#but a man surrounded love and support can come to learn how..

[trainerethan]

Expanding on my bpd green and avoidant red. I think green swings between horrific guilt for being mean to red when they were young and wanting to make it up to him (red has already forgiven him but green is still worried that he might change his mind) VS reds avoidant behavior confusing and irritating green bc he's trying to be honest and vulnerable but red is Not. (green later feels guilty for even being irritated with red at all.)

Red genuinely listens to what green is saying and nods in understanding, but is Not sure how to comfort green beyond being very direct and matter of fact: "I'm not going to leave." "No I'm not upset with you." Which. Like true and Red is being Honest however it comes off sounding a bit...cold? Distant?

Like red is just stating facts without actually opening up in detail about how things/their past makes him feel. Like it's "I'm not upset about that" and nothing about how it made him feel at the time, or his thought process about why he isn't upset anymore or if he ever was, or anything like that.

It lacks the true vulnerability and emotional labour that comes with actually talking through uncomfortable or serious things with someone important to you, instead of talking about things as if you're an outside observer. From greens pov red is closed off and it makes his insecurities and frustrations worse when red doesn't respond the way green wants/needs him to.

Their conflicting attachment styles and approach to discussing/processing difficult topics causes a lot of tension for awhile after their reunion. Idk if they'd be dating yet but if not it might also drive green insane that he Likes red but feels like red must not feel the same bc of how "closed off and distant" he is.

Then he feels guilty for being upset at that because "of course he wouldn't like someone who bullied him as a kid/whatever else green is insecure about" Meanwhile green is one of like 3 people red would willingly talk to and he likes green very very much. Always has and always will. To him it seems kind of obvious so he doesn't need to say it out loud (green is absolutely dying at the lack of assurance of mutual feelings platonic or not).

Reds truly not inconsiderate or being distant intentionally. Hes just srsly totally inexperienced with externalizing how he feels instead of internalizing it and ignoring it in favour of more important things (anything other than his own feelings)

It's seriously emotionally draining for both of them to have completely clashing approaches to Whatever they have going on. It's okay though. They figure it out eventually though. Green learning that red really means what he says, there isn't a hidden meaning or fine print that would make red change his mind/secretly be lying. And red learns that green/people who care about him really genuinly want to know how he feels and that he doesn't need to be 100% self reliant when there's people who Want to support him and desperately want him to be more open and be more outspoken with how he feels/his opinions/etc.

Side effect is red goes from refusing to voice a single thought to being more outspoken than predicted and very bluntly voicing(signing) how he feels. Which is usually "I want to leave." "This is boring" "that guy is annoying" "he has no idea what he's talking about. It's more like [insert random fact about pokemon behavior.]"

Green is thankful red is more outspoken but also very thankful that most people don't know the hater ass stuff red is saying to him via sign language. Red isnt actually a hater of course he just still doesn't mince his words and to it very literally when green asked him to tell him what he's thinking more often. Its okay green finds it charming.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi I love rereading all your fics and prompts! Like, multiple times throughout the day. I have a schedule. Your works are my literal bed time stories (wow that sounded weird).

Anyways (before I ramble any worse). Any updates for Child support? I just love it so much and wondering if there's more

John throws himself to the side, barely avoiding a grab from a fifth-dimension demon throwing a fit after he rejects its request to marry his son. He rolls across the ground, powering up a spell, as he mentally curses his age.

Maybe Batman was right. He should work on his physical form a little more.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this-" Whatever the demon was going to say is lost after John's spell slams into its chest, throwing it back out of his dimension and sealing him from his Earth for fifty years. The spell is helpful, but fifty years doesn't mean much to demons, and it will wait decades to come back and bother them.

Thankfully, John will likely be long-dead before then. It's always been his solution for most of his problems. Pushing a problem to a later date where it can become someone else's problem.

But what about his son?

Danny, who was half of Time itself, would likely be around in fifty years. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to leave Danny with all his messes. He'll have to learn a new banishing spell and find some instructors who could teach him an entirely new magic dueling technique.

It was the responsible thing to do. Ugh, fatherhood was making him an accountable bore.

John heaves himself off the floor, sweat pouring from his forehead, and grimaces. On the stove, the eggs he was cooking for Danny's breakfast are smoking, burnt into a dark black smudge. The House of Mystery's old wood groans, displeased with all the smoke, and a second later, the stove and counter vanish as the house creates a hole to drop them out of.

"Now that's just plain rude," John tells the house, dusting his knees. "It's not like I asked to be attacked first thing in the morning. What am I going to feed Danny now?"

The house's floor tiles shift in what John has come to learn was meant to be a shrug. The blasted thing has started copying Danny's teenage behavior, including that of his son's friends, and now seemed to enjoy rebelling against John whenever possible.

Thankfully, the house also seemed to really like Danny because one of the drawers opens, and a local Gotham breakfast dinner menu is flung at him. John catches the sheet with a sigh. He won't have to go too far when dropping Danny off at school.

"Morning, Dad," Danny greets, walking into the room wearing his Gotham Academy uniform. The dark night blue blazer, black tie, and dress trousers make his son look like the heir of the second most powerful being. It only took one glance to see that Danny came from nobility.

John knows he's a handsome bloke, but he had nothing on Clockwork's human form. That man was a temptation itself, and it looks like Danny has inherited his beauty.

John will never know how the brats in Danny's other schools could not see that. His son was perfect. John fights the urge to summon a camera. He always thought the fools always showing off the children's pictures were idiotic. Now that he's a father, he understands.

He smiles, "Morning, love. How about we go out to eat for breakfast?"

__________________________________________________________

They arrived at the dinner just as it was opening. John told Danny to order some black tea and went to the bathroom. He was only gone for a few minutes, but when he returned, he found his boy surrounded by a group of teenagers wearing the same uniform.

There was a splash of angry red on Danny's face as a girl gestured to him, obviously mocking him, and the rest of the teenagers laughed. Danny's hands were clenched in his lap, shoulders hunched, and head lowered as another teenager reached out and flickered his ear.

This one was wearing those ridiculous American leather jackets for some sport. He was also the biggest teenager there, a boy who thought himself too important for his own good.

John's jaw clenched.

Bullies.

Danny had bullies at Gotham Academy. Why can't his son just be left alone?!

John was just about to march across the room, ready and willing to fight a group of children, when Danny suddenly raised his head to yell in the face of the leather jacket git.

Alarmingly, the teenagers don't have the reaction that John expects. The large boy blushes, and the teenagers all seem to grow flustered.

No, John realizes with horror. No, they fancy him. The little rats bothering Danny are into him. Were all the other bullies just dumb kids who were terrible at flirting, too?

He is so stunned by the realization that he misses the way Danny attempts to push past the boy and somehow ends up tripping over his own two feet. He tries to catch himself on the table but the thing tilts over and their drinks fly.

Danny ends up half on the ground covered in drinks and looking bloody misaberle as the rest of the children snicker. John draws to his full height, deciding that it didn't matter what these kids felt for Danny.

His son thought they were bullying him because they made him feel terrible. So they were all going to feel the wrath of the one human who bullshits his way to being one of the mightiest spell casters in history.

"What the bloody hell are you urchins think you're doing!?" He yells. The kids all take one look at him before they scatter, rushing towards their posh cars outside.

"You alright, love?" He helps the boy to his feet, wiping some liquid with a napkin.

Danny looks small as he wipes away at his eyes. There weren't any tears; he was just taking the tea that had run down his face off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Do they bother you a lot?" He asks, anger growing in his chest. "We can go to your headmaster."

"No! Telling the principle will only make things worse!" Danny shouts, looking up in alarm. "Besides, they don't really bother me that much. Damian can usually scare them off. They should go for me, I can handle it; most other kids don't."

Fuck, where has he heard that phrase before?

It's alright if he hits me. I can handle it better than Mum.

John takes a breath through his nose, willing it to calm him down. This is another change that has come to be ever since he learned about Danny. Before, John would have gone off the handle, started a fight, yelled till he was red, drank, or slept through his issues, and damn the consequences.

He's got to think with a clearer head now. He owes Danny because of what his other father will do and because John wants to be the kind of father he never had.

The waitress rushes over, helping them get things set to right, and Danny apologizes for repeatedly knocking on the table. She waves away his worry, stating she saw the group and that, as someone who's worked near Gotham Acadamy for years, she knows what kind of students go there.

She also mentioned seeing what happened to the scholarship students over the years after nodding her head to Danny's pin. John hated that it was a requirement for Danny's uniform as a "show" of his accomplishments when all it did was single him out as a target.

While his son is distracted, John sends a quick text message to Bruce, informing him of the bullying Danny is going through.

Bruce responds with a single message: "It shall be handled." for once, he doesn't roll his eyes at the theatrics. A small thump on the window makes him glance up from his phone screen.

Pressed up against the glass is a blond teenage boy with wide eyes, breathing heavily and looking like a child staring at a feast of their favorite foods. John makes a face as the teenager's palms' and nose lean more into the glass, disorientating his image, but nothing could top the manic grin on his face.

John follows the boy's eyesight to where they practically devour his son, who is busy looking at the pasty bar. The waitress told him to pick anything he liked in the house to try and cheer him up from his bully.

Danny takes his sweets very seriously and studies his options with hyper-focused determination. He bends at his waist to look at the far-back brownies, and the teenager in the window lets out a cat-like growl of approval.

Alarmed, John steps in front of Danny, blocking him and his bum from view. The teenager, wearing the same uniform as Danny, and John was pretty sure he's seen this kid at Gotham High School when they had been touring the place before deciding to take Burce's offer, locks eyes with him.

John doesn't have to see into the stranger's scowl to confirm what he already knows.

That was not a human in control of the body. A demon likely took the unfortunate human for a joy ride. John raises his hand, spell crackling at his fingertips, and the scowl turns darker as the demon wearing the stolen face seers.

Just as he is about to fire off a spell, Danny's voice cuts through the tension, stepping around John with a happy "Bernard!"

His son walks up to the window before freezing and then looks back at John with the same bone-chilling expression of anger that he has only ever seen on one other being. That one being who could make the very fabrics of the universe fall apart despite not shouting or rampaging.

Danny inherited Clockwork's anger, it seemed.

"That thing is overshadowing my friend Bernard Dowd." Danny's voice is low and echoing. Somewhere behind him, John can hear the waitress gasp for air as the room's pressure increases, to Danny's displeasure. "I'm going to kill it."

John's knees shake as he fights to stay upright. "Alright. Make sure you finish murdering it before your second class. You have a chemistry test today."

Danny nods, walks outside, and grabs Bernard's arm to drag him into a dark alley. The dumb thing looked pleased, spraying something into its mouth. I thought Danny was going to snog it.

Fool.

As soon as Danny left, the pressure disappeared from the dinner, every human inside sighing relief once they could breathe better.

"What in the world was that!?" The waitress demands, her voice strained with fear.

John turns to her with a shrug. "Puberty."

Outside, a loud honk is heard as a certain teenager in a leather jacket slams his head against his steering wheel with a wail. His friends are quick to comfort him to the best of their abilities. They likely saw Danny drag the possessed human into the alleyway.

Good.

"Do you have any alcoholic drinks?" He asks the horror-stricken woman. "I need something strong."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Ah, a coffee then. Black. Strong. Anything to help me raise my boy and get through the day."

There is a long pause before she responds. "Of course, and it's on the house. Not easy being a single parent to....whatever that was."

At least she has a heart.

[mistytarot0919]

⌦ .｡.:*♡How it will be the month of July 2024 for you?

Pick a card reading

Hello, everyone! Misty - your tarot reader here✨🔮🌠🃏🌟!

©mistytarot0919 - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work.

Please like and reblog if you find this information useful! 🌸🎀💕

Hello everyone! July is almost here so I guess that everyone is curios how this month will be for them. This is a simple and short monthly guidance reading. Pick the pile that you are most drawn to and scroll down to read your monthly guidance reading for March.

Takes what resonate with you because remember that this is just a general reading and it might not apply for everyone.

Don't forget to like/reblog/comment and follow me! I would really appreciate it because it will help my blog grow!

