#as much as he hides it he’s just a little softie 🥺

[squiddy-god]

jjk men as dads

Re uploaded from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, this is something that I wrote a while ago that I'm re uploading, so I can't promise how good the characterization, and this is gonna be its probably very Ooc, but I don't give a fuck.

CW : implied fem reader, implied previous pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff, probably ooc, happy magical no gege Au lmao. Gojo, geto, nanami, choso

Gojo: 

Chaotic dad 101

Gojo is the embodiment of dad joke energy, he physically cannot stop himself from making those jokes 

Gojo is a fun dad! He likes to teach his kid things 

I can 100% see him teaching his kid to ride a bike 

So imagine this lanky beanpole running after/jogging behind your child as they wobbly ride a bike for the first time

🥺 adorable

Will do your kids hair and will be shockingly good at it

Don't be surprised if you come home and gojo is having a bubble bath and making a mess with your kid

Probably- no I know for a fact this man would have those fun bath paints you put on tile walls 

I don't take criticism

Your child will always have cute outfits that are a matching set (tell me I'm wrong) 

Gojo puts in considerable effort in making your baby/child the cutest

LOVES LOVES LOVES to play peek-a-boo and here those cute tiny baby giggles

Nanami:

HEAD EMPTY JUST NANAMI WAKING UP TO GENTLY ROCK THE BABY BACK TO SLEEP IN HIS ARMS 

Please I cannot function with this thought-

Hhhhhhnnngggggg just imagine walking into the room and there's nanami, baby in his arms, gently swaying with them akanskwsb

He's very extra gentle with the baby 

I have a very specific image of nanami sitting in a chair, baby in his lap while he reads the morning paper 

Gets mushy when he sees you hold the baby and thinks it's just a perfect sight

a protective dad but not overbearing

Let gojo (reluctantly) baby sit one time and it was the last- 😀 the mess smh

I want to see nanami with a little todler teaching them how to dance

Like imagine them standing on his feet while he dances with them i-

I am ascending

Geto: 

When I say if gladly have this man's kids- alwbeiebwiwbeiwbe 🤡

Carries your kid around a lot, like it's a common sight to see him walking around with his kid in his arms

Lots of piggybacks

Cooks cute breakfasts and the child has a matching apron 

Would sing to them but like in a baby voice  and it's really cute 

Dose the thing where you toss your kid a little and catch them 

So happy when they take their first steps (100% got it on video) 

Would always let them win at hide and seek and loves to see them get excited that they found him 

Isn't above pranking you with silly things

Has a picture of them and you on him at all times 

"That's my kid 😊" proud dad™ energy

Choso:

Vvvv protective and loving 

They're just so small and fragile 🥺

Will read them story's even before they can understand because he loves any and all time spent with them 

Really likes to read them picture books while they sit on his lap 

When they are a baby he will hold his hand against theirs and melt because they tiny 

Wholesome boy

Low key (read high key) a big softie 

You, him, and your child in one big ✨snuggle ✨ is his ideal time

Intimidating dad- has a tendency to loom if he senses a threat 

Very sweet and knows the names of all your kids stuffed animals

Choso is a good dad and loves his small family so very much

[judes-hoe]

Teach me ~ DS8

Parrings ~ Dominik Szoboszlai x reader

Summary ~ you ask Dominik to teach you Hungarian.

Warnings ~ google translated Hungarian other than that just fluffy and soft domi

A/N ~ literally just domi being a softy and absolutely adoring how you wanna learn his language🥺🥺🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dominik was currently off for a couple weeks due to injury, also because Liverpool doesn’t have a game for 2 weeks. You’d been spending time together whether it was cuddling, binge watching movies and shows. But you had decided that you wanted Dominik to teach you Hungarian, why, because you think it’d be cool, and nice because his parents don’t know much English.

You walk into your shared room, he was in the phone. “igen, anya pihenek, oké, én is szeretlek(yes, mom i'm resting, okay, love you too)” he spoke in a soft tone before hanging up. You loved hearing him speak in his native language, he sounded so sweet when speaking it. You smile as you walk over to your side of the bed, you sit on the bed crisscrossed, facing Dominik.

“Hi baby, what do you need” he asked softly, pulling you into his lap. He was sitting up against the headboard, now you in his lap your were face to face. “I have a question” you asked in a low voice, head looking in your lap. “What is it baby, you can tell me” he says grabbing your hands. “Will you teach me Hungarian” you asked looking at him shyly. “Yeah sure, but why” he asked with a confused look. “Well to spend quality time, and because I know that your parents can’t speak good English, actually forget I asked” you said going to get off his lap.

He grabbed your hips keeping you in place. “No, no baby, I think that super sweet you wanna learn Hungarian. I’ll teach you princess” he said pressing kisses all over your face. You giggle, hiding your face away in his neck. “What do you wanna learn” he asked taking your head out his neck. “Teach me everything, but start with little stuff and we’ll work to bigger stuff” you said with a smile.

He smiled at your excitement. “Okay repeat after me… Sze…ret..lek” he said slowly. He watched you mumble it a couple times. “Szeretlek(I love you)” you said confidently. “Good job baby” he said giving you a small peck. “What does it mean” you asked. “Means I love you” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes knowing he’d teach you that first.

“Okay next one, örv…end..ek” he said slowly and repeated it a couple times. “örvendek(nice to meet you)” you said, he nodded. “Means nice to meet you” he said with a smile.

That’s how the next 2 hours were like, him teaching your small phrases to say. “Once I teach you more, I want you to try and have a full conversation with me, helps keep it in the brain to remember” he said. “Okay, but it’s late can we go to bed now” you asked. “Of course darling, I’m so happy you wanna learn Hungarian” he said turning to his side so he could cuddle you after you got off his lap. You both sit there in silence, before you drift off you say, “Szeretlek”. You then fed him smile against your neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

[postwarlevi]

Hmmm Levi’s young daughter spills her ice cream cone all over herself and thinks he’s going to be mad. He’s always complaining about messes :/ and now her ice cream is gone and she’s so upset!

Levi’s such a big ‘ol softy that he just comforts her and doesn’t mind the mess. Bet he even gets her a new cone 🥺

Taaay this has sat here for months I'm sorry ILY. Also made a minor change as I had a quick idea and ran with it!

Content: Just under 1k words, not proof read, dad Levi fluff!

Ohh Levi hates messes. You yourself have learned to clean extremely well to keep him happy. Sunday is cleaning day and every other day you still keep things neat and organized. Once your daughter comes along, Levi has to learn to adjust because... messes happen. But one of you cleans it right away while the other tends to your daughter.

As she gets older Levi tries to teach her proper cleaning techniques, but it's hard for a six year old, you know? She does try because she loves getting his praises though. She cleans with you both and picks up after herself after playing and all the things you'd expect. Well, she tries, really. However...

Yep, there she goes again. Levis daughter is a clumsy little thing. You or he are always cleaning up after her. Messy with her toys, her arts and crafts, her food. And having her try to help clean it? No, please no, that makes it more of a mess.

You always tell her it's okay and to please be more careful. Levi after a hard days work can't always hide his exhaustion and she can hear it in his voice.

"Sorry daddy!" She's ready to cry and he has to quickly backtrack.

"It's okay pumpkin, daddies just tired." He pats her head and sends her away. He knows that she knows he hates messes and realizes she isn't doing it op purpose. But, how could he have such a naturally messy child?

After dinner one day while you're in the shower and Levi is washing dishes, your little one is sitting in the living room with the ice cream you put in a dish for her. Half way through her show, while it is on commercial, she decides she wants a cone.

"Honey, no, just eat from the dish." Levi says sternly, almost done with dishes.

"It's okay daddy, I can do it!" She puts her bowl on the counter and before he can stop her she's climbed up the counter. Somehow she makes it and pulls a cone from the box and sits on the counter, and with her tiny hands tries to scoop the half melted ice cream into the cone.

"Honey, no!" Levi stops what he's doing and hurries to dry his hands, worried about her falling.

She does not, but ice cream is now running all down her hands and shirt, and the counter.

Levi sighs and closes his eyes as she looks at him with teary ones.

"Why don't you listen to me? And how are you so fast?!" Is she just fast or is Levi getting slower?

She sits there crying as the cold melted ice cream gets everywhere and Levi takes a rag and starts wiping her off.

"Daddy! I- I'm sorry!" She sobs as he cleans her.

He sets her on the floor, careful not to get sticky.

"Just go change your shirt. Can you do that?" He asks without much hope.

"Yes!" She cries out and runs off.

Levi finishes cleaning the counters and cabinets and now the floor that the mess has dripped down onto.

Levi pauses and listens to her sniffles as she comes back in with a new shirt.

"Honey, do you know why I got upset?" He asks softly, getting down to her level.

"Because I made a mess?" She frowns.

"It's not so much that. It's because I was afraid, that you might fall, and hurt yourself." That scared him and made him act more that anything.

"You were scared?" She asks him in surprise.

"Yes, I don't want you falling. I didn't so much mind the mess. But it does bother me you didn't listen but I know you want to be a big girl and do it yourself, and I appreciate it. But please, let me help you next time, okay?" He hugs her.

If a six year old could feel relief that is what is washing over her right now. "You're not mad about the mess?" She squeaks out.

"You know, even daddy makes a mess sometimes." Hardly, he means.

"No you don't!" She giggles because she's never seen it.

"Sure I do, I just clean it up fast!" He pokes her and smiles at her happy reaction.

Then she's frowning again. "What is it?" He had thought things were okay.

"I didn't get to finish my ice cream." She looks down at the floor. She'd only gotten a couple bites.

"Is that all? We can fix that!" Levi picks her up and twirls her and she squeals with delight.

They make her a proper cone together and he makes her hold a paper plate underneath it, just in case.

If Levi hadn't told you what happened while you were in the shower, you never would've known it.

As you all settle in the living room for another little bit of tv time before bed, your daughter situates herself between you.

"I love you mommy." She kisses your cheek, and you kiss hers back and cuddle her.

"I love you too button." You smile and rub her cute little cheeks.

"I love you daddy." She turns to Levi and looks at him like only a daughter who loves her father very much can, and it warms his heart.

"I love you too, my little girl." He hugs her as she clings to him, and after a moment you get in on the hugging too.

You end the night with a kid friendly cartoon episode all about being messy and also cleaning it up.

Your daughters giggles make you happy and Levi hopes she's learned a little something tonight. About listening... and being messy.

She promises to try harder as you both tuck her in, and you assure her she'll get there eventually.

After that she becomes a much better listener, not wanting to ever upset her father like that again. And she also becomes just a tiny bit less messy, with her parents help, of course.

Extra: Here's the episode you watch! hehe

[jongbross]

(hi ! 🥺 sorry for the bad english) you can do an exo!mafia au reaction, where they are mobsters and bump into their ex after they broke up because she found out he is mafia. they still love each other and want to be together, they are suffering apart? please💞 thanks, have a good day!

a/n: your english is just fine! my first language isn't english either, so don't worry. i hope you like it 🥺

xiumin: minseok is good at hiding his feelings, he did it all this time. he was a mess after you left, but you don't need to know that so he would probably try to play it cool, talking with you but never, ever showing what he's truly feeling. that's until you ask him "have you been okay?" - then his eyes will give in the truth. that's when he'll stutter to answer you, only confirming your suspicious. to someone who has been okay, minseok definitely agrees way too quickly to meet you someday so you two can talk...

suho: he's mature, that's for sure. no matter how shattered he was when you two broke up, he respected your decision and your space. still, junmyeon hurted a lot, so when he meets you again i think he will definitely try to come up at you and ask if you wanna talk to him, if it's okay for him to approach you (because deep down he's scared you'll reject him again). little did he know that you're suffering just like (or even more) than him.

lay: mobster or not, yixing is a softie. he will never admit it, but he cried after you left. when you two meet again, his eyes get glassy with tears the moment he lies his eyes on you, feeling like you were so close but so far away at the same time. the first move will have to come from you, so don't be afraid to approach him - he will love that. yixing doesn't think he deserves to be with the one he loves, especially after you left him for such a good reason, so he doesn't fight for you because of that. please bear with him, he misses you a lot but he just wants you to be happy with whatever you decide it's good for you.

baekhyun: the first thing he felt when you left him wasn't heartbreak, but anger; maybe at himself, at you, at life... but it was there. so, because of that, baekhyun is so petty once you two meet again. he's the one to come talk to you, but he's also the one who will sarcastically say "well, you're the one who left me...", only because deep down that's still a question for him. baekhyun wants to know that you suffered just as much as he did, because after all, the breakup was all on you, he never wanted that.

chen: another one who would be ANGRY. yes, he didn't tell you he was a mobster - that's not something you just tell people, you know? but he never put you in danger, he never brought work home, and you always claimed you loved him? how could you leave him so easily, then? so yeah, once you two meet up again, be ready to deal with the most stubborn version of jongdae you've ever met. he might be feeling like he can't live, can't breathe without you - but he he will never, ever admit that to you.

chanyeol: poor chanyeol couldn't focus on his work for weeks after you left him. he might be the only one from all of them to actually consider leaving the business just so he could be with you. when you two meet again, chanyeol will make it very clear how much you hurted him, how messed up you left him, but will also let you know that he absolutely understands you and why you don't agree with his line of work. he'd be the easiest to talk to and make up, though.

d.o: honestly? it's almost like he's heartless. kyungsoo loves you a lot, he always said he does, but the moment you questioned him about the mafia you planted a seed on his brain - "if they can't love me for who i am, then maybe they don't love me at all". of course, he felt bad and lost when you left, but he's also very logical and rational. so when you two meet again, you can cry all you want in front of him - it doesn't matter how much it hurts him -, the question will still be the same: can you accept him and his job? it all depends on your answer.

kai: oh, he's stubborn. he's very stubborn. his hyungs will tell him that it's okay if he's sad after you left him, but jongin will always deny it. he pretends like he doesn't care, but that crumbles the moment he meets you again - and it gets worse when you tell him you missed him. jongin is as needy as he's stubborn, so that's all he needs to hear to finally come through with his feelings and, then, ask you to come back because he's dying without you.

sehun: you have no idea how bad you've made sehun feel when you left him. sehun spent weeks thinking about how he can't have anything good in his life, but how he also can't leave his business now because he's way too far gone. when you two meet again, more than wanting to have you back, sehun puts effort into understanding if you're fine with his line of work, and making it clear that he loves you so much and wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and he will do everything in his power for this to happen.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB S3 Ep 5 Thoughts!!

