#even if its a father you've never met and never will and never can

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

You know even before you open your eyes that it’s snowed overnight. The world always sounds too quiet afterwards, and you used to have so many words to describe it – almost comforting, almost eerie, almost serene. But that was when you were young. Now you’d replace all those words with a different one: Empty. You used to love the winter, the first snowfall of the year, and you still do. But it always reminds you of him. And he’s gone.

He’s been gone for years now. The length of time you spent with him has been swallowed six times over by the time you’ve spent alone, and you’d like to think that even in the beginning, you wore your sadness well. Now, nineteen years in, it barely shows. You keep it buried through spring, summer, autumn – until the first frost, the first freezing rain, the first icicles on the eaves and the first drifts of snow on the ground, when it crawls free of the grave and sprawls on top of you at night. You met Tomura in the winter. Fell in love with him by spring. You got two more winters with him after that, and then he was gone, and nothing can fill the space he left behind.

But even if one chamber of your heart is frozen open for good, the rest is still alive. And there’s room for a different kind of love, a way for you to translate your grief rather than buckle beneath its weight. There’s a knock at the door to your room, and your daughter’s voice slips cautiously in. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” you say, and you blink away the tears. “Come in.”

Even at eighteen, Chihiro still hesitates before she steps across the threshold, but once she’s made the choice, she throws herself onto the bed with abandon. “We got half a meter. That’s even more than the forecast said.”

“And we’ve still got power. Lucky us.” You wipe your eyes, just in case, and turn to face her. “Good morning, kiddo.”

“How long do I have to be kiddo? I’m almost done with high school.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you compromise, even as your throat tightens. She’s never met her father, never will, but the tone in her voice when she’s putting her foot down reminds you painfully of him. “What should I call you instead?”

“My name. You’re the one who picked it out.” Chihiro’s dressed in her pajamas with a hoodie thrown over them, and you can see her phone lighting up through the front pocket. “Don’t you like it anymore?”

“I love it,” you say, “Chihiro. Did you sleep okay?”

She nods. There’s something on her mind. You can tell by the way her brow furrows, and the way her mouth thins tells you that she’s planning to keep it quiet. Or that she’ll try. Chihiro has a hard time keeping her feelings inside. She and Tomura have that in common, but while you always gave Tomura space to figure out how to say what he needed to, you always let Chihiro know you’re aware, and listening. “What’s going on up there, Chihiro, my daughter who’s almost done with high school?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile is pulling up the corner of her mouth. Her smile’s always been a little lopsided, but so has yours. “There’s only one morning of the year you ever sleep in,” she says. “The first time it snows. And then you’re different all day – not mad or depressed or anything. Just different. I was wondering why.”

“I’m sorry,” you say at once. “I’m not upset with you. It’s not anything you did. You could never do anything that would –”

“I know, Mom.” Chihiro’s crimson eyes are intent on your face. “It’s one day. You get to be weird if you need to. I just wanted to know – is it because of him? My dad?”

When she was little, you’d lie, and tell her the snow is so pretty that you can’t help but get emotional about it. There was a while where she didn’t ask. But she’s old enough now that you can admit it. You think. “Yeah,” you say. Your voice is steady. You’re proud of that. “This is around the time of year when I first met him. It brings back memories.”

“Good ones?” Chihiro settles into the pillows the way she used to when she wanted a bedtime story. “Tell me.”

You hesitate. “Not the gross stuff,” Chihiro clarifies. “I don’t want to know about that. Kaori’s mom tells her all about that stuff. And she bought her a vibrator for her birthday.”

“Huh,” you say after a second. “That’s sex-positive of her.”

“You’re being nice. What do you really think?”

You think she reminds you of Tomura. He never let you duck behind the niceties; he always wanted to know your real reaction. “I think it’s weird. Especially if Kaori didn’t ask.”

“She definitely didn’t. She’s really shy.” Chihiro grimaces. “I’m glad you’re not weird like that.”

Not weird is a good thing. Maybe. “You know I’m here if you need to talk about –”

“No, Mom. Gross.” Chihiro buries her face in the pillow. “Tell me about my dad.”