So let's get started! Enjoy! Pile 1 🕯️🖤❀ Pile 2 🕯️🖤❀ Pile 3

Pile 1‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆

🌴🥥🍹 staying organized and prioritizing your tasks

🌴🥥🍹 networking and building connections with others in your industry

🌴🥥🍹 investing in your personal and professional development

🌴🥥🍹 making time for self-care and relaxation

🌴🥥🍹 staying flexible and adaptable in uncertain situations

🌴🥥🍹 seeking feedback and constructive criticism to improve

🌴🥥🍹 setting boundaries with work and personal life

🌴🥥🍹 celebrating your achievements and successes

🌴🥥🍹 staying positive and optimistic in the face of challenges

🌴🥥🍹 taking calculated risks to further your career

🌴🥥🍹 being a team player and collaborating with others

🌴🥥🍹 staying curious and seeking out new knowledge and skills

🌴🥥🍹 being proactive in seeking out new opportunities for growth and advancement.

Monthly affirmation - I face the adventure of life eagerly

Quote of the month - ,,A single rose can be my garden...a single friend my world"(Leo Buscaglia)

Power of love message - Transformation - You use the power of love to move through illusions and shift into awareness

Crystal of the month - Rose quartz - New or renewed romantic love is here for you

Flower of the month - Pink rose

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Pile 2‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆

💿🎧✮ have faith in the universe and trust that everything happens for a reason

💿🎧✮ remember to practice self-care and take time for yourself when needed

💿🎧✮ be mindful of your thoughts and focus on positive affirmations

💿🎧✮ trust in the journey and know that you are exactly where you are meant to be

💿🎧✮ keep an open mind and be willing to learn and grow from every experience

💿🎧✮ stay grounded in the present moment and appreciate the beauty in the world around you

💿🎧✮ trust in the process of life and know that everything will fall into place at the right time

💿🎧✮ believe in yourself and your abilities to overcome any obstacles that come your way

💿🎧✮ trust in your intuition and follow your heart in making decisions

💿🎧✮ embrace challenges as opportunities for growth and learning

💿🎧✮ stay connected with your inner wisdom and trust in your inner strength

💿🎧✮ remember that you are capable of achieving great things and trust in your potential.

Monthly affirmation -I welcome and nurture the new in my life

Quote of the month - ,,A wise man has dignity without pride; a fool has pride without dignity."(Confucius)

Power of love message - Tolerance - You appreciate other points of view because you sense the love in everyone

Crystal of the month - Rhodochrosite- Be gentle with yourself

Flower of the month - Yellow rose

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Pile 3‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆

☀️💛🌟 stay true to your values and goals; stay focused and determined in pursuing your dreams

☀️💛🌟 surround yourself with supportive and positive people who uplift and inspire you

☀️💛🌟 practice resilience and perseverance in the face of challenges; trust that you have the strength to overcome obstacles

☀️💛🌟 make time for activities that bring you joy and fulfillment; prioritize self-care and doing things that nourish your soul

☀️💛🌟 be open to new experiences and opportunities for growth; step out of your comfort zone and embrace the unknown

☀️💛🌟 stay connected to your higher self and spiritual beliefs; find solace and guidance in moments of uncertainty

☀️💛🌟 remember that setbacks and failures are a natural part of the journey; learn from them and use them as opportunities for growth

☀️💛🌟 celebrate your victories and accomplishments, no matter how small; acknowledge your progress and give yourself credit for your hard work

☀️💛🌟 trust in yourself and the path you are on, trust that you have the power to create the life of your dreams.

☀️💛🌟believe in your own strength and resilience to overcome any obstacles that come your way

☀️💛🌟keep shining bright, the world needs your light.

Monthly affirmation -I am serene and still.

Quote of the month - ,A high station in life is earned by the gallantry with which appalling experiences are survived with grace(Tennessee Williams)

Power of love message - Commitment - You dedicate yourself to your beliefs wholeheartedly, knowing that love is the essence of your very being

Crystal of the month - Rubellite- Be gentle with yourself

Flower of the month - Dahlia

[joelsgoldrush]

come back same time and place the next night

prologue / 3k words

pairing: dad's coworker!joel miller x f!reader

raiting: 18+ (minors dni)

series summary: your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

series warnings: no outbreak AU, dad's coworker!joel (idk if that's a thing but yeah), lots of feelings (angst/fluff), age gap (reader is 23, joel is 50), no use of y/n, i'm not good at choosing names for side characters sorry for that, some chapters will include smut 18+ and i'll let you know at the beggining of each part

warnings for this chapter: soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

A/N: HELLO AGAIN i'm back with a new series!!! first of all, i just wanted to say THANK YOU bc of all the love you gave my previous post. i'm so thankful for all the likes, reblogs and comments, you truly made me feel incredibly happy. tbh i used to have a hard time figuring out whether i should start posting my own creations or not, and the support you showed me made me realize that it was definitely the right call. so yeah tysm for that and i hope you also enjoy this new project of mine :) i juIt have one final left and then i'll have a couple of weeks to relax and work on this series! also english isn’t my first language so if you come across any mistake please tell me!

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

“Sneaking out of my house / I must be out of my mind / I’m running out of excuses / We’re running out of time / You say the love will come and go / We’ll learn how to ride the ebb and flow / You’ll always leave before the light / Come back same time and place the next night.”

You take another sip of your drink, alcohol making its way through your throat. It leaves a trail of burning kisses down the inside of your esophagus, and you make an effort not to swear as the sensation settles heavily on your chest.

Stacy looks around the bar for a while, her knee impacting rhythmically against yours ever so slightly. Next thing you know, she’s snorting, her blonde hair falling like cascades over her collarbones. “I'm afraid you, my dearest friend, have lost your good judgement. There isn’t a single hot guy in this bar.”

“That’s not true,” your fingers pinch the pink straw floating on your glass, a lipstick stain adorning it. You’re not exactly sure, though. The truth is you aren’t looking for somebody tonight, at least not right now. “Give me a second.”

Scanning your surroundings, you try to concentrate on your quest: finding a new hobby for Stacy. And by hobby, you mean a man she can simp over for the rest of the night. Once you’ve examined the room multiple times without success, you feel… slightly disappointed. 

Just when you’re about to agree with her, this pretty waiter comes on the scene, placing a martini under your friend’s nose. “Here it is. Hope you enjoy it.” 

Oh.

Stacy giggles at him. It’s that specific kind of giggle you know very well. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s on me,” the hot-waiter answers, giving her a smile that’s all white teeth before disappearing between the mess of sweaty bodies on the dancing floor. 

You look at her, because you already know what she will do next. She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction and takes hold of her purse, not without previously drinking almost half of the cocktail she got for free. 

Her forehead furrows in a funny way. “It’s not very good. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tell her, ignoring her words. “I’m being serious.”

She leaves and you’re left alone, though you don’t mind the lack of company. The beating of your heart seems to sync with the pounding music from the pub. There’s this one girl doing karaoke, but nobody seems to be actually listening to her. You wonder if she’s aware of it, although she appears not to, because her tone gets even more high-pitched every time she gets to the chorus of the song.

After some minutes, you decide to give Stacy’s drink a try. She wasn’t wrong: the taste of it is absolutely awful. Some muscle in your jaw twitches as you cough a little.

“Is it that bad?” 

You turn to your side, looking for the owner of that unknown voice that startled you. A man stands beside you, pointing out the martini. Leaning in closer to him, you hand him the drink. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

His cold fingers brush yours gently when he takes the glass into his hands. The straw vanishes between his lips momentarily, and then he proceeds to chuckle. “You’re right. It’s… definitely somethin’ else.”

This must be your lucky night. When was the last time a guy this good-looking approached you? He jerks his thumb toward the empty chair in front of you. “Are you waitin’ for someone?”

You can't help but smile. “Not anymore.” 

The attractive, charming stranger sits down, and you seize the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. You’re not sure of his age, but he’s older than you. He seems to be in his early 40s, the hair on his beard starting to get a bit gray. It’s subtle. If you weren’t such a perfectionist, perhaps you wouldn’t have seen it. But you did, and if possible, it just makes him come across as even more appealing to you.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, why did you order that drink?”

“Well, I didn’t. It was a gift for my friend,” you rest your chin on your palm, giving a half shrug. “She’s with the guy that gave it to her. The blonde girl over there, with the white tank top? That’s her.”

His eyes follow your gaze, finding Stacy just a couple of meters away from where the two of you were talking. She raises one of her hands in greeting, the boy from before attached to her hip like a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

“She seems nice,” he murmurs once he focuses his attention on you again. 

“Yeah, she is,” as you finish that sentence, you feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your jacket. “Excuse me.”

It’s a text from Stacy. Said message reads: 

whose dad is that??? he’s hot af

You laugh at her occurrence, and he tugs at his shirt collar. “What happened?”

“She texted me: whose dad is that?” staring at him, you lift an eyebrow. “Do you have any children I should know of?”

The stranger seems to hesitate before replying. “No, I don’t,” you watch him lick his lips. “Why? You’re not into dads?”

He's cocky. Good thing you like cocky.

Time flies. You learn some things about him: he’s from Texas (the southern accent gives him away) and works as a contractor (just like your dad, you think, which is funny.) When he reveals how old he is, he seems to look for any sign of discomfort on your features. “I’m forty-five.”

“Twenty-three,” you retort with your own age. He glances up to the ceiling, and you give a bitter laugh. “Is it a problem for you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that to you?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind.” If anything, you like him more. However, there’s one mystery left to bring to light. “What I do mind is that we’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.”

He leans back in his chair. “Let's play a game.”

“Be careful. I’m really competitive.”

“You have three chances to guess my name. I’ll just give you my initial. You gotta do the rest, deal?”

What were the odds of guessing it? I should take the risk, you think as you find yourself already nodding your head. “Deal.”

“It starts with the letter J.”

“Jack,” it’s the first name that comes to your mind. For an instant, you believe you’ve won, but then you catch him smirking. “It’s not Jack, isn´t it?"

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Keep tryin’.”

“Josh?”

“Ice cold.”

“Joe?”

Something you're unable to even distinguish glows in his eyes. “I’m givin’ you one more chance.”

“So I’m close?” you ask him, probably too enthusiastic. He doesn’t say anything else, so you go on. “Is it Joel?”

He places a hand on top of his shirt where his heart is, pretending to act relieved. “Fuckin’ finally.”

You punch your fists into the air. “Yes! I knew I was gonna get it.” A sincere smile takes place on your face. “What’s my prize?”

“Well,” he inches forward, his pinky nudging your wrist, that mere touch giving you goosebumps. “You could give me your number and go on a proper date with me.”

God knows you want it. Rising from your seat, you tuck a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “I was thinking of something else.”

That’s how you end up in the ladies restroom, your back flushed against the wooden door as Joel presses his clothed knee between your legs. You moan into his mouth without thinking if there are any other people outside waiting to use the bathroom. Joel draws in a long breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you. “You wanna put on a show for the others? I'm not one to judge."

“I want to suck you off,” your hand is dangerously close to his crotch, your nails ghosting over his zipper. He seems to be having an internal fight with the last brain cell he has left, but then he detaches himself from you, unzipping his jeans. The sound of his belt hitting the floor with a thud is what finally leads you to fall to your knees.

He’s big. You can tell his size from your position, a wet patch forming into the fabric of his boxers. Playing with the waistband of his boxers for a mere second, your self-control attempts to falter. You grab him by the base, stroking it experimentally. Joel fights back a groan, urging you to take him. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t like t’beg.”

But you do, that’s the thing. “Please,” you whisper, hoping he’ll hear you. His eyes find yours and suddenly it clicks. A lightbulb goes on in his head. He curses under his breath, directing his dick towards your open parted lips, and your eyelids get heavy as the taste of his precum invades your tastebuds.

It’s not your fault he has an amazing dick.

You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of his length with every one of your short movements. Slick must be already staining your own panties, but you can’t get yourself to care about that insignificant detail. Not now, when Joel’s hips thrust deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat and making you gag. It's dirty, and you should probably be ashamed of getting caught by a bystander. All your worries are swept away from your mind the moment he decides not to keep quiet. “Fuck, baby. Knew you would put that gorgeous mouth to good use. Attagirl, takin’ me so well.”

A stupid whine gets lost somewhere in your vocal tract. Intertwining your fingers with his, you locate his wandering hands on your hair, wishing he'll take the hint. He does, and grabs a handful of it, pulling you off his cock. 

“You really like this, don’t ya’?” Joel smears your lower lip with your spit. “Were you thinkin’ about this while we were talkin’ back there?”

“Y-yes,” you try to take him in your mouth again, but he doesn’t allow you to, his iron grip on your nape getting tighter the more you fight against it.

