#but like my step dad talks to them like every week to make sure they are okay

[sapphicdancer]

i think my fav relationship is with my grandma who i am in good terms with but bc shes mean to my mom i dont like her but like i guess she doesnt know that and so she still treats me nicely, vs my sister who openly dislikes her and does not interact with her at all (but also i dont think my grandma knows why)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

deliveries

words: 1.2k

warnings: ex!rafe, reconciliation, kinda sugar daddy rafe but he just likes taking care of his girl mhm iktr

“can i say no?” you sigh.

“say no? did you not place this delivery?” the man raises his eyebrows.

“i didn't. my- my ex did.”

“well, i have to deliver it, ma’am, but i don't care what you do with it afterwards. give it to your friends or throw it out.” the man sets the bags of food at your doorstep, snapping a picture before walking off.

you can't blame him, plus it's probably a situation he's never encountered before.

you sigh as you pick up the bags, carrying them into the kitchen counter. packages, deliveries and letters have been showing up on your doorstep for two weeks, ever since you broke up with rafe.

you're sick of it at this point. as you go through the food, picking out something to eat for dinner (you're not just gonna let it go to waste!) you grab your phone and unblock rafes number.

you wonder how long it will take him to realize as you sit at your desk and eat. you're in an apartment complex with pretty tight security, it's the only reason why rafe isn't knocking at your door himself, instead sending whoever he can to get a message to you, while simultaneously making sure you have plenty of food to eat and things to take care of yourself with.

you answer your phone after the first ring. you deleted his contact, but rafes number is forever memorized in your head.

“stop sending me things.” 

“baby, its a relief to hear your voice again.” rafe sighs, sounding genuinely happy, like a weight is suddenly off his chest. “please, let me just talk to you. i miss you so much.”

“no, rafe. we broke up. you need to stop.” 

“why'd you break up with me? what did you tell me princess?” rafe questions. “i wasn't giving you enough attention. now im giving you everything. please, y/n.” he pleads. “im not going to stop.”

you take a deep sigh. you really love rafe, despite your relationship being only six months old when you broke up with him, it was just too much. too much attention from your friends and too much pressure from his family. it pushed your relationship farther apart until rafe barely paid attention to you, receiving constant questions from his dad and friends.

“you have to, rafe. clearly things weren't working out. we tried. we can say that. gave it a fair shot.”

“im not done trying. yes, i let my family and other people get into my head about our relationship, but im done with that bullshit. i want you back.”

“let me think about it, okay?” it's an olive branch. the best thing that you can extend right now.

“okay.” rafe agrees. “how about i call you friday?”

you glance at the calendar hanging over your desk. two days. two days to think. you're not sure it's enough or too much.

“that works… but rafe, stop sending me stuff.”

“i can't, baby.” you can practically see the way he's shaking his head right now. “gotta take care of my girl, even if you don't wanna see me.”

“fine.” you groan. you know there's no talking rafe out of it. “order me some lemonade next time then.”

--

you yawn as you wake up with a big stretch, instinctively reaching over to the other side of the bed. your hand pats the sheets before remembering that you left rafe.

you slide out of bed, heading towards your kitchen to get something for breakfast when a knock on your door interrupts you.

“one second!” you're in pajamas, but they're far too small and tight to answer the door in. you rush back into your bedroom and pull a robe on to cover up.

“hi!” the delivery woman smiles. “y/n?”

“yup.” you nod, stepping to the side. “do you mind just setting it down on the counter?”

the woman places the bags down before saying goodbye and seeing herself out. you sigh and look into the bags, eyes bulging when you see velvet boxes carefully placed inside one of them.

you pull out one of the boxes, gasping when a beautiful diamond necklace is revealed. you continue to open them, realizing rafe bought you jewelry of almost every variety.

“oh, gosh.” you grab a note, opening it to see his handwriting.

it's just what you deserve. i love you and want you back. can't wait to talk to you tomorrow.

rafe

p.s. i paid your rent for the next three months

you grab your phone before even looking in the other bag, dialing rafes number. he picks up almost instantly.

“you know you can't buy my love, right?” 

“im not trying to.” rafe says. “im just trying to take care of you. did you get the breakfast?”

you peek into the other bag, seeing a stack of delicious looking pancakes inside a clear container, as well as some other options.

“yeah, ill eat it in a minute.”

“good.” you can practically hear rafes smile over the phone.

“how about we meet up in person to talk tomorrow instead of on the phone?”

“ill go wherever you want.”

“our first date.” is all you say before hanging up, grabbing the pancakes and container holding scrambled eggs.

--

you're aware you didn't say what time as you pull up to the pier. it's a warm day, sunny with almost no clouds in the sky, but a light breeze gives you the perfect amount of cooling.

you walk down the pier, unable to hold back your smile when you see rafe sitting on the bench where you ate ice cream on your first date after finally agreeing to let him take you out.

rafe watches you carefully as you sit down next to him.

“you're wearing the necklace i got you.” he smiles, seeing the gold chain around your neck.

“i am.” you nod. 

“can i… can i hug you? ive missed you so much baby.”

you nod again, not sure you can find your voice as rafes arms wrap around your body, holding you into his side. you snuggle into his chest, eyes sliding shut. 

“love you so much.” rafe says, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “so much i messed up the first time not trying to be too obsessed. i just didn't want to make you run away, turns out i did the exact opposite and you felt ignored. you know how my dad is…” rafe trails off as you pick your head up to look at him.

“we shouldn't have let others get between us.” you know you're not innocent in it either, contributing just as much to rafe to the tension that had grown between the two of you.

“and we won't let it happen again now that we know.” rafe says, a promising look in his eyes. you swear it looks like he might cry as you nod.

he ducks his head, pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss. you fist your hands in his shirt, keeping him close as you kiss back, having missed his lips on yours more than you'd like to admit.

“does this mean you'll tell security im allowed back in?” rafe laughs gently, cupping your face, his thumb gently stroking over your cheek.

“hmm, i guess.” you giggle.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight

[webslingingslasher]

peters nerdy side>>>> can we get more hot nerdy peter pretty pleaseeeee

nerdy peter makes me feral.

Peter Parker was finally rewarded for all the shit he deals with. 

A teen, who was a silent walker in school, but a near lethal hero at night, one that has to deal with more stress and traumas than any other kid at seventeen. Night after night, his spirit being broken down a little more each bad guy he’s put away. 

Queens see a hero that keeps the streets clean. 

Sometimes, all Peter could see was someone’s dad, or husband, or son he was putting away. 

All that bullshit he’s been dealt, the bullshit about power and responsibility, was washed away when he finally got something good, something he really thought he deserved. 

He got you, and that’s why he’ll stop at nothing to keep you. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

Was it dumb to listen to Flash of all people? Maybe. 

Does he know more about girls and has a better track record at keeping them? Yes. 

But of course, just like how you were the one to approach him, ask him out, kiss him first and ask for him to be your boyfriend, he should’ve trusted you. Could you really blame him though, not totally trusting he can have a purely good thing with no consequences? 

He couldn’t, that’s why it shocked him when you made it clear you only wanted him. 

You wanted Peter Parker, however he came. Science facts, nerdy hobbies, tirades and all. 

—---------------------

Have you ever built up an idea of who someone was in your head, and when you date the other shoe drops and they’re nothing like you thought? 

That was you with Peter Parker. 

He was adorably perfect, noticing him when sharing a history class. Peter sat three seats up from you on the left, perfect position for you to watch his habits. The shake in his leg, tapping pencils on his desk, blowing a breath every time someone answered incorrectly, sitting up and leaning over his desk when something catches his attention, chewing his bottom lip while going over notes, poking his tongue out when he takes a test. 

Peter Parker was the constant subject on your mind, starting in history and causing you to look for him in other classes, you only shared one more, typing class. He was three rows behind you, there wasn’t a good way to look at him, instead having to rely on his quiet murmurs when the teacher stands behind his computer. 

After two weeks of pining you couldn’t stand it, stomping over to his table at lunch you sit down right next to him. His friends paused at your sudden and aggressive entrance. 

“Hi. We haven’t really talked but we share typing and history. For two weeks straight I’ve been watching you and I can’t get you out of my head, and I would really, really like to go on a date with you.” 

You can see it on his face, how he goes from shock to excitement, then as he looks you over his face falls. He thinks you’re fucking with him, you don’t know how to make him believe it’s real. 

“Here,” you pull at your backpack and rip the front pocket open, you pull a sharpie out and with a slight tremble you grab his arm, pushing his sleeve up you uncap the marker with your teeth. Scribbling your number onto his skin, “think about it, let me know.” 

Before you lose your steam you scramble to stand and grab your bag, “okay, that’s all. Um,” you nod at his friends, silence deafening as everyone at the table takes in the scenario. “Thank you, and… enjoy lunch?” Cringing, you turn to leave, whispering an ‘oh my god,’ to yourself while pressing a hand to your cheek. 

Peter is sure in that moment you were a hundred percent serious and you just mortified yourself, spilling your guts and being met with nothing.

 Six steps away he calls out, “yes!” 

You pause, then turn, “what?” 

“Yes! I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Oh, that’s a new feeling. It felt like your heart had wings, your stomach felt like you were on a rollercoaster, flutters everywhere. You couldn’t even try to play it cool, the guy you’ve been crazy about just as interested and curious as you were. A toothy smile overtook your face, eyes lit up. 

Taking a few steps closer, you felt giddy. 

“Really? You will?” 

Peter’s smile matched yours, he laughed through his answer, he can’t believe you actually like him that much. “Yeah.” Biting your bottom lip you pull it together, “cool, text me and we’ll plan something?” 

“You got it.” 

Nodding you walk off, Peter’s riding on a high like never has. He’s never had such a pretty girl like you like him, want him, notice him. He felt like he’s been rewarded, that he does deserve a good thing. 

Flash scoffs when you sit back at your table, immediately talking and watching faces gasp and squeal. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

The last thing he wants to do, before he even gets you, is send you off. So, he listens and promises to be someone that should be with a girl like you, someone that isn’t really him. 

—---------------------

You figured it was first date nerves. 

That or just the fact you’ve never been alone with each other, especially under the guise of a date. It wasn’t like he was weird, but he was off. The person you watched in class was goofy, using his body to express himself, confident when speaking because he could back every word up. 

This Peter was quiet, guarded and almost… boring. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, he just had some jitters. Maybe if you kissed him it would settle him, you could prove that you liked him and he had nothing to be nervous about. Trying to look past his awkwardness you took the night as it was, wishing he was making you laugh like he had in class, or wishing he would ramble on in a story like you’ve watched him do with his friends at lunch or at his locker. 

It may have been different than you thought but he’d come around after a date or two surly, you’d kiss him and after another few dates he’ll open up and be his true self. It was hope, but you were riding on it. 

Peter ended the night by walking you home, conversation slowly dwindling as you approached closer, falling flat when you were  in front of the building. Waiting for a moment you looked at his mouth, he made no reaction, you hadn’t expected him to sweep you off your feet but to not offer anything made you feel unsure. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It was obvious from the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting anything in the slightest, but he licked his bottom lip and nodded softly, “yeah,” leaning in you wait for a moment, he makes no move, he has to be extremely nervous, no other option. You kissed him, you pressed into him and grabbed his face, his hands gently hovered and you pulled away. 

Maybe he just pitied you, just agreed because you put him on the spot. 

“Um, you know if you didn’t want-” 

“Can we do this again, please?” 

And just because he asked, and because it seemed like he realized he acted off and he wanted another chance, and because you really do believe in first date jitters, you say yes. 

—--------------

The first time you went over to his house his room was oddly clean, empty spaces on his bookshelf and shelves, almost like he’d put things away. Eyeing a bin by his closet you walked closer, “you collect comics?” Hoping you wouldn’t find, but still opening the top and starting to look through the ones on top. 

Peter took a deep breath, “as a kid, kinda stupid now, don’t you think?” 

You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, looking back down at the comic in your hand. You thought when you started dating he’d open up more, instead he got more closed off. 

Clearing your throat you place the comics back in, in the exact same order and putting the lid back on. “No, I don’t think they’re stupid. I was hoping you had some new ones I could catch up on, but if you think they’re stupid now I guess I’ll have to get ‘em myself.” 

If he had known you like comics he would’ve never said that. It’s his fault for leaving them out, he should’ve put them away like everything else that screamed ‘nerd alert’. 

“I didn’t mean they’re stupid, just you know… collecting them as an adult… is.. weird?” 

The lamest excuse you’ve ever heard, but you keep your patience. It hasn't even been two weeks, he’ll come around. You know it. 

—------

Surprising Peter with a hug he budged against your weight before supporting you, talking to a friend while he wrapped his arms around your back. Picking up on pieces of the conversation you nudge your head up, interested in his words. 

The Peter you like, the one that’s animated and rambling, moving his hands across your back as he talks. You place a kiss at the bottom of his neck, “whatcha talking about?”  It sounded like a new program that was going to change the future of computer engineering, when you questioned he blew you off. “Nothing important.” 

You had tried, you tried to be kind and patient and understanding but he just wasn’t who you wanted. You wanted that person, the person that’s excited about new technology and collected comic books. 

Peter closed off when you asked, guarded back up, you wished it could’ve been different. Maybe one day he’d open up more, you didn’t want anything but his true self. 

You gave it a month before you had to accept that Peter Parker wasn’t the person you thought he was, today, you had to accept that you were breaking up with Peter Parker. Pulling away you grab his arm, silently telling him to look at you. 

“Can I come over later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Wanna come with me after school?” 

“Sure,” you wondered if he could see through your smile. It doesn’t seem like it, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, you pull away and back away through the halls. 

He has no idea what’s coming. 

—------------

Gently pushing Peter’s shoulders down to coax him into sitting on the edge of his bed, you grin politely when he follows instruction. Dragging his desk chair to sit in front of him you pause to think about what you were going to say, clearing your throat you begin. 

���So, I like you a lot, and I’ve enjoyed having you as my boyfriend for the past month-” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow, he holds his hand up, “enjoyed? Are you breaking up with me?” 

You bite your lip and nod solemnly, “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

The silence is unsettling, you look away from him, his figures deflated and his mind races. 

“Why?” 

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out you shrug, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Peter. But, uh, you’re just… not what I thought you’d be like.” 

How could you not like him? He’s done everything right. He was the perfect suitor, he acted like the typical non nerd male. The kind of all american guy every girl wanted. 

“I don’t… what does that mean?” 

You laugh, “I have a type, and you’re not it. I like nerds, like, straight up goofy, funny guys that know something about everything and collect comic books and get excited at new, humanity altering technology. I thought you were that guy, but I guess not.” 

Oh my god. 

He’s fucked it all up, he was dumb enough to believe you wanted something else. 

He can show you he’s a nerd, he’s been one his entire goddamn life, he’s about to nerd olympics the hell out of you. 

Peter jumps from his seat so quickly it startles you, his hands come down on the armrests of your chair, the seat tilting backwards as he pushes his weight towards you. 

“I’m the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet.” 

Your seat jostles when he lets go and opens his closet, pulling out a box he sets it on his bed. 

“This is everything I put away when we started dating,” he turns with three rubik’s cubes, each one in various sizes. “,these are my rubik’s cubes, I can finish the standard in forty three seconds, the six by six took me about thirty minutes and this baby?” he bounced the biggest one in his hold, “, this is a twenty one by twenty one, it took me about three hours.” 

Peter dropped them to the bed and continued, “and this is my national championship trophy for chess club,” he shoves it in your face before he keeps digging, a small picture frames come next, “this is when I won the states most innovative science fair project,” frantic digging, “, this is a figurine of my favorite video game,” two large disc sets next, “lord of the rings and star wars,” 

He spins around, flying past your body where he picks up his comic book container, “remember when I was late to our date last week? I was getting these,” three new additions of an old comic you had just started to pick up, “, and currently?” Peter moved to his desk, tapping on his keyboard until his screen woke up, code covered the screen, he pointed between the monitor and a notebook, “I’m learning to read binary code.” 

You felt like the grinch because your heart grew the times the size, adoration blossomed, you could feel your chest crack and glow. The Peter you wanted, the person you thought he was from the start, was real and in front of you. 

This was who he was, so why was he hiding it? 

“Why did you hide that from me? Peter, that’s like, the entire reason I wanted to date you. I liked who you were, then you turned into someone else.” 

Peter rested against his desk and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured a pretty girl like you wouldn’t want some nerdy guy, it might be cute at first but when I’m stoked about something I read on wikipedia and make it my thing for a day and talk your ear off about it, you’re gonna wish you had a boyfriend that just watches sport clips for fun.”

That’s the point you were trying to make, “that’s what I want! I was literally dumping you because you weren’t that.” 

“Well, I am that. So there’s no point in breaking up, right?” 

You hum and spin in his chair, “I dunno… you dragged me along for a month, hiding yourself from me, making me question everything. I mean, you have a lot to make up for, parker.” 

“C’mere,” you’re not given an option, he reaches forward and pulls the chair towards him and pulls you from the seat, flopping himself down and tugging you into his lap. Your stomach clenches, this was the confident Peter you wanted, it was confidence in himself. 

His pointer finger taps on the monitor, “you read binary from right to left, and you separate them into groups of eight. Now the key is knowing that each one and zero mean-” 

Your mouth on his, cutting his words off with a kiss, you held his face tightly, never wanting him to separate from you. Caught off guard he froze for a moment, then wrapped his hands around your middle. Pressing into him, separating for air but giving small pecks. 

“Baby,” kiss, “, I’m sorry,” kiss, “, I shut,” kiss, “, you out,” kiss, “I didn’t,” kiss, “, know it meant,” kiss, “, so much,” kiss, “, to you,” kiss. 

“You’re so much smarter than me,” a chaste kiss, “it’s so hot,” you look into his eyes, he’s flushed out and breathing harshly. “You’re so hot,” another kiss, Peter feels like the room is spinning, he’s never felt so wanted, so needed, the way you can’t stop kissing him, how tight you’re holding him to you, how blown your pupils are, the way you’re gulping him like water. 