“Okay,” you say. “Your dad. He, um – there was something about him. I never met someone like him before, and I haven’t since. He told the truth about stuff, even if it wasn’t pretty, and he said what he thought even if it was a bad time. One time we went on a double date with one of his friends and their new boyfriend, and the first question out of your dad’s mouth was whether the boyfriend had drawn his facial hair on.”

Chihiro wheezes. “That’s awful,” she says, but she’s laughing – just like you were. “Had he, though?”

“We never got an answer,” you say, and Chihiro laughs harder. “Your dad could be a jackass sometimes, even to people he liked, but when it really mattered, he’d –”

Kill for them. You swallow the words. “He was there for people when they needed him,” you say instead. “He was always there for me. Even if he didn’t know the right thing to say, I could count on him to listen. And he never gave me a hard time for standing up for myself. Not even when we argued about things.”

You were sort of a pushover early on. You were worried that saying no would make you difficult, and being difficult would make him want to leave. It wasn’t how you were most of the time, or how you’d been before you and Tomura got together, and he wasn’t scared to call you out. You remember the grin on his face the first time you really put your foot down about something, set a boundary and held it. I knew you were in there somewhere, he said. This is how I like you.

That was something you loved about being with Tomura: You were good for each other. You made each other better. “It sounds like you were happy,” Chihiro ventures, and you nod. “Do you think you’d have gotten married sometime? Did you guys want kids?”

Married, maybe. Your friends and his all used to joke that the two of you were the old married couple of the group, but while you talked about the future, you almost never talked about marriage to go with it. Not until it was almost the end, and you never made it to the discussion, any discussion, about having kids. Your pregnancy was catastrophic because of what happened before it, but even if it hadn’t been, it would have raised a lot of questions that neither you nor Tomura knew how to answer. “We were really young,” you say. “I was only twenty-two. We hadn’t had that talk yet. But I think we’d have talked about it if –”

“Yeah.” Chihiro’s voice is muffled by the pillows. “Did he know about me? Before he died?”

Your stomach clenches in a tight, guilty cramp, one that’s been getting steadily worse over the years. “I didn’t find out until after he was gone.”

“Oh.” Chihiro’s voice goes small and wavering. “Do you think – um – do you think he would have liked me?”

There’s no way to know. That means what you say next isn’t technically a lie. “He would have loved you,” you say. Her shoulders shake, and you rest your hand on her back to settle her, the same as you’ve done since she was a baby. “Just like I do.”

Chihiro turns her head to look at you, her eyes glassy with tears. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You rub her back in slow circles. “Ask about him whenever you want. I’ll always try to answer.”

“Do you miss him?”

Other than your daughter’s ragged breathing and your own steady, shallow sips of air, there’s no sound in the world. When you open up the blinds, you’ll see an empty snowfield, unmarked by human footprints for a little while longer. Footprints in the snow will be filled in by the next storm or melted away in the thaw, but the marks Tomura left on you are indelible. There will never be room for someone else where he stood, because he’s still standing there, somewhere you can’t reach.

Sometimes you’ve thought, selfishly, that it would be easier if he really was dead, just so you wouldn’t have to cope with knowing that he’s still out there, knowing exactly where he is with no way to get to him. You’ve let Chihiro think he’s dead. You tell yourself it’s easier for her this way. It’s better that she doesn’t know what really happened to Tomura. The fact that you know is bad enough.

“Mom?” Chihiro asks, and you realize you never answered her question. “Do you still miss my dad?”

You still love him. That’s the same thing. “I do,” you say. “Every day.”

Chihiro cries herself out, and then it’s time to get moving. Her school has a late start, not a snow day, and you still have to go to work. You make a special breakfast anyway, play the music you and she used to dance to when she was little, and soon your daughter’s smiling again. Chihiro doesn’t have trouble being happy, not like you and Tomura both did. Still do, probably. Your depression was just that, but the sheer weight of Tomura’s past regularly threatened to crush him, and you doubt the nineteen years he’s already spent in prison have done anything to improve things.

But Chihiro knows how to be happy, and you know, because she tells you when she’s not. You’re not naive enough to think your teenager tells you everything, but she knows she can talk to you. And she does talk to you, getting steadily back to herself as you eat breakfast and clean up and get ready, her for school, you for work. Then the two of you crunch your way to the car and start digging it out of the snow. The snowplows must have been out last night and early this morning, because the road doesn’t have much in the way of accumulation. You’ll have to be careful of ice.