Then he lets you have it. “Bet you get off on this too,” his voice drops an octave, and it sounds so nasty and intimate you’re on the verge of crying. With teary eyes, you swallow around his length. 

You lose track of time. His bare thighs tremble and the only noise you can hear is his heavy breathing. “F—fuck. I’m close, where do you want it?” Mumbling something you can’t even comprehend with his cock still in your mouth, his thrusts begin to lose finesse, thick fingers holding you where he needs you the most. “So good, baby. Lettin’ me have you like this. Fuckin’—“

He’s about to come.

“—good girl.”

It all happens so fast you have to remind yourself to gulp down his cum, hot and sticky and just Joel’s. You patiently wait for him to come down from his high, nuzzling his happy trail. He helps you stand up, kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue. As soon as he tries to sneak a hand into your panties, getting closer to your aching cunt, you recognize your phone ringing in the distance.

Groaning, you stretch your arm, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Well, hi. This is awkward.”

You frown. Joel mimics you. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”

“I’m calling you from Stacy’s phone. We were making out and then she told me she was feeling sick, so I took her outside… and now she’s throwing up,” the boy on the other side of the line explains to you and you detect a hint of agitation in his voice. “She asked me to contact you.”

“Oh, God. Hot-waiter?”

“Yeah, she also said you were probably going to call me that,” he seems to move his phone away from his ear, and then talks to you again. “She’s not passed out, but she shouldn’t stay here.”

Does he actually think you’re going to leave her alone? “Can you tell me where you are?” you suggest him while Joel tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Next to the parking lot.”

You hang up after telling him you’ll be there in five minutes, and you feel Joel’s lips on your neck, a sigh spilling from you. His teeth nip at your sensitive skin. “You gotta go?”

Humming, you smooth down your skirt, facing the mirror and observing your reflection, some leftover mascara sticking your eyelashes together. He appears right behind you, his broad frame becoming more visible this way. “Stacy’s throwing up. I have to take her home.”

“Do you have a car?” 

“No, but I’ll call an uber. It’s no big deal.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips. “I brought my truck. Let me help you.”

Of course he has a truck. 

“Joel, you don’t have to,” you massage the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. 

“It’s the least I can do,” tilting his head, his lips catch yours once again. “Consider it my way of thankin’ you, since I cannot return the favor.”

It shouldn’t feel like this. You weren’t used to doing this kind of thing on a regular basis, but you’re more than sure that men don’t treat you this way after sucking them off. Still, you accept his offer since it means you’ll get to spend more time with him.

He walks you out and helps you get Stacy on her feet. As she sees Joel, she spreads her arms wide, hugging him. “Oh my God! It’s the hot dad!”

“Sweetie, you have like— puke all over your clothes,” you tell her, so Stacy chooses to hug you instead. “She gets pretty sensitive when she’s drunk.”

“I can tell,” Joel opens the back door of his truck, jerking his head in the direction of it. “Get her inside while I start the car.”

It all goes pretty well from then on. He asks you for Stacy’s address and you give it to him, the palm of his hand resting on top of your left thigh. Stacy gets comfortable in the back seat, yawning. “You two look like my parents before they got divorced.”

“That’s a really nice compliment,” you mutter with irony as Joel laughs by your side, rubbing his chin.

Soon after that, she falls asleep. Joel parks his car right in front of Stacy’s porsche. He glances over his shoulder, making sure she’s still sleeping before his seatbelt’s off and he’s grabbing you by the jaw, leaning in for a kiss. The fucker’s a very good kisser, you notice throughout the night.

“Are you gonna give me your number?” he murmurs against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours. 

“It depends. Will you call me?”

He tells you he will, and you prefer to trust him as you watch him save your number, a smiley face next to your name.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Joel doesn’t call you.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s starting to get to you. He did sound honest. Why the hell did he treat you like that if he wasn’t planning on calling you? Why did he insist so much on getting your number?

Men suck. Joel sucks, you decide after a whole afternoon of staring at your phone, waiting to receive a text from him. Given the situation, anything would make you feel better.

Hey! It’s Joel, from the bar. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I forgot to tell you I’m married and have three children, two cute little puppies and a cat. Anyways, what a great night we had! Take care!

Okay. Perhaps not anything.

You’re home, sitting on the couch while you watch a meaningless TV programme. It consists of answering random questions, and if you get them wrong, you fall down some dark tunnel that only God knows where it takes you.

Normally, during a night like this, you’d be studying or perhaps at Stacy’s. But tonight, your father had asked you to actually stay. He didn’t tell you why he specifically needed you there, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Out of the blue, you hear the doorbell ring. None of your parents seem to be on the first floor, so you walk to the door, opening it. 

You choke on your own saliva.

Joel’s here. Joel, who didn’t call you. Joel, who looks absolutely good with his hair slicked back. 

“Did I ever tell you where I lived?” the tone of your voice falters, your legs suddenly feeling wobbly.

He can’t believe it either. “No. I must have the wrong address,” keeping his eyes fixated on the box of chocolates dangling from his hand, he straightens his back. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you hiss, your pupils flared with anger. “Why the fuck are you at my house, with a freaking box of chocolates, when you couldn’t bring yourself to call me?”

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s your dad. He contemplates the scene with a smile. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Trust me, my wife and I taught her better manners than this. Don’t know why she didn’t invite you in. Food’s almost ready!”

You’re about to short-circuit. Definitely not a joke.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel Miller. Remember I told you last week that someone from the company was coming over for a while? Well, this is him,” your father chuckles, expecting you to come up any kind of answer.

Joel’s faster than you, intending to shake your hand, those same calloused fingers that he had used to touch you in that dirty bathroom now playing dumb. “Nice to meet you.”

If he wants to pretend you don’t know each other, then so be it.

You squeeze his hand without measuring your strength. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Turns out that your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker were low, but never zero. 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

tags: @spurz :)

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x black!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

warnings: single mom!reader, single dad!logan, your daughter's name is amara (very sorry if that's your name), anyone can technically read this but it was written with a black reader in mind

your daughter, amara, has always been shy. she doesn’t have many friends, preferring to stick by your side during non-school hours and weekends, and sitting in the corner trying to avoid the prying eyes of nosy kids in her class during school hours. 

you’ve always worried about her, she’s your baby after all, but she never seems particularly upset at her lack of social life. she claims most children her age are irritating, that they’re mean, that they never shut up. and then one night she comes home blabbering on and on about a new girl in her class named laura, who sat next to her and glared at people who tried to speak to her and muttered “pendejo” under her breath at the boys sitting in front of them.

a wave of relief rushes through you, nearly knocking you off your feet with the force of it. you smile, a careful thing, and prod your daughter until she gives you more details. for once, it’s easy - she doesn’t grumble that school is stupid or shrug saying “it was fine”. she talks, her voice a pitch higher than usual in her excitement.

this is a good sign, and you pray that things will follow this path, only getting better for the both of you. 

you never believed in love at first sight until you met logan howlett. it was for books and movies that were too short to fully delve into the complexities of falling in love, how it took time and trust and learning the other person to open up your heart to them. attraction, sure, that could be instantaneous, but true feelings were based in a fundamental understanding of the other person, a connection that ran so deep even their flaws became perfect simply by virtue of being theirs.

logan howlett is serious and stoic, a broad man who stands by his car with a frown on his face instead of going up to the school to pick up his daughter. he looks irritated at the busy rush of cars coming and going, children running across the parking lot without looking, parents shouting after them.

but he softens around laura in a way that makes your heart melt. and maybe it’s simply been way too long since you’ve been on a date or gotten laid, but seeing him - a large, imposing man who’s eyes betray a deep desire to punch something or someone - which is a feeling you very well understand, especially surrounded by pta parents - acting so soft around his child makes butterflies flutter in your tummy.

you have the urge to walk right up to him and offer to give him another child, but you’re not that lonely and deprived, and you think he may decide to get a restraining order on you if you do. this, of course, cannot happen, since you’ve decided you're going to do everything in your power to facilitate your daughter's friendship with laura.

so you watch him from afar, and your restraint proves to be the right move, because he approaches you a few days later to ask for your number. (to organise play dates for the girls, but you don’t need to think about that part.) he drops laura off at your house and spends a few minutes speaking to you at the door instead of immediately turning away, another success. the next weekend you pick up amara from the howlett’s house instead, laughing as he tells you stories about what they got up to while you weren’t around.

your daughter’s never been described as trouble before, and logan admits it may be laura’s influence. stubborn and slightly-temperamental, the perfect balance for your shy and sweet girl.

it’s a fine dynamic, the one you share with logan. he’s kind and respectful, always polite, not like the sleazy men who hit on you while you worked at a bar to support yourself through college and not like your current male coworkers who always want to put you down, making comments behind your back. he’s the perfect man.

unfortunately, that’s not enough for you.

amara’s birthday comes on a warm spring day, the colours of the grass and the sky vibrant hues that match the energy that thrums through you. logan offers to host the party, stating that they have a bigger backyard, with a covered gazebo he built himself, under which the two of you now stand, protected from the harsh beating rays of the midday sun. 

a grand total of five kids were invited to the party, after being carefully vetted by laura. it’s more than you could have imagined, seeing your daughter shyly talking to her classmates, even if she only shares a few words at a time. progress is progress, and honestly you have laura to thank - her protective nature is the reason your daughter is brave enough to try, because she knows no matter what happens, there’s someone by her side.

a pile of unopened presents sit on a picnic table beside half-finished pizza boxes, food abandoned in favour of running and laughing, short legs sprinting as fast as possible in some game you don’t understand. your daughter is a blur as she runs, braids flying behind her, giggles following her small form.

logan helps you carry the pizza boxes back inside, setting them down on the kitchen table. it’s quiet inside the house, where you can no longer hear the sounds of the party, and it emboldens you to take a step closer, into his space.

“thank you for doing this,” you tell him, “you’re amazing.”

he shrugs, “it’s nothin’ really. doesn’t take that much effort and the kids are happy.”

“you need to learn how to take compliments, logan,” you scold gently. he looks seconds away from rolling his eyes, throwing some quick rebuke your way, but you don’t allow him the time to do so, raising your voice a pitch louder just in case. “i’m serious. you’ve been a wonderful friend since moving here. helping amara, offering up your time and your home. i appreciate it.”

his eyes meet yours, twin brown gazes, a question in his eyes that you don’t quite have the talent to read, to interpret into something concrete. it’s his turn to shift closer to you, though you don’t see his body move, only feel it as his arm brushes against yours, bare skin meeting bare skin, the visual contrast of your skin tones sparking something electric in your veins. a perfect difference, the kind that begs to be photographed in a portrait of limbs tangled together under the warm glow of the sun.

“are we friends?” he asks, his voice rough, low, enough to send a shiver up your spine. he places a careful emphasis on the word friends, something you can see yourself doing if your places in the conversation were flipped.

“do you want to be?” you reply rather than answer the question. it’s placing the power in his hands, not quite allowing yourself to be fully vulnerable, but hinting with your tone that he needn’t be afraid of his answer, regardless of what it may be. you’re willing to be whatever he wants.

his hands raise, stopping a breath away from your face, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his palms despite the fact that he isn’t touching you. restraint isn’t your best quality, you prefer to jump headfirst and hope the consequences are worth it, but right now it’s not just about you. it’s about the fact that logan will continue to be a part of your life even if this goes wrong, that your dynamic changing will mean something for your children too.

“tell me to stop,” he says. you shake your head.

“i won’t.”

everything about him is rough when he kisses you, from the palms of his hands cupping your face, to his slightly chapped lips, to the scratch of his beard. he kisses you like you’re the last sip of water in an infinite desert, catching the sounds you make with his mouth, pulling you impossibly closer. it’s the opposite of soft or sweet or gentle.

you bury your hands in his hair, using the leverage to pull him closer, temporarily breaking the kiss with the change in angle before diving back in. you tug at his hair and he groans, lifting a pleased smile from you - it’s hard to kiss when you're smiling so much, breathless laughter escaping you because it all feels like a dream.

you’re interrupted by a high pitched squeal of “ew” and the sound of another voice shushing the first. separating from logan, you throw your head back, breathing heavily, glancing in the direction of the noise to spot your daughter and laura watching the two of you. amara’s grimacing, her nose scrunched up, while laura looks contemplative, her eyes gleaming with an intelligence too quick and intense for a girl of her age.

she whispers something to amara, whose expression clears. her scowl at finding her mother kissing someone long gone, a wide-eyed elation in its place.