Love Omega’s new outfit

Batcher hanging out with Cross then, I see

Cross is like the dad who continuesly goes “NO PET” and then when you do get a pet they’re suddenly besties

“ITS ECHO” “perfect”

Ah, the duality of man

Love how there’s no end to this dynamic

“What? No hug for me?” “That depends how good your intel is.”

LOVE Echo matching Cross’s causal sass

These two are gonna push against each other a lot huh?

Yanno, given all the promo material, I was kinda expecting Rex to be with Echo when he arrived (hoping phi, the word is hoping.) (she’s delulu.)

“Especially without Tech” 😭😭😭😭

No surprise reactions from Cross through. Means he already knows.

But also, Cross coming in with the solve <3

Is Hunter,,,, JEALOUS??? of the fact that Omega is spending so much time with Cross? Like that SIDEYE when they walked past each other on the platform

Like, God forbid Omega spent time with the member of the squad who everybody is always suspicious of and spends the most time alone

BUT ALSO!!!

“Don’t hold it against him. His only worried about you.” CROSS YOU BIG ‘OL SOFTY!!!

“I’m older than you are, little brother.”

THE CHUCKLE

AND WRECKER GIVING BACK CROSS’S ARMOUR AAAAAAAHHHH

oooohhh the girls are fighting

“Hey, kill each other later.” SIR THE WAY I CACKLED BYE ✋🏻

“He started it.” Sir, are you 5?

MAYDAY’S HELMET

Echo not wanting Omega to see the straight up Bitch fight between Hunter and Cross

TELL HIM CROSSHAIR!!!!!

Jesus Christ, fucking finally

I wrote a post at some point about Cross becoming the mirror held up to Hunter in which he can view his own shortcomings because of his adamant refusal to change AND ITS HAPPENING

“I risked everything to send you that message and you ignored it.” THIS

Hunter’s mistrust in Cross played a big part in Omega getting captured, but also ofc Cross thinks the message was fully ignored, because no one came to save him either

Also Cross just not hiding anymore that he’s always cared for Omega too I LOVE

Love how quick they put that plan together

Batch is Batching :) (almost) (Tech, my love, come back)

“We’ll try to dig through.” “You’ll try?” “Glad you heard me properly.” I AM WHEEZING

Cross patting Batcher

BIG ‘OL SOFTY

Say did Hunter abandon the bandana for a god damn leather strap

wtf

Cross and Hunter walking back to base side by side, when the last time Cross was walking back to this base was with Mayday dying in his arms🥺

Wrecker hugging them both

AAAAAHHH

“See? They always work it out. And I don’t even see any blood this time.”

EXCUSE ME??

i am worried.

Blood??

Was typical??

Jesus Christ

Don’t know how much I appreciate Hunter getting on a high horse and giving Cross advice

Bird flying away from Cross After always being with him on that base, like the shadows of his past leaving his life, now that this period of his life is over (also sun setting, signifying the day is over)

Good symbolism yes

Okokok good episode! Tbh I thought “The Return” would be Echo’s permanent return to the Batch, but narratively that wouldn’t’ve made sense for him anyway. And I am LOVING the fact that it is actually Crosshair’s return to the turning point in his life, followed by his full return to the batch. Like yeah, last ep they re-met, but he hadn’t fully arrived until the end of this episode and GAAAAHHH I love it!

Also the dialogue is just totally A1 chefs kiss mwah this season (or maybe I just appreciate sarcasm)

Loved this one!! Would love to tag Saturn and Steph because I wanna see their thoughts of Echo being back but idk if they’ve seen the ep already and I don’t wanna spoil them so,,, idk guys if you see this hmu lol

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

Baby bats 🦇

What are sometimes the boys would be in like “daddy mode” such as acting soft with the kids and if others see one of them they get embarrassed about?

Aww that's such a sweet question Ria! 🥺 The boys do definitely switch into daddy mode often, but I feel the only ones who would really be very embarrassed about being caught acting like a total softy would be David and Marko.

Like David was teaching Annie tea time etiquette one night and talking her through it [hey, if she's gonna make him play tea party, she has to learn to do it right] with a tiara and everything on when the boys got home to see him sat on a little pink plastic chair about to collapse right under him trynna hold up his weight whilst teaching his daughter to keep a straight pinky when she sips her tea.

Dwayne is always in Daddy mode when it comes to his wild little princess. He's this deep, brooding, scary man on the boardwalk, then this little girl comes waddling toward him with her arms stretched out shouting 'daddy!' And he's just melting on the spot right there. He's got this big smile on and he's scooping her up while kissing her chubby little face all over. 🩷🥺

Marko is very protective, so when his Daddy mode kicks in, it's when Kat or any of the other kids get hurt. ESPECIALLY if it's someone who had done so on purpose. If it's just some kid, he's scaring em off to hide behind moms legs... If it's some dickwad old enough to know better... They're probably dead. He's hugging his baby and cooing and being all sweet saying names like "Oh, Bellisima principessa... Il mio bambino..."

Pauly is pretty much the same as Marko, but the most his Daddy Mode kicks in is when the kids get bad dreams or nightmares. He's super soft and almost a complete and total opposite to his normal self. He's quiet and gentle, holding his babies close and shushing them and rocking them. He usually spends a lot of nights covering in Baby Bats and black mail from his mates.🩷

[dovahkinniez]

Could you do sfw and/or nsfw headcanons for how Lucien Flavius would react to being in a relationship with someone who isn’t used to affection or having their pleasure put first? I love how you characterize Luci he’s such a soft boy 🥺

` 𖤓 . . . LUCIEN FLAVIUS.

Hey! This is so sweet. Thank you for the compliment, I love Lucien and he's definitely such a softie, I adore him for it. Seriously melts my heart.

. . . SFW

Lucien grew up with a family that basically gushed out love and affection, the concept of not having that is strange to him. He's always given out so much love, when he begins to travel he realises that not everyone is as privileged as he is.

He made it a mission to find out what made you soft, what made those walls go down and each time you slowly warmed up to his affections he'd honestly feel really happy.

Your past doesn't define you and he wants to make your future better and sort of give you the love you've deserved you're entire life.

Which is why hes extra patient and sweet on you. He's a darling anyway but with you? He's got this softness you can't even explain because it isn't obvious, or sicky or overwhelming. He just understands.

You could look at something with a tiny hint of an emotion and he'd pick it up and be at your side.

Once you've broke down the walls he's fought so hard to break, he's truly a home to you.

The little things he does like tucks your hair behind your ear when you're doing something, helps you carry things when they're weighing you down, buying the necklace your eyes flashed at on the market, kissing the edge of your mouth when you're reading or working on the next plan ahead.

Lucien loves to hug, tightly, to keep you both warm. To encase you both in blankets on cold nights and just hold each other, telling each other random things until you end up laughing while you both fall asleep.

He's the type that loves to just look at you, he does it especially when you're asleep so you don't hide your face. Tracing your nose, lips, jaw.

. . . NSFW

MINORS DNI !!! Sexual content ahead, this is your chance to go before you continue reading. :] thank you.

Ugh. So sweet. Literally worships you.

Hands everywhere, feeling, grabbing, massaging. His lips press warm small kisses all over you and he just wants to love you, every single part of you.

Again, the concept of having someone basically give you pleasure is weird for sure but this sweetheart wants you to learn to let him in, to see you and make you feel good.

For once it feels like you're there not just to please the other, you're there with him. For each other. And it's so sweet.

Really, it could be sort of emotional too. Seeing and feeling the pure love that radiates off this man. It can feel overwhelming but in such a good way, you just want more.

[paintedpeeta]

okay so I commiserated the other day because I couldn't think of anything to ask for in terms of headcanons, but I've thought of things so I'm back!

what do you think are the little things the other says or does after the "real" moment when they're secure in their relationship that completely floors them every time and makes them think "oh wow I really love this person and I'm so lucky"

ahh seeing this in my inbox just made me so happy you have no idea :)

for a start i think they’d both be big on acts of service. it’s shown a bit in canon, like him bringing her cheesebuns because he knows they’re her favorite and y’know. her nursing him back from the brink of death in the first games.

i can imagine him doing little things like heating up her socks and pyjamas at the hearth before she puts them on, having a bath drawn for her when she gets home from the woods, and of course cooking/baking for her. in short, he does things that just make her feel a little bit pampered and spoiled. she’s never really had someone take care of her like that, and at first it’s hard for her to indulge and allow herself to enjoy these small luxuries, but she eventually comes around and lets it happen (because there’s no stopping him anyway).

on the other hand, her acts are a little more pragmatic but no less loving. she cuts his hair for him (though she loves his curls she concurs that it would be annoying to have them falling into his face all day at the bakery), makes sure that he takes all of his medication and takes care of his leg, and occasionally takes his lunch to the bakery for him. i also, rather self indulgently, like to imagine that she takes up embroidery and knitting after the war because hear me out… it’s such a practical thing to do!! like, being able to mend and make their own clothes? idk i just think katniss would be all over that. knitting him something warm in the winter, fixing/patching holes in his work pants, leaving a teeny tiny embroidered K on his shirtsleeve as a reminder.. just let me have it okay.

but sometimes the situation flips and she brings him flowers from the woods, and in return he’ll paint them for her. he’ll rub burn cream on her scars at night, and then she’ll scratch his back or scalp until he falls asleep.

she’s not the best with words, but she’d figure out early how important it is for him to hear that he’s loved because he didn’t get that affirmation much as a child and so she makes sure to tell him as best as she can. at the beginning she always gets flustered and embarrassed, sometimes hiding her face away into his chest or his neck so she can say it in (somewhat) privacy but he loves it all the same.

and i know that the subject of pet names/nicknames is kind of contentious and i’ve for sure spoken about my own personal headcanons about that before, but i can imagine him taking to calling her his girl (and later, his wife) and her secretly liking it. because she’s a softy at heart. and i think if she were to ever use a pet name for him, or to call him her husband, he’d probably need picked up off of the floor.

moving on from the intentional things that they do that melts the other, i’m thinking of all the sweet little moments of realisation that they both must have that this is their life now, and this is their person 🥺

like, can you just imagine how floored peeta would be to have katniss wanting to share his bed again? she’s a little too shy to ask at first, and so in her usual blunt katniss way she just starts to show up to his room to lay down beside him.

or how apprehensive katniss would be because she knows that she loves him now and that makes it all too real and fragile - but she can’t help but adore the way he looks at her, and the way he pulls her legs up onto his lap when they sit on the couch together, and how he starts to refer to the house as theirs…

i just think there must be so many moments where they each have that little thought that they’ve been so lucky to have the chance to grow back, to eventually raise a family and grow old together when so many people they loved didn’t get that chance 🥲. it doesn’t even always come as a direct result of the other’s actions or words, sometimes it just hits out of nowhere and all they want to do is squeeze the other and let them know how grateful they are/how much they love them.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

🐟 anon back again!! and yes, i love easter because i always get spoiled with big chocolate eggs and warm, colorful easter bread <3333 i’ve never done the egg hunting because i guess in my country is not that big?? maybe just once when i was in kindergarten?? but i remember cooking the easter bread with my mother :,,,) lol i think this is the main giveaway that i’m from southern/mediterranean europe 🫂

to answer your question yes i do love skk!! but my favorites are kouyou, ranpo and lucy!! ofc chuuya too! also yosano but i like everyone from the ada because they’re just so silly together :((((((

ooooo suguru TT…………….. i believe cult!leader suguru is so soft in his ways to show affection??? maybe even more so than student!geto because he would consider you as family and he would be so tender…….. he also raised the twins (and i’ve read in the fanbook that he also took in another kid?? the same way as the twins, but i don’t know if it is canon atp) so he would make this small gestures of affection like preparing a soup or changing the wet towel on your forehead to make the fever go away 😭😭😭😭😭 i really love the idea of soft cult leader geto suguru sm…….…

aaaaaa sending you lots of hugs!!!!! have a nice day! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 sending you lots of water and a goofy bouquet of corals!! <333333

aaaa 🐟 anon!!! welcome back!!!! i’m cradling the pretty coral bouquet in my arms :33 here’s a normal one for you hehe 💐

oooooh that makes sense!!! i’m from northern europe so the customs are probably different, i’d never heard of easter bread before !! :0 that sounds so good…. BUT i’m glad we at least share a custom of devouring chocolate eggs 🙏🙏 do you also eat chocolate rabbits….. bc i love those sm /drools

AND ANDDD your favs!!! i knewww i could trust you to have great taste…. i love ranpo and lucy so much (and kouyou is sooo pretty 🥺)!!! overall my favorites r kuni and oda, but. there are a lot of silly guys from bsd that i like…. they rlly are so charming <33333