“I mean if you,” he grunts when you kiss down his neck, biting into his collarbone. “, if you want, I could show you how quick I can solve my rubik’s cube.” Your hands drag up his hair, gripping and tilting his head away, better access to nibble and lick the skin. “Or, recite the first seventy nine numbers of pi.” 

Attention caught, “you know the first seventy nine numbers of pi?” 

“Mm hmm, I could also tell you” a whimper,  “, all the elements. Want me to start rattling them off?” 

Kissing the middle of his throat you hum, “I’d rather you take your pants off.” 

For the first time in Peter Parker’s life, memorizing the periodic table got him laid. 

[whatsnewalycat]

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint 

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember. 

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category. 

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did. 

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center. 

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN. 

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says. 

You think it might be more than that, though. 

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October. 

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different. 

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn. 

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now. 

Some people refuse to accept this. 

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.” 

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does. 

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him. 

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall. 

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!” 

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him. 

“Hey—watch it, asshole!” 

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely. 

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline. 

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through you. 

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass. 

“Mom home?” 

“No.” 

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you. 

“When’s she gonna be home?” 

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention. 

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real. 

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away. 

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does. 

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods. 

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?” 

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop. 

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow. 

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is. 

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does. 

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning. 

Joel is a meticulous planner. 

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite. 

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure. 

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot. 

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers. 

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.” 

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside. 

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.  

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission. 

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts. 

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?” 

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head. 

“Why not?” 

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat. 

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response. 

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz. 

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond. 

The apartment door swings open. 

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother. 

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day. 

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water. 

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower. 

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already. 

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. 

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep. 

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores. 

Then, you hear it. 

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps. 

Their bedroom door squeaking open. 

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another. 

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him. 

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness. 

Still, you pretend. 

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside. 

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin. 

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.” 

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks. 

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper. 

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head. 

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap. 

This faltering self-discipline compels you. 

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included. 

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for. 

So do you want him, or do you need him? 

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting? 

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway. 

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him. 

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact. 

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious. 

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.” 

“Curious why?” 

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth. 

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper. 

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?” 

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg. 

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—” 

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust. 

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?” 

“It was wrong—” 

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you. 

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit. 

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm. 

“You need to be quiet. Understand?” 

The command liquifies your bones. 

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.” 

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.” 

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway. 

“I thought it was wrong.”  

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?” 

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod. 

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.” 

“Yes.” 

“Say yes please.” 

“Yes please.” 

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.” 

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall. 

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips. 

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. 

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together. 

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold. 

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle. 

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him. 

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?” 

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—” 

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—” 

Too loud. 

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp. 

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back. 

“Look at me.” 

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked. 

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I’ll come if I do.” 

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.” 

You do. 

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing. 

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?” 

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—” 

“Will you be quiet?” 

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically. 

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape. 

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?” 

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—” 

“Do you wanna come again?” 

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock. 

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

You snap them open and meet his. 

“Good girl.” 

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends. 

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more. 

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.” 

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—” 

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—” 

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.” 

“Joel—” 

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely. 

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you. 

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine. 

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away. 

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you. 

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow. 

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.” 

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.” 

You shake your head. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.” 

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves. 

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.” 

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock. 

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder. 

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both. 

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”  

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.” 

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?” 

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face. 

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.” 

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?” 

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?” 

“You like it.” 

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat. 

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?” 

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?” 

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?” 

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful. 

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.” 

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring. 

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions. 

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now. 

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath. 

“Do it again.” 

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” 

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room. 

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him. 

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.” 

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.” 

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.” 

“Please can I have some more, daddy?” 

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control. 

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him. 

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around. 

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine. 

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress. 

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance. 

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop. 

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle. 

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers. 

Then your mom snores in the other room. 

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air. 

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—” 

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—” 

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit. 

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.” 

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips. 

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over. 

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath. 

“That’s it, baby, let go.” 

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread. 

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop. 

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.” 

He studies you, nodding. 

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer.  So instead, you give him his out. 

“Is this goodnight, then?” 

“Suppose it is.” 

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tuck me in?” 

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor. 

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?” 

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.” 

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.” 

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can. 

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

[xiao-come-home]

I love reading your random Boothill thoughts 🥲. Especially the one where he is a dad. Do you think he is a girl dad or boy dad?

Ahhh thank you! Ik you sent it before his story was leaked but man was this spot on 🫠 here’s some dad!boothill hc with reader because im starving

Warning: mentions of pregnant reader and all that jazz, SPOILERS FOR BOOTHILLS STORY.

I FELT IN MY BONES he was a girl dad before it was revealed to be canon! Boothill gives so much girl dad vibes it’s immaculate. He’d love to pick out pink clothes for his daughter, pink shoes, ponies and other plushies! Or rather, he loved.

That’s until you happened to get pregnant shortly before he left for his surgery. He came back a few weeks later with his new body, but no one was home. A small gift bag sat on the table, waiting for him; Boothill opened the bag and grabbed a piece of long paper, a black and white picture. A small bean present in the middle; the back of the picture held a tiny caption, that read: “I’m only a few weeks old. I can’t wait to meet you, daddy.”

Even though the wound was still fresh and open, since not long has passed since the incident on his planet - Boothill began to feel bitter determination to give his baby the best life they could ever have; this time, a life that wouldn’t see its end so fast.

Boothill is very interested in your pregnancy! He’s sometimes unable to go to every appointment (whether be it the ipc who are hunting him, or the opposite), but he knows he can’t mess it up. Not again. He’s always holding your hand when you have an ultrasound scan, glaring at the doctor and making sure they don’t hurt you or the baby, and giving your tummy so. many. kisses. He assists you in the bath, just talking to you can keeping you company, since water, cords and a pregnant human aren’t a good combo. He wants you to tell him everything.

That’s when you finally tell Boothill that you’ll have a baby girl - his mechanic heart shatters and swells with love at the same time; it’s such a strange feeling, that makes the cowboy feel a little guilty. Both of you fall silent, until Boothill makes a move and closes the distance between you, smiling sadly at you and softly caressing your stomach with his hand, “I’ll treasure her forever.”

There are days when Boothill truly feels like the hole in his heart cannot be healed after your first daughter, but he knows she’d love to have a little sister. Yet he’s here, now a cyborg and the only memory of her is just one, lonely picture. He makes sure to never let her existence fade away by telling your round tummy that he’ll love them both until the end.

On a happier note, Boothill is just. Such a good dad, but also a chaotic one sometimes, especially if your daughter inherits her dad’s personality. They’re doing everything together - if she wants to have her hair braided, he does so, and lets her braid his (even if his hair gets so tangled at first, to the point he has to cut it 😭), good god! He loves her so much and always hugs her so tightly when she runs up to him after she notices her dad is back home.

Boothill just loves hearing her little giggles and always makes her laugh! Sometimes he tickles her so much she throws her plushies at him.

Boothill wants all her milestones to be forever preserved. He has tons of pictures of her, a few photo albums - it’s never enough. He’s so proud when she says her first word, when she takes her first steps by herself, her first drawing for him (even if she drew it on the fridge with a black marker), her first birthday. He wants to give her everything she could ever have.

Boothill might've cried the night when his little baby drew him a family portrait - with you, herself, her daddy and older sister. He's injected in her every possible good memory about her, and she never fails to appreciate her older sister even if she isn't there, knowing her dad still loves her just as much.

When Boothill’s little princess cancels the weekly tea party he’s always attended, it’s HIM who feels sad about and pouty about it.

Boothill buys his daughter tons of different hats! They’re always carefully picked and he makes sure she likes them waiting for her approval, but most of the time she wants to just wear his. She doesn’t care she’s drowning in it, it’s the best because it’s Boothill’s hat.

Even though Boothill never mentioned her anything about playing guitar, one day she started to play him a tiny bit of song she learned at school - although clumsily and due to stress, Boothill listened to her and threw her in the air in happiness when she finished - he knew it was your job and couldn’t be more thankful. Once again, he made yet another guitar in his life - this time to finally listen to his little one’s music and teach her many, many other songs they’d later play and sing together.

Oh god, when Boothill’s daughter announced her “boyfriend” she met at daycare, he just stared at her with wide eyes. This is also an instance where he cried that night and you had to calm him down. Later on he insisted to be the one to take her to daycare, and gently threatened the said toddler, “look, stinker. Don’t ya dare GET NEAR ma lil’ angel, or else.” This was his last visit without your supervision. And also, your daughter just laughed at him and left… so yeah, plan failed successfully, I guess?

Mandatory naps with daddy after daycare. Well, Boothill only pretends to sleep when she looks at him - but once she falls asleep on his chest, he looks at her with so much love, gently resting on his chest and stroking her hair, that was just like his and adoring her tiny face, that he thought was the most perfect mix of you and him. Boothill shushes you with his finger quietly, when you ungraciously enter your home. A content smile appears on his lips when you give him and your daughter an apologetic kiss on their foreheads, still hearing her snoozing tenderly.

[puckbunnyera]

Mean It | Jack Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: jack hughes x reader genre: slight angst (?), fluff word count: 3.2k warnings: cursing, suggestive jokes/innuendos at the end summary: three years after the kiss that breaks your heart, jack decides it's time for a re-do, and this time he means it.

notes: maybe it's because i'm still getting used to posting things for others to see/read because i've said this, or something similar, about everything i've posted so far, but i'm not 100% sure if i like this or hate it. anyways, here is a jack one that i've based (very) loosely off of a dream i had a few weeks ago.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I inhale deeply as I open my car door, exhaling once both of my feet are touching the driveway below me. Despite the warmth in the Michigan summer air, the slight breeze that blows by sends a shiver running down my spine as I look up at the beautiful house in front of me. A house that I was once so familiar with. A house that belongs to a family that I consider part of my own. While I've kept in touch with a majority of the family, I haven't stepped foot in this house in years. The summer I turned eighteen was a memorable one, though not in the way I would have liked. The two summers I spent here after were awkward and tense, so eventually, I stopped coming completely. Instead, choosing to avoid the family trips to Michigan every summer with any and every excuse I could come up with. Going to university out of state made it so much easier to make excuses for my absences. Just as my thoughts are beginning to wander, I'm interrupted by the sound of my mother's voice calling out to me.

"Y/N, hurry! We're already late." She calls from where she and my father stand at the top of the porch steps. "And don't forget the wine."

I retrieve the bottle of wine from the backseat, along with my purse, and quickly make my way to meet my parents where they now stand in front of the door. All it takes is two knocks and the door swings open revealing, the one and only, Ellen Hughes.

"Hello!" She greets excitedly, a bright smile on her face as she pulls my mother into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you could make it." She pulls my father into a short one after releasing my mother and then her attention shifts to me.

"Hi, Ellen." I smile shyly and give small wave.

"Hi, Sweet Girl." She steps forward and pulls me into her embrace. "I'm happy you decided to join us this year. We've really missed you." She whispers before stepping back and inviting us into the house.

As we make the short journey to the dining room, I take in what I can of my surroundings. To my surprise, everything still looks the same.

"Do you mind if I stop by the bathroom first?" I ask right before we step into the dining room.

"Of course not," Ellen replies. "Do you remember where it is?" I nod, passing the bottle of wine in my hand to my mother, then turning around to make my way to the bathroom.

• ───────────────────────────── •

"Speak of the devil." I hear my father's voice as I walk into the room, lifting my head to meet his gaze. Despite the nerves that have redeveloped, I disguise them with a playful remark.

"Talking about me?" I scoff, a teasing smile on my face. "That's not very nice, dad."

"All good things, of course." He chuckles.

The facade begins to slip when I finally take notice of my seat, the only empty chair left at the table, right next to Jack Hughes, my childhood best friend turned stranger. As our eyes lock, I'm reminded of the boy I fell in love with when I was fifteen, the same one who broke my heart when I was eighteen. Standing here in front of him now brings the one memory that I have tried so hard to forget rushing to the forefront of my mind.

"Jack, stop!" I squeal through my giggling as he splashes the lake water in my face for the millionth time.

"Take it back!" He shouts through his own laughter.

"Fine!" I yell. "I'm sorry for calling you a brainless idiot."

"And?"

"And for saying that Quinn is better at hockey than you."

"Now was that so hard?" He chuckles, reaching forward and pulling me into his arms, my back against his chest.

We stand quietly, watching the sun set across the lake as we try to catch our breaths. It had become sort of a tradition of ours to sneak off after dinner some nights and go for a swim in the lake. Tonight was just another one of those nights. As the water ripples around us and the sun lowers further below the horizon, I recount all of the past moments similar to the one now.

"I can't believe summer is already almost over." Jack sighs, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I know." I agree. "It's gone by way too fast, but hey! Look at the bright side. You'll be starting your first year in the NHL this fall. That's something exciting to look forward to."

"I guess." I feel him shrug. Turning around in his arms, I softly caress his face and force him to look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He shakes his head, frowning.

"It's not nothing." A frown now forming on my face. "You're upset. Why?"

"I'm nervous." He sighs. "Scared, even. What if I'm not good enough?"

"Don't say that." I stroke his cheeks softly with my thumbs. "You're THE Jack Hughes. You're good at everything." I joke, trying to lighten his mood.

"I'm serious." His frown deepens.

"I am too." It's now my turn to sigh. "If you weren't good enough, you wouldn't have been drafted. It's okay to be nervous and scared. I bet every NHL player, present and past, felt the same way you did when they first entered the league. You just have to go out there and show them what you've got. You'll do great. I know it."

"Thank you." He finally smiles.

"Of course." I return one to him.

"I'm gonna miss this." He pulls my hands off of his face and laces his fingers through mine. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you too." I admit. "But we'll always have the summer, right? And maybe when I have breaks from college, I can fly out to Jersey to see you."

"I would like that." He nods.

We grow quiet again, taking in the stillness around us and falling into an impromptu staring contest. Something is the air begins to shift. I suddenly come to the realization that this boy right in front of me, isn't just a friend to me anymore. At least I don't want him to be. And when his lips suddenly crash down onto mine, I'm convinced that he feels the same. The thought, however, is short-lived because he is pulling away faster than he moved in.

"Fuck!" He backs away, removing every form of touch we previously had. "Shit! I didn't mean to do that."

"I-" I pause in an attempt to gather my bearings. "Jack, it's okay."

"No." He shakes his head. "It's not okay."

"You're overreacting."

"J-just forget it happened." He huffs, turning his back to me and heading out of the water. "It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" I scoff, following him back onto land. "If it was such a mistake, why did you do it?"

"I don't know." He shouts, the loudness of his voice taking me back a bit. "Just leave it alone, okay? It didn't mean anything. Just a heat of the moment kinda thing." His words feel like a punch to the gut. An ache forming in my chest.

"Right." I respond sarcastically as tears begin to well in my eyes. Without another word, I grab my towel and start my way back up to the house.

"Y/N" Jack reaches, grabbing my arm gently.

"Don't touch me." I yank my arm out of his grasp and continue walking away.

The sound of a throat clearing interrupts my thoughts and I suddenly remember where I am. With a blush forming on my cheeks, I quickly greet everyone before taking my seat.

"Hi." Jack whispers his greeting, while everyone else is caught up in conversation.

"Hi." I whisper back then quickly divert my attention elsewhere.

Once I settle in, Ellen starts to pass around the food. As dinner officially begins, I silently pray that the tension between me and the man to my left isn't as noticeable as it feels.

"So, Y/N?" Jim starts. "How have you been? We've missed you these past few summers."

"Few?" Quinn butts in, a teasing tone evident in his voice. "It's been like ten."

"It's been, like, two." I roll my eyes with a small smile pulling at my lips.

"That's what I said." He smirks. I ignore him this time and turn my attention back to his father.

"To answer your question, Jim, I've been doing well. And I've missed you guys too. I took a lot of internships during the summer and winter breaks between semesters, so I wasn't able to come visit with my parents."

"We hoped you would fly out with your parents last summer after your mom told us you had graduated that May, but she said you couldn't make it." Ellen speaks.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here." I apologize, catching the sad undertone of her words. "My mom asked me to join, and I would have, but I had already booked a graduation trip to France with some friends that I graduated with. My flight was set to leave three days before they would leave to come here."

"How was that trip by the way?" Luke asks. "Quinn told me you had gone and showed me some of the pictures you took while you were there."

"It was amazing!" I exclaim. "I definitely want to go back. Hopefully sometime soon. The coastal towns, like Nice and Cassis, were by far my favorite."

A genuine smile forms on my face as I continue to recount different moments of my trip. I had forgotten how much I loved spending time with this amazing family. Regret simmers in the pit of my stomach. As conversation flows easily around the table, now bouncing from topic to topic, I am consciously aware of the glances coming from next to me.

Dinner wraps up nicely and we are soon heading our own ways. My father grabs our luggage from the car before he and my mother make their way upstairs to the only spare bedroom left in the house. I grab my things and head to the furnished basement, which will be my makeshift bedroom for the summer.

• ───────────────────────────── •

The house is silent as I slide the back door open as quietly as possible. I'm making my way down the steps when a male voice startles me.

"Couldn't sleep?" Jack questions from where he sits in a chair to the right of the door, hidden by the shadows of the house.

"You scared me." I reply, my hand resting over where my racing heart resides in my chest.

"Sorry." He apologizes, rising from his seat and coming to stand above me on the top step. "Where are you headed?"

"I was gonna go down to the lake for a swim."

"Oh," He responds awkwardly. "Can I join you?"

I bite my lip nervously, not sure how to answer him. Going into this trip, I planned to avoid him as much as possible, yet here we are. Alone. After a moment, I finally find the courage to respond.

"Sure." I reply shortly, turning to head towards the lake, not checking to see if he is following.

Once I reach the edge of the water, I throw my towel down on a large rock and remove the shirt and shorts I had put on over my swimsuit.

The water is cold upon the first touch, but I embrace the difference in temperature against my warm skin as I wade out farther into the water. When I reach a depth that I can stand comfortably in, I stop and listen to the sounds around me.

