to bed tonight.” Joe whispered in my ear.

I sucked in a small breath and smiled like crazy as he backed up from me with that smirk on his face and went to play with Benji. I looked away from Joe and took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. The things this man did to me. He really didn’t even need to do anything special to turn me on or make me feel like the luckiest girl in the entire world. He did that with just one look. With one look he could make me weak at the knees and feel so confident and beautiful.

Once I calmed down, I walked inside and washed both of their shoes until they looked brand new. The whole time I was washing them, I looked outside to Benji and Joe who were giggling, laughing, running around, and having an amazing time. I couldn’t stop smiling as the realization of just how perfect our amazing life was. After 10 minutes, I headed back outside.

As soon as I opened up the door, Benji started walking over to me after tossing the ball to Joe. This time he wasn’t as bummed. “Oh come on, 5 more minutes?” Joe begged, throwing the ball from hand to hand and spinning it on his palm like he always does during football games and practices. Once again, Benji just looked at his dad with a shocked expression on his face at the fact that he asked for another 5 minutes.

I bit my lower lip and tried my best to hide my smile and instead look mad at Joe, but I couldn’t. “Please. We’ll be well behaved the whole time and I won’t ask to leave early.” Joe begged. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him. “Whether or not I let you have 5 more minutes, you’ll still ask to leave early.” I said with a laugh, knowing Joe always asks to leave early at almost every single event we go to. Hell, he even asked to leave our wedding early so we could have some alone time together and not be surrounded by friends and family.

“I’ll eat all of my veggies. I promise!” Benji added in, trying to get me to give them 5 more minutes. Looking down at how adorable Benji looked, I caved again and was about to walk back inside. “Come and play with us. If you do, I won’t ask for any more time.” Joe said. “Yeah, come play with us! Come play with us!” Benji jumped up and down and ran over to me. I laughed as Benji grabbed onto my hand and tried his best to drag me with him. He let out a few grunts so I walked with him. “Okay, but only if you promise to eat up all of those green veggies and if you, Mr Burrow, act half as well behaved as Benji.” I said. “Yay! Ok, mom, be Ted, and I’ll be Ja’marr. Dad, you already know who you are.” Benji said as Joe tossed me the football he was holding.

Joe and I just looked at each other and laughed at what Benji said about Joe already knowing that he was in fact Joe Burrow in this game. Doing what Benji said, I walked over to Joe who gave me a wink, loving that I got to be his center. I rolled my eyes at him and punched his stomach jokingly. Joe grunted a little bit at the contact, not expecting it, and then smirked down at me. “Y’know, this games going to be more fun with you as my center.” Joe said while I turned around so my back was facing him. I laughed and bent down a little bit.

Then, I felt Joes hands on my butt and turned around to look at Joe. I put a hand over my mouth to try and stop myself from laughing at how this looked. “Well this looks familiar.” I said and started laughing. Just as Joe was about to make a comment about what I said, Benji asked, “what does that mean? Ted’s his center.” Both of our eyes widened a little bit and I looked back over to Benji who looked confused. “We sometimes play this game when you’re at school buddy.” Joe said, coming up with something quickly. I looked back at Joe with a shocked expression and sighed. Even if Benji had no idea what we were talking about, it was still weird hearing him say that to our son.

“Oh, that makes sense I guess. Alright, snap the ball!” Benji said excitedly and got ready to run and catch the pass from Joe. Shaking my head, I bent down a little bit again and once again felt Joe’s hands on my butt, but this time he gave it a little squeeze. Joe clapped his hands and then said, “Set, hut,” before I snapped it to him and he got set up to throw it to Benji. With a smile on his face the entire time, Benji ran to the side and caught the pass from Joe. “Touchdown!” Joe yelled and held up his hands. Just as Benji was about to stop, he slipped a little bit and fell straight towards the concrete patio.

“Ow.” Was all Benji got out as he came in contact with the ground. Both Joe and I started to run to Benji at his reaction, thinking he got hurt and was about to cry, but all he did was stand up and throw the ball at the ground like Joe does when he runs one in. Joe and I laughed before I looked down and noticed the big hole in Benji’s pants from skidding his knee against the concrete. Just as I looked down, Benji looked down at the hole in his pants and his bloody knee and said, “Oopsies.”I let out a little laugh while shaking my head and turned to Joe who was still laughing at Benji’s celebration. “Oh brother,” Was all I said, knowing we were going to be late to the wedding.

[killakirby]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　late night flying　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

notifications ☽︎: feelings of inadequacy, stress, near death experiences, na'vi body descriptions, fem!na'vi!reader, sully's being teases

developer's notes ☽︎: hey i did say it would be out around this time :/ i'm doing my best. first work on tumblr since like 2016 be kind i'm supplying my thirst. i was just checking the word count to paste it here, and i genuinely thought lo'ak's was shorter than neteyam's, i was wrong 💀 prepare yourself, it's a novel lmao and yes this is a reminder that i consider these drabbles. also if you find yourself loving this work send me an ask for a request and i'd be thrilled to fulfill it!

much love, <3 kirby !!!