AND !!!!! WE’RE HOLDING HANDS SO HARD RN i completely agree……. i’m a soft!sugu believer until the day i DIE and that goes especially for cult leader geto!!! our family man 🥺🥺 but no you’re so right, he absolutely does see his s/o as family….. and yep, he did take in another guy, not just nanamimi!! i don’t think he exactly fathered him the same way, but it’s implied that he saved toshihisa from a similarly terrible situation as the twins…. hhh i love geto’s family so much. it’s so telling that he loves them the way he does… that he cares for them and misses them and doesn’t force his beliefs onto them :cc sniffle… he’s the papa Ever .

but yeah when it comes to geto his devotion is just so. abundant. there’s so much of it. and i think the main difference is that teen suguru is good at hiding that devotion, making sure it doesn’t spill out too suddenly…. maybe even a little ashamed of it? of how much he feels? but geto doesn’t hide it at all. his love for you is almost overwhelming because he’s just so intense about it. promises you the world and is willing to give it to you….. that’s the kinda guy he is. at his core he’s always always always fought on the side of those he loves, so sincerely that he breaks completely when he realizes that being a sorcerer means watching those loved ones die for the sake of people he doesn’t even know. geto would devour the world for you.

but !!! i do also think that he’s suchhh a softie :c which might seem a bit out of place after i just said his devotion is overwhelming LMAO but. he just has that contrast!! it’s easy to think that romances w him would be angsty, but imo that’s only true if his s/o isn’t on his side... if you are then he turns into the softest man on the planet. he wants so badly to be a good partner. even if he doesn’t think he could ever be a good man… and even though his devotion is overwhelming i think the fact that he’s open w it kinda makes him… mellow out? that depends on how much you feed into it though….

but yeah i truly do think cult leader geto takes on the caretaker role more than any other sugu :3 he’s the Mother ever. absolutely feeds you soup and tends to you!!! he wants you to depend on him so bad :((( he wants to be yours… wants you to be his… wants to be the most important person in your life. but it comes from a place of love that’s so dangerously soft it would give most people whiplash lmao (cue his followers watching him lull you to sleep on his lap during an important meeting only to be met with a warning glance when they stare at you for a little too long <33 yeah…)

………. i got carried away PSHFKDJJD 😭😭😭 as you can see i’m Normal abt cult leader geto he’s my mommy meowmeow ever. in conclusion!!! i agree w you wholeheartedly 🐟 anon !!!!

[evansbby]

bestie!! im sorry if I sound delirious writing this I just got home from uni and work and decided to read the poyt prequel as a treat😋 but I still want to share my thoughts on it before I go to sleep <3

first of all, I had to pause, close my eyes and breathe halfway through reading it because Steve is such a dick!! poor baby omega, minding her own business, she just wants to finish her studies!😫

second, the flowers!! I love how significant it is in Steve’s life with the little flashbacks from his childhood, and how he imagined giving omega yellow roses alongside his sappy thoughts, associating omega’s scent with the magnolias…

it made that one scene in poyt4 even more special knowing that he was gonna give it to omega, he was showing omega how much he loves her  (even though he wasn’t ready to admit it yet at the time and projected on omega for “cheating”, but we’re just gonna pretend that didnt happen lol). Omega is just his little flower🥺 he irresistibly loves flowers since the beginning  but he just doesn’t know how to show it!! 

third, the drawings 😫😫 i’m an artist myself and I am terrible drawing from memory! he must’ve really memorised and spent a LOT of time looking at Omega for him to draw her with so much details, our Steve is just a cute little softie awe

Although it pained me to see Steve being a huge douchebag, I’m excited to see how he will redeem himself in poyt 5 now that he finally accepted the fact that he truly loves omega! I hope he will actually start acting on his softer side and not just hide it in his consciousness😣Right now I just want to give omega a big hug from having to go through all of that!! 😫 men are just so weird sometimes 🤧

thank you so much for this lovely read!! I’ve been following this series for awhile now and I know how hard you worked on it<3 your blog and your writings became a constant thing in my life in 2022 and I can’t wait to support more of your work this year!! Sending much love mwa mwa mwa !!! 💌💌

YES YES YES!! Thanks so much for this amazing review, I loved reading through it ughh you have no idea!!

Okay so YESS not only does he associate omega’s scent with the magnolias from his childhood, her scent IS the magnolias from his childhood. Meaning he was obsessed with her scent ever since he was a child. Meaning that it was always meant to be her 😭😭😭

And the yellow roses 😌😌 I feel like those roses also grew in his mom’s garden and he just fixated on them from a young age (ugh damn I should’ve included this ajdjsjajka) anyways, so now every time he buys roses, he gravitates towards the yellow ones. Yellow is also like the colour of spring and hope and that’s also what he associated her scent with.

I LOVE that you said she’s just his little flower, I find that so cute and important! Bc Steve’s mom tells him that flowers need love and nurturing to grow, else they die. Mirrors how his own omega “wilts” and starts losing all hope when Steve mistreats her a lot. 🥲🥲🥲

And finally, the drawings 😌😌 yes, Steve literally spent hours and hours staring at her. During lectures, following her around, finding her social media and looking at the grainy pics 😭😭😭

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i let out the happiest, most content sigh when i finished this! i’ve been saving it up till i really have time to sink my teeth into it and am so happy i did ☺️ all the sighing and swooning and yearning!!! i really liked how you stayed mostly with the reader’s pov in this chapter, i felt like bucky when he got to the house and said it was exactly like described. i loved this series so much and it made me excited to watch the show every week! can’t wait to see what you cook up next 😉 but now more below 💕

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. - especially when the thing that made you so different is still happening, you’re just no longer a part of it

Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to. - this is veryyyyyyyy curious to me 😉 wonder what he’s up to! (admittedly my first thought when it was mentioned her brother’s room was across the little hallway from hers was BABY ROOM)

had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? - i don’t know about this one, maybe? 😉 like the baby animals and springtime and the world starting anew? interesting interesting

There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. - girl…bffr

not all this world’s mothers have babies in the springtime. Some have theirs in the summer. - oh the red cross sensors are losing their minds over these two

and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house - oh sweet girl! i’m so sorry to hear that!

brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table - I KNEW IT!!! and his rationale being that the baby needs some place to sleep!?! DAD!!! you softie

one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you - oh i LOVE it! that’s so clever of you!!

“But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…” - oh honey 🥺 like she said early, she doesn’t want to entrap him (little does she realize the man is desperate to be entrapped). i really liked her conversation with her mom in the hospital too!

your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm. - her dad is so sweet!!! i’m so curious how he’s gonna be with bucky! (i feel like a little curt for the first thirty minutes and then he warms right up to him)

“To Both My Precious Girls” - ☺️🥰 get right out of here!!! i’m smiling, blushing, yearning!!! this is so sweet

“Both of your names are going to sound terrific with my last name” - ��🤭

“Clara’s loving father and your devoted satellite” - i still love the whole satellite bit because it selfishly reminds me of when my reader calls bradley rocketman, it’s like we’re kinda linked in some way ☺️

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat. - i just love that you made the telegram, like all the letters and little bits and bobs you put into all your fics are so unbelievably cool (also the fact that you put in the alt text stuck out to me from the first bradley fic of yours i read!)

you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet - this is such a visual!!!! i love that they both get to greet bucky at the door!!! it’s so cinematic

The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully. - oh my god!! can you imagine!?! the poor boy!!!

“You gave it to her.” Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.” - STOP THIS!!! ☺️🥺

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question. “Will you marry me?” - AHHHHH I KNEW HE WOULDNT CHEAP IT OUT (but also he kept his word, it’s practically the first thing he did!!)

Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight. - oh that is darling!

“So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.” - i like that 🤭

VI. "Trust Me, Doll..."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

War is hell and every time it seems you and Bucky adapt to your new normal, the game is changed yet again. When at last Victory in Europe is achieved, the pair of you can finally focus on forging the way ahead.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Grief, Mentions of Death, Imprisonment, Pregnancy, Childbirth in Retrospect, Child Rearing, Motherhood, Era-Typical Sexism and Marital Expectations, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Sex While Trying Not to Be Overhead] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note(s): This is it! Oh wow, we made it, kids! Thank you to each and every one of you for your incredible engagement with this series it has truly been an inspiration! I love all of you and have more Bucky thoughts brewing!!!

As always, letters/telegrams have image descriptions that can be accessed by clicking the 'ALT' button. Special thanks to Marina @precious-little-scoundrel for helping me untangle numerous plot points in this series. I could not have done this without you, darling! This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7444

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

Your sudden return home in mid-February had been decidedly awkward. Without time to send a letter of warning, you had spent a lot of coins on a phone call in a telephone booth at the hospital in New Jersey while you awaited the arrival of a WAC commanding officer to process your discharge.

To say your mother had been surprised to hear your voice over the line was an understatement. Mercifully, your father had already left for work that day and you had only had to break the news to her. Given the frosty welcome you had received from him by the time you managed to reach the steps of your childhood home, you hated to think what his reaction would have been if you had informed him that his unwed daughter was kicked out of the Women’s Army Corps for being pregnant without the softening interference of your mother.

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. The war had left its marks here too, though. A gold star banner hung proudly in the front window, in honor of your brother, and your mother’s garden out back had mostly been turned over to the growing of vegetables, with a huge stockpile of jarred preserves now overflowing the pantry. But the two bedrooms at the top of the stairs belonging to you and your brother, separated by a small hallway that was really no more than a glorified landing, were exactly as you had left them in 1942. As if they were frozen in time. Dusted and cared for, but ready and waiting for you to pick up your old lives.

Only your brother was never coming home, and you had returned home but entirely changed. After the relentless pace you had maintained since enlisting, the thought of remaining at home in idle leisure was too off-putting to even contemplate. You allowed yourself a few days of adjusting to the violent change in time – at least when you had traveled to England you had been afford several days at sea to transition. Flight across the Atlantic had been utterly jarring, and it had taken great discipline to turn your nighttime back into day.

But once you had re-acclimated to the North American clock, you had promptly ventured out to find yourself gainful employment at a nearby grocery store. The owner, Nick, was a friend of the family. A kind man who did not seem interested in asking too many questions about why you were back early, was simply eager for the help around his store. It was most definitely not as mentally taxing as the work you had previously undertaken as a WAC, but it was money, and that was sorely needed as babies were expensive.

Your mother seemed fretful about you working in your ‘delicate condition,’ but the demands of the position paled in comparison to the one you had just left, and you rarely worked more than six hours a day. There was still plenty of time to sit with her, improving your knitting skills as you started on a baby blanket. Your mother was duly impressed you had picked up such a feminine skill abroad and seemed more than happy to pass along helpful hints.

In all truth she did appear to be struggling, dwelling frequently on memories and nostalgia for happier times. It was difficult to say how your father was coping in the wake of your brother’s passing. Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to.

You had sent a letter to Bucky immediately upon your arrival, as promised, still not divulging the full extent of the situation, but it had been stocked with reassurances and re-direction. It appeared he had not yet received it based on his letter that reached you in mid-April.

Damn that man, but you did love him so. Baby animals – had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? Gnawing ruthlessly on your lower lip, you found yourself pacing around your room, one hand rubbing at your lower back, sore from standing all day with the growing weight of your swollen abdomen.

‘Or is he simply fishing for more information, unconvinced?’ You wondered to yourself, sighing heavily.

He was simply too intelligent for his own good. Another man would simply have taken your words at face value and left it at that. But there was a reason you had not fallen in love with another man. Had not given yourself to another man.

With another deep sigh, you dug out your writing supplies and drafted a reply that acknowledged his statements but neither confirmed nor denied them. There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. Particularly after enduring his current stay in a prison camp.

As the weather grew ever warmer, it became increasingly difficult to conceal your predicament – no matter how baggy or oversized your dresses were. Your engagement ring only went so far in polite society to protect you from judgemental stares and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house. May seemed to drag on, though you certainly managed to knit a wide variety of nearly perfect baby clothes for different stages.

Perhaps the brightest spot came one evening when your father emerged from the room opposite yours and left the door open for the first time since you came home, revealing not the preserved bedroom of your brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table. As you stood in your doorway in shock, eyes brimming with tears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gruffly muttered, “baby needs somewhere to sleep after all,” before trudging down the stairs to the bedroom he shared with your mother.

June burst onto the scene with the Allied invasion of France and the good news only continued with the signing of the GI Bill on the 22nd. Your years of service and honorable discharge earned you, and your very active and rapidly growing baby, subsidized medical care. It could not have been timelier as appointments became more and more frequent, your due date looming at the end of July.

Much like her father, Clara Mae had a mind of her own when it came to her time of arrival. She was born in the middle of the night on July 22nd at the local veteran’s hospital – one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you.

The choice of her name had been rather easy, derived from Bucky’s middle name - Clarence. While you could not give her his family name, or even list him as her father on the birth certificate without his signature, you could at least give her this for now. He had already given her his mischievous eyes and unmistakable ears. Time would tell what other of his features she would share. If the grey-blue of her eyes would settle in the color of the stormy sea like his. If the slight dusting of fuzz of her head would grow into luscious, dark curls.

Sitting there in sore, stunned exhaustion as they carted her off to the nursery, you looked up as your mother sidled over, the broad grin of a recent grandparenthood still splitting her face.

“We have to write Major Egan right away and let him know. Oh he’ll be so thrilled, a sweet little girl to come home to now!”

The force with which your face crumpled, physically unable to bear to weight of all your falsehoods and desperate attempts at inner strength one moment longer, sent your tears scattering down the front of your hospital gown. Your mother snapped her mouth shut, completely taken aback by the abrupt shift in your mood, before she collected a wad of scratchy hospital tissues and tenderly wiped at your eyes.