I can hear Jack's every move as he steps into the water and makes his way towards me. He stops as he reaches my side, our shoulders inches apart.

"Y/N." He speaks softly, voice almost a whisper.

"Jack."

"I-" He starts. He seems to hesitate before opening his mouth to speak again. "I'm sorry." My heart squeezes in my chest.

"For what?" I pretend to be clueless as to what he means.

"You know what?"

"It doesn't matter anymore." I sigh, realizing that playing dumb won't work. "I'm over it."

"You're not." He argues. "You like to pretend you are but I know you better than that. We were best friends, remember?" His use of the past tense causes another surge of pain to hit me right in my chest. But he's right. We were best friends. That's the only reason why I tried to maintain contact for the first couple of years after that summer. Eventually, things just fell off and we stopped speaking altogether.

"Really, Jack, I'm over it." I turn to face him. "We were stupid kids caught up in a moment of high emotions and vulnerability. It was nothing."

"But it wasn't nothing." His voice seems strained as he utters the words. "I know, back then, I said it didn't mean anything, but I lied. It did mean something. It meant everything."

His confession leaves me stunned. I'm truly at a loss for words.

"W-what?" Confusion laces my words.

"I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I was in love with you."

"Jack," I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." He replies firmly. "And even though we haven't spoken in almost three years, I am still in love with you." Those are the final words it takes to break the dam in my eyes, tears now rolling down my cheeks in steady streams.

"I've been in love with you since I was fifteen, Jack." I confess. "I held back and hid my feelings because I was terrified. I didn't think you felt the same so I kept them to myself in fear that I would mess things up if they got out. That summer, when you kissed me, I felt so happy and relieved because I truly thought you reciprocated them. But when you pulled away and told me that it was a mistake. That it meant nothing to you. It felt like you physically ripped my heart out of my chest."

"I'm sorry." He steps closer, one of his arms wrapping around my waist while his other hand reaches up to caress my cheek. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"I wish things could have been different." I whisper as his thumb softly brushes my tears away.

"Me too." He whispers back.

I sniffle as my tears begin to slow, leaning in to rest my head against his chest and wrapping my arms around his body in a tight embrace. His hand that was on my cheek moves to stroke through my hair. We stand in each other's arms for the first time since that summer. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be held by him.

"Can we try again?" He asks, pulling me back to look into my eyes. "Use this summer to fix things. I know we can't take everything back or get back the lost time, but I don't want to leave this summer without fixing what I can."

"I would love that." I nod. His soft smile causes me to return one of my own. I stand for a while, just looking at his face. Taking in all the changes and trying to refamiliarize myself with his features. Tension settles in upon us, but it's not the same awkward tension as before. It's different this time.

"Feel free to tell me no if it's too soon," He prefaces, before continuing to speak. "But, can I kiss you? You know, like a redo."

"Only if you mean it."

His response is a searing kiss that leaves me breathless in the best way possible. Our lips mold together so easily as if they were meant only for each other. We kiss for a little longer until the smile that forms on my face forces us to part.

"What?" He pulls away, forehead resting against my own.

"This feels like a cliche moment from those romcoms I used to force you to watch with me." I giggle.

"It kind of does, doesn't it?" He chuckles. "But I don't mind."

"Good," I nod, nudging his nose gently with mine. "Because I don't either."

"We should head back in." He steps out of my arms but intertwines a hand with mine. "It's late."

I agree before we head back to the shore to grab our things. The walk back to the house is quiet but comfortable. Smiles remaining on our faces the whole time. Trying to sneak back into the house without disturbing anyone is almost impossible. Jack's arm wraps around my waist as he attacks my neck and shoulder with playful kisses, causing quiet giggles to leave my mouth. And just when I think we've made it in successfully, the kitchen light turns on and we come face-to-face with Quinn and Luke.

"And where were you two?" Quinn asks, the tone of his voice firm as he stands with his arms folded across his chest.

"Uh, we just went for a swim." Jack replies, dropping his arm from around my waist.

"I'm just fucking with you." He chuckles. "I'm glad to see you both back on better terms."

"Me too." Luke nods with a smile.

"Thanks." I smile at the two.

"But," Quinn's voice grows serious again. "You better keep the PDA to a minimum."

"Or what?" Jack counters.

"Or I'll tell our parents about the time you two snuck out when you were sixteen and crashed the golf cart through the neighbor's fence and destroyed their garden."

"That was them?" Luke questions, shock evident in his voice and on his face. Quinn rolls his eyes at the youngest brother's cluelessness.

"You wouldn't." I glare at him as menacingly as I can muster.

"Try me." He glares back.

"Fine." Jack sighs, grabbing my hand to pull me behind him as he exits the kitchen. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I speak to them over my shoulder.

"Goodnight." They reply, shutting off the light and heading up the stairs.

Jack walks me down to the basement where he pulls me into his chest once again.

"You know you can come stay with me in my room instead of staying down here on this shitty air mattress."

"Tempting." I smile, rising onto the tips of my toes to place a quick peck on his lips.

"Come on." He pouts. "We used to have sleepovers all the time."

"Yeah, when we were kids." I point out. "We're adults now."

"Exactly." He states, his voice taking on a duh tone. "Which means we are allowed to do whatever we want. If we want to share a bed, we can share a bed. There is nothing wrong with that."

"It won't be weird?" I ask.

"Not unless you make it weird." I hesitate momentarily before finally agreeing.

"Fine." I nod. "But the second your hands travel lower than my waist, I'm kicking you out of the bed and your sleeping on the floor."

"So what I'm hearing is that the boobs are free rein." He smirks.

"Jack!" I gasp, pushing him away.

"What?" He shrugs. I roll my eyes at him as I gather up a pair of clean clothes and head for the stairs.

"Hurry up, Hughes." I speak back to him as I climb the steps. "I'm tired and we both still need to shower. If you're quick enough, I might let you join me."

"Yes ma'am." He replies, a goofy smile on his face as he bounds up the stairs behind me.

[drefear]

Daddy Issues Part 2

Best Friend’s Dad!Miguel x Reader

TW: a lot of angst, a lot of sad, a little bit of fluff, jealousy, smut p in v, oral (m and f receiving) awkward shit between Gabi and you and Miguel.

AN: ok here it is! Part 2 is here and now I can focus on HTTK so here ya go :)

Part 1

Weeks. You’d been avoiding Miguel for weeks.

Every day, you thought about that night. The way he touched you, spoke to you, held you. You had sex before, sure, but that… that was next level. A different world.

That was intimacy.

You cried almost every day. He had tried calling you a few times, but you never answered. The whole event felt too painful and your heart couldn’t take it.

Gabi came over and you told her a story that you had met some guy and he swept you off your feet, but he was controlling and had a temper. She sympathized and held you as you cried and that made everything so much worse. How could you do this to her? Sleep with her dad and lie to her? You had to be the worst friend in the world.

During this time, you had finally moved out of your and Gabi’s apartment, and spent some time back with your dad while looking for a new apartment and getting some auditions.

As you sat on the couch and shoved popcorn in your mouth, your eyes still watered and burned. Some gross love story was on and it made you sad once more, the lingering heaviness in your body coming to the forefront of your mind.

The doorbell could be heard and you got up to answer it, not giving a damn that you were in baggy sweats and a big sweater. Swinging open the door, your eyes froze.

“M-Miguel?” You sputtered, seeing him stand awkwardly at your door. “What are you-“

“Miguel!” Your dad cheered and hugged his friend, pulling him inside past your shocked frame. “We’re having a family night again. You used to love those, hon!” Your dad continued and Gabi stepped inside with her boyfriend. You nodded and followed.

Wonderful.

You moved close to your best friend and sat on the couch, Gabi rubbing your arm comfortingly as she tried to make you feel better. The second Miguel looked at your small frame, face stained with tears and a bit puffy from crying, he hated it. And it wasn’t like you were enjoying it either. All of your emotions started to come up in your throat like nausea.

The guilt you felt about lying to Gabi, the anger you felt towards him making you feel-

How did he make you feel?

Angry. But also… sad. And amazing.

You couldn’t deny the whole experience was almost otherworldly.

You got up abruptly and mumbled a quick “I’ll go make something,” before hurrying into the kitchen.

Miguel moved to follow you before Gabi caught his arm.

“Don’t. She might snap at you.”

Miguel nodded, “that’s ok, she can if she wants to.” And with that, he continued.

You stood, turning on the oven to put in some cookies. You loved baking cookies. They were soft and warm, like a hug. You could really use a hug.

“Mi cielo…” his voice had that same effect as he spoke while you stared ahead at the tray of dough.

“Go away.” Is all you could say without turning into a sobbing mess. His hand found your shoulder and you spun around fast, stepping out of his vicinity. “I said go away.” You repeated and heaved, the upset building in you wildly.

He clenched his jaw, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“This is not the time or place to do this, Miguel. My dad and my best friend- your daughter is in the room right next to us. If they hear this, neither of them will forgive us.”

The words coming out of your mouth made your hands tremble and your stomach sick. How could you have let this happen?

You turned your head and moved to check on the cookies. “We need to act like nothing happened.”

“But I-“

“No. Nothing happened.” You repeated and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I’d like to talk about this another time, because while you have nothing to say, I do. And I’d like it if you'd hear me out.” His words made your mouth dry as you just sighed and nodded, not able to even answer. Your brain was fried, you felt ambushed. You knew your dad was just trying to cheer you up, but he had made this so much worse for tonight. To sit in a room with two people you lied to and the person your heart aches for the most, yearns to touch and hold and love. But that could never happen. He was best friends dad, he was supposed to be like family.

Once he exited the kitchen, you let a few silent tears fall. The conflict inside of you was roaring like a storm at sea.

You’d finally found an apartment, a place by your dance agency that had a beautiful view of the city. It was absolutely perfect. Cute little kitchen, a master bedroom and a big closet, everything was a dream. You signed those papers and paid everything upfront, having saved a lot from sharing an apartment with Gabi.

Moving in was easy, since you didn’t have a lot of furniture and your dad said he’d help you out. He planned a fun day of helping you move in.

And he invited Miguel and Gabi.

Yay.

As you saw your father standing in your new doorway, your arms swung around his neck. “Thank you, dad.” You couldn’t help but be giddy about it all.

Gabi was behind him, and behind her was… Miguel. You hugged Gabi and gave Miguel a polite smile, mumbling a “hi Mr. O’Hara,” and pulling in Gabi to show her around.

The men started to carry in the big furniture, including the couch your father bought you as a gift and the bedframe you got at an antique shop. You plopped down on the mattress and spread out your arms, staring up at the ceiling. This was the beginning of your true freedom, your independence.

Someone clearing their throat stirred you out of your daze and you leaned up on your elbows to see Miguel. You just huffed. “The boxes are all in the living room.” He said and you nodded, “your dad brought some food and beers, said we should all break in your new place together.”

“Of course he did.” You murmured and bit your lip in frustration, trying not to be so rude. “Fine.”

An hour later and you were still stone cold sober, not having even a sip of a beer and only drinking water. Miguel was still nursing his first beer as Gabi and your dad had already made it to their second.

“So, Miguel!” Your dad smiled, leaning on a knee, “how’s the girlfriend?” Your body stiffened and your eyes stayed trained on the water bottle in your hand.

“Ah, she’s not my girlfriend, it’s not serious.” He went on and you began to drown him out. You didn’t want to hear any of this, you just wanted to be alone in your new apartment.

“Come on, man. Six months and still no title?”

“Six months?” You gapped and everyone turned to you, making you glance around and realize your error. “I-I’m just shocked, is all… that’s a long time to not have some sort of commitment… or loyalty.” Your eyes flickered to his and a slight bit of hurt and anger tinged his features, still trying to play it off as if he was unbothered.

“Like I said, it’s not serious. But it feels nice to be with someone mature…” he leaned back and took a long swig of his beer, eyes never breaking from yours. You tightened the grip on the bottle in your hands and then looked back to your dad.

“Sorry dad, didn’t realize you were the only single person in the room now.” Your smile was normal and sweet to everyone else, as if you were teasing your father, but Miguel saw through it. This was a competition now, a challenge.

“You have a boyfriend?” His voice was meant to sound relaxed, but it was a bit harsh.

“Oh no no, it’s casual. Just hanging out.” You shrugged, “men are really just a distraction right now, ya know? They all just want one thing, and I’m not into the whole ‘multiple women’ vibe. Men who entertain more than one woman at a time are disgusting. Pigs, really.” You went on about this and his mouth found the bottle once more, tipping it back and downing the rest. He immediately moved to pop open another and you smirked.

You, 1. Miguel, 0.

He was quiet the rest of the night, listening to Gabi and your father trade stories as you laughed along and gave snarky comments. When the night was finally over, you wished everyone goodbye and were about to shut the door when a hand stopped you.

“Forgot something.” Miguel’s voice said from the hallway and you found yourself being pushed backwards by him opening the door wider. He closed it behind himself and his eyes glared into yours with fury you recognized once before.

“So, a new guy?” He spit out and you stayed quiet. No words came out and this made him angrier. “What? Nothing else to say? You sure had a hell of a lot to say before, why not now?”

“You’re drunk, Mr. O’Hara-“

“Cut it with the ‘Mr. O’Hara’ bullshit.” He barked and you flinched, “you’re seeing some fuckin twerp now?”

“You have a girlfriend.” You spat back at him and he rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re just-“

“Six months. You’ve been seeing her, taking her to dinner, seducing her for six months. That’s a relationship!” You shouted at him and Miguel’s eyes just fell to the floor. “Just get out, I don’t owe you an explanation. I can see whoever I want, I can fuck around and be a whore if I really wanted to! It’s none of your business!”

“You’re mine, so it’s my business.”

“No I’m not.” You yelled and he grew still. The heavy tension fell on your shoulders and your tears spilled down your cheeks, the breath in your lungs burning from inhaling too hard. The two of you stared at each other for a bit before you whispered, “You and I had sex. That doesn’t mean I’m yours. Not when you were fucking her the whole time.” His eyes dropped to your hands and he just nodded before clicking his tongue.

“You’re right. I’m too drunk for this… congratulations on the new apartment, amorcita.” His tall frame walked to the door and before you could stop him, the door was shut and he was gone.

Days later, and you were still a mopy mess. Everyone noticed your lack of friendly-nature, it was like the sun was gone. A knock on your door made you stir and sit upright. You opened it and saw your father, smiling face and holding a bag of groceries. Your dad stepped in, put everything away, then sat on the couch. You’d been crying before he got there and he saw that, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” He asked quietly, like he was trying to soothe a beast. You cried more, surprised that the well still was not dry, and he held your hand. “It was Miguel, wasn’t it?”

Your whole being shuddered and your eyes snapped up to his.

“Yeah, I see how you look at him, how you smile… I might be an old man, but I know my little girl.” He pet your head. “Listen. I’m not going to say I’m happy about this, because I think he’s far too old for you… but you’re a woman, and I know I raised a smart girl. Just always think about if he’s worth possibly losing your friendship with Gabi.” He pecked your forehead as you sniffled, thinking about his words. As he stood up, you grabbed his hand.

“Dad?” Your voice cracks and he looks down to your sad form. “I love you. Thank you.”

You fell back asleep soon after. Sleep was your only safety blanket, your only holy ground. It was the coping mechanism you shouldn’t have, but desperately needed. Sometimes, you’d end up sleeping at your father’s house from not wanting to be so alone.

Time went by so slowly and finally, a phone call woke you out of your deep sleep, answering without noticing the name. “Hello?”

“Can I come over to talk?” Miguel’s voice was full of gentle fear, like he was afraid to scare you away.

“Where are you telling Gabi that you’re going?”

“She’s with her boyfriend. Mi cielo, Please.”

“Fine. I’m at my dad’s tonight. He'll be home in an hour, and I don’t want him here while we talk about this.” You rolled out of bed and moved to the bathroom.

“I’m on my way.” You hung up after he said that and placed your phone face down on the bathroom sink. Staring at your reflection made you realize something…

You looked awful. You got yourself ready as usual, finally washing your face fully and doing some skin care, brushing and flossing your teeth, brushing your hair and pulling it into a ponytail, and finally putting on a summer sun dress.

You looked like yourself again. And it felt good.

The knock at the door was like a calling card for death, it felt like the end and a sinking feeling grew heavy in your stomach. Thank god for waterproof mascara.

Opening the door, you saw him standing there with a single rose in his hands. You stared at the flower before meeting his eyes.

“Why… did you bring that?”

“Because I saw it and it reminded me of you.” His words made your heart flutter, made your head almost dizzy with the happy hormones, but you needed to keep your cool.

“Um. Thank you.” You took the flower carefully and stepped aside so he could come in. “We… need to talk.”

“I know.” He nodded and sat down, spreading his legs a bit and unbeknownst to him, showing off his large size. He watched you sit across from him, crossing your ankles and playing with the flower in your hand as he cleared his voice. “I should apologize.”

“Yes, you should.”

He smiled, your biting and firey personality showing again. There was his girl.

“When your dad called and asked about the shirt, I was surprised. I didn’t think an old man like me could- would ever get that attraction from a young woman again…” he spoke, “you’re everything that a man could love. Everything a man could ever need, but… I’m too old for you, and I don’t want to hurt your friendship with my daughter.”

You nodded along. His eyes followed your movements, as if waiting for a response, but you didn’t give one.

“So?”

“So, if that’s all you had to say, you can leave now.”

“What?” He was shocked. He- he was trying to admit he wanted you but couldn’t have you, and you were just brushing him off?

“You heard me. You might have another date lined up after this, and I wouldn’t want you to keep her waiting.” The rage in your throat was coming out fast, and you might just start yelling at him if he didn’t leave soon. “Spare me the pity party for your age, Miguel. You know that you’re gorgeous, you can get anyone you want. So cut the shit. Who is she?” You barked and he leaned back, surprised.

“What are you talking about?”

“That woman! She made you so hot and bothered on that stupid date that you fucked the first girl you saw afterwards. Is that the woman you’d been seeing? What’s her name?” You bubbled, louder now. His eyes saw something he never thought he would in yours. Jealousy.