⋆☾ NETEYAM SULLY - 1.8k words

it’s difficult for neteyam to have the time and energy to be an impulsive and disobedient kid like his brother. he spends most of his time shadowing his parents learning how to lead or chasing after his younger siblings and making sure that in their shenanigans they don’t get hurt. so, most of the time he’s only disobedient when he’s making sure his siblings are safe, which is honorable and cute. neteyam is also disobedient when he finds himself wanting to spend more time with you.

the fifteen years neteyam has been living, he’s constantly had people tell him that he’s a perfect son. that he’s smart, compassionate, strong; that he's going to be a great warrior–and a great olo’eyktan. however, he hasn’t heard that he’s the perfect son from his parents, but he doesn't have to hear it to know that they’re thinking it. he sees in how they scold lo’ak after another stupid stunt he pulled, “why can’t you try to be more careful? or, better yet, less reckless?” his dad would ask. neteyam knows the only thing lo’ak heard is, “why can’t you be more like your brother?” and it’s starting to be the only thing neteyam hears too. when he was younger he probably wouldn’t care so much about the jealous and now defeated looks lo’ak throws his way, but recently, neteyam is feeling every molecule of pressure from the village, his siblings, and his parents to continue being perfect. it doesn’t help that lo’ak has seemed to become resigned in his role of irresponsible-impulsive-brother, too, it only magnifies the pressure on neteyam to be better.

spider, lo’ak, kiri (and even tuk!), tease him for being a “goody-two shoes,” an english phrase their father had taught them. and today neteyam has had enough of hearing it. he woke up early with his father to prepare their ikran for patrol, sparred with him for hours, had his bow and flight technique nitpicked by his mother, and now he has to supervise his siblings scaling the mountains to make sure they don’t die exploring without the permission of their parents. and when they all tease him for being a “goody-two shoes,” for not wanting to venture further, he snaps. neteyam hisses and stalks his way over to the edge of the mountain, “whatever. go ahead and get involved in some dangerously stupid situation that you can’t get yourself out of and when i’m not there to save you, like i always am, have fun calling mom and dad to save your ass! and i’ll make sure to be back to enjoy seeing your dumbassess getting yelled at for your lack of brain cells, as usual.”

he calls his ikran, initiates the bond, ignores the calls apologizing and telling him to stop, and takes off into the sky. neteyam flies for what feels like minutes to him–feels the wind cascade through his braids, the cool air rushing across his skin, the sun battling the breeze to warm him, the complete understanding between him and his ikran, not needing to a single word or thought to guide. as he’s gliding through a spattering of small mountains and makes out your form and ikran ground atop of one, his curiosity gets the best of him this time, and he lands next to you. 

you’re on the ground leaning against the body of your ikran, it’s wing shielding you from the strong rays of the sun, keeping you cool. the freckles on your smooth blue-toned skin are glowing a soft white under the shade of the wing, a false replication of night. your legs are comfortably stretched-out and crossed in front of you, along with your arms crossed over your chest, your head and back resting on the warm ikran. as neteyam walks closer he sees your chest rising and falling slowly, eyes gently shut, and a look of bliss on your face. he sighs, relieved, greets your ikran with a bow of his head, and gets a welcoming coo of acknowledgment and a head shake in return, jostling your body and causing you to rouse. 

a soft groan leaves your lips, ears and tail flicking in displeasure, before your eyes flutter open and drowsily make contact with his own. you blink a few times, making a small sound of confusion, “huh?”, and your hands come up to rub at your eyes, as if seeing him here is a figment of your imagination. neteyam smiles, a warm laugh escaping him, amused by how adorable you are, even though he disturbed you from your little nap. his amusement lets you know he is in fact real, his laugh awakens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail hides in embarrassment at being caught hiding (by him, of all people) away from everyone else, as your cheeks darken into an indigo-tinted blush. 

you shyly make an effort at eye contact and fail as you try to explain your situation to him. “i was just–”, he waves off your voice and states with a small smirk, “no need to explain yourself, it’s not like you’re in trouble with me.” you shrug, muttering a few deprecating words to yourself and are about to stand, when neteyam sits next you. he pulls his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, chin resting on his knees, sighing deeply, eyes fixed ahead on the skyscape, his strikingly handsome faced furrowed with anger? stress? hopelessness?

your eyes widen, shocked at how small he manages to look. it’s incredibly rare that he allows anybody to see him this vulnerable; he’s usually impeccably composed–attractively confident and sure of himself–but the idea that he’s allowing you to see him like this is a privilege you will not take advantage of. you scooch closer to him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you feeling okay?” there’s silence for a while before his lips parted and shut, hesitating, before he shook his head, so faintly it was almost unnoticeable. you nodded, “ do you want to talk about it?” and received a verbal response this time, “no.” with a light rasp to his voice. with another nod, you delicately squeeze his shoulder and offer comfort, “then we will not talk about it. but, if you ever find yourself needing someone to talk to, you can always come to me. the circumstances do not matter. if you want advice, i’ll do my best to advise. if you want me to simply listen, my ears will be open. if you want to sit in silence, ill sit silently with you so you are not alone.”

