#dad's fist in his hair instantly pulling him down

[moriitis]

MORIITIS!!!

DROP SOME THIEF TOBY HEADCANONS AND MY LIFE SHALL BE YOURS!!!!

[slams fists on table] with pleasure.

Thief!Toby Rogers x Reader. HCs! AU!

Content/Warnings; mentions of orgasms, brothels, prostitution, mild language, thievery, crime, murder, stabbings, blunt force trauma, blood, sex.

Grew up in poverty. His dad a drunk, mom working at a tavern to try and scrape by some money for food. Lyra worked as a stable apprentice, she always loved animals.

Toby spent most of his time thieving, browsing the local markets to steal food or trinkets that he can later sell on.

His mom questioned where the food came from but he'd always bluff and just say he'd done some work for coin.

Only one time he got caught.

And when there was a fine that had to be paid, his mother nor father didn't have the funds to pay it.

So he spent his night in the cell at just twelve years old.

This enraged his father, his father already being a low life drunk but the fact that his good for nothing son tainted their name, it made him livid.

So the morning Toby was released from jail, his father publicly beat him.

And people only watched as his father kicked the boy's stomach.

Toby promised Lyra that he would be rich and powerful and that he would send their father to the stocks.

Only one night, when Toby was seventeen, his father came back incredibly drunk.

He'd gambled away what money they had left which ensued a fight between him and his mother.

And he wasn't sure how it happened or why, but his father struck his mother so hard that she fell and hit her head on the side of the wooden table.

Her skull cracked, leaving her bleeding out profusely on the dirt floor.

Toby didn't want to admit it, but he was frightened, he feared for his life as he watched the events unfold.

And he knew he had to find a guard, someone.

But his fear transgressed into something more fierce.

An unspeakable anger, the kind of anger that mimicked his fathers as he pounced.

It was a blur as the dagger began to pierce skin.

And it wasn't until he caught his breath and looked down at his blood soaked hands, did he realise the dreadful crime he had committed.

Before he could even process it, Lyra was walking through the door.

She was speechless, rightfully so and so were he as they both exchanged looks.

Lyra had always been a good girl, they had always had a good relationship with one another, so instantly she knew that Toby was only doing what needed to be done.

No words were spoken as she quickly shut the door behind her to grab essentials.

Clothing, little bits of bread, some coin she had hidden beneath her bed.

She approached Toby with nothing but some linen, wiping the blood clean from his hands, one of her hands reassuringly in his messy brown hair.

"Say goodbye."

Was all she uttered as she quickly took his hand and they both fled from the scene.

She stole one of the horses from the stables she worked at, a horse that was quick and big enough to carry the two of them.

And they both fled together.

Toby and Lyra both lived a life of crime, years on the road together and stealing as much as they needed.

He was adamant that his sister would not be out whoring.

So ensured that he did most the dirty work for Lyra as she tried to find a lodging to spend the night in.

Until one night they had to sleep in the middle of the woods.

And it wasn't so bad until a group of bandits snuck up on them while they slept.

Toby awoke too late, the moment he tried to jump up, they were already holding him securely as they stripped Lyra and made use of her purity.

Toby tried to fight, but he was weak and there were too many of them.

And as Lyra tried to fight back, they stabbed her clean in her chest.

Thus killing her.

They left the boy alone with her as she gasped her final breaths.

Toby begging and pleading that she pulled through and that he couldn't live this life without her.

Lyra died in those woods.

And Toby buried her beside the lake under a big willow tree, decorating her shallow grave with rocks and flowers.

At twenty-two, he had already accumulated a bounty of a thousand gold on his head.

And he was one of the most notorious thief's in the land.

He lived a quiet life, away and alone.

For he did not like the company of others.

Occasionally he'd spend a night in the brothel.

He'd become quite well known there, his name known amongst each whore.

And most times, the Madam had given him a place to stay if he needed to hide from any law.

There was one whore in particular he favoured the most.

As you weren't like the others.

You were quiet and every advance he made, every pouch of coin he tossed at you, you gave him a look as if you were about to stab him right there and then.

And he liked that.

You were fierce and admittedly, he saw himself in you a little.

He laid in your bed, naked with nothing but the cloth of your bedsheets covering his hips, his scarred abdomen on show as you slipped back on your own clothing.

He admired your body from afar as he calmed down from the height of his orgasm, head buried deep into the pillow.

It seemed he had gathered enough money to buy you away from the brothel.

Admittedly, much to your displeasure.

And now you were on the back of his horse as you rode through the forest, your hands just barely touching his chest as you leant on his body for support.

You could feel his muscles from under his clothing.

Both of your bodies in rhythm to the horses' plodding along the road.

Finally, he spoke.

"You're too pretty to be a whore."

You perked your head up from his shoulder.

"I mean, you should thank me."

His words made you scoff. Thank him?

"You could have bought a virgin."

You remarked and he laughed softly.

"I could've.."

His voice trailed.

"But gold gets handed around a lot and somehow, it never loses its shine."

You scoffed, was he trying to flatter you?

"You are a fool."

You uttered and he only sighed. A weary sigh.

"Yeah."

He proceeded to take you from village to village.

And you never had a chance to settle until he was back on the road, evading the law and bounty hunters.

And during the time on the road, you got talking.

You had learnt a lot about him and he had learnt a lot about you.

And the hatred for him that once simmered within you began to flourish into something you had never felt before.. were you smitten for this criminal? This rogue?

And the sex, it became more passionate.

He liked to kiss your body for longer, cherish the way your skin prickled.

His hands explored and mapped every part of your body, wanting to remember every part in case of a scenario where he lost you.

There was a love blossoming between the two of you.

And now, you were starting to feel more his lover than the simple whore he bought.

One night, he spoke of this kingdom.

That was one of the richest and that he wanted to go there.

And he wanted all the gold and treasure for himself.

And there was something about this.. the way he spoke, it unsettled you.

Something lingering in the pits of your stomach.

That something wasn't going to go right.

And as you both rode toward this said kingdom, your hands remained securely around his torso.

You were too afraid to let go, to let him off the horse because something was going to go wrong today and you could just feel it.

And when he had disappeared into the crowd and you were left by the horse, you couldn't ease the beating of your anxious heart.

Time ticked from minutes to hours and your lover had not reappeared.

He had told you to flee if he did not return.

To run as far away and to never come back.

To take his gold and start a life.

But now you didn't want to live a life without him.

And as you reluctantly began to put a foot into the stirrup.

There was a beat of footsteps behind you.

Many.

And there was shouting.

You snapped your head back to see Toby charging at you, a flurry of guards following behind.

You screamed at him to hurry, to take your hand and that you would both flee.

Then before the palm of his hand met yours, an arrow came whistling through the air and piercing him sharply in his back.

The tip of the arrow greeted you on the other side of his body.

And there Toby fell, losing his footing on the muddy streets.

You screamed an unholy scream and you jumped from your horse, pacing toward his side.

You collapsed onto your knees, using your body to shield his own as you sobbed.

You took his head in your hands, his own hand gripping the fabrics of your clothing.

And he looked at you with a look that screamed 'run.' "Go, go, leave me. Meine Liebe, bitte, bitte geh einfach."

He pleaded as you peppered sloppy kisses on his cheek.

You tried to lift him but it were useless and you both collapsed onto the floor.

"Get up, Toby. Make haste, please!"

You screamed.

The palm of his hand connected with your cheek and he smiled.

"You are worth more than anything I have ever taken."

Then before you could encourage him more, he mustered up the strength to get to his feet and with one grunt, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You could see the guards coming closer and closer.

And you screamed at him to hurry.

Toby approached the horse, heaved you up onto the mare and there he touched the flush of your thigh one last time.

"Im nächsten Leben werde ich dich finden."

With a smack to the horses rear, the mare reared and sent you flying down the street, leaving your heart with the man who had taken it.

[seongwars]

more lads dad!au because dad!zayne and dad!caleb beef would be hilarious. spinoff from this drabble

The thing about heart surgeons was that they spent years in medical school, training relentlessly to save lives. But despite Zayne’s expertise, the one thing he couldn’t mend was his four-year-old daughter’s broken heart.

“Elsa, sweetheart, why are you crying?” he asked, crouching to her level as she hiccuped between sniffles.

“Because Archer doesn’t want to be married to me anymore,” Elsa sobbed, rubbing her fists against her red-rimmed eyes. 

“He said he likes Cece.”

Oh. His heart.

His daughter was barely out of preschool, and she was already experiencing the crushing weight of betrayal. While he remained calm on the outside, Zayne was seething on the inside. How dare this boy break his daughter’s heart? Who did he think he was?

“Archer?” 

“Caleb’s son,” you chimed in from the doorway, setting Elsa’s backpack down on its hook.

Oh. It all made sense now.

There were rumors that Caleb had been Mr. Popular back in high school, then again in college, and even at the academy. The kind of guy who could walk into a room and instantly become the center of attention, effortlessly drawing in mobs of adoring fangirls. His son, apparently, had inherited those same infuriatingly charming qualities.

Zayne clenched his jaw. No one, not even another four-year-old, was going to trample on his baby’s feelings and walk away unscathed. He turned back to Elsa, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Zayne said gently, wiping away the last of Elsa’s tears with his thumb. “You don’t need to be married to Archer. You’re the most brilliant, kind, and incredible little girl in the whole world.”

Elsa sniffled. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Now, let me ask you something: does Archer know medical terminology?”

Elsa frowned, thinking hard. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Zayne gasped dramatically. “See? That right there is a red flag, sweetheart. You’re already smarter than him! Do you know how many medical words you know?”

Elsa sniffled again, but a tiny smile started forming. “A lot.”

“That’s right! And what’s the big one you learned last week?”

“Myocardial infarction!”

Zayne’s eyes widened in exaggerated amazement. “That’s incredible! Now, tell me, does Archer know what a myocardial infarction is?”

Your daughter scrunched up her nose, thinking. Then she clapped her hands. “No!”

“Sweetheart, how could you possibly be married to someone who doesn’t even know what that is?”

Elsa giggled, wiping at her damp cheeks.

“What other big words do you know?” Zayne encouraged, leaning in.

She tapped a finger against her chin before her face lit up. “Hippocampus!”

“That’s my girl!” Zayne grinned, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”

Elsa’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Gluteus maximus!”

She giggled so hard at the meaning of gluteus maximus that she nearly toppled over, but Zayne caught her just in time, lifting her up and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Just minutes ago, she had been devastated over some preschool betrayal, and now she was giggling about medical jargon like the brilliant little girl she was.

It was far better than pining over a boy who didn’t even know what a myocardial infarction was.

☾⋆

“Hey, I saw Zayne today at drop-off, and he was squinting at me the whole time,” Caleb said, pulling Eden out of his high chair.

“Huh. Did he have his glasses on?” his wife asked, refilling Stella’s sippy cup. 

Caleb furrowed his brow. “Now that I think about it…no, he didn’t. Oh! That makes so much sense! I waved at him, like, three times, but he just kept squinting. Poor guy was probably struggling to see without them.”

Cece - Sylus' daughter Eden & Stella - Caleb's twins

[divinekangaroo]

if 1920 Tommy has a phase of moustache-growing pre-war, then 1990s Tommy has a phase of viciously and furiously and aggresively bleaching his hair post-Greta

IDK, it's something about 1990s (or 1980s) Tommy thinking: my eyes are weird and all the girls at school made fun of my psychotic stare (and my mad brother, and my family,) except for the really weird girls who won't leave me alone. right so, what can i do to make myself look even weirder/creepier

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[loveesiren]

𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 (𝖯𝗍. 1)

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

synopsis: Y/n didn't want to like the asshole that was Choi Su-Bong, but his devilish charm pulled her in. She felt comfortable in his presence and she couldn't deny it. Besides, you could die at any moment, right?

warnings: language, mention of drugs and overdose, mention of suicide attempt, fast burn, death obvi

wc: 2.9k+

As you made your way to the arena, you couldn’t help but notice you were the only American there. Fuck, you thought. However, as the announcements came over the speakers, you were able to piece a few words together. The game was straightforward: Red Light, Green Light. A game you had played back in the courtyard in grade school. Easy.

But before the game started, a man began yelling frantically. You only caught a few words. You’d only been in Korea for a year, and the language was still so new. Despite your dad teaching it to you throughout your life. But you could tell whatever this man was saying couldn’t be good.

“He’s saying we’re all going to get shot if we move,” the purple-haired man beside you whispered. “Dude’s crazy.”

“You speak English?”

“Am I not speaking it right now?” he replied sarcastically. “Look, the game is simple. You—”

“I know how to play,” you snapped back.

The purple-haired boy shut his mouth with a cheeky grin. And with that, the game began.

“Green light!” the doll said as its face turned away. You began to move forward. The crazy man was still yelling aggressively, telling you to freeze and hold as still as possible.

You played the game correctly the next few rounds. You weren’t dead yet, right? You noticed a bee land on the girl in front of you.

“What’s that?” She asked nervously. 

“Don’t move…” You replied.

“You’ve got a bee on you,” the purple-haired boy said.

The girl in front of you began to scream and jump around, shaking the bee off of her. “Oh shit, I guess I just moved, didn’t I?” she laughed.

Before you could process anything, a bullet whizzed through the air, striking her right in the back of the head, killing her instantly. Blood splattered on you and the boy, and you held your breath, too afraid to move.

People began to run and scream as they noticed what happened, but you remained still and wide-eyed, a tear slipping down your cheek.

The announcer repeated the rules of the game after the massacre that had just happened behind you. The doll turned around once again and said, “Green light!”

You were still frozen with fear. “I’m Thanos,” the purple-haired boy said as he grabbed your hand.

“Y-Y/n,” you responded with shaky breaths.

“Y/n.” He repeated your name, pulling you out of view from the doll. “Stay behind me, alright?”