“are me and laura gonna be sisters now?” she asks, her voice high and breathy, in awe at the realisation. logan’s hands shift to your waist, pulling your attention back to him and the amusement tugging at his lips, the raise of his eyebrow in your direction, waiting for your answer with an expectancy that matches your daughter’s.

you roll your eyes, refusing to say anything that might compromise your position, telling logan what you want without hearing him say it first. you refuse to be the vulnerable one, the one who shares her hopes and waits to see if his desires match them. there is no label between you, not after a single kiss, and you won’t be having this conversation with two children around to hear, especially not ones who are way too emotionally invested for their own good.

“we’ll talk about this later,” you say instead, “isn’t it time for presents now?”

you expertly manoeuvre yourself out of logan’s hold, walking out of the kitchen without waiting to see if anyone is following you. you can feel logan’s heavy stare on the back of your neck, the intensity making you want to fall to your knees, but you’ve always had good self-control.

amara doesn’t shut up about what she’s seen for the rest of the party, retelling the story time and time again, each time more embellished than the last, adding words from both you and logan that neither of you had said. laura seems less excited, following your daughter around and nodding along to the ridiculous statements that fall from your daughter's mouth, but there’s a tension to her shoulders that you know means she cares about the outcome too.

logan materialises behind you, his hands finding your waist with the expertise of a couple who have been together for years, the feeling so natural you can’t help but fall into it, leaning back into his hold, giving him the perfect leverage to whisper in your ear.

“did you hear the latest version?” he mutters, “apparently we’re getting married.”

“fuck off,” you reply at the teasing in his voice, but you’re smiling despite yourself because you’re happy, and your daughter’s happy and a hot man who understands the struggles of raising a kid is holding you in his strong arms.

for once in your life, everything seems to be falling into place, fantasies becoming realities, things you worried that you couldn’t allow yourself to wish for in case it only brought you more pain in the long run. and all you can think is it’s about fucking time.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Trans Mercs (+ Miss Pauling) Headcanons!

————————————————————

I realized a bit ago, that I've always TOLD you guys that I hc the mercs as trans in their own rights, but I've never told you guys WHY I headcanon them each as trans or HOW they express their transness. So hey, why not do it now? I gotta get back into writing for you guys at some point.

————————————————————

Also...we'll just...pretend they live in a world where trans healthcare is super easy and accessible, please and thank you 😭🙏🏼

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Demo- I headcanon Demo as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns, and has decided not to pursue medical transition besides HRT.

I think Demo's masculinity isn't tied to his body. He knows he's a man, through and through, regardless of if how he was born. He's still a man. He loves his body. (Minus his uterus, he HATES that thing. [Hcs him with PCOS/Endo </3])

I think when he came out it was to...moderate support in his late teens and he went on HRT around his early twenties. I'd like to think he was always a very masculine person, even before he came out, so his transition went very smoothly.

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Engie- I headcanon Engie as trans man who uses he/him pronouns, who can take or leave medial transition, he's decided to take his time in figuring out how he wants his body to look, but also takes HRT

Engineer, similar to Demo, I think Engie feels comfortable in his body. He knows he's a man, and regardless of his body, he'll always feel like a man. But he does occasionally get bouts of very strong dysphoria that make him question if he'd be happier if he medically transitioned. I think even from childhood he knew he was more masculine, always fitting in with the "tomboy" label, rejecting all things feminine, it was very clear throughout his life. He was met with mixed support upon coming out in his early teens, and eventually got on HRT in his late teens. And similar to Demo, due to his masculine nature, the transition went relatively smoothly.

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Heavy- I headcanon Heavy as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns, who has pursued medical transition (thanks to Medic) and has fully medically transitioned.

I don't think Heavy really ever thought too much about himself growing up. He just never found himself having time to focus on him. So he didn't really question any of the feelings that surrounded his gender. They, much like other things, got pushed down. Eventually though, he had to confront it. I think he definitely came out later. His family, of course was very supportive, and love him regardless. They don't care how he identifies, they just care about him. I think he started looking into medically transitioning after he joined the other mercs, and after Medic offered to do it for free. And was fully okay with Medic preforming the operation. Now he loves his body, and is very happy being the man he always knew he was.

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Medic- I headcanon Medic as an intersex and trans masc, specially, I headcanon him as having Klinefelter syndrome. He uses he/him pronouns.

I think Medic growing up had a lot of issues that he didn't quite understand. He wasn't like the other boys. A lot of it was attributed to him being a late bloomer. But, in reality, it all came back to him being intersex. He learned he was intersex in his mid twenties, and kept it a well guarded secret. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time. Almost feeling ashamed. He struggled with his masculinity all throughout his childhood, being bullied for it relentlessly, and now here was proof, in his mind at least, that he wasn't really a man. He didn't really get over these misplaced feelings until he met the other mercs. It was always a dull ache, or something gnawing at him constantly. But now, on a team surrounded by other men, all expressing their masculinity in different ways, it made him feel more comfortable with himself. After he joined the team, he came out, to overwhelming support from the others, and learned more about himself, and the intersex and trans masc labels.

[Also side note, as he grew more comfortable with expressing his gender, he has changed his anatomy at will to whatever makes him more comfortable at any given moment, his feelings about his gender identity aren't inherently tied to his genitalia anymore.]

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Scout- I headcanon Scout as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns and has fully medically transitioned (also thanks to Medic) but sometime he does wonder if he could have been happy without bottom surgery.

Scout was born the only girl out of all his brothers, but from the moment he could walk and talk, his mother knew she was rasing another boy, regardless of what it said on the birth certificate. She tried to fight it, always wanting a daughter, but after she found him at the age of five, in tears over having to wear a dress, she finally gave in, and welcomed another son to her family, even if it took Scout a few more years to put the right words to the way he was feeling inside. I think Scout finally put names to words in his early teens, and was actually really scared to come out to his family. Millions of thoughts and doubts rushing through his mind. But his Mom just smiled, and hugged him, accepting him almost instantly. He's her baby, and nothing in this world would change that. I honestly think Scout is one of the only mercs to have access to puberty blockers, and he started his transition at around 14. He had never really had the means to medically transitioned, but once he joined the team, Medic was all too happy to perform the surgeries. He was really happy once they were done, and he still is. Though, sometimes he wonders if he could have been just as happy without bottom surgery. He doesn't regret it, but he wonders if he could have a different experience without it.

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Sniper- I headcanon Sniper as falling somewhere under the trans umbrella, and as using all pronouns. He doesn't quite call himself any trans lables, but doesn't quite align with cisgender lables either. He just knows he's a human, and he doesn't care what you call him or what his body looks like. He's perfect existing without any lables or societal expectations. He hasn't had any surgeries and probably won't either. He never had to come out, never had to explain anything.

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Spy- I headcanon Spy as a genderfluid person who uses all pronouns.

Spy is...a spy, shockingly enough, and that means he had to get used to putting on different personalities and identities. So when he had to dress as a woman once or twice, he did what he had to do. Liking it wasn't part of that, but he found himself liking it anyway. I don't think Spy was really a masculine guy to begin with. I definitely think in his childhood he was more feminine, taking more after his mother, and then when he was put in a position, where he oddly enough could explore dressing as a woman, and presenting as a woman, and even LIVING as a woman, with little to no shame, because, hey, it's just a job right? It was actually pretty freeing for him, well, as freeing as it could be. He didn't really ever come out. He didn't have to. Being a spy also helped with that! When he wanted to be seen as a woman, he'd present feminine. When he wanted to be seen as a man, he'd present masc. And when he didn't want to be seen at all, he'd just disappear.

[All shapeshifters are trans, what else do you want me to say???]

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Soldier- I headcanon Soldier as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns who has only pursued HRT but has not fully medically transitioned.

I think Soldier, from the MINUTE he could talk, knew he was a boy. No question about it. Always fought ANY attempts by others to make him feminine, and always wholeheartedly believed he WAS born a man, but there was some mix up... (I personally love this hc by ColdSpiccy and quote "they took your WHOLE penis in the curcumsicion!?" Regularly.) I do also like the headcanons that Soldier just...blasted his tits off but GUYS you don't understand how much I love the idea of Soldier learning to love his body and come to terms with what masculinity means to him! Because I could really see him knowing he was a man throughout his childhood, and his body not reflecting it, and him over compensating with toxic masculinity over that, and him meeting the other mercs and learning how he can learn to love and accept himself and be happy. Do you SEE the vision-

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Pyro- I headcanon Pyro as an agender, mtf, and a xenogender user who uses it/they pronouns along with other neopronouns.

Okay, complex queer identity time! Alright! So, I believe that Pyro was born male, but it always felt...weird. They felt like they wanted to have no gender at all, but also...they wanted a woman's body??? These feelings made no sense to them. How could someone else understand these feelings if it couldn't? Well, surprising no one, the rest of the mercs understood just fine. Medic (and Spy) surprisingly so. Medic was more than happy to offer his services and give Pyro the body they wanted while having no trouble respecting it's pronouns. It took a little while for Pyro to learn the exact lables for itself. Especially after they learned about xenogenders (i actually think they identify with xenogenders relating to fire, voids, stars, eldritch horrors, cats, and also the xenogender hoarder identity) and while they use it/they primarily they've occasionally tired other neopronouns and use fire themed ones on and off.

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Miss Pauling- I headcanon Miss Pauling as a transgender woman who uses she/her pronouns and has fully medically transitioned.

I think Miss Pauling had a lot of feelings for a very long time. I think she was raised in a household they focused so much on her being perfect and by extension being the perfect son. I think she was always under a LOT of stress. She always knew who she was inside but she was TERRIFIED to let anyone know, or to even think about it too long. I think she even took her current job while still living as a man, and presenting as a man. I actually think her first meeting Medic would have been what really helped her come out of her shell. I honestly think her and Medic have a great friendship with each other, and when they first met I could totally see Medic immediately being able to tell all the anxieties and worries that just radiated off of her. I don't think she'd instantly breakdown and tell him everything. But after a while of becoming friends I think she would confide in him, and he would support her through discovering herself and becoming the woman she wants to be. He'd help her with her medical transition and provide her with estrogen, of course. The other mercs IMMEDIATELY supported her as well. As for her family? I think the support from there would be...less than ideal. But I do also think, in time, the mercs DO become like a second family to her.

[Also, a side note! I could also see her being a demigirl, and think they're are interesting ideas and stuff to explore with that!]

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Thank you all for being understanding of my very long, unofficial hiatus. I'm sorry it's been so long, and I'm sorry I've kinda let the blog die. I promise I'm coming back, it's just taken a hot minute.

Thank you guys for sticking around, and thanks for reading, and as always, I hope you enjoyed :)

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[asunflowerana]

— to give you comfort

your love got your back. you don't need to deal with your period alone anymore.

— to give you support

iwaizumi is there for you the moment the first inch of pain reaches you. he's attentive to each expression or movement, and it anguishes him to watch you endure such suffering every month. he can't just let you by yourself, so even if he can't take the pain out of you as he wants to, he tries his best to ease your ache with what he's been learning.

he started by studying physical methods to relieve cramps, then practicing with himself (to make sure it wouldn't bring you more pain than necessary), until finally guiding you through. And bless this man, because you never felt so much relief as you now feel with the "husband-healing-cramps" monthly sessions. how did you live without knowing those tricks?

"hold still. don't move love, just a few more secs." there is your strong saviour, holding your legs upwards as you lay on bed with a heated pillow supporting your lumbar. he said you can't change positions every time you feel an ache, or the pain would only increase.

holding comfortable positions is the secret, and now you understand why he's so good at what he does. you offer him a gentle smile in gratitude, face relaxing as you pass another wave of pain. he gives your ankle a caring peck, gazing at you with fondness. "that's my girl."

— to give you warmth

some might think that voleyball is what motivates bokuto to get bigger and stronger. while that is partially true, it doesn't mean he's not thinking of you, of being able to protect and support you with his body, in any way he can. it comes very handy, when your period comes.

bokuto's embrace feels like a warm and soothing bath on cold days. you feel yourself surrounded by a cozy, firm mass of muscles and soft skin, smelling fresh and home, not ceasing its warmth for a single second. you're overwhelmed by a strong but gentle feeling of being cherished like the most precious thing on earth, and that's so good, especially 'cause it comes from a honest heart and intention.

that's how bo cares for you, in a simple, daily gesture, that can be done whenever and wherever you are, but that has the same wonderful effect, coming from his chest, stomach, arms, shoulders, hands, breath, chin on your head, soothing squeeze and soft words:

"it'll go away soon, baby. hold me tight, okay?"

and it eases you pain, better than any medicine could.

note: i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did. we all need some comfort during these hard times, right? let me know if you want a part 2. i have some other haikyuu boys in mind for that.