neteyam turns to you in disbelief at the sincerity within your words, and surprises himself with how close you are, faces only inches apart. your eyes widen and you lean back a little bit, hand slipping off his shoulder, but the earnest look in your gaze remains, trying to gauge his response to your pledge. neteyam shakes his head at you, a happy scoff escapes his lips, and he calls you stupid for resigning yourself to a one-sided promise. you put your hands on your hips and tilt your head at him, not falling for the insult. “all that matters to me is that you have someone to speak your true feelings to and not allow them to eat at you from the inside out.” neteyam observes the seriousness in your eyes, the way your ears are turned towards him, the way tension coils in your tail, the way your eyes shift from his to the ground as if you’re just now considering the possibility that he may reject your offer.

neteyam stands, and nods affirmatively, tail flicking, “okay. i do not wish to talk about it. but now as my newly designated comfort person, you have to fly with me.” he offers you his hand, and gently raises you to your feet. you giggle at him, head tilted up to meet his eyes, “there has to be a better title besides ‘comfort person’ but i’ll take it! uh…are you going to let go of my hand so we can get flying?” neteyam drops your hand, and scratches at his head, now it’s his turn for his cheeks to turn indigo. you mount your ikran, and call down to him with a smirk on your face, “trying to race?” neteyam laughs at you, goading, “when i win, don’t hurt yourself trying to eat my dust!” you kick-off getting a head start, and neteyam is quick to mount his ikran and follow you into the sky.

the challenge you had set began with adrenaline-pumped blood, heavy breathing, sharp turns, dives and peaks, free-falling, frivolous chasing after one other, the lead switching between the two of you often, screams of glee and awe when one of you pulled off an unreal maneuver–and turned into cruising instead of racing. eclipse had long since passed, somehow going unnoticed by you and surprisingly, neteyam. your gliding had turned into intertwining flight paths–swirling, flipping, mixing, turning, all synchronized as if it were a dance you two had practiced many times before. neteyam finds himself distracted from guiding his ikran, as his whole thought process becomes consumed with the image of you.

the bioluminescent freckles twinkling on your face in an unknown pattern, and he wonders if his match yours. the way you let your eyes drift shut, how your head is tilted back, how your arms raise and spread into the air as your ikran coasts through a flip in the air. a soft smile remains constant on your lips as you fly, and grows larger when you open your eyes again and turn to him. you pick up speed to overtake him, and set the path through a few cliff sides, while neteyam raises his hand to his face and realizes that he’s been grinning like a madman the whole time he’s been with you. when you two escape the maze of terrain, he coasts right next to you and sees the moonlight hit your lithe body at the perfect angle and allows himself to accept the fact that he’s falling in love with you. and then his heart drops into his stomach, his ikran shrieks and comes to a sudden stop, wings flapping frantically to remain in the same space– sending you and your ikran into a panic, as you quickly turn back to him, and worriedly question him, scared at the paled look on his face.

neteyam buries his face into his hands and silences your bewilderment by pulling a hand from his face and pointing into the sky, finally bringing your awareness to you guys messing around way past eclipse. you eyes widen and your mouth drops open, a groan of despair escaping you, and you look at neteyam, and both of you say,

“we’re so dead.”

and as you two start to race home, debating whether or not to lie about how you guys ended up losing track of time this badly, neteyam can’t help but think that any punishment he receives from his mom and dad wouldn’t matter, in light of the discovery he made today. the fact that he’s falling in love with you, and the fact that he doesn’t want to do anything to stop it.

⋆☾ LO'AK SULLY - 2k words

lo’ak’s just finished being scolded by not only his mother and his father, but also his grandmother after his latest stunt of nearly killing his younger sister, tuk, unintentionally of course. how was he supposed to know that she was going to sneeze and fall off the vines connecting the mountains plummeting to the ground only to be saved by neteyam on his ikran…again. in his anger of being banned from patrolling and flying for two weeks he sulks into the jungle and comes across you.

lo’ak retreats into the jungle after being dismissed by his father, angered and simultaneously exhausted. it’s like his parents think that he purposely tried to kill his little sister–why would he want that?? and at the bare minimum, why don’t they scold tuk for tagging along and blackmailing him all the time? “if you don’t take me, i’m going to tell” she’d singsong at him. even though he’s breaking rules anyway, they should at least tell tuk not to partake in it with him. 

he wasn’t even planning on getting in trouble today! tomorrow,he was supposed to join his parents and neteyam on checking the borders of their land, and he just wanted to share the news with his ikran. so when tuk wanted to come along to see the ikrans, he thought nothing could possibly go wrong, they’re all grouped next to their main dwelling in the mountains. he helped tuk climb to the top, and they both greeted the flock and made their way to his mount. he bring his hand to his forehead and gestures towards the animal, and tuk does the same. the ikran leans towards tuk and snorts at her gently blowing stray grass on to her face. she shrieks and giggles freely–happily, and lo’ak gently laughs at them as he bring his hand to pet the playful animal.