“Okay,” you managed, before the doll spun its head again, “Red light.” You clung to Thanos’ hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your fists as you tried to steady your breathing.

Before you knew what was happening, he had shoved the person in front of him, causing a domino effect of people to fall. He looked proud of himself, and you were appalled.

“Thanos, what the fuck?!” you gasped.

“Shhhh.”

“Green light!” the doll said, and Thanos pulled you forward with him. He seemed almost like he was having fun as he pulled you through each round, still guarding you with his body every time “Red light” was called.

Finally, the finish line was in sight. There were people who had already made it and people getting shot behind you. All of it was too overwhelming. When the doll finally announced “Green light,” you allowed Thanos to pull you across the finish line, falling on top of him as he did so.

“We’re safe! We’re good!” he said with a smile as he held you close to him. You hadn’t realized the way you had been clinging to him for protection. When you came to, you stood up.

“Why would you do that?! Why would you push those people?!”

“It’s a game, señorita,” he smiled.

He was right. It was a game. A game for your lives. But that still didn’t give him the right to dictate the outcome of others. You were overwhelmed with emotions and felt like you were going to vomit. You ran to the corner of the arena to be alone, covering your ears as gunshots rang out amongst the final few people trying to cling to survival.

And soon, the game had ended.

“Y/n,” Thanos’ deep voice rumbled softly behind you, an unusual gentleness in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you bolted toward the exit. You didn’t look back, following the others streaming out of the arena, their faces pale and haunted.

Back at the dormitory, you retreated to your bed, pulling the thin blanket over you like a shield. Your chest heaved with suppressed sobs, but no tears came. The sterile air of the dorm felt suffocating, thick with despair. 

A while later, the pink guards entered, their commanding presence silencing the room. They made an announcement in their clipped, robotic voices. From what you could piece together, it was a choice: stay in the game or walk away.

The man who had been frantically screaming earlier—warning everyone they’d die—was the first to vote. His trembling hand pointed to the X. He didn’t want to play anymore and he urged others to vote the same.

When your turn came, your heart pounded in your chest. The memories of the arena—of the screams, the blood, the chaos—rushed back, threatening to drown you. You didn’t hesitate. You voted X. The guard handed you a red patch with an X on it, the fabric feeling heavier than it should as you pinned it to your hoodie. Silently, you joined the others who had chosen to leave.

As you moved to the right side of the room, your eyes met Thanos’. He stood at the front, his broad shoulders tense. He voted O. Of course, he did. Your chest tightened as he glanced at you, a fleeting look of remorse flashing across his face before he joined those who had chosen to stay. You bit your lip, fingers instinctively reaching for the small dolphin pendant around your neck. Your father had given it to you when you were ten, during a trip to SeaWorld. It was one of your happiest memories. Now, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see him—or that simple, joyful life—again.

Later that night, unable to sleep, you wandered to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. To your surprise, a few books in English were tucked among the volumes. You chose a romance novel, something light to distract you from the heaviness pressing on your chest.

“Señorita, excuse me?” A familiar voice broke the silence.

You froze, closing your eyes briefly before turning. “What do you want, Thanos?”

He hesitated, his towering frame oddly hesitant. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” you repeated, your voice cold. “Thanos, people died because of you. How can you even begin to apologize for that?”

His jaw clenched, his hands fidgeting with the silver cross around his neck. “I-I wasn’t thinking, okay?”

Your gaze dropped to the cross he kept fiddling with, the sight sparking recognition. “You’re hiding drugs in there, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking because you’re high.”

His head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “What? How did you—?”

“My brother had the same kind of cross,” you said, your voice flat. “He used it to stash his pills.”

Thanos’ lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Smart guy.”

“He’s dead now,” you replied sharply, cutting off his attempt at levity. “Overdose.”

His face fell, guilt painting his features. He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “I just keep screwing everything up, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing past him. “You really do.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You stopped mid-step, your body betraying you. But you didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer this time. “For everything. For what I did in the game, for the drugs… for being a complete idiot. I mean it.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, he added with a faint chuckle, “I swear I’m not normally this bad at talking to pretty girls.”

A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. You shook your head, a small laugh escaping before you walked away. You didn’t look back, but Thanos stayed rooted in place, watching you go, a lopsided smile on his face. For the first time in a long while, you felt the faintest flicker of hope—fragile but alive.

-

Over the next few days, you tried to focus on reading, but it was futile. Thanos’ constant glances from across the room unsettled you, and the looming fear of when the next game would start made your stomach churn. Every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, the guards came to collect you on the third day. The air turned heavy as you followed them silently through the endless halls and staircases to the arena. The game was announced, but your mind struggled to process the words. All you caught was the time limit: 10 minutes to form a team of five.

Panic set in as you scanned the room. Most players barely spoke English, and the few who did were already huddled in groups, or, with Thanos. The crowd of 365 players felt suffocating. You reminded yourself there was still time. You would find a team—somehow. Someone would need you eventually.

From across the room, Thanos’ gaze locked onto yours. You sighed, swallowing your pride as you approached him. His soft smile as you drew near made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thanos?”

“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice dripping with that infuriating charm.

“T, just tell me what the game is. Please…” you said, your tone sharp.

His smile widened at the simple nickname, but he obliged, explaining the rules clearly. You thanked him, turning to continue your search, but before you could take a step, his warm hand closed around yours.

“You’re playing with me,” he said firmly. “You’ll be safe with me.”

His confidence left you momentarily speechless. Something about the way he said it—the way his hand lingered on yours—stirred a strange feeling in your stomach. Unable to argue, you nodded and sat beside him.

His friends, however, were less welcoming, especially Nam-gyu, who didn’t bother hiding his disdain. “Why do we need her?” he grumbled. “She’ll just slow us down.”

“English, Nam-gyu,” Thanos snapped, his tone sharp. “She’s on our team. Deal with it.”

“I can pull my weight,” you said, lifting your chin. “I’m good at ddakji. My dad taught me.”

“Your dad?” Thanos asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do they play ddakji in America?”

“He’s from Korea,” you explained, a small smile playing on your lips.

Thanos nodded, his gaze softening. “Then you play ddakji.” he said with a warm smile.

When it was your turn, your nerves were palpable. You took a deep breath and threw the paper square. It hit the target but didn’t flip. You tried again, but this time, you missed entirely.

“Why’d you let this American broad join us?” Nam-gyu hissed, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Shut up!” Thanos barked, slapping the back of his head. Turning to you, his voice softened. “Y/n, you’ve got this. Deep breaths, yeah?”

His calm demeanor grounded you. Nodding, you steadied your hands, exhaled deeply, and threw again. This time, the paper flipped perfectly. Relief washed over you as your teammates cheered, Thanos’ grin wide and proud.

The rest of the team took their turns, with a mix of successes and fumbles. Nam-gyu’s performance, predictably flawless, earned him his smugness. But it was Thanos’ round—Jegichagi—that held everyone’s breath. He nailed it with a shaky but triumphant five kicks, securing your victory just as the timer ran out.

Cheers erupted as the guards untied your feet. “We did it!” you said, unable to contain your excitement. Without thinking, you jumped into Thanos’ arms. He caught you effortlessly, spinning you around with a laugh. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly pulled back, your cheeks burning. Thanos’ sad smile lingered as you retreated, but his eyes sparkled.

The rest of Thanos’ crew surrounded him, shaking him excitedly and shouting in celebration, but his eyes remained locked on you. Even in the chaos of victory, his focus didn’t waver, leaving a warm, welcoming sensation in your chest. You shouldn’t like him. You didn’t want to like him. But the tingling in your body betrayed you.

When the guards opened the doors, you and the others were ushered back to the dormitory. Thanos’ posse broke off toward their makeshift corner, their laughter trailing behind them. Before they could disappear entirely, Thanos turned and called over his shoulder, “Come with us.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Nam-gyu, whose glare could burn through steel. “I don’t think your friend likes me very much,” you said, gesturing subtly in his direction.

“Nam-gyu’s a dick,” Thanos replied bluntly, a crooked grin softening the harshness of his words. “I want you on our team.”

His casual confidence was infectious, and despite yourself, you smiled. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to take your hand and guide you toward the steps. You sat down, Thanos settling a step below you. He leaned back against your leg, his arm draped protectively around your knee, a silent claim that said she’s with me.

“So,” Se-mi asked, her tone light, “where in America are you from?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.” you replied. “I grew up there but moved to Korea about a year ago.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place!” She cooed. “Sin City.”

“Yeah, it lives up to its name.” You chuckle.

“You said your dad is Korean?” Nam-gyu interjected skeptically. “You don’t look Korean.”

You bit back a sigh, already tired of his attitude. “My dad’s technically American. He was adopted by a Korean couple—my grandparents. He grew up here before he went to college.”

“Is that where he met your mom?” Thanos asked, his thumb lazily brushing the skin of your ankle in a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone you barely knew. But you welcomed it.

“Yeah,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you thought of your mother. “He wanted to reconnect with his culture, so he studied abroad and met her. They fell in love, got married, and had me and my brother.” Your voice faltered at the mention of your brother, but you forced the smile to stay.

“Is your whole family here now?” Min-su asked gently.

You shook your head. “No. My parents divorced when I was thirteen…”

“What about your brother?” Se-mi prompted.

“He… he, uh…” Your throat tightened as the words caught.

“Stop it,” Thanos cut in sharply, his voice brooking no argument. “Let the girl breathe.” He stood and extended a hand to you. “I need to talk to Y/n. Alone.”

Relieved, you took his hand, letting him pull you toward the quiet corner near the bookshelf. You sat beside him, and he took your hand again, the warmth of his touch making your breath hitch.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “About your parents. Your brother.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though you both knew it wasn’t.

He studied your face for a moment before asking, “Why are you here, Y/n?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t something you liked talking about. “My dad is sick. He needs treatment, and I… I don’t have another way to pay for it. My grandmother is struggling with money and I…” You looked away, embarrassed by the raw vulnerability in your words. “What about you?”

Thanos let out a heavy sigh, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I used to be a rapper, I had a lot of fans, but everything I’ve ever done has been a disappointment to my family.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “Before this, I was on a bridge, ready to jump. Ready to end it. Then this guy gave me a card and said I could turn things around. So I came here.” His gaze softened as he looked at you. “And I’m glad I did. Because I met you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you found yourself smiling despite the weight of the conversation. “I’m glad I met you too, T. And I’m glad you didn’t kill anyone today!” you teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

Thanos chuckled, shaking his head. “I won’t. Not unless I have to—to protect you.”

The conviction in his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest. “T… I think I need to stay for one more game. My dad needs me to finish this.”

He gave you a long look before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured.

As the remaining players trickled back into the dorm, you and Thanos talked. For the first time, you shared the pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden: your cheating mother, the messy divorce, your father’s illness, and your brother’s death. In return, Thanos opened up about his abusive father, his dreams of making his mother proud, and the way he’d been struggling with drugs and depression for years. By the time the dorm was full again, you no longer saw him as just a cocky survivor. He was someone who had been to the edge of despair and chosen to fight his way back.

When it was time to vote, Thanos’ arm draped lazily over your shoulder as your fingers traced the tattoos on his hand. His presence steadied you as the guard called your number. Before you stood, Thanos leaned close, his lips brushing against your temple. “Remember, I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered.

His words echoed in your mind as you cast your vote: O. The guard handed you a new patch, and for the first time, you felt confident.

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© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[cuteandhughesy]

A Wonderful Christmas Time | William Nylander

summary: you and william living through the christmas eve traditions with your kids - as well as frantically preparing for santa's arrival. (dad!willy)

3.1k

warnings: SFW! pre-established relationship | children | dad!willy | mom!reader | christmas eve shenanigans | suggestive comments

a/n: based off this request! merry christmas eve!! my present to you is another highly requested willy fic 🥰 also there’s 360 of you now, which is insane…I love you all omg <3 I’ll see you guys on new years for a quinny fic

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"honey you can't play with the ornaments." your tone is warning but gentle, gathering the attention of your daughter, lennon.

she giggles, plopping down in her diaper covered butt beside the tree. lennon smiles her two toothed grin, big round eyes looking at you with nothing but joy.

you smile from the couch. "yeah i'm talking to you lenny baby."

the 1 year old laughs again—that adorable baby belly laugh than never fails in making you join in. she's not long out of the bathtub, with damp blonde hair flat against her head and wrapped up in her candy cane onsie. lennon grabs onto her toes through the soft material, rocking forward slightly. "ma." she gurgles, reaching towards you.

that is all it takes for you to get up, making your way towards the christmas tree—decorated in various coloured and homemade ornaments—and pick lennon up under her arms, pulling her against your chest. you kiss your daughters chubby cheek three quick times, igniting another round of baby giggles from her tiny body. "should we see what daddy and lukey are up to? should we go see?"

she snuggles into your neck, smiling at the mention of her dad and older brother. you bring yourself up the stairs, bare feet barley padding on the carpeted flooring. you reach the landing and the familiar sound of your husbands voice, followed by your sons sweet laughter ring in your ears.

rounding into the warm and blueberry soap scented bathroom, your smile widens even further. luke reaches towards william, the water just merely missing the side of the bath tub as he bounces up. he covers your husbands face in scented suds, creating the illusion of a big white beard—very fitting for the day.

"you look like santa daddy." he laughs, small hands continuing to pile more bubbles on top of william's already full beard.

"ho ho ho." your husbands mimics father christmas's deep rumbling slogan, leaning further over the the edge of the grand bath tub to nuzzle your sons neck, transferring the bubbly mess to luke.

you watch with an amused expression as luke's laughter increases, squirming away from the bubbles and the scratchy feeling of william's beard. then his bright blue eyes find you standing against the door frame, and instantly he's distracted. "mummy!"

william looks over his shoulder, and the sight of you and lennon has him grinning wildly. "hey you two."