“She- she’s a coworker, it was just dinner-“ he mumbled and you laughed. You laughed!

“Just dinner? Do you think I’m stupid? That’s the one you’d been seeing for months, right?”

“Mi corazón, I don’t know what you think happened, but it didn’t-“ and something hit him. He didn’t owe you an explanation about her. But you wanted one.

You shared his feelings.

This was a revelation. You weren't upset because you regretted everything, or were worried about Gabi.

You were upset because you liked him.

Miguel smiled wide and that just stoked the fire inside of you.

“You think this is funny?”

“Hysterical, actually.” He moved forward and grabbed your wrist, yanking you to sit on his lap. “Because she could never be you, amor.” He tilted your chin with his index finger to look up at him. “I’d choose you a thousand times over.”

You were speechless. “You… would?”

“Well, that depends on your relationship with this boy, because if you were single, I’d chose you. I’d ask you on a date.” His words made your face burn with a heavy blush. “So?”

“So that boy… never existed.” You admitted shyly, avoiding his eyes contact as he laughed harder. “Shut up!”

“Go on a date with me.” He repeated and you nodded, then swallowed thickly.

“But… we need to tell Gabi.” You announced and his body stiffened, that familiar fear he felt before creeping in. “She deserves to know what’s going on.” You watched his eyes. “We already crossed a line we can’t erase, she should be aware that we might start seeing each other.” His hand found yours and he sighed, nodding.

The front door opened and your father stepped inside, barely glancing at the two of you as you both froze. As he took his shoes off, he smirked at you two.

“So the talk went well, I see, which means I’m making some rules. Rule number one, no sex in the house.”

“Dad!” You shouted, standing up fast and stepping forward.

“And protection is a must. My little girl isn’t getting pregnant before she can make her dreams come true-“

“Oh my god, stop talking!” You begged and he folded his arms, Miguel standing up behind you.

“He’s right. He’s just doing what any good father would do, mi amor.”

You visibly saw your father cringe. “Rule number two, no lovey-dovey talk in front of me please. That includes pet names.” He smiled, "I'll let you two have a few more minutes, but then I’m watching the game.” He walked to the kitchen, to which you moved to look at Miguel again.

“So. I’ll see you…”

“Tomorrow. We can tell Gabriella tomorrow.” His voice was firm, a man on a mission. Your man on a mission.

You were dressed in her favorite color. Why? Well, since you were about to tell her, essentially, thatyou wanted to fuck her dad, you figured you’d try to score all the points you could get. You’d keep the fact that you did already a secret for now.

As you got to Miguel’s house, your heart pounded in your chest. He wanted you to meet there so her boyfriend didn’t have to be subjected to the innate awkwardness of the situation.

You tugged at your skirt as you stood, finally knocking on the door. It swung open mere seconds after and you came face to face with Miguel. Your heart skipped as he looked at you and smiled.

“You look… wow.” His eyes were so sweet and puppy like, you couldn’t help but laugh. This gargantuan man was so soft for you, and you thrived for every second.

Holding your hand, he spun you to see the back of your outfit too, then pulled your hands to rest on his shoulders and bent down to press a slow kiss to your lips.

Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he lifted you to wrap around his waist and your hands slid into his thick brown hair as you kissed him back. Your back hit the couch and you gasped as his lips connected with your throat.

“Miguel- she’ll be here any minute!” You spoke, trying not to moan as he smirked against your skin, pulling down one strap.

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.” He whispered and moved his hands under your dress skirt, sliding your panties to the side. “Can’t help it, mi cielo, you get me so hard just looking at you in these damn dresses.” His words had you breathless, combined with his fingers prodding your entrance. The unzip of his pants made you practically dizzy, feeling his swollen tip dipping into you a bit. You took in a sharp breath as he groaned, “so wet already,” and pushed into you. The stretch was intense and your body curled into him instinctively from the burn. “Just a few more seconds, I promise.” His forehead leaned against your and you nodded, your hands pulling at his hair and making him want more of you. His mouth began to suck a bruise into the cleavage of your breasts and your head fell backwards as he sunk into you more, finally bottoming out completely. It was surreal, being filled with him, surrounded by his large body, and having all of your senses drowned in him. Your eyes almost crossed from the feeling it brought you and if you’d been more aware, you’d have heard the door open. But you didn’t, and so when he began rocking into you and lifted both your legs over one shoulder, your mouth fell open in blind pleasure. Your name fell from his lips and your nipples were rock hard from the sensation of him brushing his pelvis against your clit.

“Dad?” A feminine voice struck your ears and your eyes snapped open, upside down and staring at Gabriella looking away. Looking up, you realized Miguel was still moving. He didn’t hear her.

“M-Miguel, stop!” You called out and he immediately halted his movements, looking over your face. You pulled your straps onto your shoulders and stared at Gabi’s face, eyes wide with complete shock. Miguel’s eyes followed yours and he finally realized what was happening.

“Mierda…”

An awkward 20 minutes later of Gabriella refusing to come out of her room, she finally let you in and you sat on the bed with her, face still red as a beet and knee bouncing anxiously.

“So. You and my dad.” She said and you looked up with fear and regret.

“Gabi, I’m sorry, it just happened-”

“I figured it might.” She trailed off and your mouth hung open. “You always sucked at hiding your feelings, and he was always way too protective of you.” She stared at her shoes, “I just didn’t think it’d actually happen, ya know? Like I knew it could, but I didn’t think it actually would.” Your eyes filled with tears, scared to lose your best friend.

“Gabi… I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop-”

“And make you both miserable? No thanks. If there’s anyone I’d want my dad to be with, it’s you.” She sat next to you finally and put a hand on your shoulder. “And same with you. He’s had a little crush on you since your sophomore year of college, always just kinda staring, ya know? I tried to ignore it, but when we went to dinner and you two were dancing… it was just kind of obvious. And I want him to be happy.” Gabriella held your hand and you immediately started crying.

“Gabi-“

“But I’ll hurt you if you hurt him. And same goes for him. If you two do this, neither of you can fuck it up. I mean it!” She gave you a serious look and you nodded, smiling and wiping your eyes.

“I love you so much, Gabi.” You whispered and hugged her tight. She sighed and hugged you back. “Just… please don’t ever make me see that ever again.”

“I’m so sorry, I won’t!” You pulled away and looked at her face.

“And I’m not calling you mom either, so don’t ask.”

“God no don’t do that. I would hate that.”

“Ok.” She looked away. “So… is this why you were avoiding me?”

“Yeah… I couldn’t really face him.”

“Well, try not to think about that anymore, since this is happening now.” She heard a knock at the door and Miguel’s embarrassed form stood in the doorway, guilt on his features.

“You!” Gabriella stood up and threw a pillow at him, to which he caught reflexively.

“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to come back later.” His hands went up defensively and she glared at him, making you laugh.

“I don’t ever want to see that ever again. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t even want to think about it.” She shivered with disgust and you started laughing. Everything felt right.

That was until Miguel's work event, which was a few weeks later. He’d invited you as his date, and you excitedly agreed. Picking out your dress with Gabriella, you pulled out a long gown with a high slit to the leg.

“At least with that one, he won’t rip it.”

“Gabi!” You flicked her arm and she shrugged.

“Isn’t Danielle gonna be there?”

“Who?”

“Danielle, that woman he was seeing before you two started dating?” Gabriella glanced up at you from her phone as you stopped everything you had been doing.

“Oh.” Is all you could fathom. That’s right, she was a coworker. Your hands trembled a bit and Gabriella rested a hand on your shoulder.

“He never talked about her, and all he ever talks about anymore is you. So don’t worry.” You nodded and stared down at the blue dress. You bought that dress.

It’d been a few weeks of you and Miguel being together, practically inseparable. He had you sleeping at his house every other night, refusing to let you leave because ‘driving home would be too dangerous at that time of night.’

You knew he just wanted to hold you all night, to continue the constant overstimulation he loved to push you through. Whispers of ‘you can do it,’ ‘one more for me,’ ‘such a good girl, mi cielo.’ You’d twitch, tears streaming down your cheeks from the burn of your muscles, legs around his shoulders as his face buried into your cunt. His face was wet from how many times you’d already been pushed too far over the edge, finally kissing up your body as he smirked, pushing into you. No matter how many times you’d orgasmed, it would always be a stretch to fit him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he chuckled. He loved watching you come undone all over his cock all night long, leaving bite marks on your chest and shoulders, feeling your nails leave angry, red marks across his back. God forbid anyone ever saw you two naked the next morning, they’d think you both got into a war with stray cats. Your favorite was when he was about to come inside of you, and he’d pull your wrist to his lips, kissing you there while he unloaded in you, then dropping his forehead to yours and smiling.

The night of the event, you were pushing your breasts together in the dress. Tugging the fabric to fit perfectly, you stared at yourself in the mirror. The navy blue velvet was snug against your curves, the neckline plunging down the center and the slit high on your thigh. It was long sleeved, balancing how much skin was showing perfectly, and you paired it with silver strappy heels. Bouncy curls falling down your shoulders and elegant, simple makeup, you were the picture of grace and beauty.

Yet, the knot in your stomach made you want to lie and say you couldn’t go, that you were sick, that something came up, that you couldn’t go- anything to stay home and not have to see her.

But it was too late, and a knock at your door made you hyper aware of the time. Grabbing a clutch you’d picked to match the dress, you hurried and opened the door.

“Mi cielo-” His eyes dragged over your form and then back up at you. “Preciosa, por dios.” His voice dropped an octave and you smiled, feeling him pull your hand into his chest and kissing your wrist once more, your favorite feeling. You blushed as he spun you around with him, kissing right below your ear and moving lower and lower…

“I’d ravish you right here and now if we weren’t going to be late.”

“I think I’d rather have you take this off of me.” You answered and he pulled away a little, checking your expression.

“Por que?”

“I just- I’m nervous.” You avoided his eyes.

“I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise.” He spoke softly and you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. That wasn’t the problem.

Arriving, you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful decor and elegant architecture of the chosen establishment. It felt like something from a movie, and you felt eyes on you. Turning, you saw Miguel staring at you with a wide grin on his lips, just watching you as you gawked at the interior. His hand slipped into yours and you smiled up at him.

“Let’s find our seats, amorcita.” He whispered and kissed your temple, escorting you to the table in the front of the room. You both went to get drinks and he began to mingle, introducing you to many people you couldn’t remember the names of.

A pair of heels clacking from behind you made you turn a bit and there she was.

That woman.

You made eye contact with her and she refused to look away, practically glaring into your soul.

“Y-You must be Danielle.” You reached out to shake her hand, and she obliged, looking you up and down in judgment. Everything about this introduction made you want to crawl under a rock. She hated you and you would too if someone stole Miguel from you. You originally did, actually.

“Yes, and you’re the little brat who stormed out of his house, right? The one his daughter’s age?” She answered and your stomach dropped. Shit. She tilted her head and gave you a condescending smirk. “Not much to look at, are you? But I guess sometimes a man wants someone who can make him feel young and alive again. That’s a phase, and he’ll get over it-”

Miguel’s arm wrapped around your waist as he walked up to you two and he stared down at Danielle, making her suddenly stop talking and start playing nice in front of him. Your body was shaking a bit, thinking about what she’d said.

“Miguel, nice to see you.” She smiled up at him, bright red lips showing off her white teeth, and you immediately felt inferior. This was a grown woman, an adult who’d worked her way to her position, with degrees in science and more. She was on par with Miguel, and you were just a wannabe dancer.

“I wish I could say the same, Danielle.” His somewhat rude answer made you gawk up at him.

“M-Miguel-” You stuttered, and he continued.

“This is my girlfriend, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make her uncomfortable just because you and I have a brief history.” This was too much for you. He was protecting your honor, standing up for you, but you felt pain in your chest from the anxiety. You thought you might pass out then and there. Pulling your hand from his, you rushed to find a quiet place alone. Moving to a hallway separate from everything else, you pushed open a door and sat at a chair and table. The lights were out and you heaved in a long, much-needed breath. A presence could be felt behind you near the door and you slumped your shoulders.

“I just needed a minute, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” You apologized and his hands on your shoulders made you feel even worse.

“Amorcita, you have nothing to apologize for. She shouldn’t have been so rude.” He whispered, pulling your hand to stand up. “Let me show you that she was wrong.”

His lips trail down your shoulder and he begins to unzip your dress. Your breath stutters and you glance to the door.

“Did you lock the door?” You ask, panting already from how hot his kisses get you.

“It doesn’t lock, so we have to be quiet.” The dress begins to fall from your arms and you gasp as the cold air against your chest, feeling his hands hold your sides and push the fabric to fall to the floor. He trails one of his hands to touch your clit and he smirks. “No panties? Sucia…” Your head falls backwards onto his shoulder as you grab his arm and he kisses into your hair. “Come on, preciosa, just focus on me.” His words send a shiver down your spine, fingers rubbing in circles as you see stars. Sliding down further, his finger enters you and he growls. “Dripping already, perfect for me.”

You moan and his other hand wraps around your mouth. “Quiet, besita.” You nod and writhe against his hand as he continues plunging his finger inside of you. The curl opf his digit makes you see white behind your eyelids and you feel everything inside of you explode, unexpected and fast. He takes his finger out of you and licks it, unzipping his pants and pulling himself out. He tugs his slacks down a bit and bends you over the dining table, hand sliding up your back and tangling into the hair at the base of your neck. Sliding into you, he puts his other hand onto the front of your belly and thrusts hard. The bulge moves into his hand and his head drops a bit, feeling himself through your stomach making him even more wild for you. Your body was perfect for him, the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he couldn’t be more grateful. He wanted to show you that gratitude and so he’d pleasure your body until you understood what you meant to him.

Your gasps and quiet begs made him continue to slowly thrust and rut into your heat. It was sensual and rough, without being too fast, and this made you practically melt in his hands. Your coil was tightening within the seconds and the pull you felt against your scalp as he pulled your back into his chest, now fucking up into you from behind harder. The new angle made you snap, making your mouth drop open and heave in a loud, muffled shriek. You couldn’t help it, he was always so good at maneuvering your body. Your entire being trembled and he pulled out of you, which made you push him backward. He stumbled into the wall behind him and you got on your knees, tongue out and immediately sucking around him. His hot length in your lips was absolutely heavenly, and seeing as you two hadn’t done this before, he was watching you with wild, eager eyes. The view of you on your knees between your legs, his cock in your mouth, and you slurping him like a woman possessed made him practically insane. Miguel couldn’t take much more, and when he felt the tip of his dick hit that back of your throat, that was his last straw. He came hard down your throat and you gagged on the thick spurts, but not once did you cough or spit. You drank it up, licking your lips and never breaking eye contact once.

He was frozen, shocked. His precious girl, his angel… his innocent woman was everything he dreamed of and more. He’d been holding back and staying on the more gentle side, but now? Oh, now you’d opened a door that he didn’t ever want to close.

Standing up once more, completely naked, you bat your eyes to him and he pulled you against him, kissing you feverishly. After a moment more of hard, rough kisses, you panted and pulled away.

“We have to go back out there.” You whispered and he huffed.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You’re giving a speech, Miguel, you have to go back out there.” You insisted. His hands gripped you with no intent of letting go, but you were able to pry him off of you. Picking up your dress, you wiggle it back on and properly placed, but the marks on your body and the makeup on his face was hard to miss. He tucked himself back into his pants and groaned, trying to pull himself together. You both worked to make yourselves presentable in silence and finally turned back to each other.

He watched you smile a bit and reach for his hand, and he knew she was wrong. This wasn’t a phase. He loved you. He would keep you forever and there was no possible way he’d ever think of anyone else ever again.

Going back out to the party, you both stood by the bar and you excused yourself, walking to the ladies room while he waited for your drinks. You stood in the mirror and stared at your reflection. Your hair was a mess now, and your lipstick was smudged, as well as a few black mascara marks from tearing up while gagging on his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at this, until you saw Danielle behind you. Turning to her, a fear struck you but immediately dissipated as you smirked.

“What’s that look for?” She questioned and you couldn’t help but laugh,

“Just thinking about how unsatisfied he must have been if you couldn’t keep him.” You stared directly into her eyes. “I was planning on being the bigger person, but after having sex with him just now, I think I’ll say fuck that and give you my honest opinion. You’re a miserable, boring bitch. Have a great dinner and I hope you find someone as vanilla and mundane as you.” Your words were like knives being thrown and each one landed with precision and grace. You weren’t one to back down and you wouldn’t start now. Walking out of the bathroom, you turned back to say one last thing.

“And you should know, Miguel never even mentioned you.” You winked as her mouth dropped, leaving without another word. Finding your wonderful boyfriend again, he handed you the drink you had ordered and you bit your lip.

“What’s that look for?”

“I may have said a few things to Danielle just now.”

Miguel blinked with surprise and just laughed. “That’s my fiesty girl.” He said and sipped his drink, slipping his hand around your waist again.

The night went by beautifully after that, talking and laughing with his friends and hearing his speech. You two had left with smiles on both of your faces, and that night, Miguel proved over and over how much he cared for you.

And he continued to prove it every day for the rest of your lives.

Epilogue

Tags: @pllao @itzsab @smo66y @misswonderfrojustice @cyberbugg @jollybananaqueen @eeryyy @nightma @topreice @poppyflower-22 @yoonlith @miragemurder @ihateuguys @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @minaxcarter @autismsupermusicalassassin @migueloharaslxt @mintqueenjo @chshiresins @um-well @kxszy @miguelswifey04 @mushy-mushroom04 @tymns @oxrchd @mimiamma2002 @allysunny

[bengals-barnesbabe]

There’s Something You Should Know

Pair: Dad!Joe Burrow x OC , Dad!Joe Burrow x ExFianćee!Reader

Desc: Joe’s new girlfriend is in for a big surprise when she drops by unexpectedly.

