#Him calling her his girl is just too cute

[fungateshortcakes]

The Best There Is (according to Laura)

I had two old man Logan x reader fics in my drafts but decided to connect them because it made more sense to me. This old man being domestic just does it for me Ughh

Pairing: oldman!Logan x fem!reader

Summary: Parenting comes with challenges Logan never thought he would have to face in his old age; like school drop offs, nosy teachers and career day disasters

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, age-gap, established relationship, Logan 2017 ending never happened, domestic fluff, violence mentioned, Prisoners 2013 reference, it's just cute old man dad Logan please let me have this, !!!not proofread!!!

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Laura hated school. She had never gone to school before and she was fine, but after Logan and you had taken her under your wing, you put her in a school for her 'education'.

The only thing she needed to be educated in was survival. She hated sitting in a chair for hours, trying to keep still so she wouldn't get scolded. She hated the dumb questions teachers asked, their dumb faces while they got frustrated that the class didn't understand. And She hated math.

But most of all?

She hated that Logan had to pick her up every damn day. Not because of Logan himself or because she wanted to prove that she could walk home on her own, but because every time Logan stepped foot into the classroom to get her-

that one teacher wouldn’t leave him alone.

Her name was Miss Dover. She was pretty, blonde, and always smiling way too much when Logan arrived. She touched his arm, she laughed at things he didn’t mean to be funny.

And Laura?

Laura wanted to throw her backpack at her face. Or get her claws out, but Logan didn’t allow her

Logan already regretted agreeing to pick Laura up every day after the first time he had done so. Of course not because of Laura, but because of Miss Dover. Today was no different. The second he stepped onto the school grounds, surrounded by students who reminded him of the old times in the mansion, there she was.

“Mr. Howlett!” she called out to him in a too friendly manner, flipping her hair over her shoulder to show off. “Right on time, as always.” she smiled and to Logan, it looked like it hurt. He sighed. Here we go.

He only grunted in response, crossing his arms. Don’t engage. Keep it short. Get out.

Miss Dover, of course, ignored all of that. And she was in no way repelled because of Logans clear lack of interest in her. “You know” she started, biting her lip as she looked up at him, “I think it’s so sweet that you take the time to pick Laura up every day. A lot of dads just send a babysitter. I find that very admirable and...amazing”

Logan barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “Well, she’s my kid.” he deadpanned. He was supposed to pick her up from school, so he did. It was the bare minimum, no need to make a fuss over something that was so self-evident.

Miss Dover beamed at him even after his discouraging answer. “That’s wonderful! A family man.” Logans eye twitched at that. He needed to get Laura and leave. Now.

Laura watched them from the steps of the school entrance, arms crossed over her chest, her pink glasses sitting on top of her head. She glanced at you, who stood beside her, smirking. Logan had begged you to come when he picked up Laura so he could prove to you how persistent and stubborn that one teacher was when it came to flirting with him.

“Should we save him?” you asked the girl beside you. For the record, you weren't jealous. Why would you be? You knew Logan loved you and didn't have eyes for anyone else, if anything, you were pretty amused by his misery. Laura shrugged at your question. “He deserves it.” you snorted a laugh, she had a point “Yeah, but we need him in one piece."

With a sigh, Laura slung her backpack over her shoulder, slipped down her sunglasses so they covered her eyes and marched towards Logan. Miss Dover was still going on about something, being awfully handsy while Logan was so obviously uncomfortable, when Laura reached them. She grabbed Logans sleeve, pulling at it. “Can we go now?” she asked Logan, paying no mind to her teacher. Miss Dovers eyes softened and she let out a coo “Aww. Looks like someone is eager to get home with Daddy” upon her words, Laura stared at her with an unreadable expression. Then, very clearly, very loudly, she said:

“He is married”

Miss Dover blinked. Logan groaned but was silently relieved. It wasn’t the way he thought Miss Dover would find out, but in the end he was glad. Laura pointed directly at you as you approached from the steps. “To her”

Miss Dovers smile dropped as she followed to where Laura pointed. You, meanwhile, finally stepped closer, grinning. “Hi” you greeted cheerfully with a wave, slipping your arm around Logans “I’m his wife” you confirmed with a nod. And judging by Miss Dovers expression, you knew she thought you didn't fit into the family, that you didn't even look like Lauras mom, that you looked way too young and you were overall not a good match in her opinion. You could tell she was about to gossip over this in the teachers lounge. But you couldn’t care less.

Logan exhaled in relief as he felt you settling beside him. Miss Dover turned red. Out of embarrassment or anger, you couldn't tell. Probably the latter. “Oh, I...I had no idea-" she stammered, averting eyecontact and taking a step back, her hand playing with the fabric of her skirt.

“Yeah” Laura said flatly. “Can we go now?”

Logan didn’t wait to answer her. He turned on his heel and walked away, practically dragging you and Laura with him. The three of you walked to his truck in silence. Logan ran a hand down his face as he threw Lauras backpack into the car. “Finally" he grunted as he sat down behind the steering wheel.

You laughed at him “She really doesn’t get the hint, huh?” you noted. Logan twisted the key, rubbing his temples while he drove out of the parking lot. “I swear, next time-”

“Next time” Laura interrupted from behind “you are sending her to pick me up”

Logan frowned, looking through the rear-view mirror at her “Why?”

Laura buckled her seatbelt “Because then she will know you are taken for real. She probably thinks this was a joke or something"

You laughed at that, leaning against Logan. “She’s right, you know. That woman looked like she wasn’t believing her ears when I said I was your wife. You said she was being persistent, I don’t think she will take this seriously” you chuckled, giving his rugged cheek a kiss. Logan sighed defeated "Yeah, yeah” he answered, putting a hand on your thigh while rounding a corner. “Maybe next time, you pick her up”

You grinned, laying your hand over his. He was a little tense. You knew why. He didn't know if you were jealous, maybe you were a little mad but didn't show it. "I'm not jealous, if you think that. Not at all"

Logan raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at you - really looked at you. At the way you fit so perfectly against him. At the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, teasing him. At the way your hand rested over his, like it belonged there. And when he turned his hand to grasp yours tightly, he was holding his heart in his palm. Yeah. You weren't jealous. Because he was yours. And you were his. And nothing was ever going to change that.

Not even when Laura stood in front of Logan a week later, her arms crossed, staring him down despite him clearly towering over her.

“You have to come”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. They had been at this back and forth game for like 10 minutes now “Why?” he grumbled. “Because it’s career day” Laura answered flatly.

He gave her a look that said he cursed the way she was just as stubborn as him “Yeah? So?” he muttered lowly and shrugged. Laura huffed and rolled her eyes. “So” she said, already looking exhausted over the argument “everyone has to bring a parent to talk about their job”

Laura really wanted him to come. Mostly because she was always the black sheep in her class when it came to telling stories, showing emotions and just simply existing. She was different than the other kids, and after what happened to her, she had every right to be. The others picked on her more often than not and while she wanted to let her claws speak for her, Logan had strictly forbidden it. So all she could do was listen to them. It was draining. She just wanted to be normal for once.

Logan knew that, yet he scowled, picking up a can of beer from the fridge "Tell ‘em I’m dead.” he said between chugging down the bitter liquid.

You were sitting on the couch and as you heard their conversation, you couldn't help but snort.

Laura didn’t blink, unfazed “You have to come.”

Logan glared down at her, hating just how much she was like him. He was about to tell her to fuck off and go to her room, but he sighed “Kid, no one wants to hear me talk about drivin' a damn limo.”

Laura shrugged at that, turning on her heel. “Too bad.” she said. And just like that, Logan lost the argument.

And thats how Logan found himself sitting at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, scowl in full force. You stood at the back with a few other parents, your eyes fixated on him. It was fun, seeing him so annoyed. But it also warmed your heart- he sat next to Laura, sitting way taller than she was, his long legs barely fitting under the table. The two were bickering, poking each other back and forth before Laura leaned her head against his shoulder, his arm around her securely. He was it for you. Yes, you were married, but you'd marry him again in a heartbeat.

There were parents that had already gone before him. Firefighters, doctors, a lawyer. A police man sat down in his seat again after his presentation. And now it was Logans turn.

Great.

With a grunt, he stood up, slightly limping over to the blackboard. He could already feel the judgy stares of the other parents. Laura gave him a small thumbs up, and so did you.

Miss Dover, the teacher yes, that one, smiled at Logan “Alright, Mr. Howlett, why don’t you tell us what you do for a living?” she cheered.

Logan exhaled slowly.

"…I drive a limo.”

Silence.

Some of the kids blinked. A couple of parents exchanged unimpressed glances. Then one kid raised his hand. “Like… for famous people?” the young boy asked, looking a bit intimidated by Logans frown.

“Sometimes.” Logan grunted as an answer. Another kid raised her hand, bolder and more confident than her classmahe “What’s the coolest person you ever drove?”

Logan grimaced at her question, but what was he supposed to do? “A drunk guy who puked in my backseat” he replied, looking at his feet while silence spread through the room again. Miss Dover cleared her throat, the tension in the air was awkward “Oh! well, uhm..does your job have any…exciting parts?” she stuttered out, the eyes of the other parents resting on her as if to ask: why the hell did you allow him to come?

Logan stared at her, the question heavy in the room. Did she really want him to tell a bunch of ten year olds about the times he got into fistfights and gun battles with passengers?

“…Not really” he muttered.

From the back, you smiled. You knew exactly what was happening. Logan wasn’t embarrassed about his job, nor did he care about what these people thought. But he cared about Laura. And right now? He felt bad that her dad was a limo driver while other kids got to brag about firefighters and surgeons and stuff.

Your chest ached.

Because he didn’t get it. Laura didn’t care about any of that, she just wanted her dad.

Miss Dover clapped her hands, her cheeks red in slight embarrassement. “Well, let’s open the floor for more questions!” she welcomed the classroom.

Big mistake.

A mom from the third row, blonde, red lipstick, way too interested, raised her hand “So, Mr. Howlett” she started, smiling too much, “do you work long hours?” she nearly purred. Logan tensed a little, rubbing his beard “…I guess.”

Another mom, brunette, twirling her curls around her fingers in a flirty manner, leaned forward. “Must be tough coming home late all the time. Bet it gets lonely.”

You bit your lip, amused, but also a little sorry for the kids that had to witness their moms shamelessly thirst over another kids dad. Laura rolled her eyes and Logan scowled “I’m not lonely.”

The blonde mom giggled, biting her bottom lip “Yeah, I bet with me you wouldn't be” she purred. Jesus, what as up with these women??

Logans jaw clenched in annoyance. He didn't understand how these women could just full on flirt with him while their children were there. Besides that, he, Laura and you had arrived later than everyone else and he had kissed you before sitting down, surely they noticed that? Apparently not, not even the obvious ring on his finger seemed to catch their attention.

You, meanwhile, just waited. Because any second now-

“He’s married.” Laura deadpanned, her arms crossed, saving him yet again.

The brunette mom blinked “Oh” she mumbed, her face burning red. The blonde mom hesitated. "really..?”

Logan, already done with everything, just pointed at you in the back of the room. Every head turned and in any other situation, this would have you highly uncomfortable. But you just grinned. “Hi Ladies” you greeted them. You walked forward to the blackboard, smiling at the way their jealous stares bore into the back of your head. You could tell the women were fuming over the fact that you bagged such a handsome man, but Logan knew only you could truly appreciate him. "We should try and advertise our marriage" you giggled.

Logan grumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively. You smirked up at him, fixing his loose tie “Maybe you should start to wear a sign.” you teased him even more. He rolled his eyes at you “Shut up" he mumbled, but his grip on you tightened. Because you were his. And he wanted to show that.

You didn't even wait for the other parents to have their turn at presenting their jobs. You just took Laura and went out of there, walking back to Logans truck. “That was hell.” he sighed, letting himself fall behind the wheel with a grunt.

You laughed as you closed your door from the passenger seat, slipping your hand into his “You survived"

“Barely.”

Laura climbed into the truck behind you two, buckling her seatbelt “Next time, I’m bringing her” she said, pointing at you. Logan frowned at that, the engine purring to life “What, so she can brag about…what? Painting? Making fun of me?” he grinned smugly, making you want to wipe that smirk off his face.

You returned the grin “I could have given them a whole presentation on how sexy my husband is.” you hummed, leaning in close to his face, your noses touching. Logan chuckled, the sound rich in his chest "Oh, yeah?” he muttered gravelly, leaning in to give you a deep, wet, noisy kiss.

Laura made a gagging noise.

You pulled back with a laugh and Logan turned towards the road as he started driving, a satisfied smile on his lips. You glanced at Laura in the backseat. “So?” you asked. “Were you embarrassed?

She blinked at your question, her brows furrowed, making her look so much like Logan “What?”

You gestured toward Logan next to you, then looked back at her “That your dad is a limo driver.” you stated simply, matter of factly. Lauras frown deepened, like the question itself was stupid. “No.” she said flatly.

Logan glanced at her through the rear view mirror, his brow cocked. "That right?” he asked her, feeling a soft smile creeping onto his lips. She shrugged, looking out the window. “You pick me up every day. You don’t talk too much. You don’t smell weird. You’re fine.”

Your heart swelled and you aww'ed at the two. "Great review, kid.” Logan huffed, but you knew he was feeling proud inside. Laura pulled a juice box from her bag and for a moment, the car was silent.

“Better than the other dads.”

Logan swore his heart just did a giddy flip “Yeah?” he asked, as if he had just heard her wrong. Your expression was soft as you looked at him, your hands curling around his.

Laura nodded wordlessly. And just like that, Logan realized it didn’t matter what he did for work, what he had done in the past. It didn’t define him entirely. Because Laura?

Laura was just happy he was her dad.

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idk how these career days work, I am not american and never had one, I don’t even know if they are that popular im sorry😭

I still have a few unfinished requests in store, i am so sorry everything is taking so long. But, next post will be a very long smut, so be ready😌

[my85volvo]

I know this prompt is supposed to be cute and sweet, but I'm in some sort of mood so 🤷🏽‍♀️

Thanks @dereles for the writing inspo 🤗

Derek waited behind the tree line, watching the Beacon Hills Lacrosse team jog across the field. He took a deep breath, knowing that Stiles would be walking out, showered and smiling, in just under 17 minutes. He checked his watch and strained his ears to listen for the boy's heartbeat, still fast from the cardio of practice. He could make out the distinct cadence of his cleats against the cement of the locker room before they clattered to the ground when he began undressing. Derek shook his head and turned away, feeling a tingle of shame at his intrusive eavesdropping.