“There now, I know. It’s been a tremendous effort, and things are very difficult.” She soothed and cradled your head to her breast, rubbing your back softly.

Despite becoming a mother yourself not a full hour ago, it seemed you were still very much in need of one yourself.

“What if he doesn’t want me, mama?” You gulped and looked up to her pathetically as you finally gave voice to perhaps the greatest fear that had been stalking you since the realization that you were pregnant had come crashing down upon you. “We’re not even…it’s not even real…” Your eyes dropped to the false engagement ring that mockingly glinted up at you from your left hand.

She sighed deeply before her hands grasped your face and forced your gaze to meet hers. “Well, pumpkin, I’d say that a man who writes to you despite the difficulties is one of the good ones. And usually it’s the good ones that do the right things.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly, as much as her tight grip would allow. “But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…”

There was another maternal sigh before you were gathered close in her arms once more. “Let’s hope for the best then. I’ll get Felix from down the street to bring his camera. We’ll send a photo of sweet Clara Mae and see if she can’t work her magic on him.”

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

The Allied invasion of Western Europe had felt like a gift from above, flooding Bucky’s life with a new sense of purpose, and shattering the grim monotony that had calcified everything around him. The gnawing hunger, the biting cold, the evasiveness in your letters, the constant worry and uncertainty he felt for both himself and you. There was surely only one explanation, at least only one rational, sane explanation for your early discharge. But he’d had far too much time on his hands to postulate and theorize all manner of possibilities and their catastrophic outcomes.

June 6 had brought an abrupt and decisive end to that, a sharp divide to their life in camp, and a need for preparations now that the Commonwealth forces were closing in from one side and the Russians from the other. It was early September when he received your life changing letter, two small photos tucked securely between your folded, scented pages. One of you, looking so very beautiful it made his heart ache fondly. And the second of a very tiny infant with remarkably familiar ears.

He huffed fondly and turned back to the letter to read it properly as you finally confirmed what he had long suspected.

Shaking the envelope once more produced a square of paper with the stamp of his daughter’s – his daughter’s – footprints on it.

Cradling it in one palm, he could not help but gawk at the small scale of her. She must be truly tiny…only 20 inches.

“Your girl finally explain herself?” Buck leaned over his shoulder, and he nodded, holding up Clara’s photo.

His friend barely contained a snort and Bucky scoffed in return. “I know – poor girl’s got my damn Dumbo ears. Couldn’t even deny she’s mine if I wanted to.”

“She’s beautiful anyway, despite your influence.” Buck smirked and handed the photo back carefully. “Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Clara Mae.” An involuntary grin of pleasure overtook him as he said it, quite enjoying the way it sounded. You had picked well.

“Your girl did an excellent job. Be sure you tell her so.”

“You know I will.” He replied with a firm nod.

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

The twelve weeks it took to hear from Bucky were both a blur and an agony. Clara did her utmost to keep the household, and you in particular, thoroughly occupied. You were somewhat relieved that your parents were sleeping on a different floor than her, that it gave you a chance to dart across the hall and mollify her discordant wails with a fresh diaper or a feeding. But on those nights when even you could not seem to sort out what ailed her, your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm.

Truly, for such a small being, she had the entirety of her grandfather wrapped around her littlest finger. Clara was the first he greeted upon returning home from work and the last he kissed goodnight. None of this would have been possible without his willing arms, nor your mother’s endless wisdom when it came to washing bottles and diapers and Clara’s vast wardrobe of tiny clothing. But in the quiet moments, when she was busily suckling in your arms or just as you were falling asleep, your thoughts would always fly across the Atlantic to barbwire fences and Bucky.

You hoped your letter reached had him. You hoped it had all of its contents still, that none of them had been lost while being reviewed by the censors and whomever else pried into your mail. His reaction? Well you could not even dare to hope what that might be. It would cause your entire body to tense almost painfully and prevent your lungs from filling with air.

Every day you did your best not to look too eagerly as the postman delivered the mail, flipping through the envelopes calmly, hiding your disappointment when his reply was not there. Your agony came to an end, at last, in mid-October. Hearing your soft gasp, your mother offered to take Clara on her morning walk – it was generous to be sure, but you were also more than aware that she enjoyed the attention warranted by pushing the gorgeous girl through the neighborhood in her pram.

Settling down at the kitchen table once they had left, you sliced open the envelope anxiously.

Tears of relief were tracking down your cheeks by the time you reached the end of his letter, making it difficult to read his words clearly. He had replied. He was not angry, nor dismissive. He called himself Clara’s father. And there was an oblique, very Bucky-like proposal in there. Your watery laugh echoed in the empty kitchen before you sniffled in a very unladylike way. God, you missed him so very much. By the time your mother and Clara returned, your tears of relief had been replaced by sobs of longing that had her tiptoeing through the house, deeply concerned his letter had been one of rejection.

Looking up at her apprehensive face as she peered through the doorway, you smiled through your pain and nodded. “It’s good news.”

“Oh, well…good.” She gave you a somewhat bewildered smile and found a handkerchief for you to once more clean yourself up before you gathered Clara close.

“Your daddy says he loves you, peanut. What do you think of that?”

Clara’s face stretched into one of her toothless grins that came just as easy as Bucky’s did, and you fought the urge to cry again. “Yeah…me too.”

Your reply to Bucky’s letter was accompanied by a holiday card fingerpainted by Clara, now that you were confident in the mailing time of roughly six-weeks, as well as another set of dry goods for him to share with his friends. Time continued to march on and in an effort to better document Clara’s rapid growth, you purchased a user-friendly camera, having Felix give you some lessons.

Mid-January, Clara received a gift from her father – a stunning ink drawing of him done by one of his roommates apparently. It had been over a year since you had looked upon his face and the breathtaking detail captured by the man who drew it, A. Jefferson based on the signature, inflicted an intense barrage of memories. You promptly went to a five-and-dime store to purchase a frame for it, setting it on the dresser in Clara’s room next to a model of a B17. You made a point of showing it to her every day, telling her stories about her daddy – only the appropriate ones of course, wanting her to know him.

That it was also self-soothing was simply a bonus.

That letter was the last one you received from him. As Clara’s features sharpened into Bucky’s, and his dark curls framed her face, it was his gaze staring up at you from your arms as the weeks ticked by with no word. When the abnormally harsh winter yielded to spring once more, there was still no reply to your January letter. The war was all but won, the Germans quite literally surrounded, the Russians in Germany and yet there was nothing.

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat.

‘Please let him be alright.’

Your mother had been in the kitchen, working on lunch, but silently appeared at your elbow, ghosts of her own heartbreak etching her features.

“Deep breaths. Anybody can send a telegram, not just the War Department.” She murmured and knelt down beside Clara on the rug to play with her as you forced your leaden feet to move towards the door.

Accepting the yellow envelope from the infuriatingly neutral-faced boy, you confirmed that it was indeed addressed to you before impatiently tearing into it.

Exhaling shakily you smiled in relief. Major Cleven must have escaped. That he would have spent the money to send a telegram to update you on Bucky, and to share a message from the man himself, was quite moving. You could not help the chuckle that escaped you, however, at the fact that this was twice now that Cleven had terrified you in the process of trying to share good news.

“All is well?” Your mother asked softly from the living room, and you turned quickly with a smile.

“Yes, he’s ok, his friend somehow made it back to England and wanted me to know he’s doing alright.”

The smile she gave you in return contained no small amount of relief.

The Russians were in Berlin by the next time Western Union made its second delivery at the beginning of May.

‘Please, when we are so very close to victory, please.’

Even less patient with this envelope than the last, you felt a swell of elation at just the first word.

And he meant it. It was not entirely as soon as either of you would have liked, given that Victory in Europe happened not a week after that telegram, on May 8, 1945, but Bucky certainly did come to you and Clara as soon as it was possible.

It was a hot afternoon in early July, the wind having abandoned everyone when the sun rose that morning. Clara was in a bit of a mood courtesy of the heat and her desire to move about the house independently. Certainly, she had been crawling for months, terrorizing everything and everyone in her path, but as of late she had been pulling herself to her feet and trying desperately to take those first few wobbly steps towards upright freedom. She certainly could manage it while gripping tightly to your fingers for balance, but today her chubby cheeks and granite eyes were screwed tight in consternation as she swatted your hands away to go it alone.

“Alright peanut, off you go then.” You smiled encouragingly, sitting back on your heels as beads of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

Letting go of the edge of the coffee table, she wavered and wobbled, overcorrecting her round little infant body before landing heavily onto her bottom with a squawk of frustration.

“So close, so–”

The rapping of knuckles against the wooden frame of the screen door cut off your statement and you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet.

“Let’s go see if that’s the postman with Grandma’s package, shall we?” You smiled and tickled her soft tummy with your free hand, earning a giggle accompanied by her gap-toothed grin as you headed over to the front door.

The man standing there in uniform was most certainly not the postman, however.

“Bucky…” You whispered in shock as he stood before you, in the flesh, after nearly two years of constant worry and concern.

All that separated you now was a flimsy screen door, which you lurched forward to shove open. His eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of you, Clara peering at him curiously. The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully.

“It’s not real.” You murmured quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, and stepped back to invite him inside.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor was all the warning you had before he was pulling you tightly against him, burying his face into your hair. Pressing your face against him in return, you clung to the back of his uniform jacket, wondering if he had always smelled this good or if he had bought new cologne since returning stateside. A sudden strangled sound came from his throat, and you straightened quickly to see Clara had a ruthless grip on his tie and a wicked grin on her face.

“Ta.” You said firmly, holding out your hand and she surrendered her stranglehold on the piece of fabric which you carefully tucked back into his jacket.

Bucky smirked down at her slightly, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed wonder. Clara, for her part, did not seem the least bit fazed by him whatsoever. Her chubby little fingers moved to trace the shiny buttons of his jacket before stretching up to brush along the coarse hair on his upper lip.

“You like my mustache, Miss Clara?” He grinned and pretended to devour her finger as it strayed too close to his mouth, sending his daughter into a fit of giggles and making your cheeks ache from smiling so wide.

An involuntary yawn suddenly overtook her, and you glanced at your watch, nodding as the time confirmed your suspicions. “It’s nap time, I’ll just take her upstairs.”

“Can I come?” He asked softly, making no move to release his hold on you and you nodded quickly, pressing your lips to his cheek softly before leading him to the stairwell at the back of the house.

“This place looks exactly how you described it…” He murmured softly, threading his fingers through yours as he followed.

Looking back to him, startled, you swallowed down the swell of emotion that had been threatening since you had first laid eyes on him. “I told you about it once, in that…hotel room in London…almost two years ago.”

“And I’ve imagined it almost every day since.” He assured you easily as you climbed the stairs, making you shake your head in awe.

Glancing through the open door into your room curiously for a moment, he followed you into Clara’s nursery, grinning softly as his eyes landed on the drawing he had sent.

“You gave it to her.”

Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours and he smiled gratefully before reaching out for your left hand, his thumb stroking along the band of the ring there.

“You know, this isn’t very believable, doll.” He muttered and you felt yourself tense as you eyed him, suddenly nervous in his presence after all those months apart. You had been separated longer than you had even known one another. “I’d have bought you a much bigger rock.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Laughter, something that felt so foreign to you after its long absence, bubbled up from your chest while tears simultaneously flooded your eyes. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours at last, the kiss distinctly salty despite the best efforts of his thumbs to swipe your tears away. Laying your hands atop his, it began to sink in that he was really home, he had truly made it back to you. And Clara. There was no more need for constant fretting and pleading mantras. He was here.

“In fact I did.” His statement, a continuation of his discussion about your fake engagement ring, felt disorienting as it interrupted your inner musings, and you watched in confusion as he sunk to one knee right there in Clara’s bedroom, slipping the piece of costume jewellery from your ring finger before tucking it one of his pockets.

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, watching him clumsily slide the heavier ring onto your finger before his mouth was on yours once more, demanding and possessive.

Pressing against him, you would have completely forgotten yourself if not for the sound of your mother calling your name from the bottom of the stairs, tone laced with confusion and worry – surely from finding the front door open and a piece of strange luggage in the front hall. Bucky pulled his lips back and pressed his forehead to yours, hot puffs of his breath caressing your face.

“Parents’ house…”

You let out a small laugh of chagrin. “Parents’ house.” You confirmed before pulling back and guiding him out, leaving the door slightly cracked so you would hear when Clara awoke.

Miraculously she had slept through the entire exchange, a superpower she had surely inherited from her father. Descending the stairs, introductions were made, and you did not miss the way you mother’s eyes lit up as she took in the new ring on your finger. Your father was slightly more difficult to win over, still smarting from the perceived mistreatment of his little girl. You were more than a little convinced he might be taking Bucky to the toolshed to shoot him when he asked for the man to accompany him out there for a chat after dinner.

Your aggressive scrubbing of the dishes in the sink as you watched anxiously out the window amused your mother to no end.

“He’s just ensuring Major Egan has your best interests in mind.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he, mama?” You worried your lip and she laughed, wiping Clara’s sticky fingers clean after her joyful decimation of a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“He will do no such thing.”

By some miracle, the pair of them immerged unscathed twenty minutes later, shaking hands and sharing a laugh. You rediscovered the ability to exhale and prepared Clara for her evening walk, which Bucky insisted on joining. Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight.