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[elllisaaa]

skz as love songs

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 3.1k words

-> genre : fluff, hurt/comfort

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> author's note : i really enjoyed writing this, and i might have some ideas for longer fics based on songs because of this event lmao ! hope you will like this as much as i liked writing it !

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | 1k event masterlist

BANGCHAN

-> All of Me by John Legends  

"love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections"

→ You know that everytime you doubt yourself, you can count on Chan to remind you of your value, of how beautiful you are. In his eyes, you’re the prettiest girl in the world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. So he never understood how you could not see how incredible you were, how you could not see how perfect you were. 

“- But I’m not perfect…”

That’s what you always answer him everytime he tells you that, and everytime, he argues the same thing. 

“- Yes, but even your flaws are perfect, because you work on yourself and try to be a better person every time you make a mistake.”

And what can you say ? If you’re perfect, then Chan always has the perfect word to remind you of that, and the perfect hugs to comfort you. 

"‘cause I give you all of me, and you give me all of you"

→ Because when Chan loves, it’s with his whole heart, his whole soul. When he falls in love, he falls in deep, he falls in forever. Just like he throws himself in work because he’s so passionate about it, he gives his all for his relationship, he does whatever it takes to treat you right. 

“- Channie, you didn’t have to do all that…”

You were surrounded by candles and rose petals as you walked into your kitchen, your favorite meals on the counter, apparently homemade, and Chan standing in a suit in front of you, a warm smile on his face. 

“- Yes, I had to. I had to show you how grateful I am to spend another year with you, because you make me so happy.”

And that’s an understatement. Everytime you kiss him, he feels like the luckiest man on earth. One day, he knows that he’ll marry you. One day, he knows that he’ll have a family with you. One day, you’ll really hold his whole life in your hands, even if you already are with the way you make his heart beat and come alive. 

LEE MINHO

-> Cardigan by Taylor Swift

"you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding"

→ Minho has always watched you very closely, knows every little shift in your mood just by your body language. He had learned every little part of you like the moves of his favorite choreo, one he’ll never get tired of, one he’ll never forget. He had taken care of you when you were at your lowest, always reminding you that it was okay not to be okay sometimes. 

“- I’m sorry…

- You don’t have to be sorry for that sweetheart, it’s normal to be sad sometimes but just remember that I will always be there to support you.”

It’s like his words were magical, as if without you needing to tell him all about what you had been going through, he already knew it all. Sometimes, you wondered if Minho was an angel, because one touch from him, one word from him, and suddenly it was like you were healed. 

“- Being weak is not a bad thing, it’s what makes you stronger.”

If only he knew how grateful you were to have him, because he was truly helping you become more confident and overcome your past. 

"I knew you’d come back to me"

→ Sometimes, he’d have his bad times too. And even if he encouraged you to open up about it, he couldn’t follow his own advice and distanced himself from you. Minho would not be very talkative, nor would he seek your affection like he normally would. But just as much as he’s patient with you, you are with him and he’s grateful that you understand that he needs time for himself. 

“- Can I be the little spoon tonight ?”

You smile at his question, and that’s all Minho needs to bury his face in your chest, sighing in relief when you hold him tight against you and run your fingers through his hair. 

“- Are you ready to talk about it ?”

Mimicking you, he nodded and took some time to think before telling you what was on his mind these past days. Minho’s love was like a little cocoon, a shelter far away from the world, where you could be honest with each other and spend everyday basking in each other's presence. Sometimes, love doesn’t need words. 

SEO CHANGBIN

-> I Think I’m In Love by Kat Dahlia

"I didn’t think it could be true, let alone that it would be you"

→ It’s not that Changbin doesn’t believe in love, that’s quite the opposite actually, but more so that he doesn’t have the time to think about it because of his job. But the day he met you, it was like fate giving him a sign, telling him that love wasn’t going to stay out of his life anymore. And as much as he tried to contain himself, he came to realize that maybe, he should let you enter in his heart. 

“- Do you feel the same ?”

Your glazed eyes plunged in his, and even if Changbin knew you were a little drunk, he couldn’t help his heartbeat to fasten.

“- I don’t know, what are you talking about ?

- Love.”

You out of all the people he knew was the least he expected to fall for, and even less to feel the same about him. But he wasn’t mad about it. In the end, love was never logical. 

"baby, I’m falling, I hope you catch me when I’ll land"

→ It’s how it felt to be with you : falling. Changbin never thought that the expression falling in love could one day find a literal meaning, but he was wrong. And Changbin also never thought that he would love this sensation, and he was wrong again. 

“- Are you okay Binnie ?”

He lifted his head to look at you, smiling at him so sweetly he felt like a teenager all over again. 

“- Yes… I was just thinking.

- About what ?

- How grateful I am to have you by my side.”

It was Changbin’s turn to smile when he saw your cheeks redden. But he had never been more serious. Because yes, it was a little scary to dive into the unknown like that, but it was also exciting to go for new adventures. Moreover, it was the firm conviction that you would be there with him, that you were falling with him, for him, that made it so beautiful to be in love with you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

-> Infinity by Jaymes Young

"baby this love, I’ll never let it die"

→ Hyunjin had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming about living a fairytale since he was child. He viewed love as something enchanting, thrilling and ultimately beautiful. Nothing could ever deter him from chasing after you, because he knew for a fact that you were the love of his life, his soulmate. He knew it since the day you met, knew it since the first time your eyes crossed.

“- Don’t cry princess, I will be back in no time.

- I know, but still… I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

It was the same thing every time he prepared to leave. No matter if it was for several months or just a few days. Everytime, it felt so wrong to be away from him, and he felt exactly the same. It was just another proof that you were made for him.

“- Me too, but we’re stronger than that, you know it. We’ll always figure it out, we’ll always find a way. As long as you’re mine and I’m yours, everything will be alright.”

Loving Hyunjin was like that sometimes, like the feeling of having finally found your home.

"‘cause you’re the reason I believe in fate, you’re my paradise." 

→ As an artist, Hyunjin had tons of sketchbooks filled with drawings of you. He liked to say that you were his muse, because even though he was not representing you, every piece of art he made was ultimately inspired by your person. It could be something you loved, some art style you told him you appreciated. In the end, everything was linked to you. 

“- Thank you for doing this for me princess, it means a lot to me.”

You kissed his cheek with a big smile on your face, admiring the painting of you he just finished and for which you posed for hours, sparkles in your eyes.

“- I’m always happy to help you create, and everytime it turns out amazing. I’m honored to be your inspiration !”

But you were so much more than that. You were his reason to live. You were his other half. You were the reason the colors were so bright in his world. You were the reason he felt everything so hard. 

“- You’re not my inspiration, you’re my muse.”

And he meant even above art. He would do everything in his power to keep you by his side forever. 

HAN JISUNG

-> It’s U by Cavetown

"if you’re hurt, then I’ll fix you, if you’re blind, then I’ll describe the view." 

→ Life has not always been peaceful for Jisung. Sometimes, it was hard to even go out and see other people. Sometimes, it was hard to even talk to someone else. But when it came to you, everything felt so easy, everything felt so natural. You were always willing to help him, to support him through his worst states. 

“- I’m bothering you, you have work to do. 

- Baby, look at me.”

Jisung obeyed and stared at your soft gaze, feeling tears pricking his eyes again. He wanted to stay here in your arms forever and never have to face reality ever again. 

“- You’re more important than everything else. I’ll always be there for you. Whenever you need me, just call, and I’ll be right by your side. You can count on me.��

And you knew you could count on him too. When you were too tired to do the dishes or the laundry, he’ll do it for you. When he was too tired to wash his hair or take off his makeup, you’ll do it for him. Everything you did for him, he’ll do it for you too. 

“- Thank you.”

Jisung often felt the need to tell you how grateful he was to have you in his life. Loving you was like being all cuddled in a warm blanket with a hot chocolate during a cold winter day. Loving you was comfortable. 

"it’s always been you."

→ He always made fun of his friends who loved to watch these silly romantic movies where the main characters fell in love at first sight, believing that it was not real and could never happen, especially to him. But you came into his life like a hurricane, and suddenly, everything turned upside down. 

“- When did you start liking me ?”

You pretended to think about it for several minutes, too long for Jisung who whined at you for being so mean to him, making you giggle so cutely. 

“- I’m joking baby ! I have liked you since Chan introduced you to me. You were very charming, you know… 

- You were more charming, gorgeous, beautiful. I was starstruck.”

Jisung grinned as you blushed from his compliments, but deep down, he felt butterflies erupting in his stomach all over again, just like the first time he saw you. He needed reassurance often, but when you said that type of thing, he was convinced that destiny had plans for the two of you. Even before he had known you, it had always been you. 

LEE FELIX

-> In Luv With U by Finn

"I’m in love with you, more than summer and afternoons."

→ You came into Felix’s life like a sunset on a warm morning, with the sound of waves crashing on the beach echoing in the distance and the scent of the sea. It was like summer love. It was soft, natural, without overcomplication. You didn’t think too much of what was happening between the two of you, and neither Felix did. All he wanted was to make the most of your time together.

“- You can open your eyes.”

As you listened to his whispered command, you discovered that he had laid a blanket on the sand and that a picnic was laying on top of it. You turned around to smile at Felix.

“- You prepared all that just for me ?

- Why wouldn’t I ?”

You only kissed him by way of answer, running excitedly to sit on the blanket while Felix contemplated your figure from where he was standing behind you. Yeah, why wouldn’t he do that for you when you brought sunshine back in his life ? And to say that he didn’t do the same to you would be a lie. You were a perfect match. 

"I don’t know where I belong anymore, I belong to you."

→ There were times during which Felix didn’t know if he made the right choices. He was the most positive person you knew, but sometimes, doubt overcame him anyway. But even when he was lost, Felix knew that he had someone to rely on, someone to talk to, someone to ease all his worries. Everytime, it felt like he was letting you see his raw emotions, but you never made him feel ashamed for that. 

“- It’s okay to feel like that sometimes Lixie, and I know that you’re strong and that you’ll figure it out. You always figure it out.”

Even if he wanted to believe it, you could see that a shadow was still casting the beautiful light of his eyes. 

“- And if I don’t ?

- Then I’ll be there to help you, and we’ll do that together.”

You smiled when you saw his own tugging at his lips. You were always here to remind him that no matter what happened, you would always be there. You were his focal point when he was lost, reaching out a hand for him to take and bring him back home, bring him back to you. 

KIM SEUNGMIN

-> Paris in the Rain by Lauv

"‘cause anywhere with you feels right, anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain."

→ The first time Seungmin got to Paris, it was because of work, and he knew that you would love it here. So the next time he came to visit the city, it was with you. He spent the whole trip looking at you all excited about all the things you wanted to do, looking at you like you were holding his whole world in your hands. And you kind of were. 

“- Isn’t the view incredible !? I can’t believe some people get to see that everyday…

- You’re more pretty to look at, and I’m so lucky to be the only one seeing you every morning and every night.”

The blush creeping on your cheeks didn’t hold you back from returning the compliment. Seungmin didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, or the fact that it was the first time he had the chance to take you on a trip, but he felt his heart swell just knowing that he had you all for himself, that you were here with him and only him. 

“- You’re so cheesy…

- Yeah, but you love me.”

And neither of you could hold back the smiles stretching out your lips. 

"I look at you now and I want this forever."

→ It wasn’t rare for Seungmin to call you his wife in his head. In fact, he referred to you as that a lot as a joke, even when you were with other people. And everytime, both of you would laugh it off, even if you couldn’t help loving the idea of this silly little antic becoming reality. Because you knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, you noticed how his ears and cheeks grew red as he introduced you to some of his friends as his wife. You smiled sweetly, not correcting him, but waited until later to talk about it.

“- So… Where’s my ring ?”

Again, Seungmin felt himself blush and whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck to hide his embarrassment. 

“- I’m sorry love, it just slipped from my mouth.”

He knew that he was going to marry you one day, but he didn’t want to rush things and scare you, hell, he didn’t even decide on a ring to buy you. He wanted to wait a little longer to be sure that you weren’t a dream that will soon vanish.

“- Well, I don’t mind it as long as I really become your wife.