Sill, he couldn't help but perk up every time he heard Syiles'voice ring out, loud and clear against the backdrop of post-practice chatter. He talked about Lydia, and his new strategy to win her over, in quiet whispers to Scott in order to avoid Jackson's ire. Derek reminded himself that the boy was not his, couldn't be his--not yet, at least. As much as he tried to be worthy, his words always seemed to come out as angry, demanding, and full of spite. He worried every day that if Lydia realized how amazingly loyal, smart, and kind the boy was, she would steal him away. Thank god she cared so much about surface level appeal.

The minutes ticked by as Derek waited for Stiles to leave. He was desperate to see the wide smile that his well-placed gift would bring. Stiles always spared a glance at the free book bin near the school entrance whenever he passed, and Derek had left a small paperback he knew Stiles wouldn't be able to resist. 101 Dog Jokes. When Derek saw it on the discount rack at the drugstore, he immediately thought of Stiles. Flipping through the pages, the jokes were quite possibly the worst he had ever seen. But the sound of Stiles cackling with laughter at Derek's deadpan reception was too tempting to pass up.

Fifteen minutes had already passed, and Derek was getting more eager by the second. That's when he heard it--Stiles' heartbeat kick up a notch. It was Jackson, spouting something or other about staying away from Lydia. Derek heard the scuffle clear as day. The bang of bodies hitting old lockers, the slap of knuckles meeting a fleshy cheek, the rustle of equipment falling to the ground.

Derek felt his eyes shift blue and his claws extend into the bark of the tree he was gripping. He wanted to rush in and protect Stiles, put the fear of god into Jackson, and save the day. But also knew that it wasn't his place. This was something Stiles would have to work out for himself, as much as it pained the wolf to see him get hurt. The boy may not be strong enough to win a fistfight, but Derek knew he was strong enough to keep his chin up afterwards.

When the fight finally died down, Derek heard a few sniffles before the sound of Stiles' heartbeat returned to normal. The wolf tracked his movement out of the locker room, through the maze of halls in the school, and out the front entrance. He walked slower than usual, favoring his right leg ever so slightly. When he emerged through the large double doors, Derek saw that his left eye was in the early stages of bruising, and his face was set in a quiet frown. Scott was nowhere to be seen, since he probably ditched his so-called friend to spend time with the Argent girl. Derek's loyalty to Stiles was the only thing keeping him from tearing Scott a new one. If he can stay on good terms with Scott, then he can stay close to Stiles. Nothing else really mattered.

Finally, Stiles walked past the book bin. He cast a fleeting glance to the pile, but didn't seem interested in stopping to look. Derek deflated. But then Stiles stopped a few steps away, brow furrowed. He turned to give the book bin another look, as if he saw something interesting and his brain had taken a few extra seconds to process it.

When he immediately picked up the book of dog jokes, Derek's heart soared. Stiles' face softened, and a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth in amusement. He thumbed through the book as he continued walking to his jeep, nearly falling after running into the guard rail on the stairs down. Derek finally felt his shoulders relax as he sighed in relief. He looked forward to being the victim of whatever horrible joke Stiles would surprise him with.

Later that night, Derek checked his phone and saw that he had a few new texts from Stiles.

Stiles: what do you call a wolf that meditates?

Stiles: aware wolf

Stiles: ha!

Derek couldn't hide the grin that took over his face.

Not enough fics where giving gifts is Derek’s love language. that man is emotionally constipated as hell and also part animal you know once he realized he was falling for stiles he’d be thinking of him every time he sees Star Wars merch at the mall or a jacket that would sit perfectly on his lanky frame. That book of dog jokes Stiles cackles over every time he reads a joke out to Scott or Derek? Definitely not strategically placed at the top of a ‘free books’ box outside the school just before lacrosse practice let out. Definitely not.

[hotties4gojo]

what pet names do you think that the jjk characters would use for their lovers 🥺🥺

uve unlocked a very specific demon in me with this cos the idea of them using pet names makes me feral i fear

ask and you shall receive 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo

satoru gojo:

• it’s a laundry list dawg

• the normal ones: sweets, sugar, angel, baby, pretty

• he doesn’t even call you by your name anymore. there’s always soooome sort of pet name he drops instead of your actual name. he overuses pretty, sugar, and sweets the most. cos he’s gotta let you know at every second that you’re pretty. PRETTY. pretty pretty pretty. sometimes attached ‘girl’ or ‘boy’ after pretty, ex: pretty girl pretty boy. sugar and sweets are cos you’re sweet like candyyyyy which makes you groan

• he uses baby regularly but he’s sure to use it when you’re annoyed with him cos he sings baby by justin bieber. satoru drops to his knees like ‘BABY BABY BABY OOOOOH LIKE BABY BABY BABY NOOOOO LIKE BABY BABY BABY OOOOOH THOUGHT YOU’D ALWAYS BE MINEEEE MINEEEEEE 😫’. you have to stop him when he gets to the ludacris verse

• the unserious ones: all of these are used to mess with you or embarrass you in front of others. pookie, pookie biscuit, snugglemuffin, babycakes, boo boo bear, sugar lips, toots, kitten, honey bunches of oats

suguru geto:

• 30% of the time he calls you by your name but the other 70% is a surprisingly long list of pet names

• angel, doll, beautiful, gorgeous, sweetheart, darling, pretty or pretty baby, sometimes babydoll

• ik a lot of people say he’d use ‘my love’ or ‘love’ but idkkkk i’m not feeling it for him 😣 even though he Is a romantic…

• angel doll and sweetheart are the main ones that he uses imo. he likes to put ‘my’ in front of angel with his possessive ass

• for fem!reader he uses princess, (‘my’) pretty girl, (‘my’) sweet girl… giggle giggle

toji fushiguro:

• eaaaaasy. cutie, sugar, babes, doll for sure 😁🙂‍↕️

• cutie is used teasingly for the most part imo

• for fem!reader he uses princess too but also ma/mama. which i get Conflicted about sometimes but also im like… hehehehehe……… yeah he’d say that shit and I’d kick my feet a bit idk!

choso kamo:

• very romantic and cliché, almost corny pet names 😭😭

• lovely, my love, darling, bunny, sunshine, treasure are the ones he uses methinks. mainly lovely and darling

• again im kinda conflicted about my love… maybe i just don’t like that endearment now that i think about it???&42$ but anyways 40% of me thinks that he’d use ‘my love’ and the other 60% is like 🙅🏽‍♀️ naw

• he usually puts ‘my’ in front of treasure

shoko ieiri:

• ughhhtnwygbykdhwbrd now im rlly kicking my feet… writing about her in my nonexistent diary

• angel, princess (IM BUSTINGGGGG okay sorry), beautiful, pretty, cutie, babe

• princess and angel are her #1’s 👆🏽 trust me

• just like toji, she uses cutie in a teasing way!! especially when you do something that she finds amusing/cute

• she refers to you as ‘the wife’ around others in a bit of a joking way. shoko’ll be like ‘gotta go, the wife’s at home and she’ll kill me if i’m not back at 6’ and ‘the wife wants me to go to the store’

yuki tsukumo:

• starts yowling like a cat in heat

• sorry

• princess 😣😣😣, bunny, pretty girl, sweet girl, angel, cutie, wifey, baby

• it’s rare that she calls you by your name. it’s typically princess, bunny, wifey, and pretty girl with the others sprinkled in occasionally

• just like shoko she also does the ‘the wife’ thing around others when she’s referring to you :3 she’ll do it to your face too. like ‘whatever the wife wants, the wife gets 🙂‍↕️’

[stealvrth]

𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ; lifeguard!j. jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader

summary : jungkook loves calling you his dumb lil baby, always so pretty and perfect for him. he loves how you willingly let him take you anywhere, anytime. but he especially loves when you go dumb on his dick.

warnings : nsfw, mean dom!jk, edging, overstim, thigh riding, p in v, unprotected sex, semi – public sex, degradation, dacryphilia.

wc : 1.1k

days like today were jungkook's favourite. days when you'd come and visit him at work in those cute little swimsuits, and bat your lashes innocently at him and ask "how's work koo? wanted to come 'nd visit you."

when the two of you would sit by the pool and talk about your day — you absolutely refusing to swim, since it would ruin your mascara, and you came to see him anyway.

other girls would give you looks, dirty looks, but they'd fly over your head and you'd simply smile and wave at them. he loved hearing you talk, eyes focused on your glossy lips.

you'd happily talk about anything and everything, and jungkook would happily listen. sometimes he'd try and coax you into the pool, but you'd adamantly decline.

"don't wanna swim," you'd whine, resting your head on his shoulder. "just wanna spend time with my boyfriend 'nd talk while sitting on the side of pool."

as you were now, looking at him with your doe eyes. "my makeup took to long, koo. i don't wanna ruin it after tryna look good for you. then it'd be a waste of time."

he smiles, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and messing up the gloss you'd applied so carefully to your lips. "i think you look gorgeous with ruined make up, baby." he leans in, kissing up against the shell of your ear and nipping gently at the skin. "i can even ruin it for you, if you like."

you pout, or try to, trying to push him off you. "but kooki~!" you whine, gasping quietly when he begins to suck at your neck. "you always do this.. at some point you need to start fixing it for me. not everyone is gonna think i look pretty with ruined make up."

"who gives a shit about what people think," he'd groan into your nape, biting harshly and marking you up.

and you know as well as he does that you can't say no to him. so you let him drag you to the bathrooms and pull you into an empty stall, mouths pressing together feverishly as his hands sink down to your tits.

his tits.

in a flash your bikini top — that honestly was so skimpy it wasn't there to begin with — is tossed away somewhere, and his hands are kneading your breasts, nipples between his fingers. you moan into his mouth, grinding your hot sex onto his thigh.

"so needy, thought you didn't want this," he murmurs, but he doesn't stop you from grinding. instead he smirks, quickly sitting himself on the toilet seat and positioning you on his thigh. "get yourself off, baby. wanna see how needy you are."

your hips move on their own, grinding your clothed clothed heat against his bare thigh, shorts pulled up just enough for you to rut against the exposed skin. your eyes shut in pleasure and you moan quietly, gradually humping this thigh.

jungkook huffs, hands on your waist as he forces you to quicken your pace. you cry out at the sudden surge of friction, but the boy only scoffs in response.

"how's my dumb lil bitch supposed to feel good of she's moving her hips so slow, huh?" you simply moan in response, and jungkook slips in a finger between your folds. "you're so fucking wet. thought my pretty baby didn't want this? does my lil whore want to stop?"

you sob loudly, shaking your head as you grind against his fingers and his thigh. it's all too much, but you don't want to stop. jungkook just chuckles. "words, baby. or my dumb bitch feeling to good, huh? haven't even done anything and you're all fucked out."

you whine, nodding as you call out his name. his fingers retreat, instead finding place in your mouth. "since you aren't using that mouth, let's put it good use." you suck intently, jungkook's free hand kneading your ass.

you don't know how long you've been grinding onto him for, but eventually enough is enough and you can feel your orgasm on the horizon. it's so close, and you babble as such, repeatedly moaning around jungkook's fingers.

and just as you feel it coming, it's ripped away when jungkook's grip on your waist tightens, other hand flying down as well, preventing you from moving your hips any more. fat tears roll down your face as you whine into his neck, desperately bucking your hips to try and get some friction. "k-koo, please..mwanna cum, was so close!"

he hums, thinking it over for a moment, before he's forcing your hips to start moving again. it feels as though everything's on fire, heat surging through your body as your cunt messily drools all over jungkook's bare thigh.

your face is wet with tears as you feel your high approach for a second time, moans coming out high pitched and broken. jungkook loves you like this, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss.

you're close once more, whining into his mouth as you feverishly buck your hips. it's coming, coming, and then..

it's gone again.

you're choking and hiccuping, jungkook pressing his lips to your tear stained cheeks. "poor dumb baby," he coos. "wanna cum? you'll only cum if it's in my cock, babe, so you better beg for me to fuck you."

you don't say anything for a moment, before your broken, whiny voice reaches jungkook's ears. "please? i wanna— i need to cum! wanna g–go all dumb on your— on your cock! please~!"

if you were paying attention, and your eyes weren't so blurred with tears, you'd have noticed jungkook pulling at his shorts just enough to free his aching cock. catching the skin of your neck between his teeth, he pushes your bikini bottoms to the side and slams himself into you.

he's sure everyone in seoul heard you scream his name when he did.

he's pumping steadily in and out of you, kissing away your tears as you cry on top of him, moaning his name over and over like a broken record.

you cum way before he does, a string of curses leaving your mouth as you did so. but jungkook doesn't stop, relishing in your slurred begs for him to "stop. s'too much! can't do it!"

he doesn't listen, thrusting fluidly into your fluttering hole, groaning loudly into your neck as his cock begins to twitch inside you. "gonna cum sweetheart. wanna cum inside my dumb baby's lil cunt. can i cum in you, baby?"

you nod limply, sobbing into his neck as he lets himself go inside of you, warm spurts of cum filling you up. only then, when he's fully released his load, does jungkook finally let you rest.

you're still slurring and babbling, jungkook kissing your forehead and trying to calm you down, cooing softly. "you're alright baby, you're alright. so pretty when you cry, but it's done now, okay?"

he loved making you his dumb little baby, but he'd always take care of you after as you whimpered into his chest.