TW: Jealousy, Toxic Gf, talks of divorce, childhood trauma

a/n: just a little idea I had and worked on for 2 weeks :)

Main Masterlist

WC: 4.9k

┊┊┊┊ ➶ 𓆉｡˚ ✧

August weekends are some of Joe’s favorites, not because he goes out with friends or showers his girlfriend with the attention she desires. No, he loves days like this. Days where his living room doesn’t stay clean for more than a few hours, mornings filled with cute giggles and sticky-syrupy little fingers, and nights controlled by a little girl with beautiful hazel brown eyes and a head full of dark tight curls, who picks the same bedtime story every night. These are his favorite moments.

Like now as he picks up the pink and purple lego sets off his living room floor while his little girl is off playing with some other toys in her playroom. From down the hall, he can hear all the make-believe scenarios the stuffies are going through. Currently, Who Dey the tiger and Joey the kangaroo were shopping for skirts but there was only one pink sparkly one left, it was a heavy debacle that Joe couldn't help but chuckle at while putting away the rest of the legos. 

Elliana, or Ellie for short, is the no doubt most important person (albeit little person) in his life. From the day she was born, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl. Now at 4 years old, the bubbly and charismatic girl is taking in some of his interests, hence the immense collection of Lego sets that decorate his home. Sure this hobby came back to bite him in the rear when he would fall to victim of said legos by stepping on them, but the time they spent together just playing around was worth all the lego injuries in the world. But they also have house slippers now, to protect both of their feet.

Joe moved to tidy up the kitchen after double checking that all legos were in their rightful spots, not that he was actually going to count every single lego. To prepare for his 4 day weekend with Ellie, he made sure to restock on all her favorite meals and snacks but also ingredients to make the Bengals-themed cookies that she hadn’t stop talking about since she saw them on a commercial for a grocery store they don’t even have in Ohio. Joe wasn’t much of a baker, he only began cooking real meals when Ellie started staying over for multiple nights. Give him a box of Kraft Mac N Cheese and some dino nuggets and he’d turn it gourmet for his daughter, but for now that’s as far as he could go. So he called in reinforcements for this mission.

*ding dong*

His saving grace, Ja’Marr Chase. Joe was forever grateful to have a best friend that loved and cared for his daughter like she was his own. Ja’Marr was a great uncle and Ellie thought so too.

“Daddy, daddy! It’s Uncle Marr, he’s here to make cookies!” He smiles as the squeaky voiced girl comes running down the hall. Before she passes the kitchen, he sneakily pulls her into his arms before she could notice him. “Daddy!”

“What did I say about running in the house? I know you’re excited but you might fall and hurt yourself and that would make daddy really sad.” He lightly scolds bending down to her height.

“I’m sorry daddy. No more running.” Ellie cutely nods and places her small hands on his cheeks to lift his faux frown.  A grin quickly returns to his face and he kisses her forehead. 

“That’s my good girl, how about you go wash your hands so you and Uncle Marr can get started?” Her face beams as she wraps her arms around his neck. He returns the hug almost as tightly to take in the warm sense of comfort that having her in his arms brings. His arms could probably wrap around the young girl twice, but the contentment of having her little ones squeezing onto him so tightly is a feelings he never wants to forget. When she finally lets go, she kisses his cheek then skips down the hall in her fluffy pink slippers.

The door bell ringing again brings Joe back to his full height, but his brows furrow when he doesn’t hear his friend do his usual call out. ‘He’s probably on the phone.’ He thinks walking over to front door. He opens the door wide with a smile to greet one of his best friends, but gets replaced with his eyes widening and mouth dropping in shock.

“Hi babe!” 

Joe blinks then narrows the door’s opening to only fit half his body. “What are you doing here?” He asks the woman he’s been seeing for 6 months.

“I thought we could spend some time together. I know you said you’d be busy this weekend, but you’re busy every weekend. But since you’re actually home, we could watch a movie or something.” She smiles trying to peak inside. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Joe can hear the faucet in the first floor bathroom turn off and another car pull into his driveway. He looks behind him and zeroes in on every detail in his house that screams ‘this is my little princess’ castle’ then turns back to his curious girlfriend. “Um, now’s not a great time Kate.”

The short brunette’s jaw clenches and just as she’s about to respond, Ja’Marr walks up behind her. “Wow- so what, Saturdays are for the boys?” She barks. Actually they’re for the girls, little girls.

“Kate-

Loud giggles erupt from behind him. “UNCLE MARR! Daddy he’s right there I see him!” 

His teammate breaks out in a smile and waves to Ellie. “Hey babygirl.” Ja’Marr excuses himself from behind the woman and Joe lets him in the house.

Kate stands in front of him now dumbfounded. “You have a daughter?”

When Joe met Katelyn, he hadn’t had a long term girlfriend in a while, not since you. So he didn’t have to introduce anyone to his daughter. His team already knew her, his friends were great with her and she had a mom and dad who would do anything for her. Joe didn’t even feel like dating after your engagement ended two years ago. He had some hookups here and there, but getting into a relationship was not on his mind. Funnily that’s how this ‘relationship’ started, she was just someone he could call and was cool about it. Then he took her out to dinner to test the waters and half a year later he’s here.

When you broke up, you and Joe agreed not introduce your daughter to anybody without the other’s consent. You both wanted to make sure that she was your priority and her safety always came first. Then Joe implemented the rule to not introduce Elliana to romantic interests until at least 9 months into the relationship, he said it was him being protective but it was also so he didn’t have to see you without anyone else until it was serious. You also didn’t broadcast your daughter to the world like other parents, so not many knew that he did have a daughter unless they watched his every move. 

So long story short, Katelyn did not know.

“We should talk.” He said as she shoved his body to the side and stomped into his home. “I guess I deserve that.” He shook his head and shut the door.

Thankfully, the kitchen and the living room were a decent distance from each other so when she plopped down on the farthest end of the sofa, he could relax knowing Ellie wouldn’t hear any distinct words the woman might start throwing his way. Kate sat facing the blank tv screen, he took the spot in front of her so he could still see some of the movements in the kitchen through a wall cut out.

“Listen Kate.”

“No me first.” She cuts him off with a hand in front of his face. He just nods and allows her to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is she actually yours? Where’s her mother? How come no one knows about her? Why didn’t you fucking tell me? I thought I was your girlfriend, do I mean nothing to you? Who keeps this kind of giant fucking secret? Fucking talk!” She huffs.

“I was letting you go off- whatever. Yes, Elliana is mine. She just looks exactly like her mother” He mumbles the last part, combing his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick he’s had since he was little.

“She’s 4 and I have dual custody over her, so I mostly get her during the weekends. I didn’t tell you because her mother and I have an arrangement and I would have to talk to her about it first. Her mom lives here- well not here here, she lives in the city. You know I don’t like the attention the spotlight gives so it was easy for us to decide to leave her out of it as much as possible. I guess was going to tell you at some point.”

“What do you mean, you guess? I’m your girlfriend! Don’t you think I have the right to know that the guy I’m seeing has a kid?” She crosses her arms red faced.

“Calm down, we haven’t been seeing each other that long. We were never that serious.” 

“Of course not, every time I want to spend time with you there’s a new excuse. Oh you have a game, or practice that evidently takes all fucking day. Maybe you’re hiding me because there’s someone else.”

“I promise the only other girl in my life right now is my daughter. And everything you just said is a valid excuse, I have a job and child that require all my attention.”

“Why can’t she just stay with her mother? Do you have this stupid arrangement so she can come by and give you what you’ve been missing? I bet you’ve been fucking her this whole time.”

Joe scoffs, her words starting to make his blood boil. “Katelyn, what do you not understand about us co-parenting our daughter? I barely have time to spend with you, so what makes you think I have time to cheat? If you have a problem with me being a father, then you should leave.”

“I don’t have a problem with you being a dad, I have a problem with you not talking about your ex. What, was she so special that it hurts to talk about her? Was she the one, Joe? What exactly is your relationship like with her now?”

“I told you, we co parent. There’s nothing going on with me and her mother, that’s all in the past. Can we stop talking about her now, she’s not going to just pop up out of nowhere?” He rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not convinced, you’d only hide her if there was still something between you.” 

“Yea her name is Elliana, the four year old making cookies in my kitchen right now.”

Before Katelyn can come back with another complaint, the doorbell rings, again. Joe sighs and looks out the window to see another very familiar car. Spoke too soon Joe.

He opens the door to see another one of his close teammates and the very woman he was just talking about. 

“Tee, Y/n what are you doing here?” His eyes lazily flicker between the pair and you send him a sheepish smile.

“Oh you know, we were just in the neighborhood.” Tee nods very nonchalantly. You nudge his side with a chuckle.

“I got a 911 call from Ellie, she said there was an emergency.” 

“Really?” He starts to pat down his pockets and realizes his phone is missing. He turns around and spots a smiling little girl with two long braids neatly done with purple bows in her hair. “Ellie…”

“Yes daddy.”

“Did you call mommy with my phone without telling me?” 

“Yep!”

You stop the laugh from bursting out your mouth when he sends you a pointed look. Taking that as a sign to go ‘confront’ your daughter. “Elliana why did you call me saying there was an emergency?

“There is an emergency momma! Uncle Jay is eating all the cookies!” Ja’Marr turns around shocked at his little partner. 

“Ellie, what did I tell you about snitches?”

“Snitches get stitches.” She relays matter factly. Joe shakes his head in confusion because clearly he wasn’t aware she knew about snitches yet. While you chuckle and run in to snatch up your girl.

“Ellie what did I tell you about taking advice from Uncle J?” You ask placing her on the counter.

“You said to tell you when he teaches me something new. He just did momma, see I told you!”

“Wow, Joe see what your friends have done to my sweet little girl.” She giggles wrapping her arms around your neck.

“They’re your friends too. How is it my fault, I had no idea?”

“There’s your answer.” You smirk. “Now Ms. Ellie Dae Burrow, is there any other emergency I need to know about?”

Freeing herself from your grasp she nods her head. “We don’t know how to ice cookies mommy.” Then takes your face in her hands and turns you towards the powdered sugar mess next to her baking buddy.

“Ellie, did you touch the cookies before touching mommy’s face?”

“Um yes?”

“Did you wash your hands after touching the cookies?” The young girl looks at her flour caked hands curiously. 

“No mommy.”

“Remember what I said about touching your toys with dirty hands?” Ellie nods her head. “Well that goes for people too, cause now I’m covered in flour.”

“Oh, sorry mommy. I’ll go wash my hands now.”

You go off to get washed up then Ellie returns to the kitchen to continue helping with the cookies while you join Joe in the living room.

“I hope you guys didn’t have anything planned, Ellie clearly has a mind of her own.” Joe jokes with the couple.

“Not much, we were just going to pick up some lunch and maybe catch a movie.” Tee shrugs.

“That’s what we were going to do, how funny.” Kate perks up with hidden mischief in her eyes. This is when you realize you have no clue where this woman came from nor who she is. 

“Joe?”

“Oh how rude of me. I’m Katelyn, Joe’s girlfriend and I assume you’re his baby mama.” She fake smiles holding her hand out.

The eyes of the men in the room widen at her bold choice of words. You smirk and shake the woman’s hand. “Yep, that’s me. The mother of his only child, you must know how great of a dad he is right? Whenever he has any time off, he’s always picking her up or coming over to see her. Truly father of the decade and she isn’t even 5 yet.”

Tee sits next the father hiding his face in his hands and chuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted this to go.” He whispers to him. Joe just groans in his hands.

“Well, you should have a seat.” Kate invites.

“Oh I will, thank you for the hospitality in the house that my ex fiance asked me my opinion on over a year ago.” You grin and sit on the other side of Tee.

Katelyn’s kind demeanor shifts with a fake smile wide on her cheeks as she sits next to Joe. “So why’d you break up?”

“We are not starting here!” Joe’s eyes go wide and he straightens up. “Ask anything else please.”

“Joseph, your girlfriend wants to know why we’re not married right now. Why don’t you tell her?” You say forgetting how the whole thing happened for a bit. Thankfully those cherished memories come floating back to your mind and you hoped he decided to change the subject to cover your mishap.

“You just met, aren’t you supposed to be doing the making sure she’s safe for Ellie to be around thing?” You let out a muted sigh before replying.

“Oh please, and you haven’t?”

“No.” He mutters.

Your face hardens as you kiss your teth. “You let this woman around my daughter without screening her first? Joseph what the hell?”

He throws his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t think it was going to last this long, I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Then why is she here?” You question turning your body completely towards him.

“Your guess is as good as mine!”

Katelyn scoffs, “excuse me, I’m sitting right here!”

“Unfortunately we see that too. How long have you been together anyway?” You hope that their explanation has to do with the restrictions you came up with to keep your daughter safe.

“7 mont-

“6 months- They say at the same time.

“Damn, this is awkward. I’m gonna go.” Tee announces. “I’ll text you.” Then he leaves.

“Looks like that didn’t last, maybe that’s why Joe left you. You attract drama everywhere you go.” Joe grimaces at her just wanting her to stop talking.

“Oh no hun, I left him. Not like it’s any of your damn business cause you don’t know me or him that well either. But let me guess, he told you he was busy but you showed up anyway hoping he’d let you in and give you whatever you want. I wouldn’t stress about him not making enough time for you, there’s a lot of worst ways he could be treating you. Just remember that at the end of the day, I’m that little girl’s mom and he’s her dad. I’ll always have a key in the door, when you won’t even get to see the open house.” Then you got up and went to the kitchen. Joe watched in amusement as Katelyn seethed. Then peaked behind him to catch a glimpse of you and your daughter baking together.

“You need to talk to her, she needs to know that I’m your future and she needs to make room.” Joe rolls his eyes.

“She’s right. They’re my past, present and my future. You were just a distraction and now I don’t need you anymore. I’m going to have to ask you need to leave my daughter’s house.” 

She shakes her head. “Joe, we can have our own family. You don’t need them. I can do that for you.”

“Katelyn I want them, not you. It’s time for you to go.” He stands and walks over to the door.

“You’re going to miss me and regret this, but I wont open the door for you. When you want me back I’ll have someone way better than you. Please don’t do this, don’t break up with me.” Rolling his eyes at the quick change in behavior he unlocks the door for her.

“Joey, I thought we were having fun. You don’t want to throw that away do you?” She asks as a final strand of hope glistens in her eyes.

Joe sighs, “it was fun, but I’d rather play with flower shop legos and bake cookies.”

“Fuck you Joe!” She stomps out with expletives shooting from her mouth. 

⍣ ೋ

“Daddy was your friend crying because you hurt her feelings?” Ellie asks with frosting covering her mouth when he arrives in the kitchen. He picks her up and kisses her sugary cheeks.

“No bub, she hurt her own feelings.” 

“Joey hurt my feelings when left to join the circus.” She pouts talking about her stuffie and licking her sticky fingers.

“Are you eating the icing before we can put it on the cookies?” He asks the orange dye covered girl.

“Nyooo.” She chuckles.

“What are we going to do with you?”

“Mommy said we’re all going to the park to feed the ducks.” She smiles. You turn around with wide eyes and an amused smirk, halting your current task of making more orange frosting.

“I did not say that. Ellie Dae why are you telling your father stories?”

“I think she wants to go feed the ducks.” Ja’Marr snorts while eating some of the cookie dough.

“Uncle Marrrr, you can’t eat more cookies! It’s for the ducks.”

“Ellie ducks don’t eat cookies.” Joe chuckles putting her on a part of the counter that’s not covered in sugar.

“Kaia said they do.” Your daughter yawns mentioning your next door neighbor’s teenage daughter that likes to babysit her.

“Well you’re going to have to ask Kaia where she found the cookies made for ducks.” Glancing over at the oven clock you hum realizing its 2pm. Naptime. Looking back over at your ex, you watch him wrap his arms around your daughter as her eyelids struggle to stay open. “Joe.” You whisper. He looks up at you then the time and nods.

“Come on babygirl, let’s go upstairs.” She whines as he lifts her, but still wraps her arms around his neck.

“But daddy, I’m not tired. Cookies.” She yawns laying her head on his chest. He smiles and kisses her head.

“I promise the cookies will be there when you wake up, and maybe we’ll even take some to the ducks.” You can’t help but smile as the pair climb the staircase up to her room. You always knew Joe would be a great father, especially when the you were surprised by the idea of having a baby so young and so early in your relationship. But he only stepped up in ways you couldn't have imagined, watching him become a father felt like one of life’s greatest privileges. It’s one of the things you love loved about him. Joe’s caring nature was unlike any other, in those 4 years together you’d never felt so loved and cherished by anyone like him.

Turning around to go back to your icing duties, you’re faced with a smirking Ja’Marr Chase. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles setting a timer for the cookies that you now notice are in the oven. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You look at him the same way he looks at you, which is the exact same way when you were engaged. You just need to put the ring back on and plan the damn wedding at this point. I mean he broke up with his fling for you.”

You just shake your head at his nonsense, there was no way you and Joe would ever get back together after how it ended- after how you ended it. “No, I’m with Tee. They just had a mild disagreement, the second Ellie comes home with me he’ll be calling her back over.”

“You’re fucking with me right?” He scoffs. “You and Tee are not together.”

“How would you know?”

“He texted me the minute you got here. The only reason you two were out together was because we’re all still friends. Don’t try and bullshit me. You’ve been trying to make Joe jealous for weeks.”

“I have not, lower your voice. If you think he would ever take me back after the shit I said that night, then you’re delusional. I already fucked up with Joe.”

“But you want him to though.” He tilts his head with a soft smile. “I bet you still have the ring on you.” Your eyes go straight to the floor.

“You didn’t give it back because he wouldn’t take it. You can’t put it away because of who it reminds you of and you won’t sell it because you still care. In fact Ellie said you put it on a necklace and kept it in the smallest pocket of your purse.” When you look up, he’s somehow produced the same ring Joe proposed to you with on that beach date when Ellie was 8 months old.

“She really is a little blabber mouth.” You sniffle taking the chain.

“She’s smart and a thief. She showed it to me after you went to go clean your face. She knows how much it means to you and whether she understands it or not, she wants her mom and dad back together.”