- I love the sound of that.”

And you did too. Seungmin couldn’t wait to be yours forever, because that’s all he ever wanted. 

YANG JEONGIN

-> Dancing in a Daydream by Roses & Revolution

"it’s you and me, dancing in a daydream, just you and me, lost in the clouds."

→ Pushing open the door of your apartment, the smell of food hit Jeongin as soon as he stepped a foot inside, a smile spreading on his lips as he heard you greeting him from the kitchen. He quickly discarded his jacket and shoes before joining you, sliding his arms around your waist and spooning you into a back hug as you continued to chop off vegetables. 

“- How was your day baby ?

- Exhausting… All I wanted was to be home with you, couldn’t stop thinking about coming home.”

You nobbed your head along, sliding the vegetables in your pan before turning around and cupping his face.

“- Well, you’re with me now, nothing to worry about anymore.”

Jeongin hummed happily, burying his face in your hair and holding you tight against him. Yes, just you and him, it was all he needed. 

"and if I open my eyes, if I open my eyes, will it all unravel ?"

→ Jeongin tried to be as sneaky as possible in order to not wake you up as he got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it up with cold water, hoping that it would help him get over this bad dream. It happened rarely, but when it did, it was always very frightening. He almost didn’t notice when you joined him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“- What are you doing awake baby ?

- I… I just had a nightmare, don’t worry.

- You want to talk about it ?”

You sat down with him on the couch, straddling his lap and running your hands through his hair to soothe him.

“- It’s stupid really… I was coming home and you were not there, and I searched for you everywhere and couldn’t find you. It was as if you never existed. It was so scary, I felt so lost without you.

- But I’m here, yeah ? I’ll always be there, I promise, I’m not going to disappear.”

Jeongin smiled at you before he kissed you softly. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that you were his, because you were such a dream come true, and he wished to keep you by his side as long as you’ll let him.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@binwons @minnies-babie @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @caitlyn98s @hildaortara @sharonxdevi

[bullet-prooflove]

Snow, hot chocolate, blankets

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kcloveswrestling

Learn more about John & Lou's affair here

See Kayce meet Joe here:

The Fifth Man - After reading through Lee’s journals Kayce realises he has another brother.

It’s snowing outside, huge white flakes drift past the glass as Jamie sits by the window, staring out across the land. He doesn’t want to be there right now, on his father’s ranch, planning his funeral. He wants to be at home with you and Opal, tucked under a blanket, sipping a hot chocolate.

In the background he can hear Beth’s voice carrying through from the lounge as she argues with someone on the phone about the service. He tilts his head up when Kayce approaches him. There’s a mug of coffee in his hand which he sets on the table alongside Jamie before he takes a seat.

“Do you believe that he died from a broken heart?” Jamie finds himself asking his brother as he wraps his hand around the mug, warming it.

Kayce takes off his hat and sets it down on the table before he runs his hand through his hair.

“Yea.” He says quietly. “From what I read in Lee’s journals… he’d been in love with Lou for a long time before she passed.”

This whole thing about Lou Reeves and his father, it’s a complete revelation to Jamie. When Kayce had turned up on his doorstep to give him the news of the death and the circumstances surrounding it, it had been a lot to unpack.

They’d found John Dutton dead in his bed, alongside Lou Reeves. Both of them had died in their sleep. According to her son Joseph, Lou had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain aneurysm a few months before, it had prompted her to make some changes. Kayce guesses she must have told his father and the two of them decided to make up for lost time.

Lou’s cause of death had been the ruptured aneurysm and John had passed away alongside her peacefully, something that both Beth and Jamie are struggling to wrap their heads because they had no idea of the decades long love affair which is why Beth is losing her shit in the other room.

“I had no idea…” Jamie says shaking his head. “I didn’t even know we had another brother.”

“Yea… He’s…” Kayce trails off recalling his last interaction with Joe back at the bar where he was playing fiddle. “I’m gonna check in on him after this. He’s just lost his mom and he’s alone...”

“Should I come with you?” Jamie asks, his gaze straying back to the lounge where Beth is wrapping up her call.

“No.” Kayce says softly because he understands how Joe must be feeling right now, he thinks the presence of both of them, especially Jamie with his clean cut demeanour and Harvard law degree would just overwhelm him. He also knows he can’t leave Jamie in this house alone. Beth would tear him apart with her bare hands. “You should go home, spend some time with Dani and Opal. I’ll give you a call when I’m finished up with Joe.”

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 5

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Here be smut. 😊 Light oral (m receiving), handjob, conversations about sex.

Word Count: 3,751

A/N: Here's Ch. 6. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag List

Dean watched Y/N's chest rise and fall and felt the warm air escape from her slightly parted lips onto his shoulder where her head lay. Her lashes lay fanned against cheeks - cheeks that seemed pale, as though she wasn't getting enough rest. He let her sleep longer than he wanted; she seemed to need it and it allowed him time to study her features and imprint them in his memory. 

He'd be gone tomorrow, at noon. He had no idea when he would get back here. He never visited more than once a year at most. His family's business was very demanding and time consuming, and he needed to be in New York to run it. But as he brushed his finger down Y/N's cheek, he suddenly wished he could stay longer…much longer.

Or even better, he wished Y/N would reconsider his offer to be his mistress. Then he could come to see her several times a week, maybe more if she was amenable. He didn't want to upset her though, in their last hours together, so he decided to keep that hope to himself.

He was grateful, when she stirred and her eyes opened. There weren't many hours left.

She was clearly confused as she opened her eyes and didn't recognize where she was right away. When she looked at him though, he could see memory dawn, and chuckled at the predictable blush that bloomed in her cheeks.

She sat up slightly, pulling the sheet up higher to cover herself. "How long have I been sleeping? What time is it?"

"You've only been out about an hour. It's nearly two o'clock." He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She ducked her head. "I should go. I shouldn't have stayed."

He ran his knuckles down her bare arm. "Is that what you really want?"

She looked up at him and hesitated before answering. "No, it isn't."

"What do you want?" He asked, desire flooding his gaze.

A million emotions crossed her face, too quick for him to read them properly.

"I have a question."

He nodded.

"How long does it take to know if I'll have a baby?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Well, I know women carry babies for 9 months, but how long before I can tell if I'm with child?"

Dean's frown deepened. "No time at all. I can tell you right now. You're not with child."

Her eyes widened. "How can you tell?" She looked down at herself, looking under the sheet at her stomach as though looking for a message there.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Because we didn't do what we'd need to in order to make a baby."

Her head snapped up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "Y/N, what do you think has to happen to make a baby?"

She blushed harder. "A man and woman take off their clothes and lay in bed and the man does something and hopefully a baby comes. At least, usually it's hopeful when the man and woman are married."

Dean put his hand to his mouth, and studied her. How had she gotten to the age of twenty-six without knowing the basic biological necessities of procreating?

Y/N turned to face him more fully. "So, do you mean, that what you did to me," her skin was on fire, "that wasn't the marriage act?"

"The what?"

"The marriage act. I only know a little from friends at school. That's what they said had to happen to make a baby, and Mrs. Oliver called it the marriage act. Is that not what it's called?"

Dean pushed a hand through his hair and tried not to laugh. "Well, we're not married, so it wouldn't make sense to call it that. But no, what we did was not the marriage act, and no babies will result from it."

Y/N looked distinctly relieved for a moment before looking puzzled again. "So, if we didn't participate in the marriage act, does that mean…am I still chaste?"

Dean didn't think chaste described her screaming release of an hour ago, but he didn't want to embarrass her, so he just nodded. "Yes, you remain a virgin. That's why I did it that way."

"There are other ways to do it?" The question seemed to pop out of Y/N's mouth before she could stop it because she clapped a hand over her mouth and ducked her head again. "I'm sorry, what a question to ask."

But Dean answered anyway. "Yes, there are many, many other ways of making love."

In spite of her fiery blush, Y/N asked, "Is that what you call it? Making love?"

"Well, there are a lot of other things it's called too, but that's one."

Y/N nodded and then grabbed hold of his hand.

"Dean, could you teach me about making love?" She must have been startled by the heat and desire he knew flooded his expression because she quickly amended her statement. "I mean, could you tell me about making love? I have no one else I could ever ask, and I'd like to know."

Dean had no idea what to say. He was quiet for a minute and Y/N shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's a horrible question to ask. I'm sorry."

"No, Y/N, don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for, I just…" he paused for a moment, "…I've just never talked about it with a woman."

"So, you don't talk when you're making love." It was a statement and she sounded like she was taking notes.

"Well, I mean, yes, you talk, but not…" He shoved a hand through his hair. "…usually the conversation isn't so…it's just a different kind of talking."

Her expression was innocent and questioning and he cleared his throat, determined to answer the questions she had.

"Alright so, I don't know how well I'll be able to answer all your questions, but I'll try. Go ahead." He braced himself.

Only two bright patches of red showed in her cheeks when she asked again, "How are babies made?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Well, men have a…" he cleared his throat and started over. "Women have…" he raked his hand through his hair again. This was a very strange conversation to be having. He realized he needed more information.

"Y/N, what do you know? I mean do you know what a man looks like?" he asked. "I mean, the parts you don't usually see." He amended.

She gestured to his torso. "Just what's in front of me." She said, smiling shyly.

"So, you've never seen a naked man, not even in a painting? Or a sculpture?"

She looked away, and gave a small shrug. "There weren't a lot of paintings or sculptures like that at my school."

He grinned. "I guess not. But since you've been out of school?"

She looked at him again. "I haven't exactly gone looking for them."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

Her face brightened. "Oh, I did see a painting of a naked cherub once."

Dean couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. She smiled and looked sheepish.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, really. I just can't imagine many men would want a woman to believe they resembled a naked cherub."

She rewarded him with one of her adorable wide grins. "No, I imagine not." She reached up and ran a hand from his shoulder down to his elbow, her grin melting away into a look of hunger. "And I can't imagine anything that looks less like a cherub."

She studied his body for a moment and her gaze alone made his already hard cock feel close to bursting. She pulled her hand away and tucked the sheet more firmly around her. Dean tried to force his body under control.

"So," she said, trying to bring them back on track, "you were saying?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. It seemed very dry all of a sudden. "So, men have a…uh…a kind of…um…" He looked at her face, and came up with the best word he could to describe it. "They have a shaft."

Y/N's face was quizzical. He continued. "And women have…well, I mean you know what your own body looks like." Her face looked confused now. "I mean, you know what…I mean, surely you've looked at yourself."

Comprehension flooded her expression along with a lot of embarrassment. "No, of course not. I mean, not really." She was acutely embarrassed and she wouldn't look him in the eye. "I mean, of course I've never looked, it's…well, it's sinful!" She exclaimed, as though he was mad for not realizing that.

It made him very sad to hear her say such a thing and he took her chin in his hand to force her to focus on him. "Y/N, it's your own body. It is literally the body God created for you, how on earth could it be sinful to look at it?"

While she tried to absorb his words, he decided to just tell her straight. "So, men have a shaft and women have an opening into their body. It's the opening that babies come out of," he paused, "and I suppose the opening where they're put in as well. Men have a um…a seed that comes from their shaft and they put their shaft into the woman's body and plant their seed. A baby grows from there."

He wasn't sure that was the best explanation, especially because Y/N looked slightly horrified.

She opened and closed her mouth several times before managing to speak. "So, if I want a baby, I have to let a man stick a shaft into a hole in my body." Her face was scrunched up and full of disgust. He had to admit that when it was summed up that way it did not sound very pleasant. He decided that if he didn't want to leave her completely terrified he should clarify things a little.

"I know it sounds very…mechanical and cold, but it's not when it's happening." He moved closer to her on the bed and cupped her cheek. "It's just like earlier, when I touched you and tasted you, it's the same kind of heat." He bent his head and kissed her slow, and sweet. She responded immediately, trying to deepen the kiss. But he pulled away; he wasn't trying to start her desire up all over again. "See, not cold or mechanical."

She raised a hand to her mouth and shook her head, a little sadly he thought. "No, not cold." She smiled softly.

She looked into his eyes. "Can I…" she paused for a moment. "Could I see it? See you, I mean?"

His blood started pumping overtime and he shifted away from her again. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Her face was suddenly flooded with red and she shook her head quickly. "No, of course not. I'm sorry, Dean. What a horrible thing to ask for, I'm…sorry…" she trailed off in embarrassment and Dean wanted to kick himself.