[cloudgirlsonfilm]

just answering these all on my own for hitorei because im thinking about them... :] (also gonna be focusing on lili as opposed to myself but some answers might be about me val ^^)

1. rei reminds me of many! snakes, peacocks, tanukis, foxes, hawks... anything flashy or elusive. hitoya is like a bulldog to me

2. me personally i'd give hitoya a gift card to some high-end steakhouse. or a bottle of scotch. and i'd give rei a pie to the face or perhaps rocks. lili might give him something slightly better but idk what

3. i don't know if hitoya lili OR rei have hobbies 💀💀 they're all too employed for that (and rei... is rei). THOUGH i do think hitoya wanted to do magic tricks at a point? it'd be cute if he still knew some tricks and taught them to lili, and then she uses the sleight of hand on rei to make him laugh... lili and rei used to read together a lot when they first became a couple too

4. hitoya sweeps dusts vacuums washes dishes you name it. i think he's very clean, and would make sure to stay on top of it even if he's run thin from work (just more distraction from The Feelings). rei leaves a mess in his wake

5. both of them yes. bonus points for hitoya for (probably) being able to drive a motorcycle too

6. unsure... i think hitolili both use very generic ones, rei has a special ringtone for lili that he like.. recorded himself or something so its unmistaken

7. hitoya would if a situation called for it, rei would if a situation called for it but he's manufacturing the situation himself so he can logically argue with someone online and then get something out of them

8. i think hitoya would seem outwardly stressed by the idea, but actually be very accepting of it (guy who has probably sat through kuko talking about reincarnation). to me rei is the opposite, outwardly indulges the idea but secretly feels stressed or even forlorn about it

9. OH GODDD lili probably gets mixed reviews when introducing rei because everyone can tell there's something about those two that needs to stay in containment

10. receiving a hug from behind in the kitchen or laying in bed together

11. idfk. old woman yaoi

12. hitoya i think is a silvery purple, rei i associate with dark red and gold

13. hitoya introduces lili as a good friend (no one believes him, which she's amused by), rei introduces lili as a drinking buddy of sorts (not exactly wrong, but it frustrates her)

14. if they're not perceiving lili as a doggirl what's the point...

15. hitoya would take lili out to dinner, rei would take lili out for drinks

16. hitoya/rei probably don't consciously think of any pet names for lili... rei calls her 'baby' all the time, but he calls a lot of girls 'baby' LOL. just saying lili's name makes him flustered though

17. hitoya likes sitting in the same room and doing seperate things, rei likes drinking (a given) and engaging in hands-on things together (he strikes me as a type to enjoy mixing vegetables while the other chops them, or doing lego sets together [first hands-on thing i could think of 😭😭😭 but tbh he probably needs that instead of inventing crazy shit])

18. hitoya shows it best through staying by lili's side, trying to be of some comfort, providing her with a place to stay when she needs to fall back on someone. rei shows it best through indirect actions-- ordering in food without being asked to, placing elaborate gift bags on the counter for lili to find later, putting her through a busy day so she feels alive again. lili also has a very weak spot for whenever rei talks really smooth

19. hitoya likes lili's eyes and lips, rei likes her legs and her freckles (her legs happen to have a lot of distinctive moles too)

20. i love how compassionate hitoya is, even if he doesn't give himself the credit that he is!! i love his conviction and his dedication to helping others find justice, peace and joy. rei i love for very opposite reasons LMAO i like that he's elusive and scheming. but i also like how he has a very obvious soft side no matter how much he tries to play the bad guy, but i ALSO like that this cruelly blends into all the bad things he's done. i like how complex he is...

21. i think hitoya's drawing of lili would be kind of sharp, brick-like, and i think she'd laugh and say it's kind of abstract in a way (this is not at all what he intended). i think rei's would be a little more realistic, maybe even scarily so, but i think he'd struggle to make it not look like a scientific plan of sorts (which would make lili roll her eyes a little)

22. yes. hitoya might complain about how big of a bite is taken, rei orders extras to make sure no one goes hungry

23. hitoya associates lili with blue (her uniform) and salmon (her favourite colour), rei associates her with pink (her affiliation with chuo and it's close to her favourite colour, also a colour she used to wear a lot of)

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

 “I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her.  “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?”  she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?�� Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

[acynicalsweetheart]

Could you please write high school reader with daddy issues and meeting Jimmy. She lies to her mother to drop her off at a friend's house just to see Jimmy. He grooms her and thinks he has power over her when one day she drugs him ties him up and rapes him when he wakes up. +using a dildo on him for funsies :3

pairing: jimmy x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, non-con/rape, dub-con, grooming sort of, age gap, daddy issues, daddy kink, drugs, smoking, virginity loss

author's note: hai no dildo on jimmy unfortunately LMFAO did try to follow everything else tho.. umm this took forever and ending is very rushed and very ass.. it’s this long cause i felt i had to make it a fic for the grooming aspect so . yah. interaction/feedback appreciated!!

You’re on your way home when this strange, shady type you’ve seen lurking outside of your school walks up to you. Is this it? The last moment of your life, the end, kaput? Okay, paranoia’s getting the better of you, might just be a new janitor or something—

“You got a lighter?” He asks ever-so-casually. 

He’s… old. Real old. Like, fourty-something kind of old. 

“What?” 

“A lighter?” He makes a gesture with his hand, pretending to draw a lighter flame with his thumb. 

“Umm… no,” why the hell would you have a lighter? “No I—I don’t, sorry.”

You didn’t think you looked that old. Or like you smoke, for that matter. It’s kind of hard to take offense to his words though, when he’s that cute. Cute in a hobo sort of way. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, hand gliding down his rough face like you not having a lighter is the worst thing since Elvis. 

Is this what they call withdrawal? 

“But I think they have some at the store.” You point your finger down the street, giving him a once-over and - for safety - deciding to add, “they’re cheap.”

“Forget it.” He tells you sternly, dismissing you with a wave of his hand like you’re cigarette smoke before walking away—opposite direction to the store. 

You’re left there standing awkwardly, shifting your weight across your feet. Body moving before you have time to think, you trail after him. 

“I can buy them for you, if you want,” ‘cause you’re a pushover and a people pleaser and an idiot all at once. 

He scoffs, glances at you over his shoulder. “You think they’re gonna let a little girl like you buy lighters?” 

“Well, I…” You can’t tell if he’s angry with you or if his face just naturally looks like that, pulled into a perpetual scowl. 

“Just take ‘em,” he shrugs. 

“Can’t you take them?” He might look broke, but surely—

“I would, if I was still allowed in the stores.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, looking down at your shoes. That’s unbelievably hot. Is he a felon or something? 

“Yeah. Oh.”

And so maybe you do end up taking a lighter, casually shoving it into your pocket and walking out of the store, egged on by a man you were convinced was the school janitor. You actually still aren’t sure if he is or not. 

He leads you to some lightly secluded street. The sun’s setting and you should really get back home. 

“Umm, here…” your hands shake when you hand it over, fingers brushing against his callused ones. “Mister—”

“Jimmy.” He grabs the lighter like it was his all along, like you didn’t just feel your heart falling out of your ass when you committed an actual crime for him. 

“Jimmy,” you try out his name carefully, syllables rolling off your tongue in a way that tells you you’re meant to be. 

“You know, since you were such a good girl for me,” Jimmy pulls out a cigarette from a package you didn’t know he had and holds it out for you to see. “Why don’t we share one of these?”

It takes a minute for you to get back on earth. 

“Oh, I don’t… do that,” you scratch the back of your head, knowing all too well that you’d get a third degree ass beating if your mom knew. “Smoke, I mean.”

“Had my first cig at nine, you’ll be fine,” Jimmy says nonchalantly with the cancer-stick hanging from his lips, his gaze pressing you subtly as he glares up at you. “First time for everything.”

He’s too irresistible and you don’t want to seem like a pussy in front of the only cool, older guy to ever pay you attention. 

So you give in. Lord help you.

“O—okay, umm,” you awkwardly take a seat on the pavement next to him, too scared to look him in the eye. “I don’t really know how to.”

“You know how to use a lighter, don’t you?” You wonder how many cigarettes he’s smoked to get his voice this rough. If it gets rougher for every cigarette. 

“Yes…” Your experience goes as far as having only ever used matches to light candles. 

Hands still shaking like crazy, you struggle to light his cigarette. Jimmy scoffs and you shrink.

“There.” 

Once you finally muster up the courage to look at him, it’s clear how unimpressed he is. 

“Saw what I did there? You gotta inhale like this,” Jimmy takes another drag and you feel a cough building up in your chest just by watching. “Try it,” he blows out, hands over the smoke.

“Okay…” Jimmy helps you hold the cigarette like he’s your father and you’re his baby and the dart is a spoon. Well, you weren’t wrong about the coughing. 

“No, no,” for the first time since you met, his upside-down mouth goes upwards and your heart skips a beat. “Gotta do it twice, so you feel it here,” Jimmy presses his palm to your chest, accidentally brushing his fingertips against your breasts in the process. 

“Oh.” You almost moan, thankfully covered up by your coughs.

Jimmy helps you till you get it right, till there’s no cigarette left to be smoked. He doesn’t even put it out, just drops it onto the ground. 

“Better keep this a secret from mommy, huh?” 

Heat of embarrassment spreads across your face like a wildfire of some sort, and you freeze up. It’s like Jimmy can see right through you. 

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, playing with your fingers. 

But maybe you end up having your first kiss that evening, exchanging cigarette-flavoured spit with a stranger whom you met only a couple of hours ago. Maybe you let his hand trail further up your thigh than what was appropriate. 

And maybe you keep coming back for more. 

Hanging out with Jimmy becomes a regular part of your schedule. The secrecy of it is even more of a thrill—feels just like those colourful pills he shows you that make you feel as if you’re on another planet.  

Mommy dearest doesn’t know a thing, and daddy dearest… Well, Jimmy’s pretty much the closest thing you have to a daddy dearest. 

He’s so different and so cool and you feel so ashamed that you let him touch you and kiss you. 

Jimmy’s your new world—he shows you these grassy things that you can roll and smoke like cigarettes and make you all dopey. He shows you this trashy, thrashy music that makes your ears hurt, not just ‘cause it’s that loud but ‘cause it’s that bad. He shows you that fingers can go in holes and places you never knew, that mouths can go where nobody is allowed. 

He shows you fun. You think you’re in love. 

You think you should die.

Jimmy finishes up rolling his joint, exhaling the smoke right in your face once he’s lit it. “You know, you should call me Daddy while we try it.” 

It. The new thing. For you, obviously. The fuck, the sex, the cherry-popping. Jimmy can practically smell your virginity on you. 

“You can—you can… do that?” You question meekly, gaze zeroing in on his blunt, too scared to look him in the eye. Too scared to say a sentence properly around him, really. “I mean, it’s not wrong? It… feels kind of wrong, it’s what you call your dad.”

“Knew a guy who called his girlfriend mom in bed.” And that guy is Jimmy, a couple of months ago actually. Not his proudest moment. But what’s done is done. 

“Eww,” you snort like he’s told a joke. 

After a moment of awkward silence and two guitar solos from the background music, Jimmy puts the dart down, letting the fugly thing sit and burn on a makeshift ashtray in the form of a plate. After 30 years of smoking you’d think he’d be better at getting them to look fucking decent at the very least. 

“So? You’re gonna let me fuck you?” Jimmy asks into your neck, kissing it lazily so there’s less of a chance of you turning him down. 

“I… don’t know, Jimmy.” You say so quietly he has to physically exert himself to hear you. Shouldn’t have. “I mean, we don’t really know each other that well and I—“ 

Way to ruin the mood.

He pulls away from your neck, groaning out of pure annoyance. “Come on, don’t be such a fucking milksop.”

“…What’s a milksop?” You ask, wide-eyed and newborn. 

God, you’re making Jimmy feel old. He has to deliberately simplify words when talking to you, speak in fucking baby phrases ‘cause you’re a baby and the only language you understand is goo-goo goddamn ga-ga. 

“Forget it,” he pinches his nose bridge and tries to not combust, “just let me do it. You didn’t come all the way here just so we could sit and listen to Pantera, did you?”

You look at Jimmy like he is speaking an ancient foreign language. 

Right. He forgot you’re not only incompetent but uncultured as well.

“You don’t even know how old I am, Jimmy, I could be—“ Off you go again with your incessant babbling. Just when are you going to realize that he doesn’t give a fuck? 

“You’re legal, aren’t you?” 

“Well yeah,” your head hangs lowly, the skin on your arms suddenly looking a lot more interesting so you start picking on it. “I am but, Jimmy, it’s like you don’t even care.”

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, in every fucking sentence. You want him so bad—you’re just too pussy to say it out loud, which is literally what he was trying to tell you. He’ll just simply have to show you.

Jimmy is overdue for some good ‘ol cherry-popping after all. 

Resuming his biting on your neck, he says things the way they are to hear you gasp. “That’s ‘cause I don’t.”

“That sounds naughty…” 

He almost bursts out laughing, keep talking like that and you’ll end up in a porno in no time. 

“You’ll let me do it,” Jimmy bares your tits, pulling your dress down, “won’t you, baby?” ‘Cause a pet name or two is all it takes to get you to melt. 

You’re pushed down onto the bed before you can even reply. Left in only your underwear before you can even blink. 

“Okay, Jimmy…” you say timidly. 

“Remember what I told you?” His fingers trail down your tummy till he finds your panties, the print and ribbon something you’re much too old to be wearing. 

“Daddy,” your voice gets stuck in your throat when he palms your clothed mound. “Yes, daddy,” you correct shakily.

And Jimmy’s fingers slide underneath the fabric, struggling to fit two in your pussy. You’re squeezing him so tight he thinks they might fall off and get stuck inside you. 

He doesn’t let you cum.

That’s an activity that takes place on Jimmy’s dick and nowhere else. 

Once your panties are off and you’re naked like the day you were born in front of him—dripping onto the sheets, Jimmy lazily pulls his cock out and you stare like it’s your first time ever seeing one.

“Like what you see?” It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a 95% chance that you’re judging him. Shit looks more like a wild animal than a dick if Jimmy’s being entirely honest. 

“Is it going to fit?” You’re blinking up at him with those awfully glossy eyes of yours. “Daddy,” you add a minute too late. 

“Don’t know,” Jimmy tells you honestly. 

He prods at your entrance, trying to find the right angle that will slide him right in after a nice little struggle. Your expression contorts every way, resembling a crumpled napkin more than your actual face. 

“Ouch, Jim—I mean, daddy,” your eyes and mouth are wide open, looking like Jimmy’s impaling you with a knife and not his dick. “It hurts.”

Dramatic much?