"hello my boys," you hum, walking further into the vintaged decorated bathroom. "how's bath time coming along? you getting clean lukey baby?"

"i'm not a baby mummy." your 4 year old is ever the sassy one, crossing his slippery arms over his tiny chest. "i'm a grown up." although his attitude drives you up the wall slightly, his little lisp and side eye makes it a little more on the cute side.

you snicker. "oh are you now?"

"yeah. i'm the grown up and lennon is the baby." luke points a finger in your daughters direction, and with that momentary attention on her, lennon squeals happily, fisting your pyjama top in her chubby hand.

william quirks a brow in luke's direction. "santa doesn't come to grown ups lukey."

he gasps loudly, eyes widening to a comical state at his dads words. "okay, Im a baby!"

it seems that lennon has realized her dad is crouched by the tub in front of her older brother, and she instantly starts whining, her chunky little arms stretched out as she asks for william.

"mummy, when's santa coming?" luke questions.

you put lennon down between your bare feet, sitting her on her bum. she doesn't stay, immediately crawling towards your husband while babbling his name happily.

"not until you're sleeping, bub."

he pouts, "but what if I want to see him?"

"that's not how it works buddy." william sighs gently, scooping lennon into his arms. "his magic will go away if you see him."

luke gasps, eyes wide with panic and unshed emotion. "I don't want his magic to go away daddy!"

you coo, joining your husband and daughter infront of the tub, getting down to your knees. you mimic your sons pout, reaching out to run a hand over luke's wet, curly hair. "it's okay bub."

he leans into your touch, blinking up at you with his wet eyelashes. luke's always looked identical to his father, meaning it's always been hard for you to be mad it him—but you're working on it. "we just gotta make sure we get into bed soon! so santa can come and bring you and lenny some presents."

that seems to do the trick, and a smile pulls at his tiny rosebud lips. "okay mumma."

you help luke get out of the bath and wrap him in his favourite blue dinosaur towel, holding him in your arms as you help dry him off, as well as keep him warm. taking baths in the nylander house was never such an event, but as soon as luke turned 4, he decided that you and lennon could no longer share bath time with him.

you really weren't going to argue with him about something so insignificant—so separate bath times it's been.

"you've such a good boy this year, lukey." you mumble into your sons chubby cheek, pressing two kisses against the flushed skin. "I love you."

"I love you too mummy, but we have to put the cookies out now." his serious deadpan stare up at you has you giggling, and you nod quickly.

you get luke dressed in his matching candy cane pyjamas before taking him downstairs—joining william and your sleepy daughter who'd previously slipped back to the fire lit family room.

"baby do think santa wants chocolate chip or oatmeal? what should we leave out?" you eye luke from across the kitchen island, an empty santa plate between you.

"I think santa wants chocolate chip." william says enthusiastically, holding lennon in his strong arms. she's practically asleep now, blinking dangerously slow against his chest.

you send your husband a warning look, to which he sends you a quick wink.

you look back at luke, who is leaning on the counter top with a thoughtful finger to his chin—something you often do that's he's adorably picked up on. "mhmmm..can we ask uncle alex?"

"why do you want to ask uncle alex?" you question with amusement, brows pulled together tightly.

"because he's smart." luke says matter of factly, looking at you with a curious expression.

william snickers. "that's going to inflate his ego."

you shake your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips—you already know your brother-in-law will absolutely eat up his nephew's statement.

"lukey, uncle alex is sleeping right now. but I think you're smart too and you should pick the cookies."

"okay," luke chirps, "chocolate mummy!”

william leans down and presses a firm kiss against his sons damp hair, clearly feeling at peace with luke's cookie choice. "good pick baby."

you help luke put two cookies on the plate, reminding him multiple times to not eat the cookies himself, especially before bed, which proves to be a bit of a broken record—but you get there eventually. luke takes the plate and glass of almond milk over to the coffee table, barley keeping the milk from spilling over the rim as he roughly places them down.

right before finally getting luke to head in the direction of the stairs, he turns back towards you and william with wide eyes. "daddy! we have to put out the reindeer food!"

aryne tavares had seen the cutest DIY reindeer food craft on pinterest a few days ago, and the two of you got a bunch of the leafs kiddos together to make some before santa and the reindeers arrival. luke's been so excited for days about the damn glitter oatmeal concoction, and you're surprised he's only just remembering it.

you look towards your husband. "yeah daddy, you gotta put the reindeer food out."

after william bares the freezing cold christmas eve temperature and sprinkles the magic food mixture on your front step, you finally get luke into bed. your read him a holiday book while william gets the rest of the unwrapped christmas gifts from your linen closet, bringing them to the living room for your last minute wrapping session.

as you finish the last line of the book, you watch luke's eyes flicker closed, some much needed sleep taking over as he goes limp against the lightning mcqueen pillow.

you slip out of the dark room and tiptoe down the stairs, joining william and the rather large pile of gifts by the couch. you exhale loudly, hands on your hips as you asses everything. "you're on tape duty."

he groans. "I hate tape duty."

your pout is exaggerated, walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his sweater covered waist. "awh baby, you'll be okay."

30 minutes later and what feels like a hundred presents later, william groans for the 10th time, falling backwards against the shaggy rug beneath you. "ugh my back is killing me." he peeks over at you. "how do you do this every year?"

you slide the scissors down the holly printed wrapping paper. "i'm very flexible."

a boyish grin tugs at his lips. "yeah you are."

you look away from the present and over towards your dramatic husband. despite your cheeks burning red at his insinuation, your give him a deadpanned stare. "willy."

"I think we should take a break." he hums.

you sigh gently, folding the paper over a box full of ella nylander's favourite sephora pieces. "honestly as much as I'd love a break, it's quite literally christmas eve, babe. these presents gotta be wrapped."

he pushes up to his elbows, looking at you pointedly. "my family doesn't need their gifts wrapped."

you laugh. "yes, they do."

"fine—but if I strain my back and can't play...i'm giving staff your number." he teases you, sitting back into a proper position, fingers fiddling with some bows spewn across the rug.

"yeah yeah, pass me the damn ribbon."

thankfully you're only wrapping gifts for another 20 minutes, wrapping a beautiful velvet ribbon over every single one. you're sure your limbs will punish you for the extra ribbon work tomorrow morning, but the perfectionist in you doesn't care about that with how aesthetically pleasing the gifts look.

you make william drag out the bags full of presents for luke and lennon, passing them to you while you put them next to the christmas tree, ready for the morning.

you've definitely spoiled your two kids for another christmas now, but you and william can't help it—this time of year is so special and magical, and your kids are so well behaved that it's hard not to get them lots of things to celebrate another year.

hours after you would've liked to go to sleep, you're finally walking up the stairs, william hot on your trail, when you suddenly stop, a low groan rumbling through your chest. "the cookies."

his head hits your butt in exhaustion and defeat. "fuck me."

—

"santa came!" the shrill squeal of luke is the first thing you can register, tired eyes blinking open in the dim room.

beside you, willy groans, rolling onto your side of the bed under the warm covers.

luke pushes open your bedroom door, bare feet smacking against the hardwood as he runs towards your bed. "mummy! daddy! santa came." he slaps his hands on the side of the bed, a command that he wants up.

usually you'd work on his method of asking, but not today, his haste much understood. you gasp loudly, sitting up so you're able to lift him onto your and william's shared bed. "what? are you sure?"

he giggles, crawling into your lap. "yes!" subconsciously he starts playing with the buttons on your pyjama top, something he used to do when he was a baby.

"oh my goodness." you grin, gently tickling his sides. "well should we get up and head downstairs?"

he squeals again, and the sound is like gold—instantly walking you up. "yes mummy!"

beside you, william sighs sleepily, pushing up on the mattress into a sitting position. his smile is lazy, hand pushing back luke's crazy hair.

"daddy, it's christmas!" you're quickly forgotten about, luke sneaking over to william's lap and cuddling into his shirtless chest.

"I know buddy." he smiles, kissing his head.

"let's get your sister first, lukey. and then we will go downstairs." you chime gently, already pulling the covers back to slip out of bed. luke follows suit, sliding belly first off the tall mattress.

lennon is already awake when you open her door, holding onto the crib railing as she bounces on the mattress. she makes an adorable cooing noise as you greet her, gummy smile making an appearance as you get closer.

as soon as you all make it downstairs, chaos ensues. it's a mess of ribbon, bows and teared  wrapping paper as luke quickly opens all his presents. although the mess is a bit overwhelming, it's overshadowed by the joy of watching your sons face full of excitement.

at every present, luke will stop and bound over to your husband, gift clutched in his hand. "daddy can you open this one?" or "look at this one daddy!"

and everytime william shows the most enthusiasm, making that christmas magic linger as long as humanly possible.

"look daddy I have a hockey stick just like you!" luke jumps up and down in one spot, practically vibrating with excitement as he holds up his brand new hockey stick from santa.

he'd been begging for a 'big boy stick' for almost a year, and william thought this christmas would be the perfect opportunity to wrap up his sons newest obsession.

you hold lennon on your knees, letting her play with the velvety green ribbon from her gift. like usual, you watch luke waltz up to william, displaying his new hockey stick like his life depended on it.

"wow!" william beams, "you're very lucky lukey."

your son nods with enthusiasm, eyes still tranced on the stick. "now I can come play with you and uncle mitchy."

"that's right baby."

you make them pose for a photo after that. william tucks luke into his side, a smile on both of your babies faces as luke holds the stick out. you make sure to send it to steph marner, followed by how excited he is to play with mitch. it's all so cute, and you're so in love with your little family.

luke plays with his toys while you and william make breakfast, lennon gurgling happily in her high chair, sucking on a strawberry while she waits for her food.

eventually you get him to stop playing and come get his serving of eggs, bacon and toast—although he does bring the hockey stick to the table, but you didn't expect anything else.

it's when william is tidying up the dishes and you're just getting lennon out of the high chair, william's family arrives, walking through the front door in a flurry of snow and presents, smiles on their faces.

"merry christmas!"

luke's tiny gasp is almost humorous, and he drops the hockey stick and runs towards his grandparents, tiny feet smacking against the floor. "papa! nana!"

"oh my goodness!" camila greets warmly, dropping her bag to embrace her grandson. "hello my baby." william's mom kisses luke's face multiple times, which sends the toddler into a fit of giggles.

"and here's the other little baby." michael smiles gently, reaching towards your daughter, running his index finger along her soft cheek. "hello lenny bear! merry christmas sweet girl." she smiles, shying away from her grandfathers tickle.

his parents greet you both briefly, but their too wrapped up in the magic of christmas with their first set of grand babies that you're not even mad about the hasty greeting.

"lukey!" ella looks down at her nephew, arms open expectantly. "do I get a hug?"

"yes auntie ella!" he runs into her arms, squeezing william's sister as tight as he can manage.

she pulls back, looking down at luke with sparkling eyes. "did you open your presents from santa?"

"yes," luke beams, blinking up at his aunt warmly. "and he got me a hockey stick!"

"what?! you're so lucky." ella relates the words he's heard a million times today, running her palm flat over his unruly head of hair. "I bet uncle alex will want to see it!"

at the mention of his favourite person in the world (besides his father of course), luke gasps so hard you think his little lungs might explode. he catches sight of alex in the kitchen, chatting with you while he plays with lennon's tiny toes affectionately.

"uncle alex" luke giggles, running over to his uncle.

at the sound of his name, the second eldest nylander sibling looks over just in time for luke to run at his legs. alex smiles, grabbing your son under the arms and swinging him to his chest. "hey dude."

luke immediately lays his head on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek on the soft fabric of alex's hoodie. it's a rather sweet sight, and you're instantly feeling emotional about it.

you clear your throat, adjusting lennon on your hip. "lukey, wanna tell uncle alex what you said last night?"

your son nods gently. "you are smart."

alex gasps happily, pulling down luke's pyjama shirt from where it's ridden up against his sweater.

"he wanted to call you and ask what cookies santa would like because you're smart." you continue, adding a bit more context to the story.

alex nods triumphantly, "you're right lukey I am smart." he kisses your sons cheek once, a loud smacking noise that has lukey laughing, trying to squirm away from the tickle of alex's beard—something he's used to with william.

you'll never get tired of the holiday season, and seeing your family so content and happy with one another just adds to the festive atmosphere and pure joy of christmas.

you feel your husbands arms wrap around your waist from behind, william gently kissing the side of your face as he greets you. "merry christmas, babe."

lennon gurgles happily as she catches sight of william, reaching over you to touch his face, fingers raking through his grown-out facial hair and running over his lips. william nips her tiny hands gently, making her squeal with laughter.

you smile warmly, watching with loving eyes. "merry christmas willy."

[cherriegyuu]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4skP1tuO6F/?igsh=MTNtamg3ZmM1aDgxbw==

Can u plssss make a husband mingyu fic of his daughter absolutely hating his haircut go from long to extremely short causing him to sulk and hate his own hair then y/n having to comfort him😭😭 this video legit reminded me of this instantly idek how

i'm not supposed to be taking requests but this was just something that stuck to my mind ever since i read it. so here it is! i hope you like it! i'm also just in time for his birthday

when he cuts his hair

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 769 warnings: slightly suggestive not proofread

You did your best to contain your smile, or at least tried to hide it, as your daughter cried into your shoulder, her small tears soaking your shirt and her hands balled into tiny fists in your hair. Under normal circumstances, you’d have taken her hand away but in that moment, it seemed like the only option to have her calm down. 

Your husband sat on the couch, the blanket you kept on the back of it wrapped around his head and shoulder, as his eyes were two full moons in his face. Mingyu was a mixture of laughter and unwashed tears as he watched your daughter cry into you. 