Not only was the vantage point much better, but she had unfettered access to all the intriguing bits of his uniform to occupy herself with as the pair of you followed the usual route around the neighborhood. While no one had taken it upon themselves to be overtly rude to you, something about seeing all six foot two inches of Major John Egan carrying his carbon-copy daughter with you on his other arm seemed to go a long way to repairing your somewhat tarnished reputation around town.

People who had politely nodded or offered no more than tight-lipped smiles were now openly waving and calling greetings as you passed.

“Sure are popular around here, doll.”

“I assure you, it’s the pair of you.” You smirked at him and Clara who was busily tugging at the flap of his breast pocket. “Everything alright after your visit to the toolshed?” You asked now that you were far enough away from the house that your father would not hear.

He nodded easily. “Your father and I are of like minds. You and I are going to the registrar’s office tomorrow to get a marriage licence and then we’ll get this little one’s birth certificate sorted as well.”

“He wasn’t…too harsh on you?” You asked with more than a little trepidation.

Bucky looked to you softly. “No more than I deserved.”

“You deserved no harshness, we both know full well how this happened…”

“I sure didn’t stop you. Couldn’t have, even if I had been able to think straight.” He smirked and kissed your temple. “So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.”

Sighing fondly you continued your progress until Clara was slumped against his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. By the time you returned to the house, your mother had set up a small camp bed in the nursery for you and moved Bucky’s things to your room for the night – everyone agreed there was no way he could possibly be expected to sleep on the sofa. He was simply too long. Wishing one another good night in the hallway with a lingering kiss, you pressed your lips together as your mother cleared her throat expectantly from the landing below and slipped into the nursery for the night.

It was difficult to say how long you had been asleep when a faint noise, your ears now well trained to listen out for the smallest of disturbances, woke you. It was most definitely still dark when you raised your head, immediately looking to the crib to see Clara sleeping peacefully on her stomach, index and middle fingers of her right hand suckled soothingly by her full lips. Shifting your gaze in the dimly lit room, you jumped slightly to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, clad in his boxers and undershirt, silently watching her sleep, expression pensive.

Sliding to your feet as gracefully as the low bed and your thin cotton nightgown would allow, you padded over to him quietly to whisper, “everything ok?”

“She’s just so small…” He replied in a hushed voice, gesturing with his hands, eyes still fixed on Clara’s sleeping form, and you smiled fondly.

Reaching out, you gently manipulated the distance between his palms to represent how small she had been as a newborn. “She was only that big a year ago.”

His eyes tore from the crib to study the small gap between his hands before lifting slightly to drink in how little you were wearing, how thin the material was to try and make sleeping in the summer months bearable. His eyes briefly flicked to yours, revealing the rapid dilation of his pupils before his mouth descended onto yours ravenously.

Sliding one arm around his waist, you pressed with the other against the centre of his chest to guide him back across the hall, closing the door to your bedroom behind you as you quickly surrendered and parted your lips for him. He grunted eagerly, pressing his fully hard length against you through the thin barrier of your clothes, making you gasp at the rapidity of his response.

“The damn sheets smell like you, I’ve been hard all night.” He groaned and you quickly smothered his mouth with yours, well aware just how loud he tended to get.

If you were lucky enough to get away with this, you were going to have to be as quiet as possible.

Rucking the hem of your nightgown up over your hips, he pivoted to deposit you onto the edge of the bed, settling between your thighs as you worked one another’s underwear off. Pressing skin to skin, his head fell back, and you quickly slid your palm over his mouth to smother his eager sighs, rocking your folds along the length of him as you gnawed on your lips and swallowed your own keens. Bucky’s eyes bored into yours hungrily as he mirrored your movements, almost daring you to keep quiet as he continued to moan against your hand.

Silence became impossible for you too as the blunt tip of his cock snagged on your entrance and he rocked his hips forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. Falling back onto the mattress, you slapped the hand that had previously been propping you upright over your own mouth to smother your eager groan as your eyelids fluttered in the struggle to remain open. Shifting forward once he had settled fully inside you, Bucky’s face hovered just above yours, eyes still pinning yours as he began the eager push and pull towards ecstasy.

Desperately trying to keep your hands in place over your mouth and his, your back arched at the long forgotten and very heightened sensation of being so very stretched by him, trembling with each brush of his pelvis against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands planted onto the mattress on either side of your head, fisting into the sheets as his hips snapped demandingly into yours, each sharp exhale from his nostrils cascading across your knuckles as you felt the tension building within you.

Sweat glistened on both of your skin, the efforts in the lingering heat of the night only making you both slick as you writhed beneath him, heart hammering inside your ribcage. And still his eyes would not leave yours. The one time you gave into the urge to clench them shut, he sent them flying open once more with a sharp nip to the meat of your palm and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.

You could feel him clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, desperately driving into you until your body shattered in release, nearly going limp with the force of it. Bucky nestled his face tighter to your palm as, with two more erratic thrusts, he followed suit with a harsh cry, thankfully still smothered. Slumping forward, utterly spent, you cradled him close a moment before shuffling and maneuvering to rest against the headboard with him properly nuzzled against your neck, and his legs mostly on the bed.

Stroking his hair lovingly, every so often scratching your nails along his scalp, you could not help the fond smile as his harsh breaths evened out and the weight of him grew heavier against you when sleep overtook him. Sighing softly, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to join him in rest.

The next time you opened them you were alone, tucked beneath the sheet, the soft light of dawn filling the room. The distinct sound of Clara’s giggles carried from across the hall, and you sat up, grabbing your summer housecoat and peered into the nursery to find the pair of them perched on the camp bed engaged in a very entertaining game of wooden blocks it seemed. Bucky had retrieved the model of the B17 from the dresser and was frequently swooping it down to destroy whatever Clara’s clumsy little hands built, much to her delight.

“Ah, Mommy’s up.” Bucky’s statement revealed that you had been caught and you smirked, stepping into the room to kneel on the carpet beside them. “Did we wake you?”

Shaking your head softly, you kissed Clara’s head and then Bucky’s cheek. “Did she wake you, though?”

He shrugged. “Probably my turn anyway.”

You smiled tenderly, laughing as Clara clutched at his arm to demonstrate that she had assembled a new construction in need of his attention. Watching fondly, you blinked slightly to see a new addition to the dog tags, crucifix, and medal that he normally wore. Amidst the collection was now the faux engagement ring you had sported for over a year. Reaching out, you traced your finger along it, raising an eyebrow in silent question as his eyes met yours.

“To remind me of that time I was overly reckless.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, pressing your lips to his firmly.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he pulled you snuggly into his side, continuing to entertain Clara easily.

“We’ll get the licence today but, what kind of wedding would you like, doll?” He asked quietly.

“Just a date at the courthouse is fine.” You assured him with a nod.

“You don’t want a big wedding or anything? Honestly doll, anything you want and it’s yours.” He assured you softly.

You laughed watching your daughter gnaw on the corner of a wooden block. “Seems a bit hypocritical to put me a white gown don’t you think?” You smirked and shook your head when he looked ready to defend your honor. “I don’t need all those fancy things John, I just need you.”

When he finally came up for air, your lips more than a little swollen from his attentions, he huffed a laugh.

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the parachute I smuggled home now, though…”

“Well, Major Cleven’s getting married soon, isn’t he? I’m sure Marge would appreciate it. She seems lovely from the letters we’ve exchanged.”

He turned to you wide-eyed, struck silent, and you could not help but laugh. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of women, John.”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “Trust me, doll…I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you.”

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

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas, @carpediem1219, @blueberry-ovaries

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ —let's play it again | geto suguru

wc: 1.6k

summary: you don’t see why this good thing should end, so you negotiate. 

contains: implied f!reader but no pronouns used, non-curse!au, fuckboy!suguru, vague descriptions of sex

a/n: a part 2 to fuckboy!suguru inspired by those reels/tiktoks of couples capturing confessions in photo booths 🥺 + an early birthday gift for @irisintheafterglow!! he's a lil softie in this one 🥺 i hope you like it my dear iris!!

part 1 <- you are here

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There’s a reason why Suguru always wins—

At the slightest indication of a loss, he withdraws, slipping out at just the right time before it’s considered a forfeit. 

In this game with you, he removes himself quietly, like a ghost haunting your memories. It’s the day after the seventh time he’s spent the night when he cuts contact. Calls, texts, everything. 

You don’t understand any of it; what you had was good—messages you can’t stop replying to, scratches down the length of his spine, fingers threading through the silk strands of his hair; that kind of good. You don’t see why it should end, don’t want it to. 

So you negotiate. 

Bundled up in your favorite coat and the scarf he never returned for, you corner him in the crisp chill of an autumn afternoon. He’s wearing that damn leather jacket again, black turtleneck high to hide his skin from what you hope is the cold and not from you. 

His gaze continues to reel you in, obsidian pools you could sink into. He still smells of apple and tonka bean; you know the cedarwood won’t hit until he’s walked away, trailing the air he passes through. 

There is so much you know about the man in front of you, how he hides his surprise by clenching his jaw; Suguru’s tell is never his eyes, it’s his lips—its sudden movements, the lift of a smirk down to the constriction of his throat.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, brows furrowed and arms crossed, a little anxious.

“Not at all.”

He swallows his lies every time he utters them, does it twice when he’s nervous. 

His Adam's apple bobs two times. 

(He doesn’t tell you your mistake: that you made it so easy to want mornings and nights spent entirely with you). 

So, you negotiate a rematch; a deal to go back to the way things were. 

If by the end of the next six months, neither of you want anything to do with the other, he wins and you’ll never speak to him again. But if you win—

He agrees.

(If he nips it at the bud, proves there isn’t anything more to this feeling and gets over you before he ever has to, then it’s a whole world of pain he’s avoiding—a whole web of attachment he’s never been used to making). 

.

The rematch finds you learning a new side to Suguru.

He’s still charming, eyes dark and voice honey smooth when he speaks. His hands still know you best between your sheets, grabbing hold of your hips and molding you as he squeezes the flesh when you reach your peak.

There’s still freshly made tea sitting on the kitchen counter when you wake the morning after, its temperature the perfect warmth you know he’s mastered. Dinners are still your favorite, and he continues to lean in instead of asking you to speak louder.

Your contact is in his favorites, everyone else unanswered. 

He’s still the same Suguru, except—

The apples of his cheeks flush warm pink when you call him cute instead of handsome; he stutters the first time he sees you dressed up for the new year countdown. And when he lingers those few seconds before kissing you, you swear you catch the corners of his lips curve up into a small smile. 

He stays awake for a bit after sex. You know because you feel him next to you, finger feather light as it trails down the slope of your nose to your lips; then he kisses your forehead, completely innocent, pure, as if he wasn’t just inside you. 

It’s a softness to him he’s never shown you before, less mysterious and more genuine. 

You learn that he keeps mementos and photos all over his room, either aesthetically displayed or safely tucked inside boxes; that he holds onto the things that remind him of the people he’s let in his life, even when they’re gone—especially when they are.

He loves snacking, biscuits with tea especially, nuts second, and fruits third. When he reaches over one afternoon, cracker pinched between his fingers to feed you so casually, you freeze momentarily. 

But you shake it off quickly, biting it from his fingertips while you smile brightly. The Suguru you know always looks at you directly, but this one coughs before blinking one time too many. 

He swallows twice.

(The voice in his head tells him this’ll do the trick; he’s bared himself to you, mr. mysterious and cool signed out and replaced with none other than just plain Suguru). 

—you like him even more now, you think. 

.

On the fifth month of this whole ordeal, you bring Suguru to a photobooth. 

You figure that if he wins, at least he’ll have this remembrance of you.

It’s old fashioned, one of those booths that only print in black and white—a time capsule of nostalgia, a place that feels of love captured through stills in time. 

You tell him it’s a late birthday gift from you, a last hurrah for your cutest winter outfits. The end of a season before a new one begins. 

Velvet slips through your fingers as you push the curtain to the side, and you bow your head to step in with Suguru close behind. The set-up is fairly simple: a bench, the camera, a touch screen to keep it modernized. You can take a total of eight shots, to be printed later into two strips of four—one for you and one for him, you figure. 

It’s a bit cramped when you settle into the seat, soft cushion sinking further once Suguru follows next to you; for a man over 6 feet, dressed loosely in wide pants and layers of blazers, you’re surprised he even managed to squeeze himself to fit in this tiny space. 

You zip your jacket up until the collar, fleece tickling the corners of your fingertips. The earmuffs you’re wearing act as a perfect statement piece while simultaneously keeping your hair from flying.

It’s a bit unsettling, but Suguru’s been quiet since you got here—watching, observing. 

(Even while you’re setting up the timer, suggesting poses he’s nodding off to, he focuses on you entirely, tilting his head subconsciously.

You’ve been heavy on his mind lately—all the little things about you he can’t help but notice more intently. 

You must be the sun’s lover, how your eyes seem to reflect every beam of it, warming him even in the winter. He’ll never understand what you mean when you say you hate how your hair looks in the morning, baby hairs sticking up and curling around the edges of your forehead; to him, you always look lovely. There’s honesty, in every breath and word you give him—something he’s not used to, something he isn’t well versed in. 

Since giving this another shot, he’s tried to shake you off, put down his front to show you a Suguru so far from the one you know, from the one that first attracted you—all in the hopes of you dropping him. 

Of you conceding to make him win. 

But he’s realizing—

You call him cute when he’s only ever been handsome. And you laugh at his jokes, all the good but especially the bad ones too; you’ve been complicit to one or two pranks on Satoru. Sometimes at night, he clings onto your body, tucking you within him and draping his leg across your hip bone—he’s a human furnace but you let him engulf you entirely. 