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he keeps pushing in, managing to get a quarter of his tip inside. “Nobody ever tell you that?”

“No…” you heave out, gripping onto his arms for dear life as he very choppily forces himself into your hole. 

Jimmy coos at you unenthusiastically, “poor little girl.”

(You are, probably never heard of sex till Jimmy mentioned it.)

He doesn’t let you get adjusted—immediately starting to fuck you harder, faster, rougher than one should a virgin. Jimmy’s popping your cherry, alright. Can even spot a thin red layer coating his dick already. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” you whimper under your breath with every thrust into your cunt. Kind of hilarious. 

“You like it.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

“I… like it,” you repeat with the most pained look on your face, tears pricking at your lash lines. 

Jimmy makes sure you feel all of his cock, drilling deep enough to feel your fleshy cervix ‘cause he’d like to hear you scream. 

“Daddy,” you kick your legs, pussy struggling to keep Jimmy’s dick inside you. “Oh, daddy.” Not quite a scream. 

“Yeah,” his eyes are glued to your stretched entrance, growing impossibly harder at the sight of your ruined pussy—ruined innocence. “Gonna make daddy cum already.”

“Not inside…”

Oh and now you’ve suddenly taken sex-ed classes? 

Jimmy keeps slamming his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room, he can hear you loud and clear over it. Purposely letting his groans loose so you really get the hint. 

“Not inside, Jimmy, pleasepleaseplease not inside!” You claw anywhere and everywhere you can reach, trying to get him off. Didn’t he explicitly tell you to call him daddy?

“Huh?” His hips stutter against yours, movements turning sloppy as his balls tighten—readier than ever. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart.” 

Just a moment later, Jimmy cums inside, shoots like a fucking pistol—bullets in the form of sperm straight into your womb.

You start sobbing.

Jimmy’s never been good at comforting so he rubs your clit in consolation. 

“Better cum on daddy’s cock soon,” it’s like he’s speaking to a fucking brick wall. A crying, teenage-girl-shaped brick wall. “Getting pretty sensitive over here.” 

Can’t exactly tell with your hands over your face but Jimmy thinks you cum, ‘cause you squeal and push his dick out. 

Well, could’ve gone worse. 

“I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you whisper between sniffles after receiving the thickest creampie Jimmy has ever given anybody. Uh huh. 

He pulls out with a sloppy pop! and watches his cum mixed with your blood drip out of your gaping cunt, soaking through he’s sheets that he’s most definitely not going to clean. 

Jimmy’s been smoking and drinking since before he fucking grew balls, do you seriously believe that his sperm’s going to knock you up? If Jimmy became a sperm donor, the only thing he’d be giving out is strains of herpes—not babies. To put things into perspective. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He tucks his softening dick back into his pants, “a plan-B should do the trick.”

“Okay…” you’re crawled up like a frightened mouse—a naked frightened mouse, all sorts of questionable fluids leaking out of all your holes. “Okay, Jimmy.”

At least you seem to know what a plan-B is. Jimmy half-expected you to go but Jimmy I didn’t have a plan-B! I didn’t even want to sleep with you in the first place! in that whiny voice you do that makes him want to light himself on fire. 

And for safety’s sake—partly out of spite, “I heard they sell some at the store. Could get it for cheap.”

“You’re not gonna buy it for me?” You’re shaking like you have fucking hypothermia. 

He shrugs. Only time not being allowed in stores has ever been of a convenience to Jimmy. 

Once you’re dressed he ushers you out of his apartment that he hasn’t paid rent for in a couple of months. 

“Bye.” Jimmy says slackly, pushing you out of the threshold to his place. 

“But—“ you start frantically, confusion written all over your features.

He shuts the door in your face. Locks it, twice. 

Through the peephole of his door, Jimmy can see how you’re limping like a lamb born yesterday on the way out. He bets your mommy ain’t gonna be too happy about that. 

You’re so sick and tired of Jimmy treating you like shit. How is he allowed to do that and get away with it? Every single time. 

He’s a sad sack of pure sleaze and you can’t believe you let him take your virginity all those months ago. 

You sneak into his place unnoticed because he’s such a sad sack of pure sleaze that he hasn’t even locked his door. He’s asking for it. 

From the hallway you can see that his glass is empty. Jimmy’s rolling one of those grassy things again, watching the TV and listening to his shitty music. You haven’t even seen Jimmy’s face yet but you know that he looks thirty years older every time you do. 

Disgusting.

You’ll sleep with him one last time. 

You trail into the kitchen with the stealth of an elephant, knocking over a lone empty beer can on the floor in the process, yet Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice. 

Rummaging through his cabinets, you’re reminded of this conversation between Jimmy and his really cute friend with a very unusual name that you can’t remember. Jimmy was telling him about the roofies he keeps in the fourth cabinet while his friend just laughed awkwardly. 

They should do the trick. 

Rohypnol reads the package, half of the pills are missing. Foul. But then again—this is Jimmy you’re talking about. 

You put a singular green oval pill in his drink, watching it dissolve and colour the alcohol a shade weirder. 

Jimmy groans from the living room and you scramble to hide underneath his table like a scared little kid. Your freak of a not-boyfriend - ‘cause he never did ask you out - actually drinks the shit in one gulp. 

After a moment he stumbles into his bedroom and you think he passes out ‘cause you hear obnoxiously loud snores echoing throughout the entire apartment. 

Guess this is your time to shine. And… fuck. 

Fuck, that word is so unnatural—so vulgar. And Jimmy uses it so casually. 

To embarrass him the way he’s embarrassed you countless times, you undress the entirety of Jimmy’s body apart from his feet—never his feet. 

You decide that restraining Jimmy might be for the better ‘cause he’s like a wild fucking rabid animal when he’s drunk. Actually, you don’t know if he is drunk but all for safety’s sake, right? 

You’re trying to make this as un-personal as it can be but Jesus he is hot. You just have to feel him up one last time. How there’s not one area that’s not covered in at least some hair, cute brown and puffy nipples, and his dick. 

The one that sits there sadly and all alone, giving you puppy eyes. 

Maybe it’s a miracle that Jimmy is soft so you can play with it for just a little. Maybe it’s a shame that Jimmy’s not awake to grab your hair and force you down all the way till you’re gagging and choking around him. 

Once he’s hard you slide off your panties and bare one of your tits ‘cause you’re feeling kind of bad for Jimmy against your will. How he’s the only one naked. 

Sliding down on his cock, it feels just like the first time—stings like hell. But this is your revenge after all so you suck it up. Bounce up and down until your slickness can’t keep quiet and is coating his length. 

It actually feels good when you’re the one in control for once. When you have time to adjust, to feel it inside you in a way that feels more like sex than getting stabbed repeatedly. 

Jimmy’s eyes do that weird back and forth thing that looks a little demonic—his body twitches like you’re an exorcist and not a technical rapist. He’s fighting against literal sedatives, it’s kind of funny. 

You keep riding him. 

All Jimmy remembers is thinking that he’s gonna get another drink and get back to his nice fucking joint before he very oddly lost consciousness. Shit was a real scare, thought he died and went straight to hell for a second. 

No—the real scare is that he’s awoken by a weight in his lap, a death grip around his dick like somebody’s trying to rip it off, and most importantly, you. 

You’re the weight in his lap, the death grip around his dick because of course you fucking are. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jimmy asks very rightfully angry. Let a man smoke for fuck’s sake. 

Moving your hips back and forth like it’s your first time horseback riding, you counter with a half-aborted,  “shut—shut up, Jimmy…” 

Yeah, that’s real convincing. You can’t even get the words out without stuttering. Probably the first time you’ve ever told somebody to shut up in your life.

“No.” Jimmy is a man and men do not take orders from women let alone little girls. 

You slow your pace and Jimmy is about to push you off when he notices that he fucking can’t because he’s tied up like he’s in a torture chamber. 

Creativity must not be your strong suit seeing as you’ve used three of his belts and a pink sparkly jumping rope for his left foot. 

“Fuck,” he thrashes in your makeshift bondage fantasy come to life, “get off me, bitch.”

“No.” You tell him and force your polka-dot fucking panties in his mouth. 

They taste good so who’s really losing here? 

“I’ll kill you,” Jimmy tries to say with your underwear down his throat. It comes out inaudible and muffled and you fucking laugh. 

“Mmm, yes, kill me, Jimmy.” You run a cold finger down his chest, put on this sexy voice. “That’s so hot.”

He can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’re just being fucked up like always. 

“I’m serious,” it’s like he’s fucking chewing the fabric. 

“You’re sexist? That sounds right.”

Jimmy fucking gives up, flopping down all boneless onto the mattress and glaring at the ceiling ‘cause he can’t stand your face. “Oh my God.”

Contrary to what Jimmy’s saying and doing, he actually quite enjoys it. Well, he would have, were you a fraction of a better rider. This is exactly why you don’t let virgins stick around. Either way, he wants you to stop because you’re fucking embarrassing him—he’s stuck underneath you like a damn sissy. And you can’t even get him let alone yourself off. Should just fucking give up and let Jimmy take care of the raping. 

He’s been there, done that. 

He endures your clear first attempt at roofying for about five minutes until you force yourself to cum. You’re obviously faking it for whatever reason, squeezing out ooh’s and ah-ah-ah’s like a pornstar. 

“Fucking ugly slutbag,” Jimmy decides to add as his dick kicks inside you, a couple of more bounces away from filling you up the way he knows you like it. 

“Whatever you say, Jimmy.”

And your bitch-ass just gets up and leaves. Jimmy is stuck in your makeshift restraints, panties in his mouth and butt fucking naked. Ruined orgasm at that. Fucking cunt. 

He’s going to burn your goddamn house down. 

[wendichester]

Darling! How are you? How is your week?

🍄 here

You said I could send more asks… so I’m going to reaaaally use that! Hope that’s ok :)

Hear me out… Dean an HER are undercover in a bar/roadhouse whatever to gather intel… SHE has to sing on stage because of reasons (you’re the genius writer you’ll figure it out 😘) and she sings “rhinestone ring” from Abby Cone cause she’s cheesy and her and Dean are idiots in love who have to talk about their feelings eventually?

Can be fluffy can be steamy… you decide

Luv ya 🍄

⋆˚˖° rhinestone ring,

summary. serenading dean in the middle of a case because the tension between you two is becoming unbearable

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 957

notes. first time hearing this song but it clicks so well with dean imo ehe thanks for the request lovely 🩷🍄

This is not what Dean signed up for.

He leans against the bar, whiskey in hand, watching as you step onto the stage, bathed in warm, golden light. The roadhouse is packed tonight—truckers, bikers, hunters, all of them turning to watch as you adjust the mic stand.

He should be watching the room. Keeping an eye out for their mark.

Instead, he’s watching you.

Your eyes flick to his before the music starts, and even from across the bar, Dean can see the teasing glint in them. You’re loving this.

He grits his teeth, rolling his shoulders. This is all part of the plan—cozy up to the locals, get the information they need, maybe shake a few hands and flash a few flirtatious smiles. The singing part? Not in the original game plan.

But you took one look at the stage, grinned like you had a secret, and next thing he knew, some gruff-looking guy was handing you a guitar and calling your name into the mic.

Now, Dean watches, breath held, as you bring the mic closer and let your voice pour into the room.

"Some girls want a big old diamond on a hand they hold too tight, Some girls wanna be in a fairytale, that’s just not my style..."

Your voice is smooth, soft but full of warmth, curling around every word like honey. Dean swallows hard, his fingers tightening around his glass.

He should have known you’d pick something like this.

You smirk as you get to the next part, eyes locking on him.

"I just want a rhinestone ring, Buy it with a neon glow, From a pawn shop down on Broadway, We’ll keep it on the low..."

Dean can feel the heat creeping up his neck. The crowd is eating it up, nodding along, tapping their fingers against their beers. They don’t know that this is for him, that you’re looking right at him like the words mean something.

He hates that his chest aches at the thought.

Because this is just a job. Just a cover. Just another night spent pretending.

Right?

You keep singing, strumming along to the melody, your voice turning sweeter, softer.

"I don’t need forever, just tonight with you..."

Dean exhales sharply. You have got to be kidding him.

He pushes off the bar, needing to put some space between himself and whatever the hell this is stirring up inside him. He moves to the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

You finish the song with a little flourish, sending a wink in his direction before handing off the guitar and hopping off the stage.

The bar erupts into applause.

Dean doesn’t move.

You weave through the crowd, stepping right up to him, eyes shining with amusement. "Well?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "That was real cute."

"Admit it, Winchester." You nudge him with your hip. "You liked it."

Dean huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re a damn menace, you know that?"

You grin. "And yet, you love me."

The words slip out so easily, so casually, that you don’t even seem to realize what you just said.

But Dean does.

His heart stutters, his smirk faltering for half a second before he covers it up with another sip of whiskey.

You tilt your head, watching him. "What?"

Dean sets his glass down on the table behind him, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Nothing."

But you don’t let it go.

Your fingers brush against his wrist, just for a second. A fleeting touch. A spark.

"Dean," you say, softer now.

He clenches his jaw, eyes flicking over the room—looking for an excuse, a distraction, anything.

But there’s nothing. Just you. Just this.

"You ever think about it?" you ask, voice quiet, hesitant.

Dean exhales sharply. "Think about what?"

Your lips quirk up. "A pawn shop ring. A neon glow."

His chest tightens. He should lie. He should. But when he looks at you, standing there with that damn knowing look in your eyes, he can’t.

"Yeah," he admits, voice rough. "Maybe."

You stare at him like you’re waiting for something else, something more.

And hell—maybe you deserve more.

But all Dean can do is shake his head with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "We should get back to work."

You study him for a beat longer before nodding. "Yeah. We should."

Neither of you move.

Dean swears under his breath before grabbing your hand and tugging you into the shadows of the hallway leading to the back of the bar.

You barely have time to gasp before his mouth is on yours, hungry and desperate, kissing you like he’s been dying for it.

And maybe he has.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, like you knew this was coming. Like you knew all along.

Dean presses you against the wall, hands gripping your hips, feeling the way you fit against him like you were always meant to be here.

"Thought you didn’t do fairytales," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, breathless. "I don’t."

His lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck. "Then what the hell was that song about?"