“I didn’t know” his voice came out in a whine, his hold on the blanket tightening “I thought it would be okay”

Mingyu had left the house that morning saying “I’m going to cut hair, I’ll be right back”. He had kept his hair longer for almost a year and it was probably one of your daughter’s favorite things about him — that and also the fact that Mingyu even existed. “Not only does she look like you the most but she also loves you the most” you’d half-heartily complain sometimes. 

It became some sort of routine, if she fell asleep with Mingyu around, she’d most definitely have her hand in his hair. Logically and rationally you knew that Hanna wouldn't like the new haircut, but you also didn’t think that it would be that much of a big deal. What you also didn’t expect was for Mingyu to come back with the shortest hair you have ever seen on him. 

You had known Mingyu for roughly twelve years and he always kept his hair on the longer side. While the sight was a fantastic one, Hanna didn’t seem to share the same idea. 

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the sound of keys on the lock to greet her dad. She had the biggest smile on her face and then it just disappeared as she took in her dad’s new look. Her small features contorted and her eyes filled with tears and she ran back to you, hiding behind your legs.

Like he usually did, Mingyu kneeled to welcome the hug that always came but this time there was none. 

You wished you had recorded the whole thing, the way Hanna started to scream her lungs out because “not daddy” and Mingyu was a few seconds away from crying. 

“Hanna” you cooed “you don’t want to say hi to daddy? He missed while he was away”

She shook her head.

“Not daddy,” she said again, the new tears coming down her face.

It took you a good hour to get her to settle down and sleep. Her body still shook with sobs when you put her in bed. 

Mingyu was in the living room, in the same exact position as before, the blanket still wrapped around his head. His eyes were sort of lost until he finally seemed to notice you were back. Once again his eyes were filled with tears. 

“Babe, no, it’s fine,” you said, approaching him. 

When you were close enough he pulled you to him, hands around your waist and his head resting on your stomach. Slowly you pulled the blanket away from him and ran your hand over his hair. There wasn't a lot to hold onto, there was barely any hair in between your fingers, just a little more at the top for a quiff.

“She hates me now,” he complained.

There were these moments when it was hard to tell who was actually the 2 year old and who was the grown man.

“She doesn't, she just needs to get used to it. You're her favorite person” you assure him “She's just surprised. When you left there was hair in your head”

Mingyu groaned at your laugh.

“I just wanted to try something different”

You held his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Mingyu rested his chin on your stomach, beautiful dark eyes looking back at you.

“Do you like it, at least?”

You bit your lips, trying to keep yourself from saying that maybe you didn’t like it as much, that your favorite hair was that middle ground between short and longer. 

“You look younger” your words were slow, a little careful.

He groaned, pretending to cry, his arms getting even tighter around you. 

“Both of you hate it”

You bent forward and placed a kiss on his nose and then his lips until his pout was replaced by a smile. 

“At least there’s a little bit to hold on to”

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[ultravi0lence14]

Flower Crowns

dean winchester x bimbo!reader

1.5k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean had lived his life as self-reclusive and stoic as possible. who knew one girl in tiny skirts with glossed lips could make him completely whipped?

dean winchester grew up in an environment that most people would widen their eyes at. mouths agape in shock as dean and his brother recount all the times their dad treated them like soldiers instead of children.

that lifestyle is what made dean who he was today; and most people would find it encouraging that he and sam didn’t turn out like complete asshole’s.

unlike his younger brother, dean was always the troublemaker between the two. yeah, sam had a knack for defying john’s orders, but dean always found himself in forms of trouble that landed him in boy’s homes.

all he wanted was to appeal his father. be tough for sammy and protect the people who he cared about. all that squished together made him into the hard shell of a man he is today; and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

that’s what drew you into dean in the first place. he was so languid in his actions. already knowing the exact way to push people out of his life when they got too close. having the tough guy act down to the final line. but you saw beneath it. you saw the man who cared so deeply about the people he actually allowed himself to hold close, and that interested you even more.

dean first saw you when he was on a case down in your hometown. and instantly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

bobby had directed sam and dean to one of his hunter friends who lived in town. telling the boys that if they ever needed help, this guy was the one to call.

that man ended up being your father, and dean was thoroughly surprised that someone like you grew up around a hunter.

you answered the door wearing a baby pink sundress, thigh high stockings pulled up as high as possible with black heels on your feet. when you turned around, dean noticed the delicate ribbon placed in your curled hair, and he suddenly had the urge to pull it loose and use it on you for something else completely.

the whole time dean was at your house, he found himself thinking those unsolicited thoughts. you reached into your purse to reapply your lip gloss, dean wondered how it would taste on his lips. you tossed your hair over your shoulder to get it out of your face, dean wondered what it would be like to grab it in his fist.

each time he found himself alone with you, he couldn’t help the easy flirtations that fell from his lips. you almost dragged him upstairs to your bedroom when he called you a ‘good girl’ for finding a key detail in the case.

when it was time for him and sam to leave, dean slipped his phone number in the back pocket of your jeans. he disguised the action in the hug he gave you. . . while also lightly grabbing your ass.

he was scared you would smack him across the face for that last part. but the light kiss on his cheek that left a glossy residue in it’s wake had him thinking differently.

after months of talking — and establishing some form of relationship after multiple phone calls, dean asked if you wanted to live with him and sam in their 1950’s bunker. normal people would be immediately turned off and say no, but you weren’t normal people. and by the next weekend, you had your room packed up and ready to move in with dean.

every day you lived with dean was bringing you two closer together. your aesthetics varied so greatly, yet that somehow made you two even more compatible.

dean found himself falling even more in love with you as time moved forward. the evening he knew he loved you was when he walked into the kitchen, watching you attempt to make an apple pie. you were dressed in the shortest skirt imaginable, and dean almost passed out when you bent over to put the pie in the oven and he got a nice view of your lace panties.

he had come up behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle and dragging you back into his chest. whispering a soft “what are you doing” in your ear, dean went on to carry you back to your shared room, eclipsing your body with his own as you laid underneath him on your bed. he had whispered a soft and sensual, “let me show you how much i love you, baby,” and the rest was a story that dean still smirked about when he thought of it.

today was different. the weather in kansas was gloomy, and dean found himself wanting to stay in bed all day and cuddle with his girl. though for some reason, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the bunker.

he looked everywhere. every room and any place that he could think of you being. dean started to worry when sam told him that he saw you go outside a couple of minutes ago. so with the clambering of his boots, synchronizing with the patter of rain falling behind the door, dean ventured out to find you.

to dean’s surprise, he found you rather quickly. though, it wasn’t the fact that you were scaling the side of the bunker that surprised him. it was the fact that you could incorporate pink into any outfit and any weather condition imaginable.

a soft pink rain coat was covering your white tank top and pleated black skirt. a pink and black striped umbrella was perched over your head, and dean noticed how it was meticulously covering the pink uggs you wore with your classic white, knee high socks.

dean wanted to coo at your hunched figure. you looked adorable as you grumbled in frustration at your umbrella, legs bent at the knees as you searched for something dean couldn’t quite see.

“what’cha doin’ sugar, it’s pouring out here.” his voice startled you, your head whipping around to notice dean standing by the railing at the entrance.

tightly clutched in your hand was different types of small flowers, seemingly growing around the bunkers edges. dean craned his head like a confused puppy as he noticed the assorted flowers in your palms.

huffing slightly, you stood to your full hight as dean stared on at you, a massive grin on his face as he watched you dust off your clothing. “i’m trying to collect flowers dean, what does it look like i’m doing?”

the man couldn’t help but laugh at your matter of fact attitude. you looked so adorable standing there, covered head to toe in pink as you clutched pretty flowers in one hand and a comically large umbrella in the other.

with a shake of his head, dean approached you and grabbed the umbrella out of your hand, holding it over the both of you as he placed his free palm on the small of your back, leading you inside. “yeah, i can see that sweets, but why?”

you held up the assortment of flowers to give dean a closer look, allowing him to notice all the pretty pink’s, white’s, and purple’s you had grabbed. “i want to make you and i matching flower crowns, that’s why.”

dean stopped in his tracks as the two of you made it to the railing over looking the war room. never in his life had someone catered something so sweet towards him. yes, flower crowns were something dean would definitely not gravitate towards, but it was going to be made by you, and there was nothing better than a gift from his sweet girl.

“you are one of a kind, you know that baby?” he had rested your umbrella by the door, moving so he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer to his body. with a soft smile on your face, you placed your arms around his shoulders, the flowers tickling the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down. “yeah, you’ve told me once or twice.”

the rest of your day was spent as dean had intended when he woke up; in his arms. you both laid on your bed, dean’s back against the head board as you rested in between his spread legs and against his back.

you concentrated on weaving the flowers stems together, not noticing dean’s eyes on you the entire time. his hands rested on the tops of your thighs, moving from there to your hips every once in a while as he silently watched you work.

he couldn’t help himself sometimes and he would lean down and place a kiss on either your cheek or the crown of your head. when you turned around, placing the finished product on his head; you rocking your own of the same colour’s, dean left a lingering kiss on your lips, mumbling who beautiful you looked in his relaxed state.

you were his flower. his beautiful peony that grew the love in his heart. as you rested against his back again, fingers fiddling with the the pretty pink ribbon you were attaching to the back of your crown, dean wondered if the flowers and ribbon were going to be how you decorated your wedding veil one day.

because dean knew one thing for certain; if he didn’t marry you, he would be the dumbest man alive.

[f10werfae]

A Daddy’s girl

pairing: Dad!Ari Levinson x Milf!Reader

summary: Dad!Ari and Milf!Reader give their babygirl her well needed bath and reward themselves with a bit of soft kissy sex (soft!dom!ari) (slight somnophilia/cockwarming)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

chris masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧Minors DNI, 18+ Below ୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“youre so perfect momma, so good to our precious” Ari mumbled into Y/n’s ear, hugging her closely from behind, one of his hands groping her breast greedily as her vest now had wet patches from her milk leaking through. “I want you to use me baby, take what you need from me okay? You deserve it” He whispered kissing down her nape, feeling her shiver and nuzzle her ass back onto him.

“awh hey babygirl, ya love bein’ with your momma don’t ya pretty girl” Ari cooed letting his hand run over his baby girl’s head, her cute little face grinning under the water as his wife gently poured water over her. At 2 months old she was the cutest tiny thing, Ari and Y/n were absolutely smitten with the life they had created, “Babe, babe look she’s doin’ that same face you do” Y/n giggled watching while her babygirl squirmed and formed that famous Levinson grump on her face.

Grabbing their camera from the bathroom counter Ari quickly snapped a shot of his best girls in the bathtub, his wife and babygirl so clearly full of love for each other, even though he was sure their babygirl was more likely milk drunk having just been breastfed by her momma, his perfect wife. “You’re so beautiful ya know that?” Leaning over the tub he let his forehead lean against Y/n’s his lips meeting hers briefly before their babygirl starting cooing again clearly not liking the fact she wasn’t the centre of attention.

“Hm it’s okay pretty you’re still momma’s number one angel, daddy’s just a stinky man” Y/n joked cuddling a now towel covered baby into her chest. “Stinky huh? Well if I remember right i’m not the one that’s shit herself twice today” Ari said giving his little girl the stink eye, her tiny fists already reaching out for him with her mouth opening for a little yawn to make its way out. Kissing her husband’s neck sloppily, Y/n got out of the bathtub after her daughter leaving Ari to dry and dress their babygirl.

“Youre so pretty ya know that? Yes you do” Setting her onto the changing table Ari quickly put on her diaper, “I know pretty its so cold out here isn’t it? Dada’s nearly done baby” He reassured her, watching as she reacted to the cold lotion on her skin, clearly wanting some warmth from her daddy. Choosing a soft blue onesies accompanied by her sleep snuggie, he got her all wrapped up and in his arm within minutes, her sweet soft baby scent filling his nostrils as he cupped her head against his broad shoulder.

Mini Levinson lifted her head up slightly giving her daddy the biggest set of puppy eyes before her head become too heavy and she had to set it back down; effectively pulling at his heartstrings once again. “You got those eyes from your momma, both of you got daddy under your spell, you’re daddy’s perfect lil angel, all mommy’s and mine’s” He whispered nuzzling his nose against hers, softly padding into their bedroom he spotted his wife changed and only wearing one of his oversized tanks.

“There’s my girl” Y/n cooed brushing out her hair, instantly putting the hairbrush down to rush over and pepper her mini me in kisses, the tiny tot soon finding comfort in the binky Y/n put in her mouth. The tiny suckling sounds filling the room as her eyes slowly shut, her fists grabbing tightly onto her daddy’s shirt.

“She loves her dada” Y/n whispered tucking her in tighter into her snuggie, “Hell yeah she does, she’s my babygirl” Ari whispered, “Wait for me in bed momma, i’ll put our little precious down for the night alright? You’ve done enough for us today” Without another word Ari found himself in the room next door, a pastel purple room filled with all the toys, books and necessities for their growing girl. Her bassinet sat right in the corner with no pillows or blankets, for safety reasons, but her cute little night light sat down by the floor giving her some comfort.

“See ya in the mornin’ sweetpea, daddy’s gonna miss ya tonight” Gently setting the half asleep Levinson into her bassinet, he patted her bottom and back for a few minutes to lull her into a deep sleep, until he finally found it okay to step out. Turning on the white noise machine he tiptoed back to their bedroom, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw his wife just cuddled up waiting for him on his side of the bed.

“Hey hotstuff don’t you look delicious” Ari chuckled crawling over to her, plopping himself right on top of her, his weight pinning her down in a comforting way. “You’re so funny, daddy” Y/n teased kissing his pink plump lips, letting her tongue mingle with his for a short wet kiss before he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck; his arms wrapping around her soft belly bringing her close against his chest. “momma ya know what that name does ta me, makes me wanna make you big n’ full of me again” He growled slowly grinding his hardening cock against her bare ass..