tuk mimics her older brother and gently pats the ikran on the snout a few times before she becomes distracted at the others milling around uninterestedly. she goes off to examine a few juvenile ikrans and lo’ak prods her, “hey! make sure to stay where i can see and hear you!” tuk nods vigorously and begins to play with the babies. lo’ak watches over her quietly for a few minutes, trying to determine whether or not any of the birds are going to try and swallow her whole, and nods acceptingly after witnessing the mature ikrans grumble and waddle away from her instead of attacking her. 

with his sister’s safety secured he turns around to face his ikran (his ears still pinned in her direction) and forms the tsaheylu with his ride–amber pupils blown wide as the bond is initiated. lo’ak loses himself in his thoughts, illustrating them for the animal, and is only shaken from it when he hears his sister sneeze, which is quickly followed by a bone-chilling shriek. his body snaps around so quickly that his braid rips from the bond, and he see his little sister fall in what seems like slow-motion. lo’ak screams her name as she falls over the edge, and instinctively reconnects with his ikran and flies over the edge to try and catch her. he’s diving straight down, gaining on her but not quickly enough for the panic and fear to subside in his chest. he’s reaching out– his hand a few feet apart from tuk’s, and he misses the first grab, the second grab, and then her body is snatched out freefall and into neteyam’s arms. 

lo’ak levels out and speeds towards them, tuk clinging onto their brother–head buried into his chest, sobs wracking her tiny form. neteyam’s hand cradles her head, and he turns to lo’ak ready to yell at him, but the expression on his younger brother’s face stops him. there’s fear in his eyes, tears running down his cheeks and he keeps trying to wipe them away but he can’t seem to stop himself from crying. neteyam smoothly guides his ikran right next to lo’ak and gently detaches tuk from his body and into his brother’s who hesitantly accepts her onto his saddle. she clings on to him crying erratically, broken “sorry’s” falling from her mouth in between sobs, and even as lo’ak comforts her pulling her close and rubbing his hand down her back in a soothing manner, the look in his eyes betrays him; that’s he's feels undeserving of her apologies. neteyam gently rubs lo’ak on the back, and does nothing besides giving him an understanding nod, and coasts in front of him to lead them home. 

“my parents only heard the fact that tuk fell, and not the fact that i feel like shit for letting that happen to her!! it’s like they genuinely think that im putting her in dangerous situations on purpose! like i find some sort of satisfaction in it! i’m not a psychopath, i’m her brother! i care about her safety more than my own! i’d literally die for tuk!” he rants to you. he stumbled across you sitting on a river bank sharpening your knife, and as soon as you saw him you cringed at his expression and asked a simple, “you going to tell me what happened this time?” and now hear you are, listening to lo’ak repeat the same argument against his parents’ for what had to be hours. you glance at the sky and see the sun beginning to bridge the horizon, eclipse will fall upon you two soon. 

for the first time you interrupt and ask, “did you tell your parents that?” lo’ak throws his hands up in the air and begins pacing back and forth exasperatedly claiming, “i tried!! multiple times! and they just spoke over me–they didn’t want to hear it! even neteyam came to my defense trying to explain for me, and they dismissed his words too!!” your eyes widened as you said perplexed, “they ignored what neteyam had to say?” lo’ak screamed, “yes!” in complete disbelief. 

“and now you’re banned from flying,” you clarify.

“yes!”

“and patrolling.”

“yes!!”

you nodded at him, “well it could be a lot worse—”

“what??! what do you mean a lot worse?! this is terrible!” he cried out.

“they could’ve banned you from flying forever,” you smirked at him.

he sighs, a petty little “not funny” escaping from him, and you laugh, letting him know that you thought your joke was funny enough. you watch him continue to pace, his body language still unsettled (you just can’t determine if it’s from his punishment, or not being enough to save his sister), his fingers rake through his braids tugging and pulling at his scalp frustratedly, and you’ve had enough when you see the deep blue skin on his hands start to lighten with the force and grasp he has on his hair. you intercept his path, place an unyielding hand on his chest holding him in place, and with a firm look on your face you demand, “stop tugging at your hair like that. you’ve spent so much time growing these pretty braids it would be a shame to see you rip them out of your own skull.”

lo’ak freezes, eyes wide and locked onto yours, as he releases his braids and his arms fall limp at his sides. he’s not sure if he stopped because he was listening to your instructions, or if because he short-circuited when you called him pretty (okay, you called his braids pretty–it’s a miniscule difference). you state confidently, “if you are not allowed to fly for the next two weeks, that does not mean that i am not allowed fly. which means that you are allowed to fly with me.” lo’ak balks at your bold statement, “uh…” hesitantly calling out to you as you step away from him (your hand just now falling from his chest, yes he noticed) and summon your ikran. he goes, “uhhhh, no! nope! i do not think that is what that means at all!” you climb onto your saddle, and plead, “lo’ak, please let me try to make you feel better. they won’t be wondering where you are until eclipse, and we only have a couple hours left before we lose daylight. fly with me one last time until you really can’t?”

he shifts his weight, battling with himself before he sighs and allows you to help him onto the back of the saddle, “alright, but only until eclipse, okay?” you cheer, and commence a quick take off, causing lo’ak to shout and hurriedly wrap his arms around your waist, and how is this the first time he’s noticed how small you are compared to him. you continue to direct your ikran upwards and into the clouds bringing him further away from his troubles on the ground.