“Oh please, this is the same little girl that wants to feed ducks sugar cookies.”

“All I’m saying is you should think about why you’re still carrying that nice ass ring around and talk to him. Alright I’m gonna head out, you got this right?” You nod and share a friendly hug.

“Remember what I said.” He says as the front door opens then shuts.

You lean over the counter with your hands on your face and let out a groan. There’s no possible way for Joe to ever take you back. You don’t even know why you still carry the ring around, but somehow leaving the house without it makes you feel untethered to reality.

“I doubt the cookies are that bad.” You gasp startled by the man leaning on the entryway to the kitchen.

“Goodness, Joe.” Your right hand covers your eyes while still clutching the gold chain. 

“Wow,” you drop your hand remembering what you were holding. “That’s something I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Yea- um. I was having it cleaned.” You bite the inside of your lip, then replace it with a pout when his face tells you he knows the full story. “Joe-

“Put it on.”

“Listen- wait what?”

You want to believe he’s joking, but the look in his eyes is all seriousness. “I want you to put the ring back on.”

“I can’t, not after the way I ended things. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You can, because I want you to. I need you to put the ring on.”

“Joe there’s something you should know.”

He sighs and takes the chain from you. “I know you and Tee hooked up once, I’m still debating on if I need to sucker punch him for it.” Then unclasps the chain and releases the 7 karat diamond into his hand. “I know that we spent the last 2 years trying to forget everything that went down between us only to remind each other every weekend when Ellie is dropped off.” He begins to fiddle with the ring between his fingers. “I also know that nothing you said that night was true.”

You gulp locking eyes with the man you’ve always wanted to call your husband. “Joe.”

“On April 10th, your mom called you and said ‘never get married’ because she had finalized her divorce with your father after spending 25 years in an unhappy marriage, that without a doubt gave you enough trauma in itself. April 11th, I came home from a night out where I drank way too much and reminded you of a part of your childhood you tried to run away from, which is something I’m extremely sorry for. April 12th, we spent the entire day arguing about the dumbest shit because I couldn’t see the pain you were harboring. Then you said ‘I can’t spend the rest of my life with a man that doesn’t care how he comes home to his family. I won’t let you run me into the mud like he did to her, I want to be happy. I can’t marry you.’ And took your ring off.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face as he recalls the last night you spent together as a couple. A night you’ve regretted since it happened.

“Joey, don’t let me do this to you. You don’t deserve this, you could do so much better better than a damaged bitch with trust issues.” With one hand he wipes your tears and with the other he takes your left hand. “Joe think about this.”

“I think there’s something you should know.” He repeats your words with a more lighthearted tone, then gets down on one knee. 

‘There’s no way, no way. Nope, he’s not doing this.’ You echo to yourself while shaking your head.

“I spent two years thinking about this. Two years driving back and forth so we could have equal time with our little girl. Two years of wondering if I’d ever have you back in my arms the way I dream of at night. Even spent one in this house thinking about how hollow it feels without you living in it. I bought it for you, so we could raise our family here together. I know this probably won’t top the first one and I don’t have a new ring yet.” He winks causing another wave of tears to fall, this time happy tears. 

“I can’t see myself happier with anyone except this damaged woman in front of me with trust issues. Shit I’m not that happy now, cause every time I look in our little girl’s eyes all I see is her beautiful mother. She’s a constant reminder of the woman I miss more than anything. I thought we could do this co-parenting thing and stay friends so Ellie could have a happy childhood, but I spend more time with you than I do without you. I don’t want to wake up with anyone else in my bed that isn’t the woman right in front of me. And I’m thanking Elliana for bringing you here, because I need you. I want you back more than anything in the world.” 

His voice starts to tremble. “I’d step on a million legos for you, bake and burn a thousand dinners for you, miss hundreds of games for you- fucking anything. Anything you want, it’s yours. Just say yes.” 

You can feel the way your heart breaks for him, just proving how much you don’t deserve him. “I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

You can’t look him in the eye and break him again. You try to suck in the sob but there’s no use.

“I’m pregnant with Tee’s baby.”

.

.

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SIKE

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.

.

i'm sorry that was childish, don’t hate me lol here’s the real ending

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ

“I can’t,” You giggle when his pout deepens. “You haven’t asked the question yet.”

A bright smile breaks out on his face as he sighs in relief. “You need to stop scaring me. Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes I’ll marry you, Joey. I'll marry you a hundred times if I have to.” You beam as he slips the ring back in its rightful spot then stands and pulls you into the most passionate kiss. 

After two years, you’re back in the arms you love, felt the most comfortable and cherished in. You feel so lucky to have found a man, a fiance so caring, thoughtful, and understanding. Lucky that every time you pushed him away, he just pulled you in harder. And you can’t wait to finally marry him and give him everything he’s ever wanted. Including a bigger family.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

so any critiques, comments, concerns. i'm open to any and everything🫶🏾 oh and don't forget to reblog for more :)

[seeingivy]

sharing

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

things change slightly in the weeks that follow. 

according to your mom, who called you very upset on a tuesday afternoon, your dad had apparently decided to stay in town until the end of the month – and on very strict orders from sukuna and possibly any shred of self-preservation that you had in you – you weren’t going to be going back until he was gone for good. 

messages from sammy were few and infrequent, except for whenever she got drunk – something she very clearly got from your mom. always the same message, deeply apologetic and regretful, and it somehow was very slowly melting whatever it was that happened at the funeral. 

or it was just one of those things. 

she was your sister – she was blunt, a little harsh at times, but well meaning. or at least trying to be. but she was still your sister and for some reason, you were just going to get over it, in the real way, without thinking twice. 

but you do realize that it was too naive to think that years of butting heads and stepping on each other’s toes wasn’t going to go away just because you had decided to be friends and sang kumbaya while buying lingerie. 

that much should have been obvious though, since sukuna and yuuji had done their version of that years prior, and yet still had the meltdown they did a few months ago. it was always one of those complicated things you figured – growing up in the same house, being competition, stuck in admiration or hatred. 

the family business, one that sukuna and yuuji both refused to ever be a part of, has fallen at the seams. and while sukuna has no intention of ever working there – much to satoru’s delight – he’s fixing the mess of the finances that were left behind for all of the employees and the stipends that he were going to help his mom. 

meaning he has to go back to town. the town that you refuse to return to for the time being. and he won’t let you accompany him.   

and it’s in the week that he disappears that you wonder if you’re starting to be too codependent. if it’s normal for you to miss someone this amount, to worry about him so much, to the point where he occupies your every thought. 

he tries to call when he can. sometimes they’re a few in between because you know that he’s spending time with his mom, that he doesn’t like being home, that whatever it all is – it’s stressful and he hates it. 

your mom sends you a picture of him once in a while. sometimes you stare at it for a little too long. 

“hi sweet girl. how are you?” 

his voice sounds tired over the phone, the smallest hint of a rasp tinged in with the strained tone. 

“i’m okay, ryo. how are you?” 

sukuna can feel his heart sink at the nickname. at the fact that you use nicknames, terms of endearment, and he hasn’t heard them in days. 

“good, good. are you getting ready for bed?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah.” 

there’s a quiet beat. maybe you should have been more descriptive than that. that was a little flat. 

“is that fucking gel cat strawberry in the spot next to you?” 

you smile. 

“it’s a jelly cat. and yes, it is.” 

“enjoy it while it lasts. i’m going to throw it out the window when i get back.” 

“you’re so rude.” 

he laughs over the line and you can’t help but sigh before immediately regretting it. 

you wonder if he sleeps well. or if he laughs often with the moms or if he’s just run in different directions trying to make sure they’re all okay. 

“oh don’t break my heart, now. you miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

you can tell by the tone in the voice that he’s trying to coddle you. you almost want to give in just to hear him sweet talk you down. 

“yeah. gets real scary here without you.” you joke

“is that right?” 

“not actually. but you know like right before you go to sleep and the house creaks? i panic for one second and then decide that i should send a prayer out to the universe so i don’t die before falling asleep.” 

“always one for the dramatics.” 

“i know. i’m sure it always creaks but i’ve always shared a room – either with sammy or with mai across the way who was always blasting music. and you snore, so i never even not–” 

“i don’t snore.” 

“yes, you do.” 

“no, i don’t.” 

“i will admit. while it does take me some time to fall asleep, i’ve never slept so soundly with you gone. it’s so serene.” 

you know for a fact that sukuna’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 

“wow, sweetheart. i should just do you a favor and stay here longer then.” 

“every night i wake up in a panic without you! i’ll never sleep again!” you joke. 

sukuna laughs. 

“that sounds about right. but really…i…i’ll be back soon, okay? i don’t like being away for so long.” he murmurs quietly. 

you frown. 

“don’t feel bad. you know you have to be there.” 

“i don’t feel bad. well, maybe i do a little but i mainly just fucking miss you.” he mumbles. 

you smile. 

“sap.” 

you pause. 

“i miss you too, you know?” 

“i was waiting for that. give me a little more.” he responds. 

you smile. mainly at the fact that he expresses what he wants so openly. or that he misses it just as much as you do. 

“i miss you a lot. it feels so weird to sleep in our bed without you that i fall asleep on the fold out couch.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“you mean you fall asleep watching tv and don’t move because i’m not there to pick you up?” 

“yeah, more like that.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“sleep in the guest.” 

“ew. it smells like yuuji and megumi’s cologne. and while they smell great, i don’t like smelling like them when i wake up.” 

“does our bed smell like me?” he asks. 

“yeah but i prefer the real thing so i sleep on the couch. i refuse to elaborate.” 

sukuna gets it. 

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m almost done and then…then i’m running back to you, alright?” he whispers. 

“okay. i do have something planned this weekend for your birthday, but don’t stress about it. it won’t be anything big.” 

sukuna pauses. 

he forgot that his birthday was coming around. 

he would be lying if he was saying that he wasn’t looking forward to it. he supposes that he was your opposite in that way. since no matter what it was, the circumstances good or bad, your birthday had been soured so bad that nothing could make it good – not even him. 

he didn’t blame you. or even take it personally.  

but he couldn’t relate. because he knew you – and it wasn’t arrogant of him to assume that you were going to go all out, no matter the circumstances. not only did you have a bad habit of leaving tabs or notes that were very clearly labeled gift ideas out in the open, but he knew that you would do something special for him, that he’d get to chart in all of the cherished memories that he had with you. 

it would be another sour patch of his that you’d sew right over, with careful and steady hands. but with every milestone that he thought of now, it was bittersweet. 

first birthday with you. first birthday without his dad – not that it really meant much in the first place. 

“no parties.” sukuna clarifies. 

“no, it’ll actually be just you and me. and i think you’ll like it, you–” 

“i’ll love it.” 

you smile. 

“i love you.” you state. 

he’s quiet on the other side of the line. 

“sukuna?” 

“i want to say it back but the moms are staring at me.” he mumbles quietly.

you smirk. 

“say it.” 

“no.” 

“you’re going to let me go to bed without an i love you?” 

“i’ll text it to you.” 

“ryomen sukuna. tell me you love me.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“i love you. call me if you can’t sleep, okay?” 

you can hear giggling in the background. and you’re sure he’s three different shades of pink. 

“i will.” 

--

not even an hour later, yuuji is standing on your doorstep – with a peachy smile and a bag slung over his shoulder. 

“yuuji? you–” 

“sleepover!” 

he walks past you and falls straight onto the couch, placing his bag next to him as he reaches for the remote. you quickly shut the door and take the spot next to him, watching as he starts shuffling through the movies, so cavalier about barging in so late and unannounced. 

“do you always show up to people’s apartment’s unprovoked with all your things?” 

yuuji smiles, reaching forward to flick your forehead. 

“no, just for you.” 

“figures.” 

you watch as he flits through all of the movies, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you return the gesture and lean your cheek against his. it takes two seconds for you to figure it out. 

“did he call you?” you ask. 

“he did. said some weird stuff about tables and carrying stuff. pretty sure he was just asking me to keep you company, which don’t mind if i do.” yuuji responds. 

you smile. of course. 

“i made one half joke about how i don’t like to sleep alone and he sent you running.” 

“isn’t that sweet? i can tell he’s been thinking about you a lot.” yuuji responds. 

you lean back, giving him a confused look. and you can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, but pretends otherwise. 

“what? it’s sweet! he asked me to come take care of you.” yuuji clarifies. 

“since when do you find him sweet? no lecture about how he thinks i can’t handle things on my own?” 

yuuji scoffs, before pressing on the princess diaries. 

“you can’t take care of anything on your own.” 

“what a vote of confidence.” you deadpan

yuuji sighs, as you watch the movie start, and both sink deeper into the couch. a telltale sign that you realize both sukuna and yuuji have – one that you deeply appreciate – is that they’re always careful with their words. 

the opposite of sammy really, of your dad too. they won’t talk until they know whatever they’re going to say is something they mean. 

“you can take care of things on your own. but i like that being with him means that you don’t have to sometimes. for both of you.” yuuji states. 

you smile. 

“i like that too. it’s a nice change.” you respond. 

“i’m really sorry, y/n.” 

“i know.” 

yuuji swallows hard, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie before he turns to your side, your limbs now a tangled mess of being criss-crossed as he leans forward. 

“really. i’ve been so shit to you when this is all i’ve ever wanted for you.” 

“it’s okay. this…this stuff is really complicated for you and…” 

yuuji shakes his head, before looking down at your joined hands, fingers interlocked together. 

“this isn’t any excuse but…but…” 

yuuji sighs. 

“when sukuna came back, i thought he was really different. i mean, he was really different. i don’t know what you noticed, but he came back softer. he always gave me my space and let me come to him and we were working back through all of our stuff together.” yuuji starts. 

you’re not sure if you noticed a difference after he came back. he always seemed the same as always – a little withholding, like he was keeping you at arms distance. though, that seems to make more sense to you now. 

“but he’s still the brother i grew up with. there’s still things that i’m sensitive to, that…that i can’t get over.” 

you feel a pang in your chest. 

“i get that. you know…i kind of get that with sammy sometimes.” 

yuuji frowns. 

“yeah?” he whispers. 

you can feel the bitter contempt in your chest lingering. 

“i don’t know. i thought things were going well but…sometimes it’s just the same things as before. she’s just…always brushing me off. so harsh with her words. sometimes i think about the funeral and i’m glad sukuna’s not here just so i can lock myself in here and be alone.” 

you shake your head. 

“it’s like she’s picking at a scab. it’s the one thing i don’t want her to do and it’s the one thing that always happens. and she’s the only person who has that power in the first place, who…who gets to be that sore spot. and i know that it’s just how it is and it’s complicated but…” 

“but you can’t.” yuuji finishes. 

you shrug. 

“you were my scab.” yuuji states. 

you curl your nose in disgust, looking up to find the same expression mirrored on his face before you both laugh. 

“real cute.” 

“i mean…my thing with sukuna was that he was always better than me in every respect. that…that everything he did was perfect, that…that he was born normal and i wasn’t.” 

you cringe. 

“you are normal, you..” 

yuuji smiles. 

“i know i am. i just mean in my head, i always figured things were so easy for him. school was easy, sports were easy. he liked girls – he’d never have to sit there and debate if he was ever going to meet someone who liked him and when if he did, he wouldn’t have to give up his entire family for it.” 

yuuji pauses. 

“you were my best friend. you are my best friend. you’re my thing that’s always been easy. we don’t really fight, spending time with you never gets old, and…and really, you’re the only person i’ve known will always be around.” 

you smile. 

“it just felt like another thing he was going to be better at than me. and it’s selfish, but it was something i didn’t want to share. and i don’t expect you to get it, but…” 

you scoff. 

“don’t expect me to get it? you’re forgetting that i was the one who had to learn how to share you first. and maybe i didn’t say it out loud, but…i had some evil monologues for megumi that i was cooking up in my head.” 

yuuji laughs, almost like he’s relieved. 

“really?” 

“trust me. there was an entire basis behind the petty comments that i was making. i should have been more open with it but…but i don’t hate you for feeling that way. if anything, it makes me kind of happy, i guess. it did feel like you forgot all about me once you guys started dating, but…it’s nice to know you feel that way still. about me. even if it was annoying.” 

you pause. 

“you and i are special. and i can’t speak for you, but…sukuna’s never going to be what you are for me. i love him, but you…you’re not someone who could ever be replaced.” you affirm. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and megumi isn’t what you are for me either. he’s the love of my life. but you’re always going to be my soulmate.” 

you smile, rolling over the word in your head. soulmate – you and yuuji were soulmates. and he leans forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. 

“now go on. tell me about him.” 

“what?” you ask. 

“i know you want to tell me about how happy you are. how it makes you feel. and i want to hear it. just refrain from talking about like how big his dick is or whatever and i’ll be fine.” 

you smile. 

“really? you mean it?” 

yuuji smiles back. 

“i’ve unfortunately heard the entire story of what that asshole was doing to you after the fact. it would make me really happy to hear how happy you are now.” 

you lean back on the couch and explain it all to him – french toast, bridgerton mugs (which he winces at when he remembers sammy broke them), emails, his coworkers, kisa, and everything in between. 

you don’t hear the apartment creak at night when you go to bed – instead it’s his labored breaths next to yours. 

--

sukuna makes it back early in the morning to find yuuji making breakfast in the kitchen and what he knows is you facedown still dead asleep in the mound of blankets on the couch. he gives yuuji a noncommittal wave before walking over to the couch and bending down at the side. 

sukuna can’t help but reach forward, brushing his back of his fingers against the softness of your cheek before tangling your hair away from your forehead. he can smell the remnants of the shampoo in your hair, your lips still a glossy pink from the balm you put on at night. 

“wake her up. give her a kiss.” yuuji whispers, now standing at his side. 

“are you crazy? she’s sleeping.” 

sukuna shakes his head, reaching forward to press a kiss to your hairline, before the two of them shuffle back to the kitchen. sukuna settles for a cup of coffee as he watches yuuji make the mix of french toast, the stillness hanging in the air between them. 

“dunno. if it were me and i went days without seeing megumi, i’d wake him up right away. why deprive myself of love and affection?” 