“I-i’m tired Ari baby, our baby boo had me running in circles today” She whined feeling her body start to calm, although a part of her felt the wetness start to pool around her thighs. “I know she did, our little girl tired herself out, was sleepin’ by the time I got her into the crib” He chuckled just softly humping their bodies together, her quiet whines and whimpers causing him to smile and kiss her out of pride.

“youre so perfect momma, so good to our precious” Ari mumbled into Y/n’s ear, hugging her closely from behind, one of his hands groping her breast greedily as her vest now had wet patches from her milk leaking through. “I want you to use me baby, take what you need from me okay? You deserve it” He whispered kissing down her nape, feeling her shiver and nuzzle her ass back onto him.

“Need you inside honey, wanna feel you closer” Pulling Ari’s hand up inside her vest, she let it rest on her wet milky breasts, before using her hands to pull out his pre-cum leaking cock from inside his sweatpants. “feel the heat radiating from your pussy? all the love she has to give daddy” Both of them let out strained gasps once he slid in easily, knowing they hadn’t felt this close in weeks since their babygirl had most of their devoted attention. “I love you so much beautiful”

“I-I love you too Ari- fuck” Crying out her legs started to shake once Ari’s hand had snuck around and started to toy with her precious little button, her swollen clit begging to be played with as it stood proud out of her thick lips. “Don’t touch there d-“ Ari’s fingers slowly and carefully traced over the stretch marks which now littered her stomach and thighs, something he knew had thrown her off.

“They mean a lot to me so let me love them as if they're mine and not yours." He whispered back, feeling her pussy clench around his cock every few seconds, signifying that she was nearing her finish. To stimulate her even further his thick fingers found her wet hard nipples, tugging at them to squirt more milk out onto the vest which now clung to her like a swimsuit; no doubt their bedsheets were now soaked.

“M’gonna cum babe, so bad” Y/n whimpered reaching back to cling onto the hair at the back of Ari’s neck, her voice muffled as Ari stuck his milk soaked fingers into her mouth before putting it into his, “Milk tastes so good momma” Their bodies rocked and humped without abandon, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, the cool air conditioning preventing them from becoming stuffy. It only took a few more seconds before the band in her stomach snapped and she creamed all over his cock, him in turn filling her to the brim, a cream mixture collecting at the base of his cock.

“You want me to pull out baby? or plug you up with my cock and keep you full”

“Stay, I want you to stay in me daddy” She shuddered trying to shuffle back, trying to stuff more of him inside her, keeping her warm and stuffed just like she wanted. Eventually the both of them fell asleep, with him slowly fucking her throughout the night, even finding himself being fucked awake when she rode him at the first sign of daylight just before their parental duties came into full swing. God how he loved his woman.

———-

psa: sorry updating took so long🫶 Hope you all enjoy some dad!ari

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist tags: @pandaxnienke @patzammit @starsignbaby8809 @its-murphy-time @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @inlovewithfictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @uwiuwi @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @cevansgurl @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @alina02 @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @angelmather1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @acornacre @thebaileybugle @seungcheol17daddy

[godslino]

2:45a.m. | minho established relationship. fluff. dad!minho.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k summary: when a storm hits, minho makes sure your daughter is able to fall back asleep

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

You’re not sure what wakes you first: the crack of thunder or the resulting cry.

Your entire body jolts, the room painted in a flash of white that disappears just as quickly as it came. The weather report had stated that there would be a storm, however ones this bad were uncommon, especially in Seoul.

Another cry. It crackles through the baby monitor on the nightstand at the same time it echoes off of the walls of the other room. You move to kick the covers off when an arm stops you, warm and heavy where it’s thrown over your waist. You instantly relax into the touch, sighing when the tip of a nose brushes against the shell of your ear.

“I got her,” Minho mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s okay. You have an early morning, I can do it.” You argue, but make no move to get up.

Minho doesn’t respond, instead he knocks a kiss to your temple and tightens the blanket around you once he’s out of bed. You hear the soft pads of his feet against the floor and crack one eye open just in time to see him slip out of the room, his voice floating into the hallway, ‘Uh oh, what happened to the princess?’

The way the crying stops almost immediately is proof enough that it was a good thing Minho went in place of you. Seola is a fussy baby; she cries loud and wants incessantly—more than the usual ten month old. She can’t go anywhere without her elephant binky and hates wearing hats, if she doesn’t like a food she’ll snap her lips shut and turn her head until her face is pressed into the back of the high chair, when she’s angry she shakes a tiny fist in your direction and pounds it against your arm. But perhaps the most difficult thing, the one that has you wanting to pull your hair out most of the time, is that sometimes the only way to calm her down is if Minho is the one to do it.

A part of you always knew that your baby would favor Minho, as funny as it sounds. When you first got pregnant, one of the things the two of you were most excited for was being able to feel the baby kicking. Minho sang to your belly every night after you first broke the news, even as you laughed and told him that he or she didn’t have ears yet.

“So?” he questioned, glaring at you from where he had his head pressed against the bare skin of your stomach.

“You also know you don’t have to lift my shirt up, right?”

“Yeah? Well then I can’t do this,” he’d said before blowing a raspberry straight onto your belly button. His laughter then quickly turned into a string of apologies as he came to the realization that the sound might have been too loud, his hand rubbing soothing circles along the lower part of your stomach while you watched with fond eyes.

Minho never missed a night. He made sure that he was always home before you went to bed when he could be, oftentimes fighting with his manager to be let out early or skip practice entirely, promising to show up early the next day and put in the work on his own time. On the nights where he couldn’t make it or the two of you were separated by distance that made him want to give it all up, he called and made you press the speaker into your gradually hardening baby bump.

You and Minho found out that you were having a girl on the day of the first snow. The two of you watched with tear-filled eyes as the ultrasound technician pointed to the monitor in excitement, her smile detectable even beneath the mask she had covering her face.

“Congratulations! It’s a girl!”

Minho called his mom first. Her shouts of joy were so loud that he had to hold the phone away from his ear, his smile the brightest that you’d ever seen. Pride. He was so proud of his little family that he thought his heart might burst.

You called your parents next, and Minho held the phone up so that the two of you could give them the news through the camera, his free hand squeezing yours tightly as you cried and told them that you couldn’t wait for them to come visit once the baby came.

The members were last, all seven of them piled on top of one another on the couch in the practice room, Hyunjin and Changbin fighting over the fact that ‘I can’t see, asshole!’ and ‘You’re tall enough just stand in the back!’

Finding out the gender of the baby made everything more real. Bows and dresses and frilly socks—every time Minho came back to the apartment he had a shopping bag hanging from his arm. He spent most of the time on his phone looking at baby things and stuff that was completely unnecessary.

“What about this?” he asked, pointing his phone down to where your head was resting in his lap.

“Minho,” you scolded, glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “I am not buying a booger straw for the baby.”

“It’s not a booger straw—”

“That is one hundred percent a booger straw. You literally have to suck the boogers out of their nose. Can’t we just buy a nasal suction like normal people?”

“What if it’s not efficient enough? I hate when my nose is stuffy, what more our baby? She won’t even be able to communicate with us, I feel so bad for her.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over your face as Minho continued to explain in thorough detail why a booger straw was a necessity in that very moment, even though your due date was still months away.

As time passed and your stomach grew, so did the nerves Minho had about not being present enough. With the nature of his career, it was hard for him to not feel like he wasn’t excessively absent most of the time. Stress took a toll on him, mentally and physically. It wore him thin until the circles under his eyes were the worst you’d ever seen and his mornings couldn’t start without a mandatory dosage of ibuprofen to dull the headache he had the minute he woke up.

Minho was doubtful. He had dreams that his daughter wouldn’t know who he was and that his moments with her would be spent through a phone call rather than with his arms wrapped around her tiny body. He felt like he had already failed a million times without ever even having the chance to prove himself.

On the night the baby kicked for the first time, Minho came home late.

Pregnancy fatigue had taken its toll on you that day. You’d remained in bed, too nauseated to move and aching throughout the entire expanse of your back. Minho worried the moment he woke up, but you’d urged him that you were okay and sent him on his way to the company, practically begging him to leave rather than to deal with another earful from his manager about absences. Luckily for you, his mom was able to come over, and you let her dote on you as well as cook and clean as much as she pleased.

You’d fallen asleep early, your stomach full of homemade food and blankets freshly washed, leaving Minho in a frazzled state because you hadn’t picked up his calls for his nightly belly-singing session. To top it all off, dance practice ran late because of a last minute formation change that needed to be perfected before the next day’s performance.

When he finally made it home, Minho booked it to the bedroom, dropping to his knees next to the bed to place his hands on your stomach as you slept peacefully on your side, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow.

Sometimes, unbeknownst to you, Minho would wake in the middle of the night and talk to your stomach, talk to the baby. It was a little self-indulgent, some alone time for him to speak all of his worries, fears, hopes, and dreams out into the world. That night, it was just them again. Just Minho and the baby.

“I’m home,” he’d said quietly, rubbing soft circles into the material of your shirt, “Daddy’s sorry he’s late. It’s snowing outside, so I couldn't drive too fast.” He waited a few seconds before starting to sing, his voice soft, quiet enough that he wouldn’t wake you up:

펄, 펄, 눈이 옵니다

peol, peol, the snow is falling

하늘에서 눈이 옵니다

the snow is falling from the sky

하늘 나라 선녀님들이

the heavenly seonyeos

송이 송이 하얀 솜을

the white cotton

자꾸 자꾸 뿌려 줍니다

it keeps sprinkling

Minho had moved forward once he was done, resting his cheek against your stomach as gently as possible. He let his eyes focus on the snow falling outside the window, the city covered in a thin blanket of white.

“You’re gonna need a name soon, huh?” he asked, lightly drumming his fingers against your belly. “We found out you were a girl on the first snow, did you know that? My little snow girl. My—wait. Seola means snow girl. That’s pretty, right? Do you like that?”

Minho, not expecting a response, nearly screamed when he felt the softest of thumps against the skin of your stomach, just beneath the palm of his hand.

“What—” Kick.

“B-Babe.” He said, louder this time, sitting up straight to stare at your stomach with wide eyes. You stirred awake, shifting slightly to crack an eye open.

“Minho? You’re home? What are you—”

“Has she been kicking?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself up to rest your back against the headboard. “No, of course not, I would’ve told you if she did. Why? Did something—” You were cut off by the strongest kick yet, your hand flying to your stomach.

“Seola.” Minho had said again, his voice cracking halfway through when another kick came before he could even finish speaking.

From that moment on, Minho knew in his heart that your daughter’s name was always meant to be Seola. He’d talk endlessly about how he would always treat the first snow of the year like a second birthday, and he’d always make it a point to say her name whenever he was talking or singing to your belly.

Much like now, with his back turned to you, Minho’s voice is still as gentle as ever.

“Sometimes when the air is angry it makes electricity,” he says, swaying back and forth as Seola rests her cheek against his shoulder. Her eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep as Minho talks to soothe her back to bed. “And then the lightning makes the air really really hot, and it goes boom.” He pats her back a few times, shushing her when she brings a fist up to her face to rub it angrily. He hums a soft melody, something nonsensical, quiet enough to lull her to sleep but also loud enough to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.

You watch as he lays her back in her crib, black hair fanned out around her head as he places a warm hand on her stomach to keep some added weight on her body until he’s certain she’s sleeping deeply.

“Oh look,” you say from the doorway, making him jump, “You bored her back to sleep.”

Minho laughs, light and airy, walking over to wrap his arms around you and rest his cheek against your head.

“Jealous that she likes my voice more?”

Minho’s voice, still deep with sleep, rumbles beneath his chest, right where you have your face pressed into it. You take a deep breath, inhaling him as best as you can, his cologne mixing with the smell of baby powder and Seola’s soap.

“No, I just wish you would come back to bed now and bore me to sleep too.”

A hand runs up and down your back, Minho’s adam's apple bobs when he swallows too hard. “I wouldn’t have to if you stayed there like I told you to.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” you sigh, “Also it’s nice to see the two of you together. I don’t get to see it a lot, y’know?”

Minho stills on his feet, and you pull back in time to catch the ghost of a frown on his face.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “I know. I’m—fuck, I have to be gone tomorrow too.” He runs a hand through his hair, and you can practically see the guilt worming its way into his head.

Determined to stop the inevitable self-loathing, you bring your hands up to cup his face, your thumbs running gently along the corners of his mouth. He melts into the touch immediately, closing his eyes and exhaling out of his nose.

“That’s not what I meant. I just like to cherish the time we have when all three of us are together, that’s all. This isn’t a ‘you versus me’ thing, okay? This is me and you making do with what we have.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah I know. Me and you.”

“Always.” You smile, leaning up to press your lips together.

With the thunder no longer rumbling overhead and the rain lighter than it had been earlier, you and Minho deem it safe enough to retreat into your bedroom without running the risk of Seola being woken up again.

“Do you want me to explain the force of gravity?” He whispers, playful but weak where his fatigue is starting to seep into his bones.

You laugh and tuck your face into his neck, his arms tightening around you on instinct. When you don’t answer, he knows that he doesn’t have to speak for you to drift off to sleep; knows that no matter what you’ll always be at home tucked into his side, and eventually lets sleep overtake him too.

When morning hits the sky is cloudy and the room is painted in a pale gray. The spot next to you is cold, sheets still tousled from sleep where Minho had been. You frown, glancing at the baby monitor on the nightstand that’s oddly quiet. It’s not normal for you to wake without the sounds of Seola beating your internal clock to it.

Your confusion only grows when you step into the hallway, the sounds of light snoring drifting out from the nursery. When you breach the doorway, you stop short, your heart doubling in size at the sight before you.