your waist is enveloped completely by just one of his arms, and in order to make the ride more comfortable he pulls his hands backwards and just grasps carefully at the sides of your waist instead, his fingers almost close enough to touch across your stomach. it seems you’ve just become aware of the situation and he feels your breath catch, and stomach tense, but you say nothing, content to avoid addressing it and let him handle it. he sees the deeper shade to your cheeks and smiles boyishly and he knows that you know that he’s cheesing at you, but you refuse to acknowledge his amusement, keeping your eyes fixed forward but the blush becomes noticeable on your ears, and begins to spread to your chest, and he can’t stop himself from audibly laughing. in retaliation, you command your ikran into a sharp flip, and lo’ak’s gasp interrupts his laughter, and he tightens his grasp on your waist to stop himself from sliding.

when you level out it appears that night has finally overtaken day, but the both of you are too busy squealing internally at the fact that his agile, strong, trained, veiny hands are gripping your waist. the bioluminesce begins to sparkle over your body, and he merely leans back to get a better look at you. you turn to look at him and see a soft smile on his face, his eyes overflowing with feelings he has yet to speak with you about; and nevertheless, you understand completely, and you’re sure it’s reflected at him in your own gaze. you shyly face frontwards again, recognizing that you embarrassed yourself enough around him today with bold words and touches, but lo’ak does not let you hide for long. he scoots forward completely, no longer worried about maintaining the space between you. his chest envelopes your back and he leans forward to gently place a fleeting kiss on your cheek, your breath catches again. instead of teasing you as before, he pulls back–dropping one hand to the body of your ikran and allows the other to wrap across you more firmly, his hand pressing against your abdomen encouraging you to rest against him, and you breathe deeply, allowing yourself to be embraced. his chin goes to rest on your head, and you allow your ikran to guide you home, fully at ease in lo’ak’s arms. 

lo’ak gently offers, “let’s spend a little more time out here. just you and me, together.” you begin to half-heartedly reject, reminding him of the circumstances of his punishment and curfew. he waves you off, “it does not matter, you said it yourself. they can’t ban me from flying forever, what’s another week of grounding to the two i have already?” you twist to make sure of his decision, before nodding and turning around again, settling yourself even deeper and more comfortably in his hold.

you suggest to your ikran to take the longest path home.

© killakirby - piracy and plagiarism are not allowed. no reposts on any form of media.

[chrissturnsgirlll222]

second, never first

part eleven | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten |

PLEASE READ WARNINGS

chris x fem!reader

summary - you grew up hating one guy all of high school but suddenly become friends, but as time goes on feelings develop, only its one sided.

warnings - swearing, kissing, use of y/n, mention of family issues, mention of domestic violence (NOT BETWEEN THE MAIN COUPLE), BOYS (no smut… for now lol)

word count - 2k+

a/n: this part of the story contains a scene involving domestic violence so please dont read if that is a topic that triggers you! also this part is taking place 2 weeks since the last. also i made it a little lengthy for you all <333

NOT PROOFREAD

-

i was fast asleep when i heard a crash from downstairs over the show i have playing to fall asleep. instantly getting up i slipped on a robe and slowly walked to my steps.

growing up in the house hold i did meant i had to be in constant fight or flight. i stood at the top of my steps with my phone in hand. looking down at it, the time reading 12:34.

“you need to learn to keep your fucking mouth shut, i am threatening you and your daughter. ever try to leave me and i will have both pf your heads.” i heard my dad yell from downstairs, my mom sobbing. common occurrence from my house hold.

“mom” i say my voice cracking up as i walk down stairs. “y/n go the fuck upstairs now.” my dad screams standing over my mom as shes sitting on the floor with both hands on her cheek as if she was just punched and her throat red. i knew my parents argued all the time but i never saw them get violent.

“i will do it.” holding my phone up i type in 911.

“sweetie you know i would never be violent, your mom just needs to be talked to like a baby since she has double left brain cells.” he switches up his tone.

“now i wont repeat myself, go to your fucking room.” he growls.

tears pool in to my eyes as i turn around.

my vision gets clouded with tears as i make my way to my room. immediately breaking down once i get to my room. feeling scared in your own house is one thing but feeling unsafe is another. i cant trust either of my parents to keep me safe anymore.

turn on my phone i call the one person who i can trust with my life, chris.

ring ri-

“hey kid whats up.” he answers. i dont say anything as i am hyperventilating, crying and shakily breathing trying to calm myself down. “y/n?” i hear him say, “chris” is all i can reply and i am sobbing on the other line of the phone. “where are you?” chris asks in a concerned tone, “i- im home.”.

“whats wrong why are you calling?” he questions. “i cant- i cant be here.”.

“im on my way kid, give me a second here ok?”