He grabbed her hand with both of his and brought it to his chest. "Please look at me." When she did, he continued, "You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. When it is me and you, together like this, I promise you that there is nothing you could ask, nothing you could ask for, and nothing you could tell me that is wrong, or sinful, or terrible. The space between us here," he pressed his hand to the sheet that covered her chest before bringing his hand back to press against his own chest. "…this space is sacred. It's magic. There's nothing that can't be said."

She blushed but she nodded. "Alright."

Suddenly her expression became quizzical, and she was staring at his pants. "Why aren't you naked? You kept your pants on. You said not to hide, but you're hiding. Why?"

He sighed and chuckled lightly. He let go of her hand. "For the same reason I said that it wasn't a good idea for you to…look at me. Because I'm doing everything I can to control myself, and that might be too much."

"Control yourself?"

"It's better if I have a kind of barrier between me and you. My…um…shaft…" he shook his head over the absurdity of this conversation and the fact that it was making him so incredibly hard. "Let's just say it's very sensitive."

Y/N thought about his words for a moment. "So, you're still aching. You didn't…come apart, like me?"

Her expression was worried and she bit her bottom lip, a gesture that made him think his pants might not actually make much of a difference for very long.

"No, I didn't." He said succinctly.

"Well, that hardly seems fair."

He smiled a strained smile. "It's fine. I'm fine."

She frowned at him. "So, you don't…I see…you don't ache for me the way I ache for you. It's different? Like the difference between me kissing you and you kissing me? You don't need me to fix it for you?"

She looked sad and Dean swore softly. "Y/N, you have no idea how much I ache, how desperate I am to have you touch me, kiss me, fix me. But I'm trying to abide by your wishes. I'm trying to keep you a virgin, and there's only so much torment a man can take. If you look at me and touch me, I'm going to spill my seed, and I am trying to spare you that."

She looked like she was trying to work something out. "And if you spill your seed, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore and I might have a baby?"

He took a deep breath and swallowed. "No, only if I was inside you." With every word of this conversation, his pants felt tighter, and he felt closer to bursting.

Y/N shrugged. "Then why can't I help you feel better, the way you helped me?"

Dean tried to come up with an explanation, but all he could manage was to shake his head as his body screamed for release.

Y/N moved closer to him and reached for the button on his pants. He grabbed her wrist quickly to stop her. They sat like that a moment, before Y/N whispered. "Don't hide yourself from me."

Her words and the look of desire and heat that flooded her gaze tore down the last of Dean's control, and he sagged back against the pillows, dropping her wrist.

She shifted so that she was sitting on her knees beside him and reached for his top button again. She undid it and pulled down his pants and underwear at once. He lifted his hips to help her and soon his cock was springing free of the confinement that had tortured him for hours.

Y/N gasped and sat back on her heels. She stared with wide eyes before blurting. "That's supposed to fit inside me? It's too big!"

Dean groaned and laughed at the same time, so it sounded a little like he was coughing. "Damn, you do wonders for a man's confidence." He grinned at her wickedly. "But trust me, it fits."

She stared at him a while longer before leaning forward again and reaching to run her fingers through the line of hair on his stomach. Unlike the last time, he didn't stop her, allowing himself to revel in the sweet torment.

He watched her reach out her hand timidly and touch the head of his shaft with a fingertip. He sucked in a breath from the jolt of fire her touch brought. She pulled back, and looked into his face. "I'm sorry! Did that hurt?"

He shook his head and his voice was very strained. "No, but yes. Sorry that doesn't make sense."

But Y/N nodded and her smile was a little naughty. "Yes, it does. It might not have a couple of hours ago, but it does now. Do you want me to continue?" She seemed to be asking a question to which she already knew the answer.

Y/N looked at Dean, his face taut, his muscles tense, and she knew two things; this was the most beautiful man she would ever see, and she had the power to bring Dean the same kind of fiery torment and blissful release he'd given her.

She reached out to stroke him again.

His hands balled into fists and a guttural sound issued from his lips.

She leaned down and placed a kiss on the very tip of his shaft. His body shuddered and a tiny amount of liquid seeped from the end. She rubbed the liquid into his skin with her forefinger. "Is this your seed?" she asked, still interested in learning. Dean only grunted, but she took it as an affirmative.

She continued to run her fingers up and down the silky smooth skin that covered the ramrod hardness under her hand. Dean's breath came hard and fast. She was having fun exploring, placing a kiss here and there along the length. 

After a few minutes, Dean pushed himself up on his one elbow, moving so that he laid sideways. He took hold of Y/N's hand and showed her how to wrap it around his shaft and move it up and down. Gently at first, and harder and faster as the heat and fire in his gaze built and built. She knew he must be getting close because his body was bucking under her hand just as hers had, instinctively thrusting. The action made something primal in her begin to ache again.

Finally she saw white liquid begin to spurt out of his body before he rolled himself into the sheet and buried his ragged shout into the pillow.

As his body continued to spasm, she ran her hand up and down his hip and over his backside which was round and firm. After his breathing returned to something resembling normal, he rolled onto his back again and Y/N took the chance to lie down across his chest. Her sheet was long gone, but she didn't care. She simply allowed herself to enjoy the amazing feeling of Dean's warm, smooth skin against her own.

She laid her hands on top of each other in the middle of his chest and propped her chin on them, so she could see his face. His eyes were closed and his face was completely relaxed. She drank up the sight of him like this.

He opened his eyes and she stared, drowning in his mossy green eyes. It suddenly occurred to her that this may be one of the last times she would ever look into his magnificent eyes and she felt tears spring up.

Dean frowned and caught a tear on his thumb as it fell. "Hey, what is this?"

She shook her head and smiled slightly. "Oh, it's nothing. I just wish I hadn't waited so long to do this. We could have days. Now we have only hours." She looked at the clock on his bedside. "And not many of those. You're leaving in less than eight hours, and I have to leave your room very soon."

Dean stared at her for a long time before speaking. "Y/N, the last thing I want to do is upset you or make you angry again. But…" he hesitated and in his hesitation, Y/N knew what he was going to say. "Come with me."

Y/N wasn’t insulted this time, and she wasn’t angry, because she knew now how desperately she wanted to do it. She knew what he was really asking of her. He wasn't trying to defile her or make her into something dirty. He was asking her to come and spend the nights with him like this. And she'd spend time with him, letting his sharp, and occasionally silly humor fill her days, she'd go out to parties with him, let him spoil her with jewels and expensive things.

She wanted so badly to say yes. But into the beautiful pictures in her imagination came the blinding knowledge that she'd have to say goodbye to all her other dreams.

She'd never find a compatible husband, or live in a pretty, respectable little cottage, and she'd never have children. She would never allow children to live the shame of her choices. She knew just how it felt to be ostracized and stared at as though you were vermin. She could never put a child through that.

She sat up and pulled the sheet around her again, moving to the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just can't."

He sighed. "Why not?"

She looked over her shoulder at him and decided she could give him the truth, plain and simple. "My mother was a kept woman, and I've spent my life trying not to repeat her mistakes, trying to pull myself as far away from her life as possible. I can't simply ignore a lifetime of dreams and hopes."

Dean looked like he wanted to argue and tried to start a sentence several times. But finally he sighed deeply and fell back onto the pillows.

"Fine. I understand."

Tears came again and Y/N knew she had to go now or she might never leave his bed. She got up and picked her nightgown up off the floor.

Dean sat up again. "Wait, why are you leaving now? We have at least another hour before you need to sneak back."

He grabbed her hand as her head emerged from her nightgown and it fell to cover her completely. "Don't go yet."

But she shook her head. "I can't Dean, I…" she swallowed. "If I'm ever going to leave, I have to leave now."

She pulled out his grasp and moved toward the door. Dean pulled his pants up over his hips and followed her. As she reached the door she turned back and smiled at him, tears still falling.

She reached up, placing her palm against his cheek. He took in a quick breath and raised his chin. She felt a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Thank you, Dean."

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"You're welcome, Y/N."

She took one long last look into his eyes before she ran out the door, terrified of what she was leaving behind with him.

Tag Lists:

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[karlachismylife]

And We Just Disagree

CW: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of arguments (no actual fighting written), reader is having bad feelings, but it's a good ending, smoking.

(Title from "We Just Disagree" by Dave Mason)

Having arguments is always hard. No matter the point of disagreement, no matter how big or small, loud or quiet, they always leave you miserable whenever you fail to find a compromise or convince someone to accept your point of view. Every fight strips all your defences clean off, right to the bare, hurting periosteum, scraped with the harsh blade of someone's animosity.

You'd rather never argue at all, but there are times where you can't just accept whatever you're given. You're not afraid to stand your ground.

But God, it never gets less exhausting. Especially with Simon.

You don't fight often, and whenever you do, you find a solution sooner or later. After sliding through the loops of the barbed wire he surrounded his six-layer walls, you found that he wasn't as bad with disagreements as one could think. He never yells, never lets offensive words spill from his lips - whenever he says something harsh, he's just beng honest. Maybe you'd preferred a little more sugarcoating, but you didn't choose this man for being easy to deal with.

Maybe that's why having actual fights with him hurts so fucking much. Because you want to be as gentle and accepting with him as possible and you know the wish is mutual, but sometimes you just bloody can't.

That's when you find yourself feeling vulnerable and unsafe in your own apartment. As if every time you lose Simon's unconditional support for whatever reason, you lose your home entirely. He stops whatever discussion you were having, pinches nis nosebridge, blond eyebrows painfully furrowed, and throws a gruff "I need a smoke" your way before slipping away to the balcony.

Outside the apartment door to smoke at the communal staircase, if he needs more time.

Going out for a whole circle around the apartment building - once, when you honestly thought you might break up over the issue.

Today is a balcony day. It's a slight consolation, but it fails to reach you as you curl up in a ball of gloom and misery on the living room couch - the balcony is in the bedroom - and feel your fingers get cold and unpleasant nausea rising somewhat up to your solar plexus. Not all the way to the throat, but it isn't any less irritating; your body knows something wrong and tries to tell you.

Stupid body that doesn't understand it's not an issue you can just resolve by puking a poisonous fruit out or cuddling up to the members of your pack for warmth. A genius and yet such a useless evolutionary mechanism.

The balcony door closes with an echo that makes you uncomfortable. Simon walks silently, a literal Ghost no matter the size, every creaking floorboard memorized without even trying, but you notice his shadow in the corner of your eye and feel the couch dip heavily underneath his mass.

He brought cigarette smell - a tangy clove aftertaste of an expensive, fashionably black cancer stick - and outside's coolness to the living room. It's the only familiar thing about a man that feels no closer than a stranger in your depressed post-fight misery pit.

"Lookin' good, love." His voice startles you, not because you weren't expecting to hear him speak, but because it sounds exactly like that - like a stranger just coming up to have a chat and hopefully learn your name, phone number and relationship status.

"You're not so bad yourself, I suppose." Your answer is a bit distant, but you accept the game. If it's strangers he wants to play, you'll be a stranger. No one said you have to be a convincing one. "I like you."

"I like your eyes," Simon retorts immediately, a small movement indicating he's turned his body towards you in an invitation. "Even when they're sad."

A tired sigh. You're tired. Your eyes are tired. Your body and mind are tired.

"I don't want to be sad. Not when I'm with you."

"I want to make you happy, then, love." He's being sincere. Just a lad offering something so simple and yet dsirable to someone he took a shine to.

Can he make you happy right now?

"I want to kiss you." It's not the solution to all problems, you know that, and yet you out your wish since it'll probably make the pathetic feeling of your own smallness go away.

"I want to kiss you too."

You finally turn to him, offering him to drown in your upset eyes, and Simon meets your gaze with the same solemn expression, a sad frown on his face right up until his big hand - smells uniquely like a hand of a man who just had a smoke - cups your face and pulls you in for a short, soft, shallow kiss.

Your stranger's kiss.

"Let's talk about it again, lovie," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours and brushing his thumb along your jawline reverently. "'M not gonna talk until ya say everything ya want, a'right? Will listen. We can resolve this, I know we can."

He's right. And he's there for you, so you can be there for him too. You clutch his loose T-shirt right under his collar and sigh, looking down as you feel warmth seeping back into your body reluctantly.

"Wanna kiss a few more. Then talk."

This is definitely not something Simon will ever argue against.