“you should deprive yourself more often. i’ve seen you two kiss far too many times. heard the words gumi bear way more than i’d like to.” 

yuuji snorts. 

“was she happy you came?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. doubt she heard any of that creaking or anything she was telling you about since we were talking the entire time.” yuuji responds. 

it’s a small breath of relief – that sending yuuji was the right move – only to be coupled with guilt. 

sukuna hadn’t had time to check in on yuuji. 

“what did you talk about?” 

yuuji grins. 

“you.” 

yuuji looks over at him, grinning at him fully this time. 

“special edition bridgerton mugs? twilight themed emails? who knew you were so fucking corny? and that you watch bridgerton?” 

sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up, as he rolls his eyes. 

“she loves that shit. she made me watch it.” 

“no, she didn’t. she told me that you had watched it already and that your favorite season is the first one? not only are you a liar but you have god awful taste.” 

“let me guess. you like kate and anthony, like every other person on the fucking planet?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“everyone likes it for a reason. it’s perfect.” 

the two of them glare at each other, before giving up, and letting the same stillness take over. it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something lingering there – the two of them are stuck in their own heads about how they’re going to approach it, and more importantly, who is going to do it first. 

it’s yuuji. 

“the mugs thing is sweet. i’m sorry sammy broke them.” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“i’m bidding on ebay. no big deal.” 

yuuji notes that he responds to the second part of the statement and not the first. 

“i like that you do nice things for her. she really appreciates that you do.” yuuji repeats. 

 sukuna sighs. 

“did she say that?” 

yuuji smiles. 

“all that and more. she really loves you.” 

sukuna lets his eyes wander back to the couch, settling back into how foreign the apartment feels from being away for so long, and trying to let it all come back to him – how it was before he left things, how the two of you were. 

he’s scared he’ll do it wrong. 

“I’m really happy for you too. she’s exactly what you deserve.” yuuji states. 

it’s a weird sense of deja vu that sukuna gets – of the very first night. that loud bar, the mildew smell in the bathroom, and your tear streaked pink face. of the very first time that it occurred to him that there were people who had upset you, who had let you down, and that maybe he was the only person who was good enough for you – because he was the only one who intended to give you what you deserve. 

that he got to reap the goodness of the sweet love when he knew for a fact that he’d always be one to give it back to you, no matter how he was. that he was exactly what you deserved – maybe the only person who was because of how much he loved you. 

“what?” 

yuuji takes a beat. 

“were you expecting the opposite?” yuuji asks. 

“do you blame me?” 

yuuji shakes his head. 

“i am really happy for both of you. but i wouldn’t lie if i said i was more happy for you. i’ve known her a long time – and i’ve always wanted her to have someone who saw her for how special she is. and i always knew that it would happen, it was just a matter of time.” 

yuuji continues. 

“but i’m more happy for you. i had no idea that you had liked her for that long. i only now realize that the only person you could be that open with is her. and well…i don’t fucking know. shit sucked when we were kids. maybe for all of us, but for you the most. i know she loves hard. and i mean it, that’s what you deserve after everything.” 

there’s a lump in sukuna’s throat. he wants to tell yuuji everything – about why he left, about how him being around made it easy for him for a long time, how there was a time where he didn’t think he was going to live past twenty and now he’s reaching yet another birthday on the weekend. 

“i spent my entire life thinking i’d never get to be in love. and i’m not sure if that’s what you thought – but i know you weren’t ever thinking you’d get the girl of your dreams, and that on top of that, that it would be perfect. but really. it’s nothing more than what you deserve, sukuna.” 

but all he does is give him a nod. yuuji’s smart enough to parse what it means – that in the long rambling that he heard last night – he knows he has to learn how to read the silences, the quiet cues. 

“it means a lot to her that you came around.” sukuna starts. 

sukuna clears his throat. 

“and to me too.” he finishes. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and i suppose i should thank you. i always said she was like family to me, but it’ll be nice to tell people she’s actually my sister in the future.” yuuji responds, before squeezing his shoulder. 

sukuna smiles. 

“do you really let her call you ryomen?” yuuji asks. 

“yeah.” 

“thought you hated that name.” 

“i did.” 

there’s a reason that he went by sukuna. because every time that he slipped, he’d hear that godwful venomous voice, of his father telling him that he had given him such a special family name – and that sukuna had done nothing to deserve it. 

sukuna vividly remembers when he was a kid, when he used to beg everyone around him to call him sukuna, correcting them until they virtually forgot that his name was ryomen in the first pace. 

sukuna can feel the dryness in his throat, accompanied with a burning wetness in his eyes. yuuji makes no comment about it. 

“she just says it with so much love.” 

sukuna pauses, trying to will away that rising wave of emotion that was simmering in his chest, and put it away for the time being. 

“what did she get me for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“she’s taking you on a weekend trip. a few cities over. she said there’s some cherry blossoms in season and that there’s a few museums that she wants you to see. figured it would be a nice rest for you given everything that’s been going on.” 

sukuna sighs, only because the wave comes back in full force. 

to be loved is to be known. 

clear cut proof that you had heard him loud and clear, when he had bared his soul to you. and not only that, but had known well enough that whatever was stewing in his head was getting dangerously close, maybe the closest it had been in years, to the edge – and that you had every intention to pull him back in the way he had pulled himself out in the first time. 

“is that good?” yuuji asks. 

“it’s perfect.” sukuna responds, before giving him one last nudge. 

sukuna decides that he won’t deprive himself. and instead leans forward, pressing his lips against yours – and pleasantly surprised when you smile right back at him in your sleep, his name honey on your lips, as he sinks into your arms. 

--

next part linked here

an: kind of filler again. sorry. apologies. also two more of this fic before it's done :O

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 3)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 2

Days turn into weeks and they fall into a routine. Y/N and Haymitch lead different lives for the most part. He likes to stay in, she needs to go out. To see people. To prove to herself that the world didn’t actually change, only she did.

“My father wants you to come over for dinner.” Y/N tells her husband, upon her return from town.

“He wants me?” Haymitch frowns.

“Well, it’s a family dinner,” Y/N shrugs. “You haven’t really met my family.”

“I know your family.”

“I didn’t mean…” Maysilee.

“You said your mother struggles,” Haymitch remembers their conversations. Every word she’s ever said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to see me.” The boy who won, the year her little sister died.

“My dad wouldn’t have asked if he thought it would be too much for her. He’s very protective of my mother.” Sometimes at the expense of his own daughters. “It would mean a lot to me.”

“Fine.” Haymitch takes a long swig from his glass. “We can play happy family, why not?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to put on a show. Just be yourself.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d almost think you like me.” Haymitch smirks.

“Good thing you know better.” Y/N grins, turning away from him.

————————————————————————

“Well, Haymitch, it’s good to see you again.” Mayor Undersee claps the other man on the back as he steps over the threshold into Y/N’s childhood home.

“Nice to see you too.” Haymitch forces a smile.

“Please, come in and make yourself comfortable at the table. Dinner will be served momentarily.”

Y/N gives Haymitch’s hand a squeeze, kissing her father’s cheek, in greeting, before leading him deeper into the house. If Haymitch could even call it a house. More like a mansion, similar to the ones they occupy in victor’s village.

Madge and Mrs. Undersee are waiting for them at the dinner table. The girl glares up at him from her seat. She’s younger than Maysilee was, when Haymitch met her in the arena, but it’s still like seeing a ghost. It hurts to look at her.

“Madge pie, this is Haymitch.” Y/N smiles at her little sister.

“I know who he is.” Madge bites out. Y/N never had many nice things about him, until a few weeks ago when she up and married him.

“Y/N talks about you all the time.” Haymitch tells Madge. “All good things.”

Madge scowls, and says nothing.

“I understand that this is confusing for you. I know he and I don’t have the best track record.” Y/N sighs. “But what I need you to know is that Haymitch is good to me; he’s so good to me and he’s…important to me.”

Haymitch stares at Y/N, snapping his mouth shut as Madge huffs, but agrees to drop the subject.

He was important to her? Haymitch stews on it, through dinner. He couldn’t be important to her, he isn’t good enough. It’s his fault they’re in this mess to begin with.

But Y/N seems…happy. Happy with him and her family all together. Happy to make him part of her family.

Perhaps things have changed for her too.

The Undersees are nice enough, but they make Haymitch long for his own family. To have people he could bring her home to meet. His mother would’ve loved her. His little brother. His father was a man of few words, even still, Haymitch is sure Y/N could’ve pulled a smile from him.

When they are stuffed from their meal, the table disbands. Waving Y/N and Haymitch goodbye, from the doorway.

The victors set off, back to their village. Their foot steps falling in tandem atop the melting snow.

“I think they like you.” Y/N says, after a moment of silence.

“Your kid sister wants to string me up.” Haymitch chuckles.

“Madge will come around. She just needs time.”

Haymitch nods. “Well, they invited me for an encore next week. So at least there’s that.”

“You can tell them no, you know?” Y/N reminds him.

He shrugs, “happy wife, happy life.” You’re important to me too.

They manage to make it home, to the new couch in the foyer, before they’re a mess of lips, tongues and wandered hands.

“I want you.” Y/N breathes, staring up at him above her.

“You have me.” Haymitch assures her.

“Please?” She is prepared to beg. Because surely that wasn’t allowed.

They haven’t…not since their wedding night. Never just for them. Never just because they wanted to. Mostly, they exchanged a few words and then did this; kisses and heavy petting.

“Angel,” he sighs. She couldn’t possibly want that, she must want comfort and to be close to him. “This is enough, I’ll stay right here.” With her legs wrapped around him like a vice. “We don’t have to do anything else.” He nuzzles her nose.

“I want to. Just for us. Unless you don’t-”

“Oh believe me, I want.” His cock is hard and pulsing between them. “But only if you’re sure.”

Y/N nods. “I’m sure.”

Haymitch kisses her then, letting her set the pace. Their clothing hits the floor and Y/N keens as he slips a hand between them. She’s so wet.

“Please.”

“Anything you want, anything you need.” Haymitch murmurs, lining himself up with her entrance and easing inside.

“Fuck,” Y/N says. He angles her hips upward, hitting that spot with each pass.

“Is that all you want, angel?” He hums, cupping her breast in his hand. “I’ll keep you full of me and make you cum until you can’t think straight. Is that what you want?”

Y/N nods.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he all but growls. Leaning back on his heels, driving into her faster. “I want that too.”

He can’t avoid her like this, or feign a shred of indifference. All he can do is love her and love her and love her. Fuck, how he loves her. Even though he isn’t supposed to, even if he’ll only admit it to himself when he’s balls deep. Haymitch is in love. In sinking, festering, all consuming, inconvenient, love.

Y/N kisses him reverently, because Haymitch makes her feel things. He’s one of the few people who can, after the games. Like parts of her went numb in the arena. She feels nothing at all. But he sets her ablaze. Sometimes with rage, other times with passion, but she’s never felt this way about anyone before.

It is real, so very real.

The coil in her belly goes hot, impossibly tight. What is he doing to her? “I-” she begins to protest. “Uh!”

“You’re ok.” Haymitch assures her, pressing his hand to her lower belly, adding to the sensation.

“Oh god,” Y/N gasps. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Building and building… “Haymitch!” She claws at his forearms, in warning.

A rush of wetness greets him. Her cheeks heat up, but Haymitch won’t allow her to be embarrassed. “I want you all over me- make you cum on every piece of furniture in this damn house.”

Y/N whines, lost in him. His words, his touch, his eyes, boring into her soul as he ruins her. Until there is nothing left but him. All of him and all of her, splayed out for the other to see.

————————————————————————

Things are different after that. Haymitch becomes very…attentive. Bringing Y/N little gifts. Anything from books he found at the hob, to flowers he’d found growing around the back of their house.

Because it has become theirs now, not just his. Little pieces of her are everywhere, twining themselves into his DNA.

Y/N takes an interest in fixing his favorite meals, watching his face light up.

“Went down to the hob today.” Haymitch tells her, lying his latest offering on the dinner table.

Y/N turns away from her pot on the stove, flipping the burner off. “Oh?”

“Funny enough, they asked about you.”

“Haymitch-”

“Whatever you’re doing down there,” supplying them with things to sell, bringing money back into the district, “is grounds for execution. Even for a victor.” Haymitch reminds her. “So you’re gonna stop doing it.”

“I can’t stop, Haymitch. Those people, our people, they need that money. They’re starving!”

“I’m taking over. You supply the goods, I’ll pitch in some things of my own. But you stay away from the hob. Peacekeepers can’t see you there, nobody can see you there.” Haymitch continues.

“I’ve been doing this for years.” Since before the games. “I haven’t been caught.”

“You got lucky.” He reasons, “or maybe you didn’t.”

“What?”

“What are the odds that the mayor’s daughter gets her name called at the reaping? You didn’t have to take tesserae, so your name was in there once? That’s some incredibly bad luck on your part. Or maybe somebody did know that you were trying to help the people in the seam.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder.

“My aunt’s name was in there once. Just one time. It can happen and it does.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I know this is important to you, but I can’t have you there. It’s too much of a risk. I’ll be the middle man.”

“Fine,” Y/N sighs. Reaching down for his glass and taking a swig. The liquid is foul, burning her nostrils and throat, causing her to sputter and gag. “Is that fucking rubbing alcohol?”

“That’s the hard stuff, angel.” Haymitch claps his hand against her back as she continues her coughing fit. “Should’ve started off with wine or champagne.” Something sweet for his sweet girl.

“It tastes different when…” Y/N’s eyes dart to his lips. “When it’s on you.”

“Interesting,” Haymitch muses. Suddenly he’s having her for dinner.

Part 4

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila

[jolapeno]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

[ponderingmoonlight]

what if you were a sorcerer who was dating nanami and when you came back from some mission abroad you got to meet itadori and watch nanami be all dad-like (and itadori obviously loves you)

I LOVED this idea and I thank you in the name of everyone reading this fic for suggesting it before what happened last episode 😭 Please let me know what you think!

Nanami's girlfriend watching Nanami being in full dad mode with Yuji

Pairing: Nanami x girlfriend!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: After finally coming back home from a mission far away, all you want to do is seeing your precious boyfriend Kento again. But instead of a afternoon of cuddling him, you get to see him act like a real dad towards a new student.

Warnings: Really none, mild language here and there, Nanami being the best dad ever, this is the comfort we all need

It’s been a hell of a month. A month of desperately fighting against countless curses, a month away from the love of your life. At first it was like a punch in your face, realizing that you won’t be able to see Kento within the next weeks. And even though you texted every free minute and he called you every night, you missed him more than anything. But now, you’re finally on your way back. Back into your normal life, back into the open arms of your boyfriend.

Your feet carry you down the path to Jujutsu High on their own, remembered with every fiber of your being. Despite all the horrible things you had to endure, being a jujutsu sorcerer feels like your unshakable fate. Even better that Kento is right by your side every step of the way.

“(y/n), is that you? Haven’t see ya for ages! Heard you did really well at…wherever you were”, Gojo shouts from afar.

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, turning around and waving at him frantically. Oh, you never thought you’d miss seeing his stupid grin every morning this much.

“I’m just glad it’s over. Hey, did you see Kento? I’m searching for him”, you reply.

Please, let him be at Jujutsu High. When he called you yesterday, he wasn’t sure whenever he’ll have to leave for a mission today or not. Maybe he’s still here, maybe you’ll be able to help him out. Fighting by his side definitely sounds better than waiting another second to see him, even though all you want to do right now is lay down and sleep for 15 hours straight.

“Oh, he’s in the main building, talking with a new student. You should pay them a visit, I’m sure Yuji will love you.”

Yuji, huh? You haven’t heard his name before. To be honest, the only new student you know of his Megumi Fushiguro. Were you really gone that long? You sign to yourself before shaking your head, a smile forming itself on your lips.

Other than your boyfriend, you love to greet the new students with all your heart. After all, they are your future, the ones who will look after everything when you are gone. It’s your responsibility as well to make them feel welcomed, right?

“In the classroom?”

“Yup. I have to leave now, send my best wishes to precious Nanami!”

You giggle to yourself with a wide smile, moving towards the main building of Jujutsu High, Gojo’s dumb grin still present in your mind. Despite the fact that Kento tells you over and over how annoying that white-haired man is, you know that he still likes him deep down.

Deep deep down.

“Kento?”, you gently question into the biggest classroom in the building, eyes peaking through the door ever so slightly.

Your heart jumps in confusion. Huh, he’s not there. But Gojo sounded so sure of his words. Also, he just came back from the main building, so he knew for sure…

“Where the hell are you”, you mutter to yourself, roaming around the different rooms like a lost puppy.

Until suddenly, your ears perk up.

“Nanami-sensei, I’m looking forward working with you!” a young male voice announces with so much passion that you just have to draw closer.

Wait, did that boy just call your boyfriend Nanami-sensei?

“I’m not a teacher here, don’t call me sensei.”

You giggle to yourself at the annoyed tone in Kento’s voice. Oh, you just know that this touched his heart, without any doubt. Even if he’d never admit it.

“Sorry, it’s just that I think I can learn a lot from you. Gojo-sensei told me about your abilities and I want to be as good as you someday!”

Your heart melts in an instant against the wall, a gently smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy. Is he the one Gojo talked about earlier, the new student who just arrived named Yuji?

“I’m just here to do my work, Itadori”, your boyfriend remarks dryly.

You bet he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his tall figure lingering over the boy as if he wouldn’t care about his words at all. But you know him better than that. You know he’ll tell you about all the things this student said just before drifting off to sleep that night. Your fingertips begin to tickle, body aching to move closer to the door, to enter it, to finally see your boyfriend again. It’s been so long since you last saw him him, months without sinking into his opened arms.

Fuck it.

“Kento”, you breathe out, body stumbling through the door when you finally catch a glimpse of him.

Oh, he looks just as good as you imagined. Hair neatly trimmed as usual, broad chest covered by his dark blue shirt with his sleeved rolled up ever so slightly and his strong arms crossed.