“mhm” i reply.

he hangs up and i slowly take deep breaths. im not one to cry often but after school the other day ive been crying for 2 weeks straight it feels like. i dont know if chris would mind but i start frantically packing a bag with clothes and things i need for tomorrow morning. i cant be here in this house with them.

i knew in the back of my mind i shouldn’t leave my mom alone but i just couldn’t bear to hear any more crashes or slams now that i know things have gotten physical.

i sit on the floor in front of my door still sobbing as i just started and me and chris’ texts waiting for-

wednesday 12:57am

chris: here

waiting for that.

i open my window not caring to be quiet as i slip through it. sliding it shut and carefully climbing down the stairs of the treehouse my father built for me when i was a baby. probably the only thing ill ever be grateful for from him.

i wipe my eye and nose trying to compose myself while walking up to chris’ truck. opening the back door first and throwing my bag in to the back seat and then making my way to the passenger side. climbing up to the seat and buckling myself in. a few tears still streaming from my face.

“y/n what happened.” chris asks in a quiet tone. the question making everything flood back in to my head and i breakdown again. i bring my hands up to my face and cry into my hands. “it cant be that bad kid whats wrong.” he says with concern. “its worse.” i reply. “can we p- please go to your house. i- i cant be hear any longer.” i ask through choked sobs. “of course.” he puts the truck in drive.

the drive is quiet, the sound of my crying and heavy breathing being the only sound coming through the vehicle.

we get to his house and he immediately gets out and goes to grab my bag from the bag and then opening my door. i sniffle and smile at him thankfully.

once i enter his house its fully of joy. warm lighting and happiness filling the walls. i stand in the door way shivering as im in a big shirt and sleep shorts with sneakers on in the middle of winter. chris comes in after me with my bag over his shoulder and closing the door behind him and locking it. “cold?” he smiles and i nod rubbing my arms.

i look around his house for a minute, “cmon” he nods towards the stairs and we start walking up them to his room. we get to his room door. he walks over to his bed turning on the white led strip lights he has and walks back to the door. “hey go sit down kid ill be right back.” i nod in response and walk over to his bed. “hey y/n is gonna sleep here tonight.” i hear chris say, his voice is muffled slightly and i hear matt and nick ask “why?”.

“i dont know she just called me crying and she wont speak, i think something happened at her house.” he replies and walks back in.

going to his closet he grabs a hoodie and tosses it to me, “thank you.” i sniffle and smile putting the hoodie on immediately feeling warmer. he walks over to his bed crounching down in front of me.

“talk to me kid, what happened?” he asks softly, “was it your parents?” he adds. i close my eyes as streams of tears flow from them. my not answering was an answer for chris. he bows his head down shaking it and letting out a breath. “how bad was it?” he looks up at me.

“bad enough for my mom to be crying on the floor with a bloody nose and a bruised neck.” i reply and wipe nose. chris’ face fills with concern as i cry into my hands.

he takes my hands and removes them from my face starring at me with my runny nose and red eyes. i move to stand up and he does the same, “chris im sorry i shouldnt even be telling you th-“ i am paused with his arms coming around my head in to a hug. i melt into his touch burying my face into his chest and hooking my arms under his. i hold on to him for dear life and sob.

“im sorry.” i keep repeating as he hugs me. “stop it. none of what happened is your fault ok? your dad is a piece of shit stop apologizing.” he comforts as he gently rubs my back. the world goes quiet as i hold on to him, everything seemed to do that when i was with chris. i pull away still holding on to his arm “chris you have no idea how grateful i am for you.” i smile fiddling with his fingers. he smiles and kisses me, “shit sorry. bad timing, im awful.” he blurts as he immediately pulls away putting his hand up to his forehead. i wipe my nose again, “its ok. never apologize for that.”

our friendship as of now felt different. we are best friends that are fake dating but occasionally kiss when no ones around. i want to ask him what this means but im afraid it will ruin what we have. so i stay quiet as he leans into me again. i go on my tip toes and grab either side of his face into a long sweet kiss. pulling apart we both sit down on his bed and get under the sheets inches apart.

both of us laying face up but chris is on his phone.

thinking about my night i wonder what i would do without chris. having him as my best friend was the biggest blessing i could have asked for. even though i was enduring the roughest two weeks of my life chris always managed to to make my rocky world a still calm path.

as i think about him i instinctually move closer to him wrapping both of my arms around him. “whats this for?” he asks looking down and me and raising him arm for me to come in, as i can hear him smiling in his voice.

“i just am in l-, i just love you so much you are the only thing that helps me constantly.” i correct myself. he chuckles and shuts his phone off grabbing his tv remote. turning on a show on a low volume and shutting off his leds.

with his free hand he slips it under his hoodie thats on me and lightly starts scratching my back. i hum at the feeling closing my eyes. “that feel good?” he says in a quiet voice. “mhm” reply lightly nodding my head thats buried in his shoulder now. the low hum of of the show playing, my comfortable position cuddling with chris, plus my exhaustion and his hand scratching me made my tired eyes even more intense.

i fall asleep happier than i was an hour ago and its all thanks to chris.

chris pov

the feeling of her breathing against my side is more calming than anything i could describe. her fragile body is fast asleep on me with her leg over mine and her arms around my neck as i continue to lightly draw shapes on her back.