He doesn’t expect you to remember that he loves soba, that he’s dreamt of perfecting all forms of martial arts since he was seven. He doesn’t expect you to remember that he prefers hot showers, so he can step out on the tiles to feel contrast so strikingly cold. 

You shouldn’t know this much about him, and yet you do. 

—there’s no one else he’s been this genuine with. 

So when you peer at him smiling, earmuffs resting cozily by your ears, his eyes soften, face relaxing as the corners of his lips curve up into a small grin. 

Flash!

He says it, mouth forming the syllables around his words. You tilt your head, confused, eyebrows furrowing because you can’t hear him. 

Flash! 

His hand reaches for you, pushing your earmuffs to slide down the back of your head. It lands to rest around your neck.

Flash!

“You win.” he says, loud enough to fill the space of the booth. 

You still don’t quite get it, brow raised in puzzlement. 

Flash!

So he grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours before he repeats himself again.

“I said, you win.” 

And the look on your face when it registers, how your eyes glisten like glints on a sunshower; how you give him the prettiest smile that has his heart running for miles. 

He’s confident he’ll always remember this version of you, thankful that he has evidence of it as the camera goes off into another—

Flash!

Tears well up in your lash line; one blink and they’ll fall. You’re smiling so hard he wonders if your cheeks are hurting, if you’ll want him to massage them the way you smooth out the knots between his shoulder blades. 

Your hands remove themselves from his, only to replace the heat on his face.

Flash!

Then you kiss him, lips crashing onto his. you taste of pomegranate—the lip gloss he can’t resist. 

His hand finds its way around your waist, spreading itself to support your back as he dips you, pressing against you harder. While his fingers slot themselves in the junction between your ear and jaw, your hands fall to his chest, gripping the lapels of his blazer. 

Lips smacking, sliding. A breathy smile. 

Flash!

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, the proximity holding you nose-to-nose. 

Suguru’s never felt this kind of peace—he hopes the camera captures it, how contentment looks on his face in moments like this with you. 

Flash!)

.

You step out of the photobooth hand-in-hand, collecting the photo strips from the dispenser; it’s your souvenir after all, a tangible evidence to remind you of the deal you made—

—if you win, he’s yours.

thank you notes: @mididoodles for helping me through this 🥺 + @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for all the support always!! + @mysugu @soumies bc when i think of sugu i think of u both... 🤧

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[kingkatsuki]

It can be hard going out on casual dates with Kirishima because he’s such an imposing hulk of a man. The baseball cap does little to hide his red mane of hair pulled back into a ponytail as you walk down the street with him at your side. His stature makes him tower over the pedestrians going about their daily business and it’s hard for people not to stare as he walks beside you, your smaller hand in his. The Dynamight shirt he wears does little to confirm that it’s the sturdy hero Red Riot beside you, and often your dates can be interrupted by over excitable fans wanting their chance to meet the number seven Pro-Hero.

And of course your boyfriend is more than willing to smile and pose for pictures for anyone that asks, perhaps that’s why he was so quick to rise in the hero rankings when the selfies go viral online— but it does make it difficult for you to stand beside them smiling as you try to make it to the cute cafe you were supposed to be eating lunch in fifteen minutes ago.

You didn’t want to tell your boyfriend just how much it annoyed you sometimes, pulling out your cell phone to check notifications as he continued his lengthy conversations with his adoring fans. Kirishima really would have time for anyone, not wanting anyone to feel left out or rejected by their favourite Pro.

But there are times where you didn’t mind quite as much, as you’re walking hand in hand and little fans have him coming to a stop. A small girl with hair almost as long as Kirishima’s, eyes glowing bright as she stares up at the Pro nervously, eyes full of intrigue and wonder.

“A-are you Red Riot?” She asks as though she’s unsure, craning her neck to try and see his face.

Kirishima smiles down at her, taking his sunglasses off as he bends, moving down to one knee to bring himself closer to her eye level.

“I sure am, but don’t tell anyone. I’m undercover today.” He flashes an apologetic smile back towards you, “what’s your name?”

The little girl flutters as she tells him her name, talking to him animatedly about how he’s her favourite Pro and he’s helped her learn to be brave. You can feel the emotion spilling from your boyfriend as he listens intently, her mother trying to apologise and tell her to leave the poor man alone so he can enjoy his well earned day off but he smiles and tells her it’s okay. Resting your hand on his broad shoulders to comfort him as he grins at her story, bringing back so many memories from when he was young and followed Crimson Riot-

“Can I take a selfie with you?” Kirishima asks and the little girl beams, looking back at her mum to see if it’s okay, and the woman nods.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he hands it to you with a soft smile, and you happily comply, immediately opening the camera app to point it towards Kirishima who turns the little girl in his arms as she stands beside his knee, beaming up at the camera as you snap a few photographs.

“I wanna be just like you when I’m older,” She smiles as her little arms reach up to try and wrap around his thick neck in a hug, one of Kirishima’s hands large enough to hold her back as she does.

You can see the tears welling in your boyfriends eyes as he moves to position his sunglasses back on his face as he stands, waving goodbye to the mum and her daughter as you continue towards your lunch date.

“You’re such a big softie,” You grin as you wrap your arm around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

A few minutes later the picture is going viral on Kirishima’s Instagram page, full of stories of other little girls and boys that wanna be just like him when they grow up🥺

[denkiillgetmochiwyou]

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 - 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

-> first year (gn) manager reader meeting childhood friend/middle school friend at a volleyball tournament

warnings: none

teams: shiratorizawa, aoba johsai, fukurodani, karasuno, nekoma, inarizaki

a/n: i know nekoma’s one isn’t a volleyball tournament but close enough right-

shiratorizawa

of course you went to middle school with the little orange haired jumpy boy :/

the team is kinda shook

like 1 you know this kid? and 2 you played volleyball??

you bet tendous gonna be whining like why didnt you tell them

"youre supposed to tell your senpais everything y/n-chan!"

"i dont think thats how it works-"

you probably stopped because of an injury or smth but hinata was so glad you encouraged his dream

just two little sunshines interacting while their teams are like *surprised pikachu face* in the background

ushijima doesnt really care

just continues his warm ups they still have a game to play

goshiki thinks your pretty cool

like he already did but now that he finds out you play too?? awesome

reon and yamagata are kinda just enjoying how energetic you are

practices can be rough poor babys need a break :((

semi has to be the one to drag you away so they can play

hes usually weak to your pout but coach is about to yell and nobody wants that

aoba johsai

oikawa is fucking mad

you know someone from shiratorizawa?? no you dont!

"tsutomu-kun is nice though?"

"youre on a first name basis?!" cue dramatic cries

iwa had to smack some sense into him

the other boys dont really care that much

they cant control who youre friends with

hanamaki and matsukawa definitely asked if you were more than friends tho

"are you sure hes not your boyfriend?"

"i dont have a boyfriend!" >:( you werent happy they pointed out you were single

in the end though youre still their manager

you care about the team a lot and they realise this when you comfort them after their loss instead of talking with goshiki like you said you would

although you both had wanted to hang out you postponed

"let me treat you this time, oikawa-senpais pockets must hurt!"

they eventually let you take them out

cried harder that day knowing that you had their backs

big softies

fukurodani

yukie and kaori were the first to notice

like why were you waving at the itachiyama team???

since when did you suddenly know people

a minute ago you were hiding within the teams circle and now you were interacting with the brooding male in the corner

bokuto literally thought you were lost when he turned and you werent rhere

"agaaaaashi! we lost y/n-chan again!"

"they're over there bokuto-sa- what do you mean again?"

nervous sweating

anyways

turns out the itachiyama spiker and libero duo were your cousins who you went to middle school with

team were so surprised

bokuto wanted all sakusas stats well akaashi asked but now bo was curious

"thats an unfair advantage over kiyoomi.."

"youre our manager! its completely fair!"

konoha was more curious about whether you played

when you said you knew how to play the whole team immediately wanted to test you

shakily backing out

you werent dying today

akaashi saved you luckily

karasuno

okay you probably had an accent and they were like cool cool nice accent

and then you went to nationals

and suddenly a black and white team had the same accent

third years werent that surprised you knew people

just a little surprised you knew them that well

literally jumped at atsumu

cus hes more likely to catch you lol

boy was so excited to see you

his little baby 🥺 his childhood friend

thought you were there to support him pfft

"y/n-chan! you came to watch me!"

"they're from karasuno" suna points out how wrong he is

now you prolly played like libero or smth with them noya about to question u on receiving atsumus serves

osamu pulls ongiri out of his bag and just hands it to you while patting your head

aran kinda recognised you too

he used to see you hanging around the twins

he gives you a wave

ukai totally wanted all the twins stats

but you cant really tell him much i mean hes already watched their games

knowing every move the twins are about to make

takeda and ukais surprise when you guessed atsumus fake setter dump 😗✌

anyways you were kinda sad for the boys but like your team also won so how to feel-

atsumu and osamu were good with a hug

they knew you cared for your team

and your team did too when you came back for a big group hug lots of love

nekoma

now

you most likely met at a training camp

fukurodani sounded familiar but eh

when kuroo told you the teams you brushed it off

but when you got there you were like

hm

pretty setter boy looks like your childhood friend

yaku probably caught you glaring staring at him

"thats akaashi keiji, go say hi" yaku kinda pushing you thinks you have a crush lmao

when you bump into akaashi (you didnt to be pushed that hard :/) he looks at you for a moment before smiling softly

boy missed you

both of your teams are so surprised

bokuto whining in the background

yaku kinda frozen cus you didnt have a crush-?

yamamoto cursing the world no one stands a chance against akaashi

kenma is like the only one unbothered king

"you know each other?"

"um yeah, keiji and i used to live next to each other"

more freak outs when akaashi asks about your setting

team has shut down

since wHEN

nekomata probably dragged you into helping kenma help lev

akaashi shrugging when you whine that its his fault 

lev is offended you dont wanna help him :(

but training camps are funner now

+ being roped into helping the third gym squad grr

anyways

youre just glad you got to see akaashi again and he you

inarizaki

you probably noticed suga when watching karasunos videos with atsumu

a little confused that he was on the bench

not mentioning anything cus you wanted it to be a surprise

for suga not your team

you kinda just forgot to mention it lol

atsumu is offended get over it you baby

suga is grinning

daichi and asahi kinda remembering you

running to hug suga i want suga to hug me hhh

kita being the one to collect you i mean the game is starting soon

the team complaining 

how do you know this man-

“koushi was my older siblings friend, he’s like my brother” 

accidently mentioning he taught you how to set

hiding behind kita or aran to get away from atsumu’s questions

suna is having the time of his life filming this

having to force them back to warm ups

“stop glaring at him!”

suga getting tons of questions too

trying to explain you both weren’t in a relationship

boys are mad protective

sharing an exasperated look across the court

crying in suga’s arms after the game cus you wanted to congratulate him too but too sad :(((

coming back to your team and crying all over again when kita says he’ll talk about the team to his grandkids

offering to buy the team ramen

lots of hugs

[bellaxgiornata]

Awww 🥺 Thank you! I'm so happy to be able to elicit those feelings with my writing 😭

Right? We don't see him before prison but when he comes out and he's all about Anna? And how protective he is about Birdy in season 2 (which I know you haven't seen yet) just makes me think he's a big softy underneath. Especially the way he talks about his wife's death, it clearly pains him. So it had to have been an accident. He does tell Anna that he was out of his head on coke that night so I think it played a role in her death. But I firmly believe it was accidental and it clearly still tears him up.

....Grace definitely knows how to use a gun.

Victor was nice in the beginning but then he became very not nice. At some point I will work in more details about that relationship but I think you get a little more maybe in chapter 8. Still planning some things out but I think Reader might be getting called out by someone soon...we will see. Right now I'm focused on writing the cute moment Grace realizes she isn't alone in her bed 🥺

Omg I don't think I've given any hints 😆 I'm trying to hold off saying too much!!

And Victor might toy with Grace a bit and if you haven't seen season 2 at all, we find out Mikey was in hiding for a few months for accidentally killing one of the Batuks. Soooo he may not be around for everything...

But we will have more protective Mikey because I LOVE HIM ❤️

Omg I don't know about 10k words 🤣 We will see!

They will wake up next to each other in chapter 8 but it's not accidental like the other time so Mikey was trying to be respectful! But there's some sweet moments coming in it...

He definitely got very angry about those scars and I think he certainly wants to ask, but I feel like Mikey senses how closed off she is about personal things just like him. So he isn't going to just outright ask her. But he is certainly curious. And he definitely wants to help her...

AHHH OMG THANK YOU!! ❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭 I'm so happy to hear that! It always means a lot to know y'all are enjoying my little stories and I'm not just writing into a void, so thank you!!

Safe Haven [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Summary: Contracted to work on your next novel, you leave the States and move in with your sister in Dublin in hopes of a quieter, peaceful place to work on your writing. And somewhere safe to hide. But you weren't expecting to meet your sister's attractive and curious neighbor, the one fresh out of prison–Michael Kinsella. And you certainly weren't expecting to become his safe haven, or for him to become yours–especially when your past eventually finds you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

Word Count: 5.8k

a/n: Reader learns some things about the Kinsellas in this one, and then some drama ensues and you get a Mikey POV at the end. Warning about some depicitons of violence/blood in this one--it's a smidgen darker. Also for those who've seen the show, I'm making up the explanations for some things since Kin didn't answer some things in the two seasons we do have. The list of chapters for this series can be found here. I always appreciate feedback if you enjoyed (or just want to scream about Mikey with me!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @norestfortheshelbywicked @shiorimakibawrites @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky

Shortly after you'd left Michael’s this morning, you'd been bombarded with questions from Megan almost the moment you’d walked in the door. And it came as no surprise to you that most of her questions were of a sexual nature. But admittedly after she had hounded you about fucking him over and over, you had gone up to your room to try to write and distract yourself from the thoughts swirling around in your head. Though you’d quickly found you couldn't focus on your writing because your mind kept wandering back to the mental image of Michael in his boxers from the other day. And that image in conjunction with how solid and safe he felt beneath you this morning, mixed with the memory of his comforting scent you could recall a little too easily, had stirred something inside of you, something that was beginning to become difficult to ignore. 