You’re both a little sweaty under your winter coats when you get in the car at last. “I’m already gross,” Chihiro complains. “Why can’t we get a garage or something?”

“Where would we put it?”

“In your room,” Chihiro says. You snort. “Or in mine. Since I’m going to uni soon.”

Your heart sinks whenever she says that, but you’ll be damned before you let it show. “You’ll still need somewhere to stay when you come back,” you say. “Maybe we don’t really need a kitchen.”

Chihiro rolls her eyes. “What? You’re not planning to turn my room into, like, a sewing room or something once I go to school?”

"No," you say. "My parents did that when I went away. I hated it."

Looking back, you took it way too personally. They weren’t saying they were done with you, or that the place you’d grown up wasn’t home anymore. You were just hurting, and looking desperately for a reason why. Coming back on school break to find your room cleaned out was a good one. “I’m not going to do that,” you say to Chihiro.“Even when you live somewhere else, you’ll always have a place with me.”

Chihiro glances sideways at you. “Kaori’s mom is freaking about her moving away.”

“Kaori’s mom freaks out a lot,” you say. You and she should have bonded, because you’re the only single moms in this small town, but Kaori’s mom makes you nervous. “How does Kaori feel about it?”

“Her mom will be fine. She’s not worried.” Chihiro pauses for a long moment. “I am, though.”

Your grip on the steering wheel goes white-knuckled. “About Kaori’s mom?”

“About you,” Chihiro says. You reach a stop sign, come to a full stop, and turn to look at her. There’s a stubborn set to her jaw that’s all too familiar. “Kaori’s mom is crazy. But Kaori’s mom has a life. She goes out some nights and her friends come to visit and she has parties and hobbies —“

“I have hobbies,” you protest.

“Yeah. Your hobby means you hang out in the house all day,” Chihiro says. “You can't carry your sewing machine and all your fabric to a craft party. Maybe if you learned to knit or something —“

“I’m not going to knit.”

“Something,” Chihiro says firmly. “Something that means you’re not alone all the time. I’m excited to go to uni. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you when I leave.”

You’ve fucked up, big-time. “Chihiro, I understand why you —“ No, you don’t. All you understand is that you were stupid to think your damage didn’t show, awful for making Chihiro think she has any responsibility for your mess of an internal life at all. “It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not about taking care of yourself,” Chihiro fires back. “It’s about being happy. You want me to be happy, right?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mom.” Chihiro says it bluntly, unashamedly. “So I want you to be happy, too.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s quiet, and it keeps being quiet, until a car pulls up behind you and honks its horn. You refocus on driving in a hurry. With you distracted, Chihiro pushes the point. “You barely even talk to people, Mom. Kaori’s mom thinks you hate her because you never say yes when she asks to hang out.”

“I don’t hate her,” you say. Chihiro’s skeptical look skewers you to the seat. “Look, she’s just not — it’s complicated.”

“No it’s not,” Chihiro says. “Next time she asks to hang out, say yes.”

No. “What if I sign up for an art class at the community center instead?”

“Do that, too,” Chihiro says. You grimace. “You want me to be happy. I’ll be happy if I know you’re talking to other people and doing stuff that’s not in the house. I don’t want to come back on a school break and find out you’ve only been talking to the trees or something.”

She pauses. “I guess you can talk to them a little. As long as you don’t start thinking they talk back.”

“Got it.”

You drop Chihiro off at school less than a minute before the bell rings, but she still makes you get out of the car and hug her. She hugs really tight. She got that from you. Tomura used to complain jokingly that you were a boa constrictor in a girlfriend suit. You kiss her forehead and send her on her way, then get back in the car and drive to work, feeling even worse than you did when you opened your eyes to a snowy silence this morning.

Chihiro’s wrong about Kaori’s mom. It is complicated — not because you hate her, but because she’s the nosiest person in town, and because you’ve got a lot to hide. You didn’t mean to have a lot to hide. It was just something that happened, and as the years since Tomura’s conviction have unfolded, you’ve gotten steadily more attached to the lie. It’s not about you. It’s about Chihiro, who shouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that her father’s a convicted murderer awaiting execution in supermax prison, who shouldn’t have to deal with people looking at her differently. It’s about Chihiro. It’s not about you.