i cant believe what she endured tonight let alone it being a normal occurrence for her parents to argue. she told me about them fighting before and she always said it got intense but i have never seen her this emotional. i feel happy knowing that she can trust me in such a vulnerable state.

she hums in her sleep nuzzing her head impossibly closer to me and i just admire her as she does so. i just wish our current situation could be more than it is but bringing that up would change everything and commitment to another person is like holding a new born. you have someones full trust and life in your hands never knowing if their going to fall out.

ill take what i can get as we are closer than we have ever been tonight. watching her sleep is the most beautiful thing ive ever come across.

her dark hair lays out on her back as i can smell her vanilla scented shampoo that she told me was way to expensive for what she would normally pay. my hoodie that fit her in the most adorable oversized way. her sleep shorts that are peeking out from the covers that slightly show her skin. and her cold finger tips against my neck, the feeling of them almost lulling me to sleep.

i continue to scratch her back even though she is already asleep and kiss the top of her head which i wouldn’t have the courage to do if she was awake.

“im so in love with you kid, i just have fear of making that real. it would ruin everything. i just wish you were awake for me to tell you, but it would be selfish to take you as mine you have so much love to give.” i mumble whispered against her head just seconds before i fell asleep

-

thanks for reading xx

taglist: @sleepysturnss @blahbel668 @alorsxsturn @w4nnabeurs @junnniiieee07 @waydasims @matthewloverr @bitchydragonparadise @matthewsturnioloswifey @iloveneilperry @stunza @realuvrrr @jennss23 @tubl-mc @lilsstvrn

a/n: pls send thoughts in the comments. also i know this is a heavy topic to cover so my dms are open if anyone needs to talk. love you all🩷🩷

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lv - uncle yuyu

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

For some reason, Yeonjun felt compelled to sort trash out that day. He had been staring at the bags that his kitchen staff would bring out for 20 minutes straight before deciding he couldn't stand the damn thing any longer.

It wasn't like the task was fun or it had benefits. Heck, he had to recycle and risk meeting a recycling nut who would attack him for not crushing his cans first. So his plan was to just get the bags there, throw it out and return ASAP.

But one thing caught his eye when he turned around to walk back to his cafe. He noticed a very familiar boy looking around the park with furrowed eyebrows and he noticed people looking at him, probably as confused as the little boy was, maybe even concerned because it didn't seem like he was there with someone and that was concerning.

"Hey, bud," Yeonjun called out after jogging towards Kijoong who turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. Though it seemed like Kijoong recognized him, he didn't make a move to approach Yeonjun. Heck, he took a couple of steps back and made it seem like he was ready to run away. "It's me, uncle Yeonjun! I know your nanny (y/n) and your uncle Woowoo!" He said, desperately hoping the boy won't run because if he ran and he chased him down, that could seem like a humongous problem.

Thankfully Kijoong nodded, "You're the uncle from the cafe," he stated though seemingly shying away from Yeonjun's kind gaze slightly. Yeonjun was glad to hear that Kijoong remembered him but there more pressing matters he needed to prioritize. "That's right! So... What are you doing here alone? Is your daddy nearby?" Kijoong immediately shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, "No, I want (y/n) and daddy don't know where (y/n) is," he said, obviously hating the fact that his dad didn't seem like he was going to round up a search party to look for you. Though Yeonjun couldn't help but notice that Kijoong was so keen on looking for you, he knew he had to get the boy back to his dad. "So, your dad's not around here, huh?" Kijoong shook his head at Yeonjun's question, "So where is he?" "Daddy's cutting people with his friends," and boy did Kijoong said that with much confidence because some people heard and couldn't help but stop in their tracks and stare at the innocent toddler and a panicked adult who immediately look around and waved his hands frantically, "It's not what it sounds like, folks. His dad is a neurosurgeon, a very good one at that."

It wouldn't take a genius to realze that the kid had ran away from wherever he was supposed to be and whoever he was with, but knowing that it would be hard to ask Kijoong about where he was and who he was with, Yeonjun decided to just cut the middle man and call up his friend.

"What's up cutie pie?" Wooyoung snickered, not looking into the camera though Yeonjun had face-timed him. "Yeah I kind of have a problem and you're the only one who could help me," Yeonjun said, shifting his eyes between his phone and Kijoong who was looking around as if disinterested or worse, trying to find a means to escape. Yeonjun's words made Wooyoung roll his eyes, "For the last time, I am not dressing up like a cupcake and handing out flyers. You're roommates with Jongho, ask him," he scoffed which made Yeonjun groan, "No, dude, look." It took Wooyoung longer than he'd care to admit to realize that he wasn't hallucinating when Yeonjun moved the camera to Kijoong who upon seeing Wooyoung, beamed up and waved. "HI WOOWOO," he yelled into the mic but Wooyoung was unbudging, still confused, "Hey bud, what- why are you with my friend Yeonjun?" and Kijoong shrugged his tiny shoulders, "Uncle followed me," and Yeonjun immediately turned the camera back on him, "That is not true, I found him at the park!" "The park? Why is he there? He was supposed to be in daycare," Wooyoung asked but it was apparent that he was doing something else frantically, "He was looking for (y/n)." That seemed to cause both men to stop momentarily and stare at each other knowingly.