Minho is there, slumped against the side of the crib, his head leaning on one of the slats of wood and his arm shoved through the gap, Seola’s hand wrapped tightly around his finger. He must’ve gotten worried at some point in the night, scared that the rain would wake her again.

You inch forward to kneel beside him, running a hand through his hair and smiling when the touch makes his nose twitch. Seola’s own does the same when she sleeps, a little mole on the tip of her right nostril, just like her dad has on his left nostril. A direct reflection of one another; of love in its purest form.

On the floor beside him, Minho’s phone lays open:

To: Chan [2:45a.m.]

I won’t be in later

Find a way to manage without me

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[x-aefx]

Malachy Granger x fem!oc

Warnings: age gap, smoking, swearing, suggestive but not smut

“Fuck you Avery! God-you’re so fucking clueless!” Callum shouted, his school uniform worn messily with the coller button undone and his shirt visible under his jumper. He walked backwards, facing Avery as he screamed at her.

“I’m fucking clueless? You can’t even zip up your trousers, dickhead!” Avery screamed back, causing Callum’s eyes to instantly drop to his trousers where his fly was unzipped. He rushed to zip it up.

Her short school skirt blew gently with the breeze, her school shirt that was untucked offered little protection from the cold air.

“You fucking bitch!” Callum screamed, embarrassed and angry.

Avery angrily stormed off, holding her arm high in the hair as she held up her middle finger to him.

Callum began storming after the girl with nothing but determination, eager to reach her with each angry step. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles turning white as his fingers digged into the skin of his hand.

Malachy, who had been watching the whole ordeal, watching her, strode across the street and stopped infront of the young school boy. He placed one hand on his chest, preventing him from walking another step, the other hand was on his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking think about it.” Malachy warned, his voice cold and left no room for arguing.

The boy was young, with almost a childish face and features. Malachy towered over him easily making him more intimidating.

Callum pulled away from the unknown man roughly, he huffed before storming off in the opposite direction defeatedly.

Knowing he wouldn’t come back, Malachy turned and watched the mysterious girl striding away in the distance. Her school skirt was short, exposing her legs and her shirt was tight.

Malachy noted she wore the same uniform as Amy.

The walk from school to her house was a quick one. Avery kicked the empty beer bottles that littered the floor out of her way, walking past her dad who lay passed out on the couch, she rushed upstairs to her bedroom to change out of her school uniform.

Her dad wouldn’t care that she was mitching school, or that she had gotten another detention that she wouldn’t bother attending. He didn’t care about anything once he had his drink and weed. She was glad it was her final year at school, then she could leave this shitty town.

Avery shrugged off her school shirt, unbuttoning the buttons hurriedly. She replaced it with a black tank top, covered by a flannel. She changed out of her school skirt and into black denim shorts. She wore her black boots and a variety of long necklaces. She pulled her short blonde hair into a messy half up half down style.

She quickly left her room and hurried down the stairs. She didn’t take a second glance at her father, leaving through the door and slamming it shut after her. She hoped it would wake him but knew it wouldn’t.

Her rushed footsteps slowed down as she placed the fag between her lips. She searched her pockets before realising she had left her lighter at home. “Fuck!” She cursed.

Looking around she realised she was at the Boat Hut.

She seen a man standing near the entrance, lighting his own cigarette. Avery decided to make her own way towards him. Once she was closer she realised he was a slightly older man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a black leather jacket and black hoodie underneath, the hood of which was raised over his head.

Avery didn’t let her confidence falter when his eyes met hers and a smirk formed on his lips at the sight of her approaching. He blow out the smoke as his eyes trailed up and down her body.

“What can I do for you, young lady.” He spoke almost as if he were taunting her.

“Can I borrow your lighter. I left mine at home.” Avery said rather bluntly. She stared at him expectantly, Callum had ruined her mood and taken all her patience.

Malachy raised his brow teasingly, making a tsk tsk tsk sound with his mouth. “That’s not very polite.” He faked offence.

Avery stiffed a groan. “May I please borrow your lighter.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Malachy took out the lighter from his trouser pocket, he held his hand out waiting for her to take it from him. When Avery reached out to take the lighter from his grasp, he pulled back his hand quickly.

“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me.” He warned her, referring to her action moments prior. Avery stared at him intimidated. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, thinking he was angry until he brought the lighter to her mouth. He lifted her chin with his hand, lighting the cigarette for her as he watched her closely.

Avery stayed quiet, inhaling the fag gratefully.

“I seen you arguing with a boy earlier.” Malachy hummed. “Who was he?” He couldn’t resist asking her. He felt an unknown feeling building in his stomach.

Avery wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t dare, remembering his earlier warning.

“Just this boy from school.” She said vaguely.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Malachy found his breathing was heavy as he watched her inhale and exhale the smoke.

Avery looked up at him with a raised brow and smirk, her head tilted to one side. “Not anymore.”

They both felt droplets fall from the sky and land on their skin, becoming heavier by the second until it was completely pouring.

Malachy roughly pulled her by the arm and into the boat hut away from the rain and cold.

“Hey what the fuck!” Avery shouted in surprise.

“Be grateful I’m not making you stay out in the rain.” He walked closer to her. He pulled his hood down, allowing Avery to see more of his face.

Avery stepped back.

“Maybe I should have left you outside.” Malachy continued his taunts. stepping closer to her. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and placed it down on the ashtray on the nearest table.

Avery remained silent, taking a step back for every step he took forwards. She couldn’t deny he was good looking, mature, unlike Callum. He looked strong and masculine not short and weak. Like a proper man.

“Would you have run back to that little boyfriend of yours.” Malachy almost laughed at the thought of him. He took the cigarette out of Avery’s mouth when he was close enough. The back of Avery’s knees hit the couch, she fell onto the leather seat with Malachy standing between her legs. She couldn’t look away from him.

“Would you?” Malachy repeated. One of his hands reached down to cup her cheek, caressing the skin gently.

“No.” Avery breathed out, eyes glued to his. She became desperate to earn his attention, his touch.

Malachy hummed in approval.

“Have you ever been touched by a real man before?” He asked suddenly, his voice low and rough.

“No.” Avery confessed, she felt herself becoming aroused, hot to the touch the more he looked at her or she heard his voice.

Malachy tutted.

He lowered himself so he was kneeling inbetween her legs. Both his hands found their way to her legs, moving upwards slowly until they reached her thighs.

His touch made every hair on her body stand up. It was something she had never felt with any of the boys she had been with in the past. They were boys when he was a man. Guys her age weren’t the same.

“I can take care of you.” He whispered the promise, his hands moving up and down her legs slowly, brushing her inner thigh. “I’ll show you how a man takes care of you. How you deserve to be treated.”

Avery’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation that flowed through her entire body to her very core. Her mouth opened slightly.

“Do you trust me.” He said lowly, stopping his movements as he leaned in closer to her.

“Yes.” Avery breathed out, aching for more.

“Good girl.”

[princessbrunette]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

thinking about unhinged but kinda jittery s1 rafe.

being in a relationship with him means getting fucked regularly, i mean that boy is like a machine — constantly getting riled up enough on adrenaline or coke or whatever it is and needing an outlet, being you. there’s times where he’s just got his stupid shorts pulled down below his ass, his polo tucked beneath his chin and both hands on your hips just jackhammering into you like you’re a little sex toy.

you ate something funny, a little while into the relationship— and one morning whilst rafe is sat at the kitchen counter chewing on a bagel you quickly depart to throw your guts up into the toilet. it was just a stomach bug, and you knew it — but rafes chewing slows as he hears the sound of you heaving in the bathroom, leaving his bagel behind as his eyes widen a fraction, slowly padding through the hall to find you.

he stands in the doorway, staring at you hunched over the bowl. he simply gawks dumbly for a while.

“ar…are you sick? wh—” he cuts himself off with a sigh, cheeks a little red and eyes wide.

“i guess.” your voice comes out echoed into the previously pristine toilet bowl.

“i—i mean no one else is sick i’m— i’m just thinking…” he starts to pace a little, fingers loosely gesturing to his temple. “i always pull out on time. you know i always do i’m— very careful—” he starts to ramble and you stiffen. oh jesus.

“rafe…”

“d-do you think it could be— like are you pregnant, maybe?” he stops pacing, facing you. his own words digest, and he closes his eyes, running two hands through his hair. “shit.” he clenches his fists angrily.

“no, rafe… i can’t be.” you try softly, head still hanging as you pick yourself up, wiping your mouth. the panic has settled in now and the blonde man sits on the lid of the toilet, rocking back and forth obsessively pushing his hair back.

“nah, nah— s’not… it’s not entirely impossible you know sometimes i just can’t control how soon i… shit, dads gonna fucking kill me. like actually kill me, you know that right?”

“rafe!” you raise your voice a little, before coughing. “m’not pregnant. got my period yesterday. just… calm down, okay? m’sick and my heads killing me.” you whine, watching the words settle in and his whole body relaxes. he leans back against the tile, breathing out a manic laugh as he sighs.

“yeah, yeah okay. good. i mean— one day, but i couldn’t— you know i couldn’t do all that right now, right babe?” he reassures, patting you on the back from his seated position.

“whats goin’ on in here? aw, honey. are you sick?” wards voice sounds, his head popping around the open door and peering inside the bathroom at the scene. his eyes instantly find rafes, boring into them — supposedly with the same idea.

“shes not pregnant.” rafe waves him off, standing up to fix his hair in the mirror above the sink. ward nods slowly, glancing between the two of them— the type of glance that says rafe is going to receive a talking-to about being safe later on regardless.

“…alright. rafe, go make her some tea, would you?”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

[prettypinkporkchop]

Paul lahote x fem reader

Warnings: language, making out, kind of sexual, passed mother

Rules

You're in need of an extra job! Living isn't super cheap. Working as a receptionist at Sue's clinic isn't going to cut it. She referred you to someone who needs a babysitter. You were down instantly!

You pull up to the address that was given to you. You're about to meet a man named Paul Lahote. His six year old daughter is Susie Lahote. You walk to the house and knock on the door. You hope it's the right house, it's a bit dark out. The waiting makes you a bit nervous. You decide to knock again. This time, the door opens.

He seems mad, but his eyes soften as they look into yours. You stare for a second, amazed by the man. He's so sexy.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a bother. I'm y/n. Am I at the right house?" You nervously play with your fingers.

His hand falls from the doorframe, and he smiles. "I'm Paul. Sorry, I thought you were a buddy of mine." He scratches his cheek awkwardly.

"Yeah! You're good!" You giggle.

He moves a bit to let you inside. You follow him into the kitchen. "She's asleep, but I can show you around and.." He looks down at the paper on the counter. You get a peak. It says "Rules" at the top. He crumbles it up and holds it in his hand, resting his fist on the counter. "I'll show you around." He awkwardly chuckles.

"Alrighty." You say. You found that a bit strange, but you let that go. You follow his words closely and watch as his lips and arms move.

He shows you around the house. It's small but really neat. He points at a door that's down the hall. It has princess stickers all over it. "That's Susie's room. She's a ball of fun. Very good kid." He smiles at you.

You nod your head with a smile. "I can't wait to meet her."

"I'm going to be gone for a couple of days. Would that be alright with you? Take her to school, you go to work or if you're off, do whatever?" He looks in your eyes. His hands are stuffed in his pockets.

"Yes, sir. I can do that!" You reply.

He licks his lips with a smile and looks down. "You don't have to call me that." He looks back up at you. "Uh, I'm leaving tomorrow evening. Can I get your phone number? Also, thank you. And I'll thank Sue for bringing you here."

------

"Hey, miss y/n." A cute little girl who resembles Paul looks up at you.

"Hey, miss Susie!" You bend down to her level.

She pulls out a sucker from her tiny pocket. "Dad said you would be here. I got this for you from school." She hands it out to you.

Your heart melts! You're already adoring this baby girl! What a sweetie. You take it from her tiny hand and smile at her. "Thank you so much! I believe we are going to have an amazing time."

She nods her head quickly in response.

You stand up and look at Paul. He's smiling and seems to be of approval. "Thank you again." He says. "You can put your bags on my bed. You're welcome to sleep in there or on the couch."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're welcome here anytime!" He continues.

Paul and Susie say their goodbyes. She doesn't seem too upset that her father is going to be away for two days. It seems as if this is common. He takes his bags and heads out the door.

"Alright, sweet girl. How about we put on a movie and I'll make us dinner!"

You made an easy dinner, and you both watched Moana. Once she finished eating, you go into her bedroom and pick out some clean clothes for her. You set them out and run her a bath. "Susie! Your bath is ready!" You call out.

She makes her way in there. "Thank you!" She smiles.

You stand up and leave her to it! You clean up the kitchen and make sure to listen for her in the bathroom. You hear her step out and go into her room.

You make your way to the bathroom and drain the water. She put her dirty clothes in the basket already. Smart! You knock on her bedroom door.

"Can you come brush my hair?" She asks.

You open the door and see her on her bed with a hairbrush beside her. You sit on her bed and cross your legs. She sits in front of you. "Does your dad leave often?" You ask, being soft with her hair.

"Yes, ma'am. He works with my uncles." She responds.

"That's awesome! Who used to babysit you when he'd leave?" You ask out of curiosity.

"My mom." She says. "She died when I was four. Daddy had to stay home more."

You stop for a second and have to figure out how to respond to that. But she turns to face you when she notices you stop brushing her hair. "What?" You awkwardly ask.

"I'm not very sad about it. I don't remember a lot. I always lived with dad."

A bit later, you go into Paul's bedroom. You place your bags on his bed and go into his bathroom. It smells so good in his room and bathroom. His shower has a bunch of men soaps. But, you brought your own. You take a shower and then get dressed. You get in his comfortable bed and play on your phone for a bit. You get a text from Paul.

Paul: How is she?

----

"Miss Y/n?" You open your eyes and see her standing in front of you.