Or so you tell yourself. But there’s a reason you fled from Tokyo in the aftermath of Tomura’s sentencing, why you cut off contact with his friends and yours, why you dyed your hair and changed your phone number and nuked your social media along with every email address you ever had. People hated Tomura. And because you were with him, they hated you, too. It didn’t matter that you knew nothing. That the murders he was accused of committing took place before you met him. Even if you’d dumped him the second he was arrested, you’d have been called stupid for not seeing it all along. You couldn’t hack it. You were headed for a breakdown at high speed. But you would have stayed, if Tomura hadn’t told you to go.

The last time you spoke to him was after his sentencing, as they were taking him away. You seized his hands, already cuffed, his wrists chafed raw, and for a split second, he held on so tightly that one of your fingers broke. Then he looked up, hopeless fury in his eyes. Get out of here. Don’t come back. I don’t want you to watch.

You thought he meant he didn’t want you to watch him being shoved into an armored truck for transport, but when your letters came back unopened, when he refused to let you visit or even call him, you realized the truth. He wanted you gone, just as completely as he was gone from you. That moment in the courtroom was the last one you’d ever have with him. And that was what tripped the breakdown at last. You were throwing up too much to overdose and you were too chicken to try another way, so you went to the doctor to figure it out so you could kill yourself with your chosen method. You just wanted anti-nausea pills. The doctor did bloodwork, made you give a urine sample, and gave you a diagnosis.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said, and you looked at him blankly. “You’re pregnant.”

He expected you to get an abortion. Everybody and their mother probably expected you to get an abortion. If Tomura had been there, if your accidental pregnancy had been something the two of you were dealing with together, it probably wouldn’t have even been a question. And for any other pregnancy, it would have been the only viable option in your mind. But when you thought about it, about this pregnancy, your mind rejected the idea so violently that you threw up again. You couldn’t get rid of this baby. You needed it. Looking back, you know your reasons were terrible. You had a kid so you wouldn’t be alone. So you’d keep some memory of Tomura close to you always. So you’d have a reason to keep getting up in the morning, a reason to eat and sleep and exercise, a reason to find a new job in your new town and work hard at it. So someone would need you. So you could do something with your agony at losing Tomura, grab it with both hands and twist it back into love. Deciding to have the baby was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. And raising Chihiro, loving her, is the most important thing you’ll ever do.

She’s right about you. You do live for her. And if that means signing up for a pottery class at the community center and agreeing to grab tea with Kaori’s crazy mom so she won’t worry, that’s what you’ll do.

You work in the combined billing/records/HR department at your town’s medical clinic, with occasional ventures to the front desk when a receptionist is out sick. You spend a lot of time staring at the computer, a lot of time on the phone, and very little time talking to your coworkers — but you’ve been here for seventeen years, longer than almost anyone else. You were working here before some of your coworkers were out of primary school.

Dr. Kawada is your age, though. He greets you as you walk in. “Glad you made it. Anybody who lives past the town limits is staying home.”

“They should. The roads are terrible even with the plows out.” You hang up your coat, then sit down and power up your computer. “How many patients do you think we’ll get?”

“We have a ton of cancelations already,” Keiko, the nurse-practitioner, reports. She would be the one to make it in — Kawada would crawl here with his teeth if he had to, and she’s his wife, so of course she tagged along. “And there was a call for you, bright and early.”

“For billing? Somebody must have been losing sleep.”

“Not for billing. For you,” Keiko admonishes. “I forwarded it to your phone. It seemed kind of urgent.”

You log into your computer, then decide to check the message while you’re waiting for it to perk up. The voice on the other end of the line is completely unfamiliar. “Hi there. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I’m a lawyer with the —" There’s a really loud sound on the other end of the line, completely obliterating whatever he was about to tell you about the organization he’s part of. “Due to confidentiality I can’t share much over the phone, but it’s really important that I get in touch with you! Please call me back to arrange a meeting —“

You hang up and delete the message. You don’t like lawyers, and this guy sounds like he has prosecutor written all over him. Or else he’s a reporter lying to you about his credentials to trick you into giving him a quote. The twenty-year anniversary of Tomura’s conviction is coming up, and there were articles at the ten-year mark, too. You’re more concerned about how this Midoriya Izuku got your number in the first place. You’re not easy to find. You made yourself tough to find on purpose.