With a sigh, Wooyoung mustered up a smile, "Kijoong, buddy," Kijoong, who heard his name being called, popped his head into the frame and tilted his head to the side, "I need you to go with Uncle Yeonjun here back to the hospital, okay?" Kijoong momentarily glanced up at Yeonjun before he furrowed his eyebrows, "But... (y/n) said I can't go with anyone I don't know," he said, looking at Yeonjun suspiciously. "But you do know him! You know I know him and he's going to take you back to the hospital!" Wooyoung tried to reason but Kijoong only stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows. "Tell you what," Yeonjun spoke up finally, "How about you keep calling Uncle Wooyoung on our way to the hospital, huh? That way Uncle Wooyoung can see that I'm really bringing you to the hospital, how about that?" he reasoned. Kijoong seemed to be satisfied with the idea by nodding and opening his arms up so Yeonjun could carry him.

During the whole way to the car parked near the cafe and the hospital, Yeonjun took notice of how Kijoong seemed to be calmer though he kept talking about you along the way. What made Yeonjun sigh heavily was when Kijoong told Wooyoung to tell you that he was being so good and that he listened to you to not follow strangers so you could come back home. He actually said home and while it could easily be about the apartment he and his dad lived in, he had a feeling that Kijoong was talking about the place you belong in. Even when Wooyoung told him that he and his dad would be waiting by the lobby he asked about you, seemingly hopeful that you would be there for him.

When Yeonjun took Kijoong out of the backseat's seatbelt, he took notice of how Kijoong simply waited by his side as he made sure his car was locked before offering Yeonjun his phone before lifting his hand. "(y/n) said hold," he stated though innocently, his eyes was showing determination. Yeonjun barely knew the boy but he could tell how much he had grown to get used to and close to you so much so that he was dependent. For some reason the knowledge made him feel bad that you had been absent from his life.

Even before reaching the lobby, Yeonjun could see the neurosurgeon pacing back and forth worriedly with Wooyoung next to him with his arms crossed and disgust on his face, talking about something so serous that it caused Hongjoong to stop in his tracks and put his hands on his hips, replying Wooyoung something that was probably ridiculous to Wooyoung as seen from the way he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Daddy!"

The very second the automatic door opened, Kijoong let go of Yeonjun's hand and ran to his dad, grabbing the man's white jacket as if to crawl up. Hongjoong crouched down and scooped his son into his arms and burying his face in his hair. Hongjoong visibly let out a shaky sigh and you could almost see the stress leaving his shoulders.

"Where have you been? Why did you run out of daycare?" Hongjoong asked, momentarily letting go of his relief to scold his son. Before Kijoong could answer, Wooyoung stepped up and answered for the little boy, "Because he missed (y/n) you dumb fuck. Remember her? The strong as hell woman you manage to mess with YET AGAIN with whatever you said?" At the mention of messing with you, Hongjoong visibly shifted, seemingly uncomfortable that he was being called out like that. "What the hell did you say to her?" Wooyoung pressed, taking a step forward when Hongjoong lifted Kijoong into his arms, "What the hell happened that she couldn't seem to talk about it?" Hongjoong sighed and shook his head, "It's honestly not my business that she doesn't want to talk to you, but honestly, her running away and abandoning her responsibilities because I made a mistake is not on me." Had it not for the fact that his son was right there (and that it could jeopardize his employment), Wooyoung would have definitely punched Hongjoong in his face. "She ran away because of whatever it is you said or did, I can definitely be sure of that," Wooyoung scoffed but Hongjoong was not backing down, "You kept saying that she's an adult, she's a grown-up, she's a woman or whatever, so should a grown-up just hide when a mistake was made? I was and still am willing to talk about what I did wrong because I did, I can admit that, but frankly, I don't know how effective that conversation is now that she selfishly closed the door to have a conversation from her side and blocked other means of conversation. I get her need to preserve herself, to shield her from potential pain, and to tend to her wounded feelings first, I do, but she can't call me names when she herself is in hiding and is refusing to talk without even notifying anyone in her life. So before you bite my head for being stupid and God knows I was, do your friend a favour and help her back," he said before turning around and carrying Kijoong back to the daycare after bowing to Yeonjun and thanking him before excusing himself.

Hongjoong could feel Wooyoung and Yeonjun staring at him but he couldn't care less. 1. Wooyoung is stubbornly statued on his convictions so if he were to fight him off on it, he'd just be wasting his breath, 2. He didn't know Yeonjun and he knew Yeonjun is your friend so he would most likely side with you and try to defend you in front of him, 3. Kijoong had been returned and he would much rather focus on his son than strangers. But with each step he took, he couldn't help but let his mind go back to that day you left, that day he sat under his home office desk and let the fact that he had hurt you badly sink in slowly, drowning him in guilt and feeling of stupidity. Then his mind connected the memories and feelings to the ones he experienced years before, the day his ex abandoned him with their 3-month-old. And once again, he blamed himself for being abandoned by someone he had leant on, someone he trust, someone who was hurt because of him.

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