[f1ghtsoftly]

Look as a lesbian it sucks to see women cap so hard for men who treat them….so badly but some of the leading lights in the history of feminism in the US/UK were in heterosexual partnerships with men they genuinely loved and went on to accomplish truly important things for women. I can’t say I fully endorse all het women going out and getting themselves a man, because it’s a tricky business and tough to get right.

So all I can say in regard to het women is this:

1.) You should be single for a while and put yourself in separatist environments regularly, because the social pressure to put up with bad behavior from men is *high* and it’s important you surround yourself with people who prioritize you for you if you’re going to withstand it. If those people are lesbians, please don’t talk about your relationship to us constantly, if you find yourself unable to think of anything else that you care about…consider if your partner has other hobbies or interests. Consider the gendered dynamics of you having only him and him having a life.

2.) Any male you end up with is going to be socialized to take advantage of you or other women around you, sometimes a lot, sometimes a little. Men can be human and have lovable qualities and still be misogynistic. Being able to love someone very much-but also refuse to sacrifice yourself to their subconscious (or conscious) beliefs is going to save you. Learn how to do it.

3.) Sometimes….none of it is going to be enough and celibacy is ok. It’s ok to feel so disgusted by patriarchy and men’s treatment of women you’re turned off from men on the whole and it’s definitely ok to feel this way and not be attracted to women. I know a few women actually who are just not interested in men after being treated particularly poorly by them. Women have found platonic companionship with one another for a very long time, just because you don’t want men-doesn’t mean that you’ll be alone.

Ultimately, lesbian feminists shouldn’t be the authority on the happiness of women interested in men but I do think because we prefer the company of women we can sometimes have fresh eyes when women get lost in the patriarchal sauce. And I think lesbian feminists who advocate for separatism come from a good place, I know a lot of wonderful women with good qualities who got lost in relationships with men who don’t value them and it’s very easy to get lost on that road, many people will encourage you and your socialization will work against you. At the same time, I never want to dissuade women from happiness or love or partnership or misrepresent the political project of feminism as being something dependent on one’s relationship status. Ultimately, women do not have to be defined by their relationships, they can be, but it doesn’t have to be so. As a sister who isn’t affected by this challenge, all I can offer is my solidarity, my support and perspective.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐔𝐏!❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ eren armin jean reiner n levi ☆ various aot men as dads!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader (referred to as mom or mommy), black aligned reader but as per usual anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: y'all thought i was playin when i said had 2 other pieces huh...well anyways heres my 2nd official revamp entry!! erm i hope u guys like it cause i lost like 3 hours of sleep over this. (its bhm you have to like it or else) stay hot!! 🎀🎀

eren yaeger 🌸

2 words. girl dad.

this man was born to have an army of girls surrounding him at all times (but he's not necessarily complaining in this case)

you two's daughter is a very passionate and outgoing child and eren totally embraces that

he's deeply involved in his child's life, sharing stories about the world and instilling a sense of curiosity (aka giving her bad ideas)

he was an outside and play in the mud kid so he is all for letting her have free range to express/play how she wants

and he's a sucker for your little girl so he usually gets roped into her shenanigans

when you come home and the house is quiet you know those two are up to something nefarious 😭😭

"eren, why the hell does my kitchen look a hot ass mess?"

"she wanted to make a cake, babe!"

i can see your daughter playing sports (soccer specifically) and he is 1000 the dad that yells at the ref.

"did you see that [name]!? that brat just pushed her over l, why didn't that bastard call it!?"

will get down and dirty for his girls. no matter what

emphasizes the importance of freedom, encouraging your to pursue her dreams no matter what.

actually the most supportive ever??

your daughter wants to play 10 different sports? he's buying all the equipment no matter the cost. she wants to be the next picasso? he'll buy her brand new art supplies and be her model.

just hes so just....*sigh*

armin arlert 🌸

my man, loml, my day 1, my soul mate my everything (he was my first anime crush i will be projecting on this one argue wit ur mama)

he is definitely a gentle parent to your little boy who's just a shy little dude

armin knows what it feels like to be that shy and quiet kid so he's very patient and understanding

him and your son are practically carbon copies of eachother minus his curly hair (which he got from you) but you think its adorable

speaking of hair HE TOTALLY LEARNS TO BRAID/DO TWIST

he knew taking care of your son's hair was going to require extra effort because of his texture but he doesnt care and learns anyway (sob sob)

him and your son are attached at the hip and wherever one goes you typically find the other.

they spend many quiet moments together and obviously armin reads him multiple stories before bed.

i can totally see y'alls son being an artist/artistically gifted

you can find him and armin sprawled out on the floor with paper and various art supplies as armin nods along to the nonsense coming out of your son's mouth

"mhmm, oh i see! i think that color looks great there too."

meanwhile you're in the corner just sobbing and dying of cuteness in your house

much like eren he teaches his son the values of curiosity and freedom, even if his son is a little more reserved

he wouldn't ever force him into doing anything he doesn't want to, but encourages him in the small things

i also fantasize about living by a beach with armin so ik he takes y'all to the beach at least 3 times a month.

every single time he goes he carries his son on his hip as the explore the beach in search of shells and other treasures to take home.

"you like this one buddy? why don't we give it to mommy as a nice present, yeah?"

i can't write too long or imma short circuit but i will be expanding on this because i love armin so much

he's so neat :]

jean kirstein 🌸

jean, as a dad, is like a mix of cornyness and seriousness

on the one hand i can totally see him making the stupidest dad jokes while you and your daughter are just like 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

like the irl personification of "im not a regular mom, i'm a cool mom"

but on the other hand he's just like my dad where he can turn anything into a life lesson and you have to sit while he scolds your daughter for at least 30 minutes

it's all out of love tho

he thrives in a lighthearted atmosphere at home and spending time together is a huge thing for him

he is a bbq/camping dad and no i will not take criticism on this

jean takes pride in teaching life skills, from fixing things around the house to imparting practical wisdom (even though it isn't always wanted 💀)

your daughter will likely be well-prepared for the challenges of the world. he likes to think he's the reason she has a good head on her shoulders.

speaking of which, your daughter is very much sassy...(jean swears she gets if from you but we know the truth)

shes the first one to have something smart to say and its gotten her in trouble quite a few times with jean...but theyre besties.

balances tough love with genuine affection, cause he definitely mellowed out as he got older but knows when to put his foot down (unlike eren. what who said that??)

your daughter knows she can always count on him. ♡

reiner braun 🌸

AURGGYGHH I LOVE THIS MAN

anyways as soon as your son was born he only knew one word.

panic.

specifically timeskip!reiner. i can only imagine him as a worrier and a helicopter parent up until your son is like 6-7.

"rei, if you don't let that boy go play with the other kids!" "[name], i read that a slide has 82 times more germs than a kitchen sink. i won't let him be exposed to that."

it's just like *sigh* but thanks to you he eventually mellows out.

y'alls son is a really kind boy. like stupidly nice. damn near a pushover. (but we love him)

while you're ready to fight the other parents (or kids) who hurt your baby, reiner is actually more gentle in his approach

he's clearly a big strong guy but he's very gentle in his approach when it comes to seeing his son cry or just in general

reiner, as a dad, is the protector. he's vigilant and caring, instilling a strong sense of security in your home

your son feels safe knowing reiner is there to shield him from any harm.

seeing talk all soft to y'alls son makes you go sksmwkwmwka he's so man...

"hey, me and mom love you very much. you got that bud?"

balances strength with gentleness. offering a listening ear and encouraging open communication.

he wants his son to know he'll always be there for him since he never really had a father growing up

safe to say your son grows up feeling understood and supported by both parents ♡

levi ackerman 🌸

for sure the strictest dad on this list.

from the moment your daughter was born he had her on a schedule that was planned meticulously.

like hour by hour he knows what's going on and you're just there like🧍🏽‍♀️

"i read a consistent schedule helps with her brain development." "...."

as she gets older he calms down a little. but like only the smallest little bit.

however! levi, although strict, is a fiercely devoted dad

this just came to me but he's the dad where if you our your daughter syas you like a snack one time he'll buy a lifetime supply until you tell him otherwise

despite his stoic exterior, Levi has a soft spot for his child's well-being and takes pride in their achievements, no matter how small

your daughter is a dancer. fight me.

even if you can't make it, you see him in the audience at every recital with a soft smile.

"you did great. yes, i recorded all of it for mom to see too."

ngl he is very rule oriented but 9/10 he bends begrudgingly for your daughter (she looks like you, so he can never say no.)

he values discipline and order but also knows the importance of showing love and appreciation.

like reiner he didn't grow up with the best father figure (if one at all) or anyone to really give him confidence growing up.

your daughter never doubts that daddy loves her and thinks she's the best ♡

he also is so skilled at doing hair?? probably better than armin.

ponytail, bun, twist, braids, you name it, he can do it. (has put you shame on multiple occasions)

teaches self-reliance and responsibility, ensuring his child is well-prepared for life's challenges.

expects excellence but also provides unwavering support

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 2nd piece done!! why was i fighting for my life during jean and reiner's....but i actually really wanna expand on dad!armin and dad!levi so maybe i'll give all the kids names sometime in the future. i tried to finish this is my ap chem class and my teacher almost took my phone 💀💀 but expect more soon cause i am on a roll! 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!���

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

“Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[venerawrites]

omg hii! im so glad you're back you're like, my favorite blog ever🙏! i saw you cleared your inbox so i hope it's okay if i send the same request again? I wondered if you could do hcs Neji x ninja reader who is blind! Perhaps lost their vision during the war and now they have to learn how to deal with it? gender neutral or fem reader is up to you! Please forgive my english, it's not my first language:)

I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

author's note: hi! <3 thank you so much for your sweet message and this request! I love writing for Neji, so I was very excited about this one! Also, your English is perfect (it is not my first language either, so please do not worry about it!). I feel like I am a bit rusty when it comes to writing, but I really hope you enjoy! <3

To be honest, from all of the Naruto men, Neji would accept and deal with a blind s/o the easiest.

He is very devoted and loving partner, and I have always seen him as someone who supports his lover through both good and bad.

When his s/o lost their sight during the war it was shocking and unexpected turn of events to say the least - they threw themselves in front of a group of young ninjas with the intention to protect them from an explosion, but could not shield their own eyes fast enough, resulting in flash blindness.

At first everyone expected it to be temporary - even Sakura assured both Neji and his partner that the chance of his s/o losing their sight is very low and they just needed some time to rest and recover.

As someone who had temporary lost his own vision before due to overuse of his Byakugan, the Hyuga man knew how hard is to adjust to a new way of life using only their other senses, even if it was for a few days. He would try to act the same as before, but he would be visibly more overprotective and gentle with s/o, despite his attempts to be subtle.

Neji has never been a big PDA fan, but during this time he would always have his hand on his partner - either on their shoulder or lower back, he would guide them around their house or in public, making them feel more secure in themselves. He would hold their hand more often, gently squeezing it if he feels they start getting nervous or insecure.

The first few weeks after learning his s/o's loss of sight is permanent would be the hardest - crying and anger outbursts would be a frequent occurrence, making it a tough period for both of them.

Neji does have a bit of a "short fuse" and is not one to accept disrespect, even from his partner. However, seeing their soulmate struggling with the overwhelming nature of their new reality, he would calmly take all their insults and anger, reminding himself that it is all part of their healing process.

Knowing their stubborn and strong personality, Neji would definitely encourage his partner to trust themselves more, and explore and learn on their own. He would still keep an eye on their surroundings and remove obstacles out of their way, but he would do it in such a discreet way, his s/o often would not even realise he is around.

I think that Neji would also be one of the few Naruto men that would agree to train with his blind partner. Of course, it would be frustrating for his s/o at first because he would be holding back quite a lot and would rely solely on defensive moves during their sparring sessions. However, seeing his partner's strength and resilience, he would start experimenting with different training approaches, challenging their reflexes and sensory awareness.

He is the type of lover that would spend significant amount of time teaching his s/o to rely on their other senses - he would bring them items with different textures, encouraging them to explore and learn the differences; he would take them to places where they can listen to the wind and the different sounds around them; he would cook them homemade meals, asking them to distinguish the dishes just by smell.

Fiercely overprotective!!

If any of their friends or family say something about their blindness or doubt their ability as a ninja because of it, he would defend them without any hesitation and demand they are given the respect they deserve. In his eyes they are not only extremely capable and talented ninja, but also the strongest person he knew.

Overall, it would take some time for both of them to adapt to their "new" reality, but they would both learn and grow together, strengthening their bond and proving that it is in fact their destiny to be together.

cc artwork: Tobi Yong