You sit up and check your phone. Oh, lord. You have to bring her to school on twenty minutes. Your alarm didn't go off. "I'm sorry, Susie. Let's get ready. I'll let you eat in the car on the way there."

You get her ready as quickly as possible. You make her some cinnamon toast and give it to her while you both get in the car.

You get back to Paul's house and go into the kitchen. You start figuring out what to cook for Susie. As you're moving around, you notice the crumbled up paper next to the microwave. You slowly open it up.

RULES:

Don't leave a mess

She will ask for coffee, it's a no

Do not enter my bedroom

My house is not yours, only come here to watch Susie

I will pay $100 per day

You stare at the paper and realize that he isn't following his own rules. You're allowed in his room. He told you to come any time. Hm?

----

You sit on the couch with your bags packed next to you. You're waiting for Paul to pull up. To the house. You've cleaned everywhere, and Susie is at school.

The door opens, and you stand up. Paul huffs and sets down his bag. He looks up at you and smiles.

"How was work?" You ask.

He laughs and then walks closer to you. "Oh, it's a job." He looks over you. His eyes flicker over your face.

You can smell his manly scent. You can feel heat radiating off of him. You're in Paulala Land. He notices, he lifts his hand up to touch your cheek. You come back to and kind of move your face awkwardly. Obviously, this guy is too cocky. He knows he's hot. He must do this to everyone.

"Sorry! What do you do for work?" You wiggle out of his way, walking into the kitchen.

"Uh, I, work in the woods often. I kind of travel." He watches you.

"That's cool! I have done all of the chores. I also slept in your bed, I hope you don't mind." You look at him.

"That's fine!'' He smiles. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and digs through it. He takes out a few hundred dollars.

You widen your eyes and shake your head. "No. No. Actually, don't worry about paying me at all."

----

You put the phone back down onto the pad. You finish confirming this man's appointment, and you turn your swivel chair to face Sue behind you.

"Why didn't you accept the money?" Sue asks.

"Because he's a single father with a sweet daughter, and they both lost a part of them." You argue while closing some filing cabinets.

"Come on. Paul and her weren't even together. Paul is kind of a player. And the mother wasn't fit to have custody of Susie." Sue continues.

You sigh and smile at her. "I'll be okay, Mrs. Clearwater."

She rolls her eyes. "Alright! That's up to you."

You look down and think. "What do you mean he's a player?" You ask.

"Ah. I see. He's a good man. Cocky and hotheaded. Still a good person."

"Mom." You look out the window into the waiting room and see a tan guy who's shirtless with a tribal tattoo. He looks at you and waves.

"Yes, Seth?" She asks, walking around to the waiting room.

They begin talking, and you check your phone. Paul called you? You call him back and the phone rings.

"Hello." Paul says.

"Hey, you called?"

"Yeah, I was just gonna see if you wanted to come over tonight? Susie is with a friend, so.. if you're comfortable.. it's just us."

----

You're giggling with each other, and you're drinking some wine. It's like a small date at his house. He cooked a really good meal! He's so funny and so sweet. You both are sitting on the couch, legs across it, facing each other.

"Why did you invite me anyways?" You take a sip of your drink.

He smirks and nods his head up. "Because I want you. And I know you want me, too."

Your face heats up. "U-uh." You put your glass on the table beside you. "I don't do one night stands." You mumble.

"That's the point. This isn't." He gets on top of you.

Your head is back on the arm of the couch. Your body is pressed on the cushions. His hands are on the arm of the couch to hold himself up. You look up at his face. You know you look so pathetic underneath him. You do want him.

"You're about to sleep with the babysitter." You breathe out.

He leans down to hover his lips over yours. "You're mine, now."

Your breath catches, and your eyes sparkle. You can feel tingles attacking your lips and body.

"I read the rules." It came out.

He backs his face a few inches away. "I thought I threw the paper away."

"No, sir." You answer.

He thinks for a second. "Well, I didn't know you'd be the one to show up at my door. None of it matters." He lowers his head again to bring his lips closer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and then wrap your legs around him. He grabs your thigh, near your bottom, and presses his lips on yours roughly. You kiss him back just as hard playing with his tongue. He presses himself against you so you feel his hard on. You whimper at the massive size you feel against you. You buck your hips upward. A growl leaves his mouth.

You snap out of it and pull away. He looks down at you, confused. You put your hands on his chest, pushing slightly. He gets off of you.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asks, worried.

"N-no. I'm sorry." You awkwardly chuckle. "I'm guessing I come back this weekend for Susie?" You stand up, gathering your stuff.

"Yeah.." He breathes out.

----

Susie drops the barbie on the floor when Paul steps in her bedroom door. She stands up and runs to him. "Dad!"

He lifts her up and kisses on her face. "My baby girl!"

You stand up and look at them with a smile.

"Ready to go to Emily's and play with Claire? Uncle Quil will be there." He asks.

She cheers and jumps down and begins to pack her bag.

Paul looks at you and nods his head out the door, asking you to step out. You do as told and follow him into the living room. "Why won't you accept my pay?" He asks.

"Because you're a single father. You lost her. Susie lost her mother. I just want to help."

"She didn't mean anything to me. She didn't want full custody. It was a one night stand that I didn't regret." He steps closer to you and grabs your hand. "But you're different. I know you're into me, too." He whispers.

You're about to reply and your cheeks redden but Susie steps into the living room.

"I'm ready!" She giggles.

----

Sue Clearwater is watching you and you see her in the corner of your eye as you're checking in a patient.

"Yes maam?" You ask.

"There's a party that our family... tribe go to. You should come."

You drop the pen and look at her. "Am I allowed to?"

"Yes. You are." She smiles.

----

You stare at the wolf in front of you......

[hihhasotherfixations]

Imagine after that first flight with baby dragon, whenever Price or the 141 toss dragonling in the air a lil to get them to laugh, there's little wing flaps of them tryna copy their dad. Also little tail wags and wing flaps when they're happy

PLS YES

Link to original post

Little drabble below the cut 👇

“There’s the little tyke!” Soap cheered as you came walking in while holding Price’s hand, your hair ruffled. Upon seeing the Scot, you squealed a giggle and let go of your dad’s hand, wobbling a run over to him as he crouched down with a little laugh, his arms out for you.

The moment you were close, he scooped you up and held you high.

“My wee flier!” He said before grinning at Price. The man looked a little tired, the carrier partially unstrapped and still hanging on his chest. “How’d they do?”

“Like a dream. Loved every second.” The dragon spoke proudly, walking forward as well.

Your little tail was waggling like crazy as you now sat on Soap’s hip.

“You’d expect they get tired from it.” Ghost remarked from the corner of the room, raising an eyebrow beneath his mask, seeing the absolute explosion of energy you still had.

“Ghof!” You yelled out the moment you heard him, making Soap grin as he turned and held you out for the centaur standing a little ways away.

Your little hands stretched out towards him, Ghost sighed before walking over, his hooves clacking against the wooden floor as he turned, allowing Soap to deposit you on his back.

“I want to be paid by the hour.” Ghost dryly spoke to Price, making the man chuckle as he watched you squirm and sit up on the centaur, your tiny fists tightly clenching his black coat.

“I’ll buy you a bourbon next time we go out.” He said before he finally started to unstrap the carrier from his chest.

Sighing in relief to have the tight straps loosened, he tried to lift it over his head, only for it to get stuck on his left wing.

With Soap on guard duty to make sure you didn’t fall off of Ghost’s back, he was left to just drop his hands in defeat. He’d get it off later.

“Need help, cap?”

“Garrick.” Price sighed in relief as the voice sounded behind him and hummed. “I think it twisted.”

“Yeah, it did.” The siren said, starting to untangle the straps. “First flight went well then?”

As a response, Price just pointed at you, your tail wagging like crazy, constantly whapping Ghost’s flank - who looked less than amused, though in a caring way.

Smiling, the younger man then helped lift the carrier off his captain.

“Come on, Ghost, let’s take a ride! The kid would love it.”

“And have your furry ass sit on me? No way.” Ghost scoffed, his torso turned to adres the other man.

“Don’t be rude now.” Soap pouted, lightly fist bumping the centaur’s hip to drive his point home. Yet in response, Ghost just lifted his back leg and whacked a hoof into his shin, making Soap groan and instantly crumple, cradling his leg while you cackled out a giggle, your wings beating a few times. “Ghost, what the s-“

“I hope you both aren’t teaching my kid violence or swear words.”

Both soldiers tensed a bit as Price’s voice boomed.

“No. I wasn’t gonna swear.” Soap quickly said while on the floor, seeing his captain cross his arms across the room.

Walking up, Gaz just whacked Soap upside the head, getting a playful swipe at his legs in return which he easily dodged before reaching Ghost.

“You two should never be allowed alone with children.” He said while lifting you off of Ghost’s back.

Immediately, you were entranced by the way the light reflected off of the iridescent scales on his cheeks. Like a true, hoarding dragon.

Ghost crossed his arms and Gaz just chuckled as he stole you away, walking over to sit on the couch in the common room, with you in his lap. “You just went on a flight with daddy, huh?” He asked.

In response you just happily babbled, reaching up to touch and tug at his cheeks.

“Whoah-“ Gaz pulled you back a bit, smiling as he then instead tilted his head to lessen the reflections. “You wanna fly?”

“Ah!” You immediately shouted, your attention span as short as your legs.

Happy, Gaz lifted you off his lap, bouncing you up and down between his legs for a second before heaving you up and throwing you into the air, a game you’d played a hundred and one times with the team.

Yet as Price stood to the side, a warm smile on his face, he watched you spread your wings and flap them.

Standing up a bit straighter, his surprise turned to glee as he watched the little limbs beat in the air, doing nothing to keep you afloat as you fell back down into Gaz’s arms with a shattering laugh.

Yet when Gaz threw you up again, you did it once more.

You’d learned from your dad.

He saw it in the way your right wing moved down a fraction earlier than your left. It was his flying technique.

With Ghost and Soap squabbeling in the background and the sight and sound of your laughter, today was going to be a hard day to ever be topped.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Dean are in trouble as they come face to face with the person who's been pulling the strings all this time...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of murder/manipulation

A/N: Please enjoy the finale!

_______

“Stand down!” a voice shouted, holding up a closed fist. “He’s fucking feral!”

Feral? You reached a hand down between your thighs, pulling it back and grateful to find no blood. On the one hand, you were grateful Dean went feral. It was like a shit’s hit the fan reflex in an Alpha. Knots deflated instantly so pairs could escape danger. He would be stronger than five Alpha’s combined. Dean’s hair stood upright on every inch of his body, sense hyper aware of everything right now, searching of a way to protect his omega. 

But going feral meant that in a few hours, Dean’s body would force him to play catch up for going into overdrive and knock him out for a while to recover. You had to find a way out of this and fast.

“Are you fucking…” said a heavy sigh, your head popping out from behind Dean. Your heart skipped when one of the men ripped off his mask. “You fucking mated him? You let this fucker knot and claim you all the way didn’t-”

“Did, did you just come in here to try and kill my mate? My Alpha? My goddamn true mate?” you growled, stepping around Dean but held back by his extended arm. “If anyone takes a step towards him, I’ll kill you myself. I don’t care if you’re my dad or not. Don’t fuck with my mate.”

“He’s your dad?” said Dean, his scent threaded with a sharp twinge of heat, like burning ash, anger pulsing with every heartbeat. 

Your dad, turned his back, shaking his head. “Put on some damn clothes. We aren’t doing this right now.”

“Get these people out of my house and maybe I will,” you shot back. He grumbled but you watched as the others in the room walked out the broken front door, gathering at the far end of the front porch. The two of you dressed quickly, Dean always keeping an eye on you. Your dad grunted when he turned around, eyes narrowed at Dean. “Of course it had to be you, you sniveling little shit.”

“Dad, back off. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“He’s full of shit is what he is,” said Dean, picking you up before he stepped over the back of the couch to avoid the glass. He set you down by his side, careful to make sure you stayed behind him. “You were gonna kill your daughter’s true mate before we could cement it. The only reason I’m not dead right now is because it’d destroy her.”

“Why would you want to kill Dean? You told me he was innocent,” you said, brushing past Dean to join him at his side. He didn’t like that but he was the one in danger right now, not you. “Why?”

“Because you’re The Boss, aren’t you. You’re the one that gave out orders to my team lead for who to kill. Didn’t you?” Your dad stared at Dean, his jaw clenched. “Don’t deny it. I know there was someone above him calling the shots.”

“Listen you little shit,” he said, taking a step closer, resting his hand on his holster. “You don’t get to walk away from my business. You were all supposed to die that day but you lived. I let you live, Winchester, don’t forget that. I told the bureau you were a good kid with shitty luck to lose your whole team. I told them to help you get accepted to be a fucking forest ranger in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. I told them I’d watch out for you like the good person I am. I let you go, Dean. I let you think your little conspiracy theories were right. I was going to let you go but you just had to be her mate, didn’t you.”

“Touch her and I’ll-”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he snarled. “That’s my fucking daughter.”

He wiped a hand over his face, breathing deeply as Dean grabbed the back of your sweatpants, holding you close.

“Seeing as how killing you would make my own daughter hunt me down, I’m going to let you live.” Dean scoffed, your dad cocking his head. “Boy, don’t you think for one second if I hadn’t gotten here five minutes sooner you’d be still breathing. I won’t fuck up my own family but yours? I have no problem sending Sam and his little girlfriend a visit or your parents. You fucking work for me again and this time? You’re not hiding behind your team. You’re killing who I say when I say it.”

“No he isn’t.” You took a step forward, Dean’s grip still there. “In case you didn’t realize, those people you just threatened are my pack now. They are as much my family as you are. Dean let go of me.”