You'd actually been in the middle of contemplating how wrong it would be if you'd just closed your curtains and done something about your increasing arousal when your phone had interrupted your thoughts. Angela had called, checking in on your progress and giving you updates about your social media. Needless to say, her call had killed whatever mood you'd found yourself in and thus ended your internal debate on the morality of masturbating to thoughts of Michael after what had just happened to him the night before.

It wasn't until the early evening that you had a moment to finally sit down in the kitchen with your laptop set up before you on Megan's kitchen table, readying yourself to dig into the Kinsellas now that your sister had gone in to work. You'd even poured yourself a large glass of wine for the task, though you knew drinking on an empty stomach before dinner wouldn't end well. You were bound to get a little tipsy–maybe even drunk. Though depending on what you uncovered, you figured you might be grateful for that. Because you were about to take a deep dive into the Kinsella family. 

If things had just gone a little differently this morning, if Birdy had not made comments that hit too close to home and shaken you up, you probably wouldn’t have found yourself here. And you’d have sat down to do this earlier, too, but you had been waiting for Megan to leave for her shift at the hospital. You hadn’t wanted her around while you poked a little too closely at the neighbors’ secrets.

But as you took a sip from your glass of wine, your eyes gazing out of the kitchen window as you waited for your laptop to start up, you wondered just what you were going to find on his family. Particularly Michael. You found yourself wondering how you'd end up feeling about him after you dug into every dark corner you could find.

Setting your glass back down on the table, you opened your search browser first. You figured the easiest place to begin was Google–though that wasn’t the only place you were about to go looking. A simple search for the name ‘Kinsella’ specifically in Dublin brought up a plethora of links, most of them to articles about gangland activity. You skimmed through the titles–shootings, hospitalizations, drug dealing, murder investigations. Everything you’d pretty much already anticipated you’d find and nothing truly surprising. Though the multiple murder allegations tied to Michael had been a little curious, considering your current interactions with him. He’d seemed far too gentle for a killer, at least in your experience.

One article further down caught your attention–something on a Brendan Kinsella. You opened the article, reading through it quickly. He’d apparently been incarcerated for murder charges. A quick check of the math had you figuring his release was fast approaching–probably within a year. Your eyes slid back over to the photo of the gruff man in handcuffs; he would certainly be a lot older than that by now. Eyes narrowing, you studied the image curiously. 

“Who are you?” you mused aloud.

Reaching your hand out, you picked up the glass of wine beside you again, taking another deep drink as you thought. You’d need to connect a few more dots first, you realized. You needed a genealogy of this family, something to map them all out. Birth records, marriage certificates, death records. Whatever you could get your hands on–and thankfully everything in Ireland was all public record and easily accessible. Though it wasn’t like you didn’t have a few tricks up your own sleeves you were saving once you breached the local garda’s database in a bit.

Pulling up the General Register Office and selecting the local county, you began to do a search, starting with this Brendan Kinsella. Right away you easily found a marriage certificate linked to him–to a woman by the name of Julie. 

“If you were married, you probably had kids,” you said to yourself, eyeing the marriage certificate. “So…are Michael and Jimmy yours?”

Choosing Michael’s name, you searched for him in the database, soon finding his birth certificate–but your eyes were instantly drawn to the marriage certificate that had also popped up. Your heart felt like it skipped a beat in your chest at the sight of it just staring back at you on the screen.

“You’re… married ?” 

With a heavy sigh you sat back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. Michael was married? There was no way, though. Not with how he’d asked you on a date the other day. Not with how he’d curled up with you on his couch–even if it was while you’d both been asleep–and then asked you to stay for coffee. 

Not with the way he’d often been looking at you. Flirting with you.

…right?

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You leaned forward, picking up your glass of wine and taking two deep drinks. “I might need another fucking bottle tonight,” you muttered to yourself as you lowered the glass to the table.

Opening the marriage certificate, you realized it was from a few years back–almost seventeen years ago. A sinking feeling hit you in the gut shortly afterwards. If he was married for that long, he was bound to have a legitimate child or two. 

“Alright, so who’s Allison Kinsella–my neighbor’s wife? Or his ex-wife?” you muttered.

Pulling up a new search, you typed in her name–and were once again shocked. Your mouth fell open as you eyed the link to her death certificate. 

“Okay, so ex-wife,” you breathed out. “Fucking hell.”

Taking a moment, you opened the death certificate and examined it. She had passed just over eight years ago from a fatal gunshot wound. Which would place her death right before Michael's imprisonment. Had he gone to prison because he'd sought revenge on her murderer? 

No wonder Michael always looked so torn and broken, he was a man who had clearly lost a lot. And he was continuing to experience loss if Jaime's recent passing told you anything. You felt for him–not in a sense of pity but in commiseration of a sort. Your life certainly hadn't been sunshine and rainbows, either. 

Chewing a thumbnail, you closed out of the death certificate and began to focus on mapping out what you could of the family. The entire process had taken you another half hour before you finally had a picture of everything you could get your hands on. Brendan Kinsella was indeed Michael and Jimmy’s father, but their mother’s whereabouts appeared to be a mystery even to you. There was no death certificate for her to be found, so you assumed she was still alive and had probably disappeared on her husband. Your mind instantly went to domestic abuse, but you wondered why she’d leave behind her boys if that was the case.

You’d also come to find that Bridget and Frank were the siblings of Brendan. Both of them had deceased spouses themselves, but besides that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. In your earlier searching of articles you’d come across the name of an Eric Kinsella, and you’d come to learn he was Frank’s son. But besides the surprise marriage of Michael and the death of his wife, along with Michael and Jimmy’s missing mother, nothing shocking and out of the ordinary really stood out to you.

After piecing together a family tree of sorts, you’d taken to digging into properties owned by the Kinsellas’. If the drug trafficking allegations from the vast news stories were to hold weight, you knew from personal experience they’d have their hand in a couple of different businesses. They’d need somewhere to clean their revenue selling drugs, after all. And it hadn’t taken you long to find a handful of businesses owned by them either; two of the most glaringly obvious to you were the tanning salon and car dealership. And after a quick look into both businesses, you’d easily come to find the dealership was being run by Amanda Kinsella–the woman married to Jimmy. Admittedly you’d stared at the professional headshot of her on the website for far too long, your eyes boring into the pretty face smiling back at you. Something sharp twisted in your gut at the knowledge that she had meant enough to Michael for him to sleep with her despite being married to his brother. Was there still something there between them even after those eight years he had spent in prison?

Movement outside of the kitchen window broke through your thoughts, catching your attention as your eyes slid up from your laptop screen. A teenage girl had come to a stop just past the driveway, but her eyes were focused next door. On Michael’s house. You couldn’t make out her face with the hood of her camouflage sherpa jacket pulled up, but you could see a few dark curls peeking out from underneath it. She was wearing what looked like a private school uniform, her red skirt reaching her calves. And she had a backpack on–blue with what looked like white stars all over it. 

Curiously you watched her, eyes narrowing as she just stood there staring at Michael’s house. After what seemed to be a minute, she ducked her head and briskly walked off down the street past your drive and past Michael’s house. 

That had been odd.

…or had it?

If Michael had been married for quite a few years to Allison before she’d passed and he’d gone to prison, it was entirely possible to believe the two of them had children. Would it be so farfetched to think that was Michael’s daughter? Maybe she’d been drawn here after discovering her father was out of prison. Why else would a teenage girl appear and just stare at his house before disappearing so abruptly?

Continuing to chew your thumbnail, your focus still outside of the kitchen window on the now vacant driveway, questions slowly started to arise in your mind. Why would his daughter show up at his place but just leave without a word? Why wouldn’t she have wanted to see her father who’d just gotten out of prison after eight years?

The bullet holes in Michael’s sitting room resurfaced in your mind next as your eyes gradually made their way back to your laptop screen. Something had happened in Michael’s house, that much was obvious. And judging by the bullet holes and the comments about him possibly not wanting to stay there, you had a good feeling it had something to do with Allison’s death.

Fingers quickly flying across the keyboard, you searched her name in a simple Google search. But after you had hit enter, the results that had appeared immediately had you pushing your chair away from the table, your heart thundering wildly in your chest.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. There’s no way.”

On the screen before you, the first article that had appeared read ‘Michael Kinsella convicted in death of wife Allison Kinsella.’ You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your eyes re-reading that headline over and over. There was no way that sweet and considerate man next door killed his own wife. Doesn’t matter if he’d killed others in protection of his family and their business; he wouldn’t even kill a goddamn spider this morning. He’d stepped in front of you when you’d screamed over the thing as if he’d been ready to shield you from a bullet.

“Wait,” you said, your mind reeling backwards.

He had stepped in front of you like he’d been ready to shield you from a bullet this morning. You hadn’t imagined that.

“There’s more to this,” you muttered to yourself, exiting out of the internet search and pulling up a particular program on your laptop. “There has to be.”

After fifteen minutes of some skilled hacking–something you’d learned from a unique member of the Serpents–you’d managed to breach the Dublin garda’s database. You were practically hunched over your laptop, gnawing on your bottom lip as you meticulously read every detailed note made from that night Allison had died.

What you’d discovered was that Allison had in fact been shot and killed in the house next door and Michael had in fact pleaded guilty to the charges over her death. You’d also discovered he’d been very drunk and high on cocaine–so clearly he’d been fucked out of his mind that night. But the notes had mentioned how distraught Michael had been over her death. And it also appeared there’d been a report of multiple gunshots, which made sense considering the many bullet holes in that house that you had seen firsthand. And it was involuntary manslaughter that Michael had been charged with, hence the lesser sentence in prison. Which was an important detail–murder would have constituted the situation as premeditated to some extent, involuntary manslaughter pointed at an accident.

From what you could piece together, it seemed like Michael had not intentionally killed his wife. Her death had either been an error, possibly someone shooting her by mistake when the bullet was meant for Michael, or it had been further accidental in the sense that maybe Michael had been trying to protect her, but having been so out of his mind that evening, his aim may have been off or his reflexes slowed and he’d shot Allison instead of their attacker. Because you refused to believe that man intentionally killed his own wife. 

Picking up your glass of wine, you held it in both of your hands for a minute. Your eyes were glued to the handful of JPEG image links attached to the document. No doubt they were crime scene images of Allison’s dead body in Michael’s sitting room. Jaw tightening, you were unsure if you wanted to dig that far into this. It already felt wrong that you’d pushed your way into such a personal piece of Michael’s life without his knowledge, but with Birdy looking so closely at you, you needed to know who was living on the same street as you. Tipping your head back, you downed the last half of your glass of wine, slamming the glass roughly onto the tabletop before you opened up the series of images.

They were exactly of what you’d thought they’d be. Allison’s lifeless body lay sprawled on Michael’s sitting room floor, just before the brick fireplace. Her dark, curly hair looked similar to the young girl you'd just spotted outside. Your eyes were drawn to the single bullet hole marring the brick of the fireplace next, the very same bullet hole you’d noticed last night. There had been so much blood in the images though–too much. You felt yourself getting dizzy, memories trying to resurface as you looked through the images of the crime scene. Soon, other images started to replace the ones on your screen, even when your eyes snapped shut. 

Blood-stained white latex gloves. A lit cigarette in the dark. That smooth, deep voice.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Go back inside.”

Back stiffening in the chair, you felt your body begin to panic at the clear memory of Victor’s voice. Almost reflexively your eyes flew open and you began exiting out of every tab open on your laptop, turning it off and slamming it shut. You’d dug too far into the Kinsellas’ shit and drudged up some of your own in the process. How did you not see that coming?

Leaving the empty wine glass on the table, you made your way to the counter and picked up the bottle, chugging down the rest of its contents. Gunshots rang out in your mind, your hands shaking around the wine bottle. You slammed back the rest of the wine before shakily placing the bottle onto the counter. 

But it wasn’t enough. You could still feel the memories scratching at your mind, trying to spill forth. And you didn’t need that.

Making your way over to the cabinet you knew contained Megan’s liquor, you opened it and pulled down the half-full bottle of whiskey. Unscrewing the cap, you drank straight from the bottle, trying your best to burn away the traces of Victor.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Michael was stretched across his sofa, his focus once again on his book. He'd had a long day today after the strange encounter between you and Birdy which had resulted in your curiously abrupt departure from his place. When he'd tried to push Birdy for answers, she merely shrugged and played dumb. But of course Michael knew better than to believe she hadn't been up to something. 

Though he hadn't had much time to worry about it. He'd met with Jimmy for drinks later this morning, trying his best to console his grieving brother. Something he had only managed to fuck up, though that wasn't surprising considering the circumstances. But his meeting with Jimmy earlier today had made Michael quite uneasy. It was clear that Jimmy was thinking along the lines of revenge for Jamie's death. Wanting to put things right. Not that he could blame him, but he'd felt his brother's anger when he'd drawn a clear line about wanting to stay out of it, reminding Jimmy he needed to steer clear of trouble in order to have any chance of getting Anna back. He even had an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow afternoon to discuss his next steps, he certainly couldn't be conspiring to commit murder with his brother.