It’s a quiet day at the office. Almost all the appointments are canceled, which means that the walk-ins get seen almost immediately, and you have time to start on your end-of-the-year reports. And time to talk, because Keiko and Dr. Kawada are in talkative moods, and you’re the best and only target. “How’s Chihiro?” Keiko asks. “Has she picked a school?”

“Not yet. Still weighing her options,” you say. And then, because you’re tired: “She’s worried about what will happen to me once she leaves.”

“Tell her not to worry. We’ll take care of you!” Dr. Kawada says with a grin. “What’s she worried about, anyway? You seem fine.”

“I am fine. But I’m signing up for an art class so she’ll stop worrying that I’m going to wither away alone,” you say. Dr. Kawada snorts. “How I’m doing isn’t her responsibility. She didn’t ask to be born and I didn’t have her so she could take care of me.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Keiko says. She gives you a weird look, but then she changes the subject. “Hey, but even once she moves out, you don’t have to be alone! Me and Shogo know lots of people we want to set you up with!”

You’re pretty sure your face goes dead white. “What?”

“I mean, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone since you moved here —"

“Because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about Chihiro.”

“Yeah, but if it’s about Chihiro, shouldn’t you want her not to worry?” Kawada’s not helping. You feel like you might be sick. “I moved here right around when you did and I’ve never seen you date anybody. Things must have gone down real bad with your ex —"

“Shogo!” Keiko swats him, mortified, then looks at you. “Sorry. He should know better.”

“Chihiro’s dad isn’t my ex,” you say. “He’s — gone.”

It’s the same trick you’ve been pulling on Chihiro since she was old enough to ask, and it works on adults, too. Kawada backs off, chagrined. “Sorry,” he says. There’s an awkward silence. “I’ve known you for seventeen years. How did I miss that?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” You don’t even like thinking about Tomura, but every winter, it’s unavoidable. Every winter the sadness curls up around you, and although time is supposed to heal things, it’s never gotten any easier to throw off come spring. “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“Yeah,” Keiko agrees. Her eyes are sad. “Still. Tell Chihiro not to worry. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

You force a smile, force your eyes to brighten. “Thank you.”

It’s the clinic’s slowest day in a while, and you spend a lot of it screwing around on the computer. You sign up for an art class, one that meets the same night as Chihiro’s choir practice, so you can pick her up on the way home. You google therapists, too — maybe she’ll feel better if she knows you have one. And maybe you need one. Chihiro’s your daughter, the most important person in the world, the one you’d sacrifice everything to care for. Caring for her takes up most of your thoughts, distracts you from the pain of losing Tomura. Once Chihiro goes away for school, there won’t be anything left to keep your sadness at bay.

Tomura’s been on death row for nineteen years. They could execute him at any time, and you’d never know until his name was released by the government. During his trial, when you realized the death penalty was on the table, you looked up how it would happen. It still haunts you sometimes. You don’t want to think of Tomura with his neck broken, his eyes open and staring, dying with feet chained together and his hands bound behind his back. You want to remember him before it all went wrong. Back when you still believed he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You met him at university, on a day when the campus was iced over. Your on-campus job started early, which meant you had to make your way to the library on paths that wouldn’t be de-iced for another hour. Tomura had an early class. He was headed the opposite way from you, and you were both so focused on not slipping and falling that you walked headlong into each other and fell on your asses anyway.

Your backpack slid from your shoulders, and the papers Tomura was carrying scattered across the path. Fuck, Tomura said, with feeling, and you laughed. What’s so funny? You fell down, too.

I know, but — An image popped into your head and set you off all over again. We look like we’re in a cartoon. Except without the stars and planets around our heads.

No stars and planets? I want a refund, Tomura said, and cracked a smile that opened up a split in his lower lip. Damn it —

Here. You retrieved your fallen backpack and a packet of tissues, then started gathering the papers Tomura had dropped. Sorry. It looked like you were in a hurry to go somewhere.