You laugh softly, tilting your head back to give him more access. "Not every love story needs a fairytale ending."

Dean pulls back just enough to look at you. "And ours?"

You search his face, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "Ours is whatever we want it to be." You shrug slightly. "As long as you're next to me, I don't really care,"

His breath catches.

And maybe a pawn shop ring and a neon glow don’t sound so bad after all.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32

[woofwoofwolf]

Meeting the parents (ch.1)

Misc. masterlist: [link]

Bachira Meguru x Reader

Summary:

You fall down the stairs and into Bachira's arms. In your eyes, he sees the similarities and differences the two of you share and it touches him deeply. He sees it as a challenge he can't help but accept, no matter what it might bring. Or maybe he's just looking for a way to distract him from the boring party he was at, that too.

Notes: Fake/Pretend Relationship, toxic parents, Bachira Meguru is a Ray of Sunshine, Bachira Meguru is a Little Shit, both can be true but at first ch. it's mostly the second one loll, reader hates soccer, I call it soccer here for clarity but just so you know, It's football not soccer, No Beta, proffesional soccer AU, Aged Up

Rating: G

Word count: 2,290

AO3 link: [link]

Bachira iddly stood next to Isagi and Reo, waiting for their conversation with some old CEO big shot to end. He was glad Reo was there with them. As expected he knew how to handle the conversation elegantly and professionally, with the occasional back up from Isagi. Bachira knew the look he’d receive from these types of people if he were to open his mouth and he wasn’t really feeling like having to deal with that at the moment. 

‘What a shit party…’

They were standing just outside of the big venue hall where a big charity gala was being held. A bunch of the former Blue lock players had been invited to promote it and rake in more cash. Bachira had failed to find an excuse to not attend, so he spent most of the night sticking to Isagi’s side. The three of them had just escorted a rather drunk Igarashi to a taxi when they were stopped by a rather enthusiastic old man smoking just outside the venue. 

Bachira missed the days of Blue Lock, when dealing with these annoying people wasn’t part of the job and they were able to focus on only the sport.

‘Maybe I should try and get shitfaced too to get an excuse to leave,’ he thought as they finally said goodbye to the man. 

Just as he turned around, a woman dressed in a fancy dress, namely you, quite literally fell down from the stairs into his arms. Shocked, Bachira took a hold of your arms to steady you against his frame. Stumbling you grabbed a hold of his forearm to not face plant onto the concrete.

“(Y/N)!” a woman on top of the stairs shrieked and your hold on Bachira’s arm tightened. The lady herself almost tripped down the stairs chasing after you with what Bachira assumed to be her husband.

Bachira looked down at you, who was still secured in his arms. You stood frozen against him, teeth clenched looking down at your feet.

“This is all because you refuse to listen to us!” the lady hissed once she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Silly girl!”

Isagi, Reo and Bachira stood and watched in uncomfortable silence as your father nodded along to your mothers berating comments. All the while you wouldn’t spare a look their way.

“First you lie to us about some nonsense boyfriend in front of that poor Watanabe-kun, and then you have the gall to run away from us, I’ve had more than enough of your antics for tonight!”

Wow. Majorly uncomfortable. Did this woman not see Bachira and his friends standing there or something? 

He felt really bad for you, who finally turned to face them, though your hand was still unconsciously gripping at his arm.

Bachira then got a good look at your face. And more importantly, a look into your eyes.

‘Oh no, she’s CUTE cute…’

Bachira believed that a person's eyes were a window to the soul, as cliché as it sounds. In your eyes he saw a storm, a desire to break free and a willingness to believe in that freedom. He also recognised that pang of loneliness you carried all too well. 

“I’m not lying! He’s–” You made panicked, seemingly accidental eye contact with Bachira, who blinked back at you. You finally seemed aware that you were still holding onto him and you let go as if he was burning hot.

Your mother gasped loudly enough to pull all eyes back on her. “Don’t tell me–” she said in a whisper. “This is him?”

“What–” your head whipped back to Bachira. Looking into your eyes, Bachira thought he saw you do a panicked assessment. Your hand flew back to his arm and you squeezed it, hard. “YES! This is my boyfriend who I told you about!”

Oh. This party very suddenly wasn’t so boring anymore. 

In those few seconds of eye contact, what about him had convinced you you could pull this stunt? The way you were bruising his arm, was that your way of threatening him to play along?

‘How cute…’ Bachira grinned. He didn’t know why you, an adult woman, were in this situation that felt like a shoujo manga set in a highschool, but he didn’t really care either.

“That’s right,” he said sweetly, taking a respectful bow towards your parents. “It’s very nice to meet you, your daughter has told me great things about you.”

He heard Reo behind him disguise a laugh as a cough, while Isagi muttered a soft “Oh no…”

”Oh! So polite,” your mother giggled. “It’s alright, you don’t have to tell such an obvious lie about this rude child.” 

If you were to ask Bachira, it was your parents who were being the rude ones.

“Oh no no, she’s been wonderful!” You flinched at his wide smile directed your way. “Right, darling?”

“I, uh, sure.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t tell us his name,” your father finally spoke up. “Out of everyone, I would’ve never expected it to be Bachira Meguru. It’s a shame, but you we won’t be able to go public with this for a while.”

“Oh,” you responded, your voice a bit higher than before. “You know him.”

“Of course darling, you know he’s in your fathers favourite club, right?” Your mother laughed in a condescending way that really irked Bachira. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m a big fan,” your father said.

You looked at Bachira with a forced smile “Club… Right. Soccer… Haha…”

“I’m really sorry about that, it’s so like her to not have interest in other people’s lives, she’ll make for an awful wife, I’m sure.”

Did they want you to have a relationship or not? He found the situation to be rather confusing.

“She’s been nothing but supportive, ma’m.”

“Really? But (Y/N) hates soccer!”

‘Is that so?’ Bachira could only see this information as a challenge.

He laughed loudly. “I must’ve convinced her otherwise with my overflowing charm.”

Your grip on his arm stuttered and he felt the disgusted glares of his friends on his neck. He could try to not be annoying, but he was having so much fun with this. There was that annoying laugh again from your mother.

“A-anyways, mom, dad, there you have it. So. Ehm, you can leave us alone for now.” You glared at Bachira, probably to tell him to keep silent.

“But I want to get to know him!” your mother whined.

“H-he can come by another time, right Machira-san? I really think he ought to bring me home for now, since I’m not feeling well…”

Bachira was amazed that your parents failed to notice that you got his name wrong, or even that they fell for your awful acting in the first place since your distaste of the situation was more than palpable.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” your father said. “We’ll be expecting the two of you at the estate within the month. You got that, (Y/N)?” He gave you a stern look.

“Yes father,” you muttered. Bachira detected a hint of fear. 

‘This won’t do,’ he thought, clenching his fists.

“W-well, in that case–” your mother started. “I guess that’s alright.”

God, he wanted to tell them off so badly. But he didn’t want to put you in an even worse spot, so he didn’t. After all, he didn’t know what was at stake for you. So instead he bowed and smiled pleasantly as your parents made their way back up the stairs.

Then, when they were finally out of view, you dropped your hands from his arm.

Damn, it was sore. You had for sure bruised him. Hot.

You glared at him in silence, as Isagi and Reo closed back in on the two of you.

Isagi shook his head at his friend. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“That was hilarious,” Reo laughed. “I hope that went as you had planned, (Y/N).”

“What plan?” You sighed deeply. “And hello to you too, Mikage-kun…”

“You two know each other?” Bachira asked, a hint of a weird feeling rising in his chest. Reo shrugged. 

“We just went to the same high school. We’re not close,” you said, quick to be defensive for some reason. “So what, this guy is one of your little friends from– what was it called again? ‘Blue Lock’? I should’ve realised that before I opened my stupid mouth.”

Bachira feigned hurt by placing his hand on his chest. “‘This guy’? How cold, I’m your boyfriend, you know!”

You groaned. “I’m such an idiot! Why did I say that!”

“Can’t you just tell them the truth?” Reo asked, an eyebrow raised in your direction.

“Tsk, don’t you think I tried? But they threatened me to go to this event and when I got here they introduced me to a marriage candidate!” you pulled at your hair. “I can’t believe they pulled a stunt like that.”

“Damn,” Reo whistled. “I knew your parents were bad, but that’s some mediaeval shit.”

Isagi awkwardly looked on while you conversed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with a small bow. “My name is (L/N) (Y/N), I’m very sorry for disturbing your evening.”

“Ah! My name is Isagi Yoichi,” Isagi bowed in return. “Don’t apologise. I’m very sorry to hear of your situation.”

Bachira took his chance. “And I’m Bachira Meguru! Ba-Chi-Ra!” He sounded out his name to ensure you would remember this time.

“Nice to meet you,” you avoided eye contact out of clear embarrassment. He was going to have to fix that. “I’m sorry about… all that.”

“You love apologising, don’t you miss girlfriend?” 

Your expression turned flustered and you looked back at him a little startled. “Miss– huh?”

‘Cute. So cute.’

“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you just cut contact with them?” Isagi blurted out. His eyes widened in realisation. “I mean- that was a rude question, I appologise.”

“It’s alright,” you said, plucking at your dress to avoid eye contact. “I know it looks like I’m just tolerating all of this so I can mooch off of them for money. But the truth is that if I cut contact with them, they’ll do everything they can to make my life miserable. With their influence, they can make sure I’ll never find a job…”

Bachira felt disgusted hearing this. He couldn’t imagine a parent treating their kid like that, especially since his relationship with his own mom was so great.

“Scumbags…” Reo muttered. 

You sighed again. “It’s whatever. I can avoid them well enough in my daily life. I’ll just have to find a way out of this. At least I avoided getting engaged to that Watanabe Keisuke brat…”

You stumbled a bit when turning around. You’d clearly been drinking a bit. Bachira couldn’t blame you.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on driving home like that?” Reo asked, voicing his concern moments before Bachira could himself. 

“No, you idiot, I’m here with my parents, I’m going home using public transit.” You grumbled.

“Why don’t you let me bring you home?” Bachira smiled. “That’s what you told your parents anyways.”

“Huh? I just said that to get them off my case, obviously,” you snapped back, still on guard every time he spoke.

“The nearest train station is a 20 minute walk, you know,” Reo said. “Where do you live?”

You muttered the general area of your residence and Bachira recognised it as a not so nice area to live in. Your situation got more complicated the more he heard.

“That’s so far! Should we call you a taxi?” Isagi offered.

“I-I can’t pay for that…” you mumbled.

“Then it’s decided, I’ll bring you home!” Bachira cheered, excited to be able to talk to you for longer and to get away from the event. 

You eyed him suspiciously, clearly still unconvinced. “Haven’t you been drinking yourself?”

Bachira giggled. “I won’t be driving, I have a chauffeur, obviously.”

“Right. I forgot all you Blue Lock boys were loaded…”

Bachira looked at his friends, an amused grin on his face. “‘Blue lock boys’, she said.”

You took a step towards Reo, grabbing a hold of his shoulder. “Mikage-kun, I need you to be honest here, can I trust this guy?”

Reo looked up towards Bachira, who put on his best ‘innocent’ face. “He’s just an idiot who only cares about soccer, I don’t think you have to worry.”

You continued to glare at him. Reo sighed.

“He’s a good guy, (Y/N), you don’t have to worry, promise.”

Bachira slung an arm around Reo’s shoulder. “Shucks man, I love you too!”

“Get off of me, you idiot!” Reo shoved him back and Bachira held his hands up in defeat, a wide grin on his face.

“Well then, there you have it,” he laughed. “Tell my coach that I had to leave due to circumstances beyond my control, okay?”

“Tell him yourself!” Reo protested red faced, but Isagi nodded.

“I’ll do it. You take care, alright?” He then nodded towards you. “You too, (L/N)-san. It was nice to meet you.”

“L-likewise,” you mumbled with a pout. “And just (Y/N) is fine.”

She turned to Bachira, shoulders tense. “L-let’s just get this over with, so I can stop bothering you.”

Bachira smiled at you. Oh, but he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

“Aye aye sir!” he saluted.

And so the two of you left towards the parking garage, where Bachira’s driver had parked his car.

Isagi and Reo watched after them in astonishment.

“We haven’t heard the last of this, have we?” Reo sighed.

“I’m afraid not,” Isagi said. “The way he was looking at her, we’lll definitely be seeing her again…”

A/N: OKAY SO, Honestly I usually prewrite all of my fics, but I just wanted to write this so I did. It was meant to be a one shot, but because I can only ever write long fics it seems, the ideas for how to continue this just kept flowing and I didn't do anything to stop it lol. So that's why I left it open for a chapter 2. (I might come to regret posting this since I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to writing lol, who knows I might edit and repost, we'll see) I'll be really honest here: if you want a chapter two for this, engagement and comments will really help. It's not to hold this hostage I'd never do that, but I have other fics to work on and this isn't a priority unfortunately. Even though I love Bachira. A lot. So please let me know what you think! ALSO let me know if I should open a tag list for this..?

[angel-kyo]

Almost the one [II]

When a too prone to fall in love Satoru decides he is tired of always chasing the wrong person, his eyes finally turn to the one that should be his perfect match, and to your dismay, this is no other than one of your closest friends; and while the idea of assisting your friend in becoming the man of someone else's dreams held no appeal to you, with your past revisiting, maybe helping him might be the way of helping yourself.

Prev: I

=======================

He must be nuts. There is no way he means it.

That’s what you had thought at Satoru’s request to date him before letting out an incredulous laugh followed by a court ‘No’, and turning around in direction to the campus.

“Why not?” he had asked, catching up with your step.

“What do you mean why not? Because it’s crazy.”

He had not insisted after that, and you assumed that he had not really meant it and it would be best to just forget it.

So why were you not forgetting it?

You peeked at Satoru from the corner of your eye. You two were now listening to the lecture of Mr. Nishikawa, or rather him reading an extremely long set of slides on statistics. It was one of the two classes you and Satoru would be taking together that semester. But as your friend kept looking ahead, his mind probably not on the lectures either, you kept wondering...

He could not have meant it, right?