The eyes of the boy in front of him widen, a bright grin forming on his lips when catching a glimpse of you.

“You must be the new student. Welcome at Jujutsu High! My name is (y/n) and I am a grade 1 sorcerer and this man’s girlfriend. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to call me”, you interduce yourself warmly along with giving him a soft clap on his shoulder.

“You are Nanami-sensei’s girlfriend?”, he repeats without thinking twice.

“Don’t call me that”, Kento grumbles.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again, sweetheart. I missed you”, he continues, placing his hand around your waist in a way that makes you see stars.

Your heart skips a beat, body falling against his in an instant. If he only knew how much you missed him too, how much it touches you to finally be able to lean against his shoulder again. But you will have to put your longing feelings aside until the evening. After all, Kento still has work to do as it seems.

“It’s an honour to meet you, (y/n)-sensei! I hope to work with you someday.”

“Oh, you definitely will”, you giggle at the sweet boy with pink hair in front of you.

“I’ll leave now for my mission.”

“Wait”, Nanami interrupts immediately.

You look up at your boyfriend in surprise. Why is his jaw suddenly so tight?

“There is no way I will let you go there alone.”

“But Nanami-sensei-”

“Don’t call me that. As far as I know, this might be a grade 1 curse. I won’t let you go on your own.”

Oh god, he’s worried. Despite he tries to hide it so miserably, it’s written on his slightly scrunched up face.

You desperately try to hide the grin that starts creeping up your facial features from your boyfriend, covering your cheeky mouth with your hand. It was rare for you to actually see him around his students. And while you know very well how much he cares for him, you never thought he’d sound like a full-on dad while talking to them.

“So you’ll come with me?”

The eyes from the boy in front of you light up immediately, jumping up and down in joy while your boyfriend signs next to you.

“Come on, show a little mercy”, you mutter into his ear amused.

“Get going, Itadori-kun. I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Of course, Nanami-sensei. Oh, it was really nice to meet you, (y/n)-sensei, I really hope I’ll see you again someday.”

“Come on or we’ll be late”, your boyfriend protests.

-later that evening-

“How are you doing, love? Does it still hurt?”

Gently, you rub the ointment on the minor wound that is left on his right side, eyes locked with his gorgeous ones.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright. It’s Itadori-kun I’m worried about.”

“You seem to really care about this boy”, you comment softly, hands busy with bandaging him up.

“Not in the way you suggest”, he immediately replies, serious eyes locking with yours.

Pictures of your first encounter with Yuji flood your mind, how your boyfriend spoke to him and refused to let him go on his own. And even now, he seems to have this boy on his precious mind.

“You kinda act like a dad though.”

His eyes widen in horror, hand grabbing your shoulder faster than you’re able to react.

“That’s not true.”

“I doubt it”, you challenge him with a bright smile, bursting out in uncontrollable giggling.

With a swift motion he places himself on top of you, staring down at you in all seriousness with a minor spark of humour glimmering in his eyes while you can’t catch your breath from all the laughter.

“I’m not acting like a dad.”

“Oh, you totally do”, you press out, the sheer weight of his immense body on top of yours making it hard to breathe along with snickering your heart out.

“I just don’t want him to get hurt. He’s still in his first year and new at Jujutsu High. Also, I’m not fully convinced that Gojo takes good care of him”, Nanami explains briefly.

“Well, that’s exactly what good dads do.”

“(y/n)”, he warns you.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you aren’t even able to see his face anymore, dying of laughter against his chest while making a few miserable attempts to free yourself out of his grip. God, how much you love that man. How much you love the way he cares about others while not admitting to himself, how he looks after people before thinking even about himself. Kento Nanami has a heart made out of pure gold that he shows far too rare.

“But do you…do you really think I’d be a good dad?”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

[theemporium]

🧸 plsss can you write girl dad jack?💗 do u prefer specific requests idk, I can resend if you need💗

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“No!”

“Honey, Daddy needs to—”

“No, I don’t want him to go!”

“Penelope—”

“I don’t want Daddy to leave me!”

The meltdown had seemingly came out of nowhere from your three year old child. One minute you had been running around the house, making sure Jack had everything he needed before Luke picked him up so they could head to the airport for their two week roadie. The next thing you knew your daughter was hysterically sobbing her eyes out as she tried to open Jack’s suitcase and unpack it. 

It broke his heart to see. 

He knew she had been too young before to fully understand the concept of a roadie or the fact he was gone for so long. And maybe it was easier when she had no conception of time or how long he was away, that she would just be excited when he was back. But she was older now and she was starting to catch on, and it seemed like the sight of his suitcases by the door were enough to have her sobbing. 

You stood there, a little lost and looking just as defeated as you tried to comfort your daughter but she wasn’t having it. You knew Luke would be arriving soon. You knew that Jack would have to leave soon so they didn’t miss their flight. You knew this was the last thing he needed to deal with before he left but nothing was calming her down. 

However, Jack was already one step ahead of you as he quickly kneeled down, giving you a look that he had everything under control before he slowly reached for his little girl.

“Penelope, baby, come to Daddy,” Jack murmured in a soft voice, catching the younger girl by surprise as she sniffled. She looked up at him with wide eyes, taking a few seconds before she launched herself into his arms and buried her face into his chest.

“Please don’t go,” she cried, her little fists clenching the fabric of his hoodie tightly in her hold. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Jack hummed as he rocked them both back and forth, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I don’t wanna leave you either.”

“Then don’t go,” Penelope stated so bluntly, it almost made him laugh. 

“I have to, baby,” Jack whispered as he pulled back so he could look down at her little face. “It’s Daddy’s job.”

Penelope pouted. “Then get a new job.”

Jack’s lips twitched upwards. “I like my job. And you like it too.”

She sighed. “I do.” 

“I will come back quickly,” he promised his daughter as he held out his pinky. “And we will talk every single day I’m gone.”

Penelope looked up with big eyes. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Jack nodded as he hooked his pinky with her own. “And I’m gonna bring you presents.”

Her eyes lit up. “Presents?” 

“So many,” Jack smiled. “Only if you’re good for Mama.”

“I’ll be good,” she nodded her head quickly.

“Good,” Jack grinned before leaning down to kiss her head. “Now, c’mon. Help me get my bags to Uncle Luke’s car and maybe he will get you presents too.”

“More presents!”

.

[mangekyuou]

If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.

★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★

── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together

── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you

── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out

── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father

── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether

── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for

── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall

── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to

── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out

── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes

── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no

── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get

── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── girl dad

── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that

── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks

── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits

── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other

── nap time is a VERY serious thing

── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy

── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping

── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up

── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him

── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person

── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training

── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode

★ EUSTASS KID ★

── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children

── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it

── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that

── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for

── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help

── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son

── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest

── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose

── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do

── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck

── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude

── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing

── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments

── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other

── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood

── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions

── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug

★ KILLER ★

── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter

── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family

── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul

── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest

── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms

── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??

── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms

── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens

── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation

── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him

── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon

── ….they were not going to take the chances

── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up

── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching

── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh

── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.

── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[glennrheesworld]

if you do negan could you do any kind of thing about reader being his son and meeting up after not seeing eachother for the apocalypse

𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧~

genre: angst & fluff pairing: Negan x m!reader summary: It's been years since the reader has last heard of and seen his dad, Negan. That's until now. warning: cursing & mention of death

a/n: wrote this whole entire thing at 2AM... my sleep schedule is fucked up 😭 (not proofread)

Negan had left you and Mom back at home, as he had decided to find the necessary medical supplies to aid Mom’s health condition. But he was taking a while and so you decided to go out and look for him; leaving behind Mom who was sleeping soundlessly.

After aimlessly yet cautiously walking around town, you had found yourself lost. Everything was in ruins and just unrecognizable, which made matters worse. You didn’t know where to go or where to find Negan. It had been a full day and when you finally found your way back home, you came face-to-face with a terrifying scene.

Mom’s heart had stopped. And Mom was no longer Mom, but a corpse rotting on the bed you would often cuddle in with her.

You couldn’t hold back the tears that began to spill, the heartache burning inside you as you clutched at your chest. Dad was nowhere to be seen. So, you stayed there for a week, expecting Dad to show up, maybe even expecting that everything would be back to normal when you closed your eyes every night. Desperately wanting to wake up from this nightmare.

— — —

It had been years since the death of Mom and since you’ve seen Negan. You didn’t know what happened to Dad, but one thing was for sure. You hated him for leaving that day and not returning.

Surviving on your own wasn’t as hard as you thought. Sure, you had no company and were often bored of the silence, yet it was peaceful. You still miss Mom and Dad, but you learned to live on your own, to live for them.

Walking through a now abandoned neighborhood, you could feel the soft breeze of the chilly summer afternoon. You were searching for shelter, as you had been sleeping in a car for the past month before someone decided to ransack the vehicle, taking almost everything, you had inside.

Finally reaching a nice and somewhat clean-looking house, you decide to enter it. Ready in case a Walker lunges at you. You open the door wide enough, holstering your machete as your eyes scan the inside.

After a while of making sure the home was clear of Walkers, you shut the door and let yourself fall on the couch, a sigh leaving your lips.

Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in days. With a soft groan, you get off the couch and walk into the kitchen. It was small, yet colorful. You open the cabinets and cupboards only two find a few canned foods.

Turning the 4 cans, you read the front of them: Canned Corn, Canned Peaches, Tomato Soup, and Baked Beans. It wasn’t something appetizing, but it would do the job. A spoonful of corn is shoved into your mouth, helping to get rid of the hunger you’re feeling. The can was almost empty, and your boredom was beginning to get to you.

But before you can even think of what to do, the sound of footsteps can be heard right outside the front door.

Fuck, why this house out of all?

You thought to yourself before quickly shoving the other canned food into your backpack and getting your machete readying in a strong grip. Your eyes dart around the kitchen, trying to find the perfect hiding spot. The pantry or under the table.

The door opens and you can hear what sounds like three men talking, steps getting closer, and just before they reach the kitchen, you duck under the table.

Pressing your back against the wall, you bite your tongue to keep quiet and ready for anything. Your eyes follow the shoes as they walk past the table. The noise of cabinets flying open, and dishes being moved around with the sound of two men talking filled the small kitchen before it slowly faded away.

You discreetly watch from under the table, following the men walk out of the kitchen with your eyes, The floorboards and staircase creak as they walk up to the second level of the home. This was your only chance to get out and so you took it.

Sneaking out from under the table you fix your backpack before quietly running out of the kitchen into the living room, almost out the front door before you’re stopped halfway.

“Oh, not so fast young man.” A teasing voice calls after you, having caught you trying to run out of the house. A voice you recognized so well.

You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath, “Shit.” You weren’t expecting anyone to be in the living room.

Slow heavy steps walk to behind you, your back facing this stranger.

“If I were you, I would drop that.” He’s talking about your machete. You feel your eyes sting and your heart begins to beat with anxiety. Something you haven’t felt in so long.

You slowly turn around with hands raised, weapon still in your possession. Your eyes land on his face.

He looked the same but, still different. Something about him had changed and you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Dad?” Your voice wavers, holding yourself together.

Negan’s smirk falls off his face when he stares at you, eyes scanning your face. His eyes search yours, trying to read you. Wondering if he was dreaming again.

“Son?” He lowers his bat, face softening when it fully settles in him. He had found you, after years of searching. You were there, standing just a couple of feet away from him. All this time he thought his only son was gone forever, never to be found.

Even though you had so much anger bottled up inside you, you still couldn't hold back the joy and relief you felt when seeing your dad. Without hesitation, you drop your weapon and run toward him, embracing him in a tight and much-needed hug.

“Every day, I thought about you,” Negan tightens the hug, the sensation of feeling the love and relief from him made you at ease. He lets out a chuckle, pulling you back to grab the sides of your shoulders, looking you up and down.

He smiles down at you, eyes teary as he sniffles. “You've grown into a hell of a survivor, kid. I'm proud of you.” He grabs your face before ruffling your hair, earning a slight groan from you.

“I learned from the best.” You tell him, a sad smile on your lips. Negan seems to take notice of it as he pats your shoulder. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you like I promised.”

His words make your heartache.

“It’s all in the past now… I’m just glad to have found you, Dad.” You remind him, blinking back tears before he pulls you back into a hug. This time, something different filled the room.

Peace.

[babyangelsky]

Back in March when I was doing the BL Challenge (brought to us by the lovely @negrowhat), I mentioned in my post about Korn Theerapanyakul that it isn't often that we get an actual villain who isn't just a love rival in a BL. The presence of an antagonist in a story doesn't necessarily make them the villain and not every story calls for one either. That being said,

Jak is a villain.

I want to break down this shot because it tells us a lot about the dynamic at play and Jak's point of view.

There's a lot going on here. The first thing my eye is drawn to is the line between them (and how Mut is just slightly crossing it since he stepped into the lion's den). Once you see that, the differences between both sides of that line become more obvious.

Mahasamut is dressed in a dark cool color and he's in shadow but his face is catching the light. The flowers, fireplace, candles, and TV behind him feel warm and homey. Fitting for a cafe. On the other hand, Jak is dressed in a warm light color and he's sitting in the light but his face is in shadow. The windows behind him and his positioning makes it feel like he's sitting at a desk in a corner office in a high rise instead of a cafe.

I weirdly wish they'd shown us when they arrived at the table because I would bet you anything that Jak sat down first. He's the older one, he's relaxed, etc. It makes sense for him to have sat first which means he chose that specific seat and the only reason I mention it, and really the only reason it matters, is that it tells us how Jak sees himself in this situation.

He's sitting there in the light in his dad sweater telling Mahasamut about wanting to fulfill his role as Tongrak's father and that he's so sorry about his behavior in the past and wants to atone for it and it's all bullshit because look at this man's face.

It is completely shadowed, just like his intentions and his agenda whereas Mut's is completely in the light.

And the difference becomes even more stark once Jak tells Mut to break up with Tongrak.

Jak is spewing nothing but ill-intentioned bullshit and Mahasamut sees it for what it is and makes it clear that he isn't going to fall for it, which is why things devolve.

Now. Just so we can get it out of the way, yes, obviously Mut should not have agreed to that meeting. He shouldn't have engaged and should've put the baby in the car and driven in the opposite direction. I was screaming at my screen for him to do just that, as were many of us I'm sure. However, I have to point out that it is not inconsistent for him from a character writing standpoint to have agreed.

Lest we forget, he said this to Tongrak last week when he was explaining why he turned Prin down when she tried to buy him.

"But Leah the dad is so much worse how could he not see—!" I know. Trust me, I do.

I'm gonna put on my baseball uniform and go to bat for my man for a second though because I think part of the reason that he agreed to talk to Jak is that he vastly underestimated him. And to be completely fair to Mahasamut, I did, too.

If I had to guess, I would say that he was expecting to be dealing with someone cut from the same cloth as Prin. Maybe a little worse since he knows what Jak has done in the past but certainly nothing he couldn't handle. Mahasamut is not a reckless or a thoughtless man. I don't believe for a second he would've even walked in the building if he didn't feel confident that he could deal with Jak.

The problem is that Jak is very much not cut from the same cloth as Prin.

I noted in my expressions post that it looked like the only time Jak was actually feeling something was when he accepted Prin's offer to destroy Tongrak but that's not entirely accurate. Having gone back to watch his scenes, there's a second instance where genuine emotion peeks through.

There's such a cold rage in his expression when he reproaches Tongrak for choosing his mother and cutting ties with him. And make no mistake, he's not angry because he loves his son. We already know that he doesn't. He's angry because in his eyes, he lost to a woman he felt nothing but disdain for.

If Tongrak and Kwan had chosen Jak over their mother, do you think Jak would be out here causing problems? No, he would've flat out ignored them. He wouldn't bother keeping such close tabs on Rak and his relationships because he would've already won and if he's doing it now, it's because he wants to win.

This is a game to him. This is fun for him.

His son is terrified and begging him not to hurt an innocent little girl and a young man and Jak's response is, "Don't be greedy."

He tries to force his son to choose which one of the people he loves most in this world gets to be safe but the choice isn't really a choice. He says he'll choose for Rak and he already has. Jak had already had Mahasamut beaten by the time he comes to see Tongrak and we know that because Mut's injuries have been treated when Rak gets home and Vivi is already there.

Matter of fact, the only reason Jak is even here talking to his son is because his attempt to convince Mut to leave has failed and he knows that going to Rak won't fail. He knows his son is afraid of him and he knows he can use that fear to get what he wants, which is why he brings up the uncle doctor.

Although we've gotten little of Jak so far, it's safe to assume that he is not a man who makes empty threats. Tongrak knows this, too, which is why he becomes so panicked when the doctor is brought up. We as the audience don't know who this doctor is but we can surmise from Tongrak's expression that he's important enough to be used as a weapon by Jak.

Until this point I don't think Tongrak realized that his father had anything to do with whatever happened to this doctor, he looks genuinely surprised. But all Jak had to do to prove how serious he is about his threat is mention the man. That's all he does. Rak puts the pieces together himself.

And here is where I bring up next week.

If you can look at this man's face as he rips the contract and think for a moment that he's going to try to push Mahasamut away for some flimsy petty reason, I am here to tell you that you are dead wrong. If I so much as SEE the words 'noble idiocy' I'm going to kick off.

Because we know that by the time Tongrak picks up this contract to rip it, Mahasamut has already been beaten twice and that Jak made a barely veiled threat to have him killed. Rak is rightfully terrified of his father and afraid for his boyfriend's life and wanting to keep Mut safe and ALIVE is not noble idiocy.

Now is it going to work? Smart money says no, wild horses couldn't drag Mahasamut away. He loves Rak too much to take any threats lying down. But as much as I understand why Mut talked to Jak, I understand why Rak wants to keep him safe even more.

Jak didn't accept Prin's offer because he wanted to help her. He doesn't give a single shit about her agenda except to mock her for it. He agreed to destroy his son because he wants to, because doing so will allow him to win and get back at his ex-wife. The money is just a bonus.

Jak is a Villain.