“Be careful,” he muttered, reluctantly dropping his hand. You raised your chin and took a few more steps, as close as you dared. He wouldn’t hurt you but you still couldn’t trust him.

“I know you love me, dad. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He shifted on his feet, keeping his face blank. “Today was supposed to be my day to spend with him. Today’s supposed to be the best day of my life and you stole that. He’s not a hitman. He’s my fucking soulmate and if you do not stop hurting him right this second, I will call her, call them both, and tell them everything.”

His lips parted as he took in the threat, the way you stood your ground. You honestly weren’t sure what he’d do. Clearly he wasn’t the easy going nice guy you’d always known him as which made your gut churn. But you’d deal with that later. Right now you needed this resolved.

“Well?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Am I calling them or what?”

He raised his hand and did a twirling motion with his finger. The people on the porch shared a look but you watched them retreat off into the woods. Your dad let out a long breath before crossing his arms back at you. “Alright. I will leave your…mate and his pack out of this. Happy?”

“What the fuck is going on?” mumbled Dean behind your back. 

“My dad has two mates. My mom and his true mate he met a few years ago,” you said, turning around for a closet down the hallway. You ripped it open to find a broom and dustpan, happily grabbing them before tossing them at your dad. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand the kind of liability this kid is.”

“Clean. It. Up.” He grumbled but picked up the broom, sweeping the glass into a pile near his feet. “What Dean chooses to do is not your decision to make. You’re going to live with the consequences of your actions. Unless you want me to tell mom what kind of man you are? Tell Sasha who you are before you claim her?”

“You haven’t claimed your true mate?” asked Dean, your dad turning so his back was to your both as he worked. “How the hell did you hold off?”

“Dad always said it wasn’t fair to mom since he loves them both but when he met Sasha, he was strangely against it. Seeing as we both know just how hard it is to not claim a true mate, I’m going to guess it’s something else,” you said, glancing at Dean.

“He’s on Novi-Alpha,” said Dean, shaking his head. “You can’t claim her or you’ll kill her.”

“It’s why you moved out here away from mom for a ‘covert’ job huh? You don’t want your mates near you,” you said.

“Thanks for being such a sympathetic pup to the fact I have cancer,” he said, throwing the broom down. “For the record, miss know it all, I’ve been on Novi-Alpha for a decade. The kind I have is extremely aggressive. If I stay on it, the cancer stays away. Hopefully.”

“Hey,” you snapped back, holding up a finger. “I don’t want you to be sick. I don’t want to know that you’ve been…killing people for hire for who knows how long. I am so angry with you but do not think that means I want you dead.”

“Oh? What if he wants me dead?” asked your dad, nodding towards where Dean stood beside you. “You going to let him do that?”

Yes, I would. He’d forced Dean to be part of a group that relentlessly made him to be part of their hits. Maybe he hadn’t pulled a trigger or taken a life until it was his own team but he’d participated. Helped plan, coordinate. All against his will so his family would stay safe. So yeah. Dean could walk over there and kill him this second and you wouldn’t be more than a little upset. 

But you hid that gut instinct to yourself for the moment.

“This may come as a shock but I don’t like killing people unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Dean bent down, palm wrapping around the broomstick. He held it out to your dad, staring him dead on. “My friend is an oncologist. A good one. He’s the one that was giving me access to Novi-Alpha the past few years while I thought someone was hunting me.”

Dean nodded his chin, looking him up and down.

“It’s better than the basic crap your insurance covers. I could talk to him, see if we could get you on the new stuff. It might actually heal you and you could be with your mates again.”

“Why the fuck would you help me?” he asked. Dean glanced over his shoulder at you, giving him a smirk.

“You have a lot of making up to do with your daughter and your new pack family. We need you alive to do that,” said Dean. Your dad reached for the broom, Dean holding it back. “Why’d you kill in the first place?”

“Why do you think? When I was diagnosed, Novi-Alpha didn’t exist. I was trying to get money fast to pay off the house, pay that one’s student loans, make sure my family was taken care of. They didn’t know it could cure cancer when it first came out so I kept at it.”

“So you went Walter White on the situation,” said Dean, handing over the broom. “Maybe you ought to quit the business while you still have a family willing to take you back.”

Your dad pursed his lips, gaze wandering to you. “Not sure that’s possible anymore.”

“Probably not. But that’s your pup. You have two mates, one you’re overdue to claim. You owe them.” Dean turned, giving you a small smile. “You want to give him a second chance?”

“We’ll see. But first, you need to do something else for me.”

Three Months Later

“Good morning,” said your dad, hopping out of his truck as you sat on the front porch with a cup of coffee. “Surprisingly sunny today, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, Harry,” you said, taking a long sip, eyeing him up and down. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, got some in the truck,” he said, Dean walking out the front door, adjusting his coat. “Dean.”

“Asshole,” said Dean with a smile, tilting his head. Your dad hid his frown well, Dean taking a seat across from you with his thermos. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Harry?”

“I uh, wanted you both to know I’m leaving town. I sat mom and Sasha down last week and…told them the truth about everything.” He kicked the dirt with his boot, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I was always worried about them getting along and now they’re closer than ever with how much they hate me. Guess I got what I wanted.”

“I’d try groveling,” said Dean, slurping up the steaming hot coffee with his best bitch face. “You’re starting to get good at it.”

“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, gaze shooting to you. “I need to go try to salvage something with my Omegas.”

“Sasha will let you back, eventually. She’s hardwired into you. Mom might be a different story, though,” you said. 

“I just wanted you girls to be okay when I was gone,” he said as you sighed. “Sorry. I know. Not an excuse.”

“I know you’re trying but you’re going to be making up for this the rest of your life. So go try with your mates. Dean and I will be fine on our own for awhile,” you said. 

“You still hate me,” he said. 

“Travel safe, Harry,” you said, your dad nodding before heading back for his truck. “I heard the new Novi-Alpha strain you’re on is working better.”

“Are you happy about that?” he asked.

“I’m not unhappy.” Dean reached over to take hold of your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Call once you’ve settled in back home.”

“Take care of her,” he said, Dean humming. With that, he was gone, down the gravel driveway and you could feel Dean relax beside you.

“He won’t do anything,” you said, raising your hand and running it through his brown strands. “S’okay, Alpha.”

“I know. He makes me nervous. S’like my body remembers going feral because of him and will always be on edge.” 

“I doubt he ever moves back here. Mom and Sasha are making him donate every penny he ever made from killing, volunteer, be a blood donor once he gets the all clear from his doctors, therapy, and a whole bunch of other stuff.”

“I like those two,” he chuckled, closing his eyes when you scrunched up your fingers against his scalp. “Oh, you’re making me want to go back to bed, Omega. A nice massage sounds like heaven right about now.”

“You are the sheriff. You can show up late you know,” you said, trailing your finger down the side of his cheek, tickling his jaw.

“Ugh, raincheck. I have a staff meeting at eight I’m supposed to run.” He nuzzled into your touch though, his breathing calm, steady. “Why’d you make your dad call the bureau and tell them to give me a job as a cop?”

“Because you’ll never get to go back to being an agent. Because you deserve to be able to help people how you always wanted to.” He inched closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “You never have to be The Ranger again.”

“I know,” he said, sighing against you. You frowned, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. He lifted his head when he saw you dial, watching you hold up a finger.

“Hey, Caleb, it’s Sheriff Winchester’s wife. Listen, Dean’s not feeling too great today so he’s calling in sick,” you said, Dean flashing wide eyes at you, trying to steal back the phone but you got up before he could. “Yeah it is too bad, just a touch of flu. Well he’ll be in tomorrow if he’s feeling better, alright? Take care.”

“Omega!” said Dean when you hung up, his hands on your hips as you shrugged with a smirk. “You…you…”

“Yes, sheriff?” you purred, scratching under his chin, scraping over the bonding gland in his neck. He mewled at the sensitive touch, losing the urge to turn into it. “What a good Alpha you are when you relax for me. Hopefully with Harry being gone you’ll relax more. I do love helping you relax.”

“I do like relaxing with you,” he mumbled when you squeezed his hip. “I…I still don’t like it when you call me a good person. It doesn’t feel right when I killed four people and researched how to-”

You pressed a hand to his mouth, Dean staring at you with soft green eyes.

“Think of it this way…you were doing what you had to to protect your pack, just like a good Alpha does. You are not a bad man, Dean Winchester.”

“How do you know that?” he whispered.

“Because I can feel your soul and yours is one of the best.” 

“Oh, Omega,” he said, voice smooth as honey, the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls in the air. “Your soul is my favorite too.”

“Want to finally relax?” you asked, sliding your hand down to his. He laced your fingers together, smiling when he found your face.

“Yeah. I think I finally can after all this time, Omega.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, grinning through it. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Alpha.”

_______

[willowser]

okay but imagine one day the little one goes up to his daddy and tells him you introduced a guy to him and how much he doesn’t like this man. It doesn’t even have to be a romantic partner it could just be an old friend but lil one and ex!husband bakugou instantly assume you have a new man in your life

omg. the heart attack bakugou is having.

your son is standing on his little step-stool in front of katsuki's bathroom mirror. meant to be brushing his little teeth, but he's mostly chewing on his toothbrush, poking around in his dad's cologne and aftershave and deodorant. at least he's put his pj's on by himself.

katsuki is finishing up his own shower, glancing at him every now and then as he washes the shampoo from his own hair, and when he's finally done, the little boy hasn't gotten any closer to having clean teeth; now he's drawing mindless little shapes through the steam that's built up on the glass.

"oi," he only has to say it once and then your son is letting out a little sigh before brushing the way he's meant to — even if katsuki knows the there's not a lick of toothpaste on that thing.

"dad," he says suddenly, distracted as he turns around to face him. "mommy doesn't let me take a shower."

katsuki moved on from bath time rather quick. in the very beginning, it was fine, because he washed his squirmy son and then wrapped him up in a towel and that was it, but in the last year or so it's turned into "how many toys can i bring with me this time, dad?" and then sitting in the water until it's run cold. it's much easier to get him in the shower at the same time, to shampoo his head and scrub his little butt and then kick him out.

"oh, yeah?" he murmurs, adjusting the towel on his waist. "s'cause mom's better at baths than me."

the little boy only shrugs, before continuing. he's in a small phase right now of 'dad? hey dad? um, dad?' every time he's got something to say, and katsuki finds it both cute and a little exhausting.

"hey dad?"

katsuki hums.

"mommy had a man in her shower."

the first image that comes to mind is of himself, in your shower; the many times you'd taken one together and hugged him beneath the warm water; how it clung to your eyelashes and sat in your cupid's bow. warm, made soft and tender in the steam, like he could mold you against his body forever.

— and then his stomach is swooping so hard, he thinks he might be sick.

"what?" katsuki asks, voice loud and affronted, snatching all his son's attention. "sorry, 'm sorry," and then because his son is still looking at him with wide eyes, he pulls him up close, rubbing his back once before setting him to stand on the counter — which he never gets to do.

guilt twists in his stomach for yelling, though his son seems unbothered now, at new heights. katsuki grabs him by his little tiny shoulders and tries to keep his face smooth and calm, his pending heartbreak hidden.

"who was in mom's shower?"

but your son is smarter than that, can read katsuki like an open book, somehow. as if you passed all your understanding down through the womb; he came out of there knowing exactly what dad was thinking with a single look.

your son only shrugs, averting his eyes to katsuki's shoulder as he lightly pinches his wet skin.

"'m sorry," he says again, shaking his little body around until the boy is laughing. "i'm not mad. i just..." katsuki sighs and tries not to pout. "wasn't expecting that."

"are you mad at mommy?"

the divorce isn't new, and katsuki's not stupid.

you've been on a handful of dates, been open about it, encouraged him to do the same. not that he's bothered, but anyone with eyes and half a brain would try to swoop in on someone like you, so — as much as it makes him want to knock some fucking teeth in — can't say he should be surprised.

he shouldn't be, at all.

still feels like shit, though.

"no," he finally says, tugging the little toothbrush from his tiny fist to put some actual toothpaste on it. "'m not mad at anybody."

"are you sad?"

maybe it's another purposeful distraction, to get out of doing what he's told, or maybe he's probing at nerves because he's too young and too curious, or maybe he just knows his dad too well.

katsuki frowns at his big eyes, staring back at him, before lightly patting his little hip. "brush your teeth, i ain't tellin' you again."

he tries not to think about it, but that just makes it worse. can't stop imagining you in the arms of some other asshole, what stupid shit they must be doing to flirt with you, how they're making you laugh; just the image of it alone — you, besides some fucking bozo, head thrown back the way you do, laughing louder than you ever did with him — makes his stomach hurt.

it makes him dread the hand-off, too. his house is gonna feel too quiet now, after a week with the little brat, and that's a big enough wound to leave him with nothing to say — but you always try to insist on katsuki finding someone every time you get back out there.

it makes him physically ill, just watching the side of your face as you buckle your son into his car seat, all grins because your house gets to be lively with him.

and when you close the door and turn to him and mutter out your little, "hey, by the way....", he has half a mind to just walk away, right then.

"your son," you start off, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "got into the dryer sheets last week and flushed a whole bunch of them down the toilet."

oh.

"oh," katsuki says, and then he narrows his eyes at his son through the window, even though he's not paying any attention.

(on the nights when the little boy can't sleep, is more emotional than usual, katsuki calls you because that's what your son really wants.)

(very relatable feeling, katsuki thinks.)

"yeah," you smile, "and my coworker's husband is a plumber, so i was able to get it all taken care of. just...thought i would let you know."

katsuki shrugs like he could care less, but you see right through it all, of course. the both of you, mother and son, too understanding for his own good.

almost like you were made for him, like you're supposed to still be his.

"yeah, good," he nods once, glancing over your shoulder to see your son finally sitting up a little bit, peering through the window with his big, sad eyes.

just watching the two of you. just knowing.