And of course afterwards he and Jimmy had been summoned to Birdy’s house and that had only made things worse. Frank was pushing Jimmy to sit still and wait for Eamon to deal with his men, encouraging Jimmy to accept the bag of cash Eamon had offered in consolation for the unfortunate death of his son. Michael couldn't exactly blame Jimmy for getting angry and pissing on the cash instead. But of course that had only led to Frank stopping by his place a little later to try and corner Michael, reminding him how Jaime wasn't truly his child but Anna was. How he needed to keep his head down and stay out of things, especially since he was trying to go straight in order to get Anna back in his life. It had been a shitty low blow from Frank just to make sure Michael kept Jimmy from starting a war with his need to avenge Jaime. Deep down it had pissed Michael off, hurt him even, but he'd shoved those feelings away like he did everything else.

He'd been so tired of everything with his family after the past couple of days that he'd locked himself up in his house by the time evening rolled around. He'd been grateful that no one else had decided to bother him tonight, just wanting to be left out of things so he could focus on his appointment tomorrow. Though he'd admittedly been disheartened when he hadn't spotted you in the back garden at all today. He had been hoping to talk to you, even if it was just for a moment. You often seemed to be a bright spot in his days. Instead he'd focused on reading, hoping to distract himself until maybe he could manage something like sleep later. 

Michael had been so drawn into his book this evening, finger poised to turn the page, that the loud scream from next door startled him straight from the story. His eyes darted up and towards your sister’s back garden, a frown pulling at his lips. It sounded like it had come from your half-sister’s house. He waited with bated breath, wondering if he had somehow imagined the sound. Almost a minute later he heard a second muffled scream coming from next door. 

Without even thinking, Michael threw his book onto the coffee table and flew from the sofa. He didn't hesitate as he sprinted down the hall towards his kitchen. He went straight for the refrigerator, roughly yanking it away from the wall and ripping the taped gun from off the back of it. He always kept it there for emergencies. 

Shoulders squared and heart beating a little quicker, Michael didn't even bother to slip on shoes before pushing his way out of his front door. Jogging down his drive, he rounded the stone fence and turned up the drive to your half-sister’s. His pulse quickened further when he saw the front door half ajar. Had someone broken in?

He took the safety off the gun, his finger resting along the barrel beside the trigger as he raised it. Moving quietly on bare feet, Michael made his way inside the house, pushing the door open further with his shoulder. His heart sank when he saw the scene in the kitchen–a broken bottle of wine shattered on the floor, blood staining some of the glass. And that blood led a trail down the hallway.

He began to follow the trail of blood that appeared to have been a steady flow leading down the hall and up the stairs. As he stepped onto the first step, he heard the muffled voice of who he presumed was your half-sister Megan. Lowering the gun, he began to ascend the stairs two at a time. When he’d reached the top, he saw a light on in the middle room, the door partially closed. There was a smear of blood on what appeared to be a bathroom counter, the bright red causing Michael’s chest to tighten with fear.

Against his better judgment he crossed the landing and carefully pushed the door open. A woman in nurse’s scrubs turned at the appearance of someone in the doorway, immediately screaming at the sight.

“Whoa, hey,” he said quickly.

He held his hands up to show he meant no harm, but of course her eyes had darted to the gun in his hand. Her eyes grew wide as she froze from her place on the floor in front of the bathtub.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m your neighbor,” he spoke in a rush. “Megan, yeah? Grace’s sister? I heard screamin’ so I–I came to check if everythin’ was alrigh’. I’m not goin’ to hurt ya.”

She relaxed a little, taking a deep breath. But her eyes remained on the gun. Very slowly Michael lowered the weapon.

“I’m goin’ to put the safety back on,” he said gently. “And put it down. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes suddenly becoming more curious as he stepped further into the bathroom, turning the safety back on and setting the gun on the counter. He stood back up, sending her a weak smile as he held his hands back up.

“Michael, right?” Megan asked. “The one my sister has been spending time with?”

He nodded, his eyes shifting towards the smear of bright red over the side of the bathtub. It suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if someone had punched him really hard right in the chest and knocked every ounce of breath from his lungs.

“Is she–”

“She’s okay,” Megan answered swiftly, cutting him off. 

She drew the shower curtain back, revealing the sight of you passed out in the bathtub, your hands covered in bandages. Michael’s heart sank at the sight. What the hell had happened?

“I got a text a bit ago and just got here,” Megan said, her voice sounding close to tears. “Had to duck out on my shift for a bit. Told them it was an emergency. Guess she was drinking–a lot–and cut her hand on some broken glass she’d been trying to clean up. But all she’d texted me with was that she needed help. I uh, I thought something else was going on when I saw the kitchen. Looked like a damn crime scene.” She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes as she looked back at you in the tub. “Then I thought something worse had happened when I found her like this.” Her eyes slowly shifted back to Michael, a sad smile on her lips. “Sorry for putting you on alert.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said, finding his voice oddly thick with emotion. “But ya, ya said ya were worried somethin’ else had happened to her?” he asked curiously, forcing his eyes away from your very still form in the tub and back on your sister. “Like what?”

Megan laughed bitterly, shaking her head as she gestured a hand to the gun. “The kind of something else that makes you a good neighbor to have if your first instinct is to come barreling in here ready to kill someone for her,” she replied. 

Michael’s eyes instantly narrowed. “She in trouble?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Megan answered.

“What kind of trouble?” he pressed.

Megan sighed, her eyes slowly returning back to you. You stirred in the tub, your head rolling to the side as your mouth pulled into a frown. 

“That’s not for me to tell you,” Megan said softly. “But I will say you seem like the kind of man I think she needs, from what I’ve seen and heard.”

Michael gaped at her, his mouth dropping open in surprise. He didn’t know how to react or feel about that comment. 

“I know you asked her on a date the other day,” she explained, shooting Michael a small grin. “And I know she told you no. But I also happen to know her really well and I’m not an idiot. She likes you.”

Michael couldn’t control the flutter of excited nerves in his stomach at Megan’s words. You liked him? He’d wondered how true that was from some of your interactions with him. They’d been confusing; it felt as if you were interested but since you had refused the thought of going on a date–or to just grab drinks–the other night, he’d wondered if he’d just been that far removed from human interaction after his time in prison that he was reading you wrong. But here your sister sat saying that you liked him.

“Ya–ya do realize I just got outta prison, yeah?” Michael said awkwardly. “And showed up with a gun just now?”

Megan’s smile only grew a little wider, one of her shoulders rising and falling in an indifferent shrug. “Doesn’t matter to either of us. And like I said already, she could use the kind of man who’ll show up with a gun ready to protect her without a thought. So that actually checks another mark in the pro column for you, Michael.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot high up onto his forehead at her words. Who the hell were you and your sister to not care about his time in prison or the casual way in which he had just barged into Megan’s house wielding a gun ready to shoot? 

“And I can assure you she’s not normally like this,” Megan continued after a moment, gesturing to you passed out in the bathtub. “She’s–she’s going through some shit. It’s been hard and she–she doesn’t really have anyone to help her. I’m doing my best but there’s only so much I can do. So…hopefully this doesn’t make you think of her as like–”

“I don’t,” Michael cut in firmly. 

Megan’s head tilted curiously to the side as she eyed him. He shook his head swiftly at your sister.

“I don’t think any differently about her,” he stated. “She–she hasn’t treated me any less than with…everythin’ I have goin’ on. I wouldn’ do the same to her.”

“Hmm,” Megan hummed out, eyeing him closely for a moment. “I like you, Michael.”

He felt heat rise to his cheeks, his eyes dropping to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Megan slowly begin rising up to her feet, shoving the shower curtain further out of the way.

“Could I ask a favor before you leave?” Megan asked.

Michael looked back up at her, nodding quietly.

“She’s a bit much for me to carry to her bed, you think…maybe you could get her into her bed?” she asked. “Her room is the one just to the left.” She sighed, glancing down at the mess of blood and bloody bandages on the floor. “I’ll need to call off work before I clean all of this up. I just can’t leave her here alone. And I’d rather her in her bed than this tub.”

“I can stay with her,” he said, surprising even himself with the offer.

Megan’s head snapped back over her shoulder at him, one brow rising curiously up onto her forehead. Michael swallowed hard, a nervous smile on his mouth.

“I mean if–if ya’d like,” he added. “It’s no bother. She probably shouldn’ be left alone.”

“I…suppose you two have already shared a night together,” Megan mused aloud, Michael’s cheeks further heating at her blunt comment. “I imagine she wouldn’t mind. But if anything happens to her,” she said, tone firm as her eyes narrowed at Michael, “you’re going to need that gun to protect yourself. Don’t fuck with my sister, Michael Kinsella, or I will come after you.”

He couldn’t help but to chuckle softly at her tenacity, nodding his head as he did. “I assure ya I wouldn’t hurt her, but the threat is duly noted.”

“Good,” she said. “I guess I’ll just clean the blood up in here and–”

“I can get the kitchen sorted for ya,” Michael assured her. “After I get her to her bed.”

As Michael stepped around her, Megan thanked him profusely for his help. But his attention was focused on you as he bent down towards the tub, scooping you up in his arms. You groaned when he lifted you from the tub, your head rolling forward until your face fell against his chest. He felt an ache in his own chest at the sight of you like this. What had happened to put you in such a state of distress? What demons of your own were lurking under the surface and behind your pretty smile?

Megan called out a goodnight which Michael returned as he carried you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom she’d said was yours. He flipped on the light with his shoulder, closing the door just a bit with his foot, and then he carried you over towards the bed. Very carefully he shifted your weight in his arms, twisting his wrist so he could pull back the sheets on your bed while he held you. And then he lowered you gently down onto the mattress, resting your head along the pillow. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment along your cheek. Your expression looked more peaceful now, at least.

He turned, about to reach down and pull the sheets up and over you, but your shirt had ridden up your stomach a bit. He paused at the sight of three long lines visible along your skin. Scars. With how perfect the marks were it looked like they’d been done by a very sharp knife–probably something one used for hunting. Michael’s teeth ground together, anger boiling in his blood. Someone had done that to you, sliced you open like an animal. And that thought had brought forth a fury he didn’t know he possessed for you. 

If he ever found out who did that, they were certainly going to hurt.

A sharp exhale blowing out of his nose, he tried to calm that rage inside of himself. Now wasn’t the time. He reached his hands out, gingerly pulling your shirt down to cover yourself and in turn hiding your scars. Grabbing the sheets in a tight grip, he began to pull them up and draw them over your chest–but he paused at the sound of your voice.

“Michael?”

The tension in his shoulders instantly dissipated, his grip even loosening on the blankets. His eyes found their way to your face, though you didn’t look quite fully there. The alcohol was clearly still very much in your system.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, smiling down at you. “‘S’me.”

He continued what he’d been doing, gently tucking the blanket around your shoulders. Your brows drew together in confusion as you lay there watching him.

“What–what happened?” you slurred.

“Ya drank a bit too much, Grace,” he answered. “Ya must’ve broken a bottle. Cut yourself on the glass. Your sister is cleanin’ up some of the mess but she needs to get back to work so I–I offered to keep an eye on ya. Clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

He didn’t know what had compelled his hand to slide up from the sheets, coming to affectionately cup your cheek as you gazed up at him. And he didn’t quite know why his thumb had so gently stroked your cheek when you’d pressed back into his palm.

“I’ll let ya rest,” he whispered. “Check on ya in a bit.”

His hand slid from your face and he turned to go, but he’d felt your fingers fumbling to grasp at his wrist. Stopping, he glanced back over his shoulder at you. His heart broke at the sight of fear so plainly written on your face.

“Please stay,” you begged, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m–I’m scared. And I don’t want to be alone.”

Michael turned on the spot instantly, his hand twisting in your weak grip until he’d caught your wrist. Slowly he lowered himself to sit at the edge of your bed, his hand drawing your bandaged one up towards himself. He lightly pressed his lips against your knuckles, the kiss lingering for a moment before he finally pulled away. His thumb tenderly stroked over the bandages on your hand, a comforting smile on Michael’s face as he gazed down at you.

“I’ll stay with ya, pet,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about anythin’. I got ya now.”

[uppermocns-moved]

c-comparing hand sizes with izuku n tanjirou n katsu 🥺

sem you’re killing meeee

tanjirou is such a sweetheart. i don’t think he realizes your motives for it, at least not at first, so he unintentionally makes it so much worse. makes innocent comments about how your fingers barely reach past his palm 🥺 maybe even holds your hand and plays with your fingers for a little, just in amusement because sun hashira tanjirou doesn’t recognize how big he is. the size difference is definitely gonna cross his mind when he’s getting off later.

izuku knows what you’re doing but he plays dumb. keeps that innocent look on his face while your palms press together, trying to hide how hard he swallows when he realizes he can probably grab both your hands in one of his. you may have initiated this, but he’s the pervert here. he’s gonna sprint to the bathroom after you leave and eagerly jerk himself off, imagining it’s both your hands wrapped around his cock while you bat your pretty lashes up at him.

katsuki knows there’s a motive behind it and grovels about how he doesn’t have time for nonsense, yet still raises his hand for you to mess with. he always does, he’s a big softie for you and has the hardest time denying you anything. it doesn’t fully register at first but he immediately picks up on how flustered you get playing with his fingers, seeing how long and thick they are, zoning out a lil thinking of how they’d feel inside your pussy or spanking your ass raw. if you thought his hands were turning you on, imagine the amused look on his face when he realizes you’re getting something out of this.