Comp-Sci building. I’m never signing up for a 7am again. Tomura’s phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his pocket. And now it’s canceled. Motherfucker. I have to walk all the way back —

Maybe not all the way, you said, and he looked at you. I work at the library. It’s definitely open. You can hang out there until they get the paths salted.

Tomura looked at you, the tissue still pressed to his bloody lip. You didn’t know his name yet, didn’t know anything about him, but there was something you liked about his face. Something you liked about how he still got in on your joke, even though he was pissed about the fall. Something about the fact that he hadn’t gotten up yet, even though you’d gathered all his papers and were holding them out for him to take. I’ll level with you, he said after a second. I’ve never been to the library.

I get that a lot, you said, and you stood up. The plan was to hold out your hand to help him up, but you moved too fast, and your feet slid out from under you again. You managed to hang on to Tomura’s papers, but you went down hard. Fuck!

Tomura didn’t ask if you were okay. He just lifted the papers out of your hands, set them aside, and helped you sit up with hands that shook ever so slightly. I’m surprised you swore, he said, and you raised an eyebrow. You look like the type who says fiddlesticks instead.

Fuck off, you said, and he laughed. Making him laugh felt like an achievement, one you were proud to win. Looking back, that was when you knew you were in trouble. Maybe we should just crawl to the library.

It’s cold. Walking’s faster. Tomura got shakily to his knees, then his feet, and you copied him. I bet we can make it.

He stumbled twice on the way there, and you stumbled once, but neither of you fell again. You were leaning on each other to balance, more contact than you ever made with guys you weren’t dating, and nothing about it felt tense or awkward. It was just the only thing that made sense to do.

And that’s how everything was with Tomura. It just made sense, and you were so happy — and you think Tomura was, too. You fought sometimes, sure, but everyone does. Sometimes you didn’t know the right thing to say, but neither did he. He had a rough past, and you didn’t push him to talk about it. You just let him share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and towards the end you had something close to the whole picture. It just didn’t have the murders in it.

No. You don’t want to think about this. You know what you believe about this, and going in a circle won’t help solve anything. You decide to redirect your feelings of frustration by looking up the lawyer who called you. Sure enough, he’s a prosecutor— or he was. Looking at the profile on his law firm’s website, you’re not sure what he does. He was in the news a year or so ago. Some case involving the yakuza.

The bell rings, and since Keiko’s on break and the receptionist got snowed in, you hurry up to the front to check the new patient in. It’s a good distraction. It helps to stay busy. When you’re busy, you don’t have to think about any of it — not Tomura, not the fact that he’s gone, not the fact that your daughter is leaving soon, too. And you don’t have to think about how it won’t be long before all your distractions run out.

[the-narwhals-awaken]

OK so I have seen some of those in the wild (check out Katrina, she's a fount of great stuff, unfortunately I can't remember her Tumblr at this moment) but more importantly, I have ideas of my own.

Kisuke always knew who his father was.

He'd never told anyone, ever- his mother and his uncles already knew since they'd been there when he was born, Benihime knew as she was part of him, and nobody else had ever asked. He wasn't particularly interested in telling them, either. None of them needed to know.

It had been both accidental and intended, that he ended up with the Shihouin. Intended, because despite the fact that she was ill-suited to raise a child his mother loved him and intended to see him to a place where he could grow and thrive and learn, and had chosen a family she had ties with to ensure his safety to a reasonable degree. Accidental, because the caravan he'd been traveling with had encountered danger along the way and ended up wrecked, and he'd spent several years in the Rukon before catching the eye of Shihouin recruiters.

Kisuke didn't really regret it- he made a friendship with Yoruichi and with Tessai, he learned much, he had his crimson princess by his side, he grew into himself (with only a few things to hide from them, a few inheritances from his father that were not to be shared with the Shinigami) with food to eat and a reasonably safe place to lay his head to sleep.

His secrets were his own. Firstly, it was amusing to see how people reacted when they thought he was just some Rukon rat, one more kid no better than Hollow bait till he got lucky and happened to get lifted out of his poor circumstances. People didn't think twice about him. They became unwary. They talked a bit more.