Back there, he had looked so serious about it that, for a second, you almost believed him. However, you knew better. You were not the type he would date. No, he liked a certain kind of girls. Exotic ones, cute ones, some with stunning features or just girls who has a certain air around them. He liked girls who… stood out in a crowd. Girls like…

“Utahime!” a girl behind you called. “We saved you a seat.”

Utahime was one of your closest friends, and you were aware that her cool personality, and not to mention, graceful features, made her rather popular among your peers. So much that she seemed to have picked the interest of the Gojo Satoru himself.

The way he glanced to the back when she arrived did not go unnoticed by you.

He was at that phase of the Gojo cycle where he could not take his eyes off the one he liked.

The “Gojo Cycle” was something Shoko had come up after a night of too many drinks while you and your friends were discussing Satoru’s love life, and it could be summarized in five stages. The first stage was “The Cupid stage”, in which Gojo sets his eyes on someone for the first time and, as if targeted by Cupid himself, he thinks fate has brought them together. That was usually followed by the staring phase, where he currently was at with Utahime, always searching for her and effectively finding her in his surroundings, reinforcing his belief that the Universe wanted them together.

The third stage was dating. Most times, Satoru would be successful in asking someone out and even in taking them on a few dates for two or three week, but then, for some reason, they would inevitably enter the ’This isn't working stage’ and Satoru’s object of affection would start avoiding him, not answering his calls and texts, or plainly stating that they were not interested anymore. It did not matter how much he chased.

And that is when it came, the phase you feared the most: the heartbreak.

The last stage of the Gojo cycle you feared if not for it’s duration but for it’s unpredictability. Albeit short in terms of time, the process for mending Satoru’s heart could be… challenging. Sometimes he needed an emotional marathon of movies, some others, indulging in sweets to the point of almost making himself sick; other times, he just needed to hit the gym as if his life depended on it.

Party nights, running marathons, trying new hobbies, long calls at 3am….The list could go on and on. Sometimes, he would do all. And what all of Satoru’s coping mechanisms had in common was that he would drag you along with him.

Surprisingly, the breakup, if it could be considered as such, with Hana had not hit him too hard. While Satoru had worried you for a second making you think he was looking too deep into the reason why she had left him, his focus had then shifted to Utahime, which wasn’t ideal but just the fact of him moving on was a relief nonetheless.

===

“Are you sticking to basketball this semester?” you asked Gojo while you walked together out of campus.

He nodded with a big smile on his face. “Of course I am. The team is counting on me after all.” He winked and you would have rolled your eyes at his egocentric notions and tried to kick some sense into him so he would focus more on his studies, but the vision in front of you prevented any words from coming out.

Satoru, who had been expecting a snarky reply, looked down at you when none came from your mouth, only to find out you were not by his side but a few steps back, fixed on a couple of guys looking at one of the campus maps.

He knew one of them, Suguru, his friend and fellow teammate in basketball. However, he had never seen the guy next to him. Seeing that Suguru appeared to be giving directions and pointing at the map, Satoru assumed it was a freshman or a visitor who had asked for help, but that did not explain why you had gone pale out of nowhere.

“[name]? Are you okay?” Satoru asked returning to your side.

It took a couple seconds for you to nod and force yourself to look somewhere else.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Peripherally, you saw Geto wave and probably say his goodbyes to the other guy, and you couldn’t help but turn and try to get another look, hoping that you were mistaken, that it wasn’t him but someone with an uncanny resemblance.

You and Satoru were at least thirty feet away from them, but his eyes still met yours and you could have sworn you saw a brief flash of recognition on his face. You averted your gaze a soon as you could.

No, it was definitely him.

=======================

Note: To everyone's surprise, myself included, I'm alive.

[thelonestarinthesky]

I saw requests are open! Is it possibly for you to do a Senku x reader oneshot? Senku is totally pining after the reader (who also has a massive crush on him) and Gen has to shove Senku out of his comfort zone to get him to say anything to the reader!

OR (give you some options because I saw you have writers block)

A Senku x Reader oneshot where they are finally about to reunite after Senku wins the Stone war against Tsukasa! Fluffy and cute!

I hope giving you two ideas isn’t too much! You definitely don’t need to do both but I thought giving you a choice would help!

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ

⁺₊✦₊　　

pairing: senku x f!reader

a/n: I've decided to merge the two ideas together! Thank you for requesting!! I hope it's to your liking!

⁺₊✦₊　　

Senku couldn't sleep, for countless nights, he would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling silently, thinking.

Ever since Gen had arrived back during the Grand Bout, he revealed something to him.

Tsukasa had taken [Name] as a hostage, purposely reviving her when he had no choice but to bury her statue when they fled the small camp he and Taiju made at the beginning and keeping her close.

"Poor [Name] is scared to death." Gen's words echo in his mind. "Save her Senku~"

He sighs, closing his eyes. "Wait for me, okay?" Mumbling quietly, he says.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

After the war with Tsukasa was over, the first thing Senku did was go over to the Tsukasa empire. On his search to look for the [H/C] haired girl, he walked among the place before stopping.

He looked up to see a figure poking their head out from the prison-like cave, like how Chrome said they held him in.

"....senku?" The voice called out quietly.

A shiver ran down his spine.

[Name] teared up upon seeing him running up the mountain to where she was being held.

Watching as he pants heavily, he quickly helps trying to get the prison open, sitting on a rock, sat [Name], nothing had changed. Seeing her like this reminds him of their life in the modern world.

"You're okay." Her calm expression is the same; the way she sits with her legs together, ladylike, and the gentle smile on her lips are all the same. "I'm happy."

[Name] is caught off guard as Senku walks over and stands in front of her, then suddenly, the two fall back from the rock, trapping the girl underneath him, his arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, face buried in her neck.

She's stunned before even saying a word; she feels his shoulders tremble slightly and then understands.

Without a word, she slowly hugs him back, smiling against his hair. "... I missed you too." She mumbles for his ears alone.

⁺₊✦₊　　

It's been a couple of weeks since [Name] returned to his side; Gen had noticed the way Senku would be around her. Asking for her opinions on his latest work, when they made bread, he made sure she was the last one to get it, giving her the larger portion left.

Upon seeing how happy she was eating it, he gave her his piece, claiming he wasn't that hungry and claimed they would make more now that they had a chief.

Gen had managed to catch [Name] alone, Senku, surprisingly not by her side. "Say, [Name], I've been meaning to ask. What is Senku to you?" He sat down beside her as she sewed up Senku's winter coat since winter was coming up.

She looks up at him before going back to work. "We grew up together." Gen hums at this. "My best friend." Her answer was....too vague for him, so he decided to push.

"Oh? Is that all? I thought you two were more than that." He thinks out loud, peeking over to see her reaction.

"Gen." The girl says, "I know what you're trying to do." She smiles. "If you're looking for a specific answer, all you had to do was ask. I have loved Senku for many years."

His mouth drops, and he expected her to deny or simply not answer.

"So straightforward." She just smiles at him before going back to work.

It took days for Gen to plan his next move; he saw the way Senku looked at [Name], so maybe he could ask Senku if he would think of the [H/C] haired girl.

Yeah, he'll ask and try to play matchmaking-

"Oh, [Name]? Yeah, I'm aware of her feelings for me." Senku says bluntly, picking his ear.

Gen is shell-shocked, staring at Senku like he has grown another head.

"What?" The green-white-haired boy says, clueless.

"You haven't done anything?" Senku blinks at Gen's words. "Done what?" The scientist says.

"Oh, I don't know—accepting her feelings, obviously!?! Gen shouts clearly annoyed at how blunt Senku was towards the girl's feelings in the first place.

"[Name] knows how I feel," Senku says like it's normal, very blunty.

Gen groans. "Senku, I don't think any girl would know what the boy she's in love with feels about her when you give her science rants."

"Can't you give her flowers or maybe something normal?"

Senku scoffs at this. "Back in the modern world, I would give her a lot of things." He says it like it's nothing, almost proud.

"Name one." Gen challenges him.

"I named a spaceship after her."

"Next."

"I took her to Africa to study Ebola with me."

"No, something more romantic." Gen looked like he wanted to just give up. None of this seemed like normal things to give to a girl.

Senku thinks a bit. "...I made a lipstick for her." He remembers that the brand she was using was running out, but they had discontinued it. She was sad about it and often went to the mall with her as she searched for an alternative.

So when she didn't like any of them nor did it suit her. He managed to sneak a sample of the remaining bit and spent a week trying to perfect it.

Seeing her so happy was worth it in the end.

"Anything else?" Gen asked him. "Surely that can't be the only 'normal' gift to her." The man sighs.

Senku stands with his arms crossed, the work he was working on, forgotten. His face deadpans as soon as he realizes what Gen means. Maybe he hadn't given enough to [Name], or maybe she thinks the feelings are one-sided.

"See what I mean." Gen sighs at Senku's dejected face.

"Don't worry, the great mentalist will help you," Gen says grinning.

⁺₊✦₊　　

Senku glanced over at [Name], who was sitting. He made up an excuse to bring her here alone, and he wasn't sure where to go from there.

In his hand, a hairclip, one he'd made the day before. Gen had suggested it to him upon seeing how [Name] often moved the strands of hair from her face.

Gen watches from afar. He can't hear anything, but he sees Senku sitting down beside the [H/C] haired girl. His lips opened as he spoke to her before showing the hairclip.

[Name] smiles as she reaches for the item before Senku leans in and puts it in her hair, catching her off guard as her face heats up slightly, but she smiles at Senku.

More words are spoken, but Gen sees this as a sign to give them privacy.

[Name] goes to lean in the water to see her reflection, but Senku stops her; he brings out a small item and hands it to her. Flipping it around, the girl sees that it is a mirror; smiling, she checks where he puts the hairclip and smiles even more , thanking him.

She looks surprised at his words, seeing him bashful as he confesses, giggling at this. She rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, "That's not true; I like when you go on about what you're passionate about; I love seeing that sparkle in your eyes." She confesses. "So don't think your actions are any less."

Senku wraps his arm around her as they sit there. No more words are needed between them since they both know the depths of their feelings.

The next day, Gen goes over to see how things went, going over to Senku, only to stop when he sees the two closer than ever.

Matchmaker Gen's job is over.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i trieddddd i tried i swear i tried </3 to stick to tags <///33 but i ran out …. so here i am …… sorry dilly T_T

(disclaimer: read the tags before reading this… ok…….)

’sorry’ said very softly and quietly bc i feel u would probably yell at me for it </3 i’m actually not sorry at all i was hoping i’d have no choice but to stumble my way here :3c HHHHHHH there is just too much to say and too much to mention …… too much i love about this fic :’< ofc i have to start with . the infamous …… ”the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue!” <- SOBBED!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAT this whole moment was somehow even cuter than i remember it being LMAO i feel so lucky . to be able to experience it again :’3

i love . the moments jumping in time ….. how this fic is about gojo washing his daughter’s hair . but also so much more than that ….. it is his love manifesto. it is the weight of everyday moments translated into writing in such a beautiful way i cannot describe it…. it is gojo grappling with time and love and the fact not even the most beautiful things stick around forever (cough cough cough. u know who i am thinking of) but that they’re worth cherishing all the more because of it …… gojo is such a sentimental person. and that is a faucet of who is that i feel is hardly explored even though it is part of his ’core’….. to me. he is a man who can’t help but reminisce. who is only allowed the luxury of chewing on memories over and over again …… so for you to give him such a picture perfect life . in this. makes me weepy :’3

aughhh TAT just. when i think of this fic i think of bubbles . and sunlight. and markers and colours and sweet scents …….. something so lovely that i feel envious i can’t reach out and touch it. that i can’t see the bathtub or feel the water trickle through the gaps between my fingers. i know you were a little nervous about reposting this dilly but truly it is one of my favorite gojo pieces ever ….. and i do not even subscribe to papa gojo most of the time but when you write him like this i can’t help but think he was born to be a father (<- proof of your immense power) ….. i can’t help but feel that . if canon gojo tried to picture a life without sorcery he would see just a sliver of this scenery ….. a sliver of the sun. sobsob

back to the Actual Fic … (one of the reasons i try to stick to tags is . if i make it Here (what do you call it anyway ….. the main…. something ?? i don’t know. the promised land (to Me)) i always end up rambling and then i get off track …. forgive me…….) i just had the genius idea to screenshot my favorite quotes and leave them here . i will do just that :3c i really want you to Feel how much i love this fic ….. if at all possible …………… can you feel my love ………….

^ TAT …. his very precious girl . SOBBED. she is his all his and yours all yours ……………

^ THIS WHOLE MOMENT WAS SOOOOO CUTE DILLY i know i said it already but u just . capture gojo so perfectly PDHKDJDJD …… he is so silly and cute here 😭😭😭 also !!! sunshine ….. she is the sun latching onto the big blue sky …………..

^ gnarls and whines . as i read this …… sniffles… this is one of the quotes that just made me go. i love how dilly writes …. i love how i can practically hear her voice. does that make sense at all …………… :’3

^ THROWS UP BLOOD !!!!!!!!! your satoru carries the big blue sky wherever he goes ……. T____T such . a beautiful quote wahhh . and just so Him. i love the little peeks we get into gojo and reader’s love for each other ….. this fic is about their love just as much as it is about their baby. tho i guess she quite literally is their love personified ……….. anyway. something something satoru is atlas, he has no choice but to carry the sky on his own, but fluffy clouds and the glow of the sun make it bearable …. you know.

^ already mentioned it but You Know. obviously

^ THIS WHOLE SEQUENCE . ACTUALLY 😭😭😭…. i soooooobbed dilly i love . him . HE WANTS TO BE A GOOD PAPA …… the dynamic between him and his baby is also just sooo funny and cute he is a true girldad ………… i love them ………….,,,,,,

^ firefly of a husband …… quote that made me explode into pieces . and bits

^ GRRRRRR GRGR this made me cry . T_T UR WRITING DILLY!!!!!! ILL BE SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!! it doesn’t feel like enough……… yes, you know this ……..

^ and finally . this :’) as i was reading it was so fun to read lines that i have a vague memory of and others that i don’t remember at all ….. but i do remember this final line. because i remember just how Much it made me feel the first time around ……. just the perfect little cherry on top. the Point of it all.

i love this fic …. i’ll love it forever . in the same way i will love you forever and gojo forever and your writing forever ….. thank you for posting this my angel 🥺 i will keep it so close to my hear . forever and ever <3

THAT FUNNY LITTLE GIRL ♡ GOJO SATORU

he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

papa! gojo washes his baby’s hair, what could go wrong! jumping thru the timeline, multiple times. sfw, fluff. approx. two thousand word count. he is filled to the brim with love.

“daddy?” his baby calls for him, satoru, who happens to be sitting right beside her bathtub— criss-crossed legs, paying less and less mind to the cold tile floor that’s making his skin shiver, and more on what she has to say.

“yeah baby?” he’s just down the hall, but you’ve begun to pick apart how his voice, with every syllable, sounds so fond when he speaks to her: his very precious girl.

you hear the gentle hum she hums for a quick second, the mumbling, jumbling of her words as she sorts out what she wants to say and then, “why’s the sky blue?”

★ ‎

there’s a bathtub marker in her hand when she asks, the very same ones satoru was so incredibly persistent on buying at your last shopping store run—

“bathtub markers?” he hears the quirk in your eyebrow before he has a chance to see it, holding the pack of eight in his hand like it’s the greatest invention yet.

“yup! we need them!” he stands side by side with his mini me— matching pairs of silly puppy dog eyes appear on their faces and a dramatic pout fixed to both their lips.

he whispers what he thinks you won’t hear, covering his lips behind the palm of his hand as he kneels to her side. “pst…” he hisses comically loud, “we need to say please, sunshine.”

“pease!” no please, (she’s much cuter about this whole ordeal than he is—) she nods her head as she swings her feet back and forth, fluttering without a sound.

could you guess what’s harder than saying no to her? satoru would vote it’s probably saying: goodbye!

your heart aches lovingly, too impossible to resist— “‘toru, it sounds like you want them more than she does.” grabbing the bundle of markers, you flip them to the side, skimming through its directions and their warnings.

“me?!” he says in the least dramatic tone he could possibly mutter, “are you denying our baby of an artistic future?” and then there’s a hand over his face again. he covers the gasping motion he’s currently molded into, “that she’s not destined to be the next picasso?”

“she’s three! how would you know?” funny grins paint over both your faces because it’s a bittersweet thought: her future, who’ll she be and what’ll become of her.

“there’s an artist inside that little heart, i can feel it.” he’s determined to stick to the skit, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing with a promising certainty for it all.

it’s even funnier when he knows he’s won too: when you hand over the markers to your baby’s pudgy fingers, he has that face plastered on. same one as every other time he’s won you over on something hilariously trivial.

“so honey,” focusing, you decide to actively ignore the cutest dimples on the corner of his smile, “what will you draw when you get home today?”

“f’owers” she points at the red marker, “more for you!” an obvious reference to the dozen roses she’s seen on the dinner table.

“you’re so sweet! i know you’ll draw me the prettiest flowers, my love!” you kiss the tip of her nose as tiny pearly whites form a cheeky smile in return— “ahem.” satoru follows slowly behind you both as you begin to stroll down the aisle again.

“and for daddy,” the coast is clear so you take the chance to stop and spread your arms as wide as you can, “you draw him the biggest, blue sky that matches his eyes!”

she giggles at the dramatics, your stretched out arms and satoru’s loving gaze directed toward you— she mimics these two things. “big sky ‘nd daddy!” and it’s true, your satoru carries the big sky wherever he goes.

★ ‎

“uhmm..” he thinks hard about it, rubbing the nape of his neck, setting his glasses down to the side— how exactly do you explain the color of the sky to a toddler?

he scoots in a little closer now, splashing sounds echoing around while she fidgets with the other toys in the bath, “so, the light from mr. sun is made of all the colors of the rainbow. do you know which ones?”

satoru picks out the markers in the same exact pattern he’s memorized— red, orange, yellow, green in her hand, blue, and the purple that seems the closest to violet.

she doesn’t sound very interested, yet. but you doubt it as long as there’s paddling turtles wound up and clicking across the bubbly water; her attention’s obviously elsewhere.

satoru uncaps the yellow marker first: forming one big, rigid circle against the shower wall that represents the sun— followed by streaks of all the other colors in his hands stretching away from it, representing light.

“like this,” he says, “all the colors of the rainbow.” he returns the green marker she had at first, happily holding onto the object again.

“but ms. earth,” a cake of blue forms as the felt tip rolls around in one spot, “likes blue the best. so, she makes her sky blue.” and with that, your baby blinks up at him like a doll— eyelashes pinched into the perfect curl, and he wonders if he’s only confused her even more.

“oh.” it’s funny how somber-toned she sounds— oh, the same tone you’d use after hearing the most unbelievable truth (or a lie!) the utter shock, the disbelief… that oh.

“just kidding!” he gleams brightly now as she watches. apparently, it had been enough to grab her attention even for the slimmest second.

satoru drops the markers back in the bathtub net where she had placed them, settling within her reach.

“the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue.”

and if he gleams, his baby does too, “i knew it!”

(he promises to explain himself to you a little later. surely, hopefully, you must forgive him and his little, white lie!)

“oh, you did?” satoru settles his knees as close as he can to the tub now, minimizing all the space he can as he reaches for the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub, “isn’t my little girl so clever? yes, the smartest!”

she giggles, water splashing around as she moves closer towards her daddy’s arms— completely used to this routine by now, “mm, like papa.”

once he squeezes the bottle, he thinks his heart’s being squeezed too. watching chamomile-scented soap pour onto the palm of his hands, he smiles. “you think i’m clever, sunshine?”

“sometimes.” but she’s off in her own little world again, drawing on the wall with her favorite turtle beside her.

he supposes he will take what he can get.

with a gentle rinse to her hair, satoru begins to form a gentle lather along the crown of her head, “i want to be a clever daddy for you,” he says.

you know it comes with no thought, as if the words have simply fallen out and onto his tongue before they’ve finally reached his head, “a good papa.”

and it’s happened so frequently, he jokes with you about how she must have some sort of technique to pull out the honest truth from anyone— even without trying to.

“you just love her, satoru.”

★ ‎

amidst the grogginess of the morning and eyes closed shut, you tell him that much. it’s all you can grumble out when your firefly of a husband rises before the sun.

he claims it’s early morning clarity— when your mind is filled with everything and nothing. all you can do it spill your heart out. not much you can do to help it.

he loves this part of the day with you.

“i do. a lot.” he says in one lasting breath, just before shifting from being your big spoon to peek over at the baby monitor on his bedside table for the… nth time.

if she didn’t make him feel like his entire life was worth it, maybe he wouldn’t look at her so often. but she does, not even aware of it, with a leg dangling off the bed. plushies used for pillows rather than the pillows themselves.

it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to: the act of loving, and the acting of expressing it— the act of admitting just how much he does.

“she loves you too.”

★ ‎

with the soapy suds spilling over his knuckles, between his fingers and the strands of her hair, satoru notices something new.

he twirls a finger around the ends of her hair, strands strong and smooth— as he realizes they’re starting to curve around the shell of her ear on its own, when he doesn’t remember it doing that before.

and as he lowers his gaze, the soapy lather following along, he sees the longest strands of his baby’s hair are bound to meet the back of her neck. nape, ears and shoulders all meeting someone new.

satoru forgets that time goes by fast, especially when you’re filled with love to spare. “when did you start growing up so fast, sunshine?”

she shrugs.

the strength in his knees give out, landing him right back down onto the tile floor; feet tucked underneath his body. “it’s too fast.” he murmurs so lowly, you can barely catch on to what’s been said.

too fast to watch her go— but don’t say it out loud, satoru doesn’t have the heart to finish or hear the rest.

she’ll be able to say please, even without him asking her to. she’ll be able to pronounce her l’s until she loses her two front teeth. she’ll hold onto his hand, and he’ll hold onto her.

then, it’ll be time for school. and she’ll be leaving his side as a big girl now, with a lunch bag he’s packed and a slipping backpack over her shoulder— yes, inevitably, that’s going to happen too, just as he has before.

and if that’s right around the corner, then so is every other phase, inevitably— and the rest of her life from then on. it’s going to happen one day: where satoru’s baby is no longer a baby and he will have to let her go.

“‘toru.” he turns to you, towel in hand, pressing weight against the wall’s edge. “what’re you weepin’ about now, baby?”

your daughter turns to face him in a heartbeat, curious.

“crying?” voice trembling, he nudges his cheek into his sleeve in attempts to hide any evidence, big hands still in need of rinsing along with her hair. “who’s crying?”

stepping closer, you hang the towel over the hook before sitting right next to his side, “because you never cry, especially at random times.” you poke once at his ribs.

“you’re starting to get me, sweetness.” then, he dips his fingers into the water, bubbly foam parting ways from his skin. it falls down her shoulders when he rinses her off, all done with the bath, and having a little time to play.

you watch him for a while, trying to identify the cause and while trying to make small talk— you mention something without much thought, “her hair has gotten a lot longer now.”

his voice, it’s tinier than you’ve ever expected it to be, “i know…” a sniffle divides his sentence, a proper pause, “she’s growing up so fast.”

“ah… so, that’s what this is about.”

you rest your head over his shoulder, still feeling as in love as ever, “you’re cute, you know that?” he rests his in return. “we still have hundreds of days together.” you watch the way she draws on the wall, enjoying her happiness as if it were your own.

“it doesn’t feel like enough.” he says.

“i don’t think it’ll ever be enough.” no, it never will. “maybe we’re greedy like that, honey.” yes, you know this.

he knows he is. because there’s a bright sun in the blue sky with red roses to bring it all together, just like she promised.

“finished!” she looks back at you two, hands in the air in celebration of her brand new masterpiece being born.

“oh! they’re so pretty!” sweet enthusiasm in your voice, you give her all the attention in the world. “just perfect!”

you begin to ask her the little things, every detail you could think of and she could find an answer to, all while wrapping her in the warm towel you hung up earlier.

satoru’s gotten up from the floor too, taking it all in until she calls for him again, “that’s you, daddy.” she points at the blue on the wall as you carry her back to her room.

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying and he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

satoru hears your footsteps trickling further down the hall when your voice resounds again, “come on daddy, we need help picking out today’s pijamas!”

“pease, papa hurry!”

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying as he listens to the water flow down the drain, capturing her first piece of art on his phone, he has very little to say.

but if he had to say it and if his baby asked him to, satoru would confess: “i’m so happy. i’m so happy to love you.”

hello friends! this is a repost from my previous blog, mysugu. in the case you recognize this piece, that is (hopefully) why! thank you for reading this bit, (a second time?) he is so loved.

[missellafitz]

**The concert dates for this Caesars Palace engagement were June 6-18, 1974, which begs the question, why did this take place on the 19th? Was Frank doing an additional show without Ella? How was she a surprise? Was the show itself a surprise? Love the possessive pronoun of "my" though, hehe.

Also, this engagement apparently brought Frank out of retirement and was the catalyst for "The Concert" that he, Ella, and Basie had at the Uris Theater in NYC the next year. One thing I'll say is that Frank LOVED to sing with Ella, so maybe she really was enough to bring him back to the stage.

A Secret Caesars Palace Trove Captures Sinatra, Ella and Scores of Others, Unaware

By Anna Wilde Mathews Staff Reporter of The Wall Street Journal

March 19, 2001 12:01 am ET

LAS VEGAS -- On June 19, 1974, Frank Sinatra took the stage at Caesars Palace. Backed by the Count Basie Orchestra, he delivered a set of standards before telling the audience, "Surprise! My girl's gonna sing for you." On that cue, Ella Fitzgerald joined him for a rollicking duet of "The Lady Is a Tramp." The two traded lines and improvised harmonies, punctuated by Mr. Sinatra's exhortation: "Swing, baby!"

It was a special evening, even by the lofty standards of the Caesars showroom, then a premier venue for the biggest names in entertainment. But the two singers themselves probably weren't aware of one thing that made their performance exceptional: Every note was captured by a reel-to-reel tape recorder wired directly into the Caesars sound system.

It was only one of scores of acts recorded in secret over a quarter of a century at Caesars Palace -- a playlist that includes Louis Armstrong, Tony Bennett, Ray Charles, Duke Ellington, Judy Garland, Peggy Lee, Johnny Mathis, Bette Midler, Diana Ross, Sarah Vaughan and dozens of other show-business luminaries.

Behind it all was Dave Rogers, the longtime sound engineer at the hotel and casino's 1,000-seat Circus Maximus showroom. Mr. Rogers stored the tapes at home, keepsakes that he occasionally played for the memories.

Then, in 1998, he died, and the tapes were in the hands of his stepson, Gilbert Cebollero, a former craps dealer who set out to turn them into a profitable endeavor. Since then, Mr. Cebollero has managed to strike an unlikely deal with a fledgling company backed by television impresario Norman Lear to release the material on compact discs and, possibly, over the Web. Already, singer Andy Williams and the estates of Mr. Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. have tentatively agreed to participate, and the first CD is in the works.

The obstacles are big, however, and many of the recordings may never reach a mass audience. Mr. Lear's company, Neon Tonic, is still struggling to secure release rights from many of the artists, their estates or their record labels -- which have been surprised to learn of the tapes and aren't all eager to strike a deal. Some of the artists worry that their performances may not be good enough for public consumption.

Yet the tapes themselves aren't the typical muffled bootlegs. Mr. Rogers created recordings of startling clarity, often with nearly commercial sound quality. And the collection is more than just live music; it is an unedited record of Vegas culture in its heyday. As the curtain falls on Mr. Sinatra's duet with Ms. Fitzgerald, a microphone picks up his parting remark: "OK, baby, the bar's open." On another tape, a disoriented Judy Garland stumbles off-key through "Over the Rainbow." Moments like those may never make it to record stores, but if Mr. Lear and his partners succeed, many hours of unique recorded entertainment will.

In 1966, when Andy Williams performed on opening night at the new casino and its showroom, the venue was among the most glamorous in the world. The hotel feted its first visitors with two tons of filet mignon, 300 pounds of crab and 50,000 glasses of champagne.

Mr. Rogers helped build the sound system that was used on that first evening. A veteran engineer at the Flamingo and the Sands, Mr. Rogers had moved over to Caesars about a month before the opening. For much of the next quarter of a century, he could be found in an open booth suspended above the rear of the Circus Maximus. There, he twiddled dials on the soundboard to ensure that the mix was clean and balanced. He almost never missed a night. "His home was Caesars," says Donovan Belian, a son of Mr. Rogers who is now a carpenter in Las Vegas.

A constant tinkerer, Mr. Rogers worked hard to please the most finicky artists. He built an echo chamber under the stage to add depth to performers' tone. As a special favor, he once set up a VCR in Mr. Sinatra's hotel room.

Such services put Mr. Rogers on a first-name basis with many stars. He collected autographed pictures from the likes of Raquel Welch and Burt Bacharach. One of his backstage photos shows Bill Cosby arm-in-arm with Sammy Davis Jr., who is wearing a "Caesars Sound Crew" T-shirt. In another, Mr. Rogers hugs a smiling Nancy Sinatra. The pictures weren't his only souvenirs. A pack rat, he also filled a wooden locker backstage with old tools and gadgets, and at home collected discarded televisions, radios and other electronic debris.

Then there is the stash of Caesars recordings, made from the showroom's soundboard over a period stretching from the late 1960s to the early 1990s. Mr. Rogers kept the reels and cassettes in his workshop at home and occasionally listened to them while he puttered around, his stepson Mr. Cebollero says.

The taping may have begun as a way for the sound engineer to catch technical mistakes and thus hone his craft, says Mr. Rogers's daughter Suzynne Fowler. Michael Rogers, the sound engineer's oldest son, says, "I think he wanted to record his history, and maybe even the industry's history." The younger Mr. Rogers, now a Las Vegas theatrical electrician, worked at Caesars with his father in the mid-1970s.

Dave Rogers took a leave of absence in 1994 as he battled liver disease brought on by years of diabetes. He never returned to work. In January 1998, he died at age 66. A brief obituary published in local newspapers noted his National Guard service and his membership in the theatrical stage employee union. It gave his occupation as "director of sound in the entertainment industry."

In all, Mr. Rogers had captured hundreds of hours of concerts and comedy by well over 100 performers. Upon his death, it all ended up with Mr. Cebollero.

The Balloon Drop

Mr. Cebollero's mother, Elba, had met Mr. Rogers, who was already divorced with four children, while she was working at the Caesars front desk. The two married in 1970. As a teenager, Mr. Cebollero hung out backstage at Caesars while his stepfather worked. He recalls New Year's celebrations when his stepfather let him release the flood of balloons above the Caesars audience.

https://archive.ph/s1csZ/edae5250cb4b4f7d6decc057a4570949fecb8ae5.gif

Through the 1970s and '80s, Mr. Cebollero bounced around Las Vegas as a bellboy, a stagehand and eventually a craps dealer at various casinos. More recently, he has worked as a residential real-estate agent. By the time his stepfather died, Mr. Cebollero faced a federal tax lien of more than $19,000, which he says was related to a dispute over tip income from his casino days. The lien was lifted in 2000; Mr. Cebollero says he took care of it with a reduced payment.

Mr. Cebollero says he was motivated to turn the tapes into a business in order to preserve his stepfather's work, not to pay a tax bill. In the past, "I never applied myself," he says. "But I plan to now."

Today, Mr. Cebollero, 43 years old and never married, lives with his mother in the modest two-story white stucco house Mr. Rogers had built for the family in the mid-1970s. Over the door hangs a small sign: "Mi casa es su casa." In the basement and in a shipping container in the backyard, he keeps all the things his stepfather hoarded over the years. "Everything they were throwing out, he'd bring home," Mr. Cebollero says.

His mother wouldn't comment for this article. Nor would his sister, Lorraine. Stepbrothers Mr. Belian and Michael Rogers say they support Mr. Cebollero's efforts. Ms. Fowler declines to comment, saying she doesn't know the details of her stepbrother's plans. Stepsister Trish Elliott says she "has no problem" with Mr. Cebollero's efforts.

Mr. Cebollero used an address for Nancy Sinatra obtained through a Web site to send her a compilation of Sinatra snippets from the Caesars tapes. But he sent it under the name of a friend, keeping his own identity secret: "I didn't know what kind of feedback I would get," he says.

His efforts drew the attention of Robert Finkelstein, a longtime Sinatra family attorney who represents the music-rights companies controlled by the singer's children. Mr. Finkelstein says the Sinatra estate had no knowledge of the recordings before hearing from Mr. Cebollero in 1998.

Threat of Litigation

After several months, negotiations over the rights to the Sinatra tapes stalled. Neither party will specify the terms Mr. Cebollero sought. Mr. Finkelstein then fired off a letter threatening to sue, arguing that the recordings were illegal, unauthorized bootlegs. "If someone says to you they possess tapes of your recordings, your initial reaction is, 'You have no right to those,' " he says. "That can be resolved either by litigation or by compromise."

But Mr. Finkelstein also explained the situation to longtime acquaintance Hal Gaba, chief executive of Act III Communications, a media holding company of which Mr. Lear is chairman. A jazz buff, Mr. Gaba already ran a side business distributing videos of performances by Mr. Sinatra and others, and Act III was negotiating to purchase the Concord jazz record label. He immediately saw the potential of the Caesars tapes. With Mr. Finkelstein's knowledge, Mr. Gaba contacted Mr. Cebollero.

Messrs. Gaba and Lear had already been noodling around with the idea of a music Web site that would reach jazz fans all over the world. The recordings, they figured, could provide a one-of-a-kind draw to the site. "I had this fantasy of this little guy in this obscure corner of Caesars Palace," says Mr. Lear.

In early 1999, Mr. Gaba began traveling to Las Vegas to meet with Mr. Cebollero, first over lunch at a Caesars coffee shop, and later at the home Mr. Cebollero shares with his mother. There, Mr. Gaba was ushered into a dark basement cluttered with dusty equipment, including an old Caesars soundboard and a pile of black-painted floorboards from the original showroom stage. During hours of reminiscing about oldtime Vegas, Mr. Cebollero played samples from the tapes.

Over the next few weeks, Mr. Gaba and Mr. Cebollero pinned down details of a tentative deal. Mr. Gaba would see to the daunting task of securing legal clearances from artists and record labels. Mr. Cebollero would receive royalty payments. Neither side will disclose terms.

Mr. Cebollero also insisted that he retain possession of the original tapes. "It's sentimental," he says. "My dad's handwriting is on it." And he wanted his stepfather credited on the CD packaging.

A Five-Hour Trek

More troublesome, he wouldn't let the fragile recordings out of his sight even for an overnight shipment. So starting in the summer of 1999, he and a friend drove five hours from Las Vegas every couple of weeks to deliver boxes of tapes to a recording studio in the San Fernando Valley home of a producer who works with Mr. Gaba.

Initially, Mr. Cebollero refused to leave the house while the producer and another sound engineer transferred the recordings from the original analog tapes to digital tape. Later, the music was put on computer, and song by song, they smoothed out distortions and toned down extraneous noises -- the foot-tapping of a Count Basie Orchestra musician, for example.

Many of the tapes were dusty or moldy, and a few were so brittle that they broke. Some of the older ones needed a special player obtained from a used-equipment dealer. Many had only fragmentary, hand-scrawled labels, or weren't identified at all. Clues such as a reference to Watergate helped pinpoint performance dates.

The sound quality of the Caesars tapes is nonetheless impressive. Band members can be heard laughing quietly at a headliner's jokes. Comments never meant for an audience also come through clearly. When Mr. Sinatra turned to quietly thank the band after a rendition of "My Kind of Town," he added, "Sang my d--- off that time!" Then he told the audience, "I just had an intimate discussion with the gentlemen of the orchestra which cannot be repeated."

The engineers also had to make sense of a jumbled archive. A single shipment contained a 1991 routine by comedian Joan Rivers; a 1972 show by singing duo Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme; and a 1988 Red Skelton performance. Another tape in the batch came with a label that read only, "Thunder and Cow." It turned out to contain a series of moos and booms apparently meant for sound effects.

In the same shipment, Mr. Cebollero brought a vintage Sammy Davis set from Halloween 1981. It opens with the Basie orchestra swinging through "Sweet Georgia Brown." Then Mr. Davis delivers several of his standards, such as "Teach Me Tonight," along with some classic Vegas stage patter. "You're looking at the only black actor who wasn't in 'Roots,' 1 or 2," he says at one point. Later, he jokes: "I can't help it if I'm short! If I had any real class, I'd be in a bell tower someplace, saying 'The plane, boss, the plane!' "

By last fall, nearly 500 hours of concert tape had been digitized. Mr. Cebollero was now flying the tapes over from Las Vegas, though he still didn't want to check them as luggage. Mr. Gaba and Mr. Lear, meanwhile, were putting together their start-up in a Beverly Hills office lined with posters of "All in the Family" and other Lear television shows.

Calling on friends and their own resources, they raised about $3 million in seed money. The new company began a months-long process of building a Web site and picking a name and logo. Eventually, Neon Tonic beat options like "Gigolution" and "Shanghai Lobster" because, company executives thought, it suggested a sophisticated music club.

Mr. Gaba began trying to resolve the tangled legal questions surrounding the tapes' past, starting early last year with Caesars' parent company, Park Place Entertainment Corp. Mr. Cebollero insists that his stepfather never tried to conceal his taping from the performers or his bosses. "It wasn't like it was hidden," he says.

But Caesars executives say they weren't aware of the tapes before Mr. Gaba contacted them. Tom Pilkington, once Mr. Rogers's boss at Caesars and now a vice president with Park Place, says he had "no clue" that his employee was keeping a collection of such recordings. "It wasn't a policy of the hotel" to regularly record and archive shows, he says. He does remember Mr. Rogers making some tapes for performers' personal use, at their request. Generally, acts that played Caesars had contracts that explicitly banned recordings.

Still, Park Place decided to work with Mr. Gaba. The hospitality firm agreed to sell compact discs containing the showroom tapes and to allow the start-up to use the Caesars name in packaging and marketing the CDs. The Neon Tonic CDs would first be sold exclusively through Park Place retail outlets, then distributed more widely by Concord Records, the jazz label Mr. Gaba and Mr. Lear had bought. But the deal was contingent on Mr. Gaba's securing legal clearances from artists and others with rights to the recordings.

For help, Mr. Gaba looked to Mr. Finkelstein, who had been named to Neon Tonic's board. Together, he and Mr. Gaba crafted a tentative agreement to allow use of the Sinatra material. Then Mr. Finkelstein reached out to others who manage the rights to some of the other big acts Mr. Rogers had taped.

Jeff Lotman, who runs a marketing company that represents the work of Sammy Davis Jr. and others, says he was surprised when Mr. Finkelstein called him and told him of the tapes. But he liked the offer: The Davis estate would get a stake in Neon Tonic, as well as royalties from recording sales. "Our clients are not making new movies, so anything we can do to raise the awareness is obviously a good thing," says Mr. Lotman, whose company is called Global Icons LLC. Mr. Davis's widow, Altovise, agreed to participate.

Mr. Gaba personally courted Andy Williams, a longtime acquaintance, at the Grill, a Beverly Hills power-lunch venue. Mr. Williams, who became a Caesars regular after performing the hotel's first show, says, "I never knew they were recording me." When he found out that several of his shows had been taped, "I felt an invasion, a little bit, of privacy."

A tape of a June 10, 1969, show finds Mr. Williams performing a lush, brass-backed "Moon River," along with a medley from the musical "Hair." The show includes an appearance by a very young Jimmy Osmond, who delivers a squeaky "I Dig Rock 'n' Roll Music." Between songs, Mr. Williams warns: "I think I ought to tell you the truth -- I'm a swinger!"

Mr. Williams agreed to sign on as an investor, with veto power over recordings of his own performances.

Neon Tonic has offered other artists veto power, as well as royalties based on album sales. Some also have been offered stakes in the new company. The company says it is close to signing agreements with several, whom it declines to name. One problem: The Sinatra estate wants the original tapes of Mr. Sinatra that Mr. Cebollero now holds. Until the two sides agree to terms, none of the Sinatra material from Mr. Rogers's recordings is likely to be released.

Some of Mr. Rogers's recordings probably won't ever reach the public. Jeffrey Berkowitz, an attorney who represents Judy Garland's daughter Lorna Luft, says the singer's children wouldn't want "to have poor-quality stuff released" and are "more concerned about protecting the name and image of their mother" than anything else.

During an undated Garland show that Mr. Rogers recorded, the singer leaves the stage soon after the start, telling the audience, "I'll be back in a minute." Later, in the middle of "That's Entertainment," she stumbles on a line. Then, as the band plays on, she interjects, "There are too damn many words in this song. I'm sure that someone from either Warner Brothers or MGM wrote the lyrics."

Retreat From the Web

The Web downturn has altered Neon Tonic's plans. Just days before a test launch of the Web site in late January, Mr. Gaba decided to delay it indefinitely. For now, Neon Tonic will focus on the CDs.

The first disc, a compilation of individual tracks from several artists' performances, is tentatively scheduled for summer release. It isn't yet clear how many artists will be on it. Mr. Sinatra's duet with Ms. Fitzgerald probably won't be, though Neon Tonic hopes to include it in a later CD. Remarks Mr. Rogers taped that obviously weren't intended for an audience -- including Mr. Sinatra's risque private remark to his band -- probably won't make it to disc.

A Neon Tonic executive says the liner notes are likely to acknowledge Mr. Rogers in some way. As for the tapes, Mr. Cebollero hasn't told even his partners where he keeps them.

Last September, the Circus Maximus showroom closed forever with a performance by Steve and Eydie. It has since been leveled. Park Place is considering building a larger showroom at the hotel. A company spokeswoman won't comment on the type of entertainment it might provide. The hotel still has a sound engineer on staff. He works part time, mainly to handle special events.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

erik will genuinely jump at any chance he can to steal charles' last name and be so catty about it i know this for a fact WHAT is his deal

[Magneto (2011)]

[spinnysocks]

vita shows me a stick :]

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE EPISODE 7!!!!

MY GOD I WASNT READY FOR ANY OF THIS!!! WHAT WAS THAT!!!

Also ekko wallpaper I got with my fries lmao