Secondly, and far more importantly, they used him only for his capability and not his ancestry. The Great Noble Clans, after all, had gained their power by attacking his father. The Gotei had formed itself to fight his elder brother. The politics among them was intricate enough that Kisuke was far happier as a single Shihouin pawn, protected by his friendship with Yoruichi and his status as first Third of Second, then Captain of Twelfth.

Thirdly, he did not trust his family enough to seek them out. Most of them were not so bad as it might have seemed- Oetsu had been entertaining, if a bit focused on his craft (though Kisuke was little different) and Tenjiro had always had a minute to spare for a small child. Mother had had high expectations but loved him as she could, he knew, and he suspected that if Kirio knew of him, she would not turn against him without reason.

But he'd been given a role upon his birth- his nearly-dead Father reaching out a single fragment of His will and assigning him the role of ensuring His demise, full and complete. His family was the Royal Guard, after all, and they took their duty seriously.

He remembered the tale of what Ichibe had done to his elder brother- for a far lesser crime, merely acting as was in his nature, a crime not even committed yet- and he knew that he could not return home save it were with a replacement to sit the Throne, and he knew that there were none that could bear the burden. Even then, performing the duty he'd been born to would hurt- for all that he knew little of his Father, he'd felt His love, though little enough had escaped His bindings.

So Kisuke lived, and hid, and plotted, and watched. If there was one thing he knew, it was that things went as they would, and it was far better if one was prepared for it- whatever 'it' was- than simply being dragged along by fortune's fancy.

keep seeing stories where kisuke is the second son of the soul king and honestly it slaps

Oh shit I've honestly not seen one of those but mmmm

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.

After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.

You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.

Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.

You first ‘officially’ met the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So much so, that calling him something of a friend might not be as far-fetched now.

In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.

Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their hands from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.

To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.

Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.

He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious person like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.

The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.

You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in the others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man had tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔

[ au masterlist ]

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [1]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 5k

haha heyy I'm back after a year. Still suffering from writer's block so here's the start of a series I created during it, forcing myself to actually write. There's no set schedule but I'll try my best to do it weekly. That is all and pre-save Neva Play :DD

MASTERLIST || Next>>>

__________

Maybe you should've cut off your mother before you went past the age for mark appearances.

If you had then maybe you wouldn't be suffering with the overcompensating rant about an unfortunate man and his bare minimum achievements.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists since their era of wearing thick eyeliners to convey their passion and emo inspired hairstyles, doing, listening to someone's so-called gratifying achievements?

Staring at the source of the grating voice babbling nonsense, you refrain yourself from letting out a heavy sigh.

Jeong Binwoo is a stout man. His roundness is enhanced by the fact that he's an inch or so shorter than you on a good day. His face reminds you of a dumpling, especially now that he's stuffing it with a handful of greasy fries in quick successions. Despite his full mouth, he kept on speaking and you swore a few stray blobs had landed on your plate.

You've only just a week and a half before the start of their tour in Seoul and here you are wasting your time sitting in front of a man whose awareness is limited to only himself when you could've been at work or binging some stupid cliche drama.

Maybe you should've listened to Namjoon's statistical analysis of your dates this year and never bothered going to this meeting as well.

Your mother's recommendations so far had never brought you a man decent enough nor carry an ounce of respect your father has for your mother. Why you still try and date them is a question you've asked yourself one too many times.

His rant was the standard overcompensating life story of a man unfortunate enough to be given an ugly mug and an even uglier fate. A conversation topic you've been subjected to far more often than you'd liked but still smooths out your brain every time you're forced to listen to it. It might not be but it must've been an hour already since he started listing out the same adult milestones he achieved in his 28th year—you've done the same at a younger age, 20 to be exact.

Binwoo reached for your fries shamelessly when his fingers found his bowl empty and you couldn't stop yourself from grimacing this time. 

He was actually decent , compared to the other guys you've met before whose mouth spouted bullshit even the devil himself would gasp at. The man actually bought you a gift and opened and held the door for you.

'How disturbing that you think the bare minimum is a sign of a good man, noona.' A voice suspiciously sounding like Namjoon echoes in your head and you sighed for the nth time that afternoon.

If you weren't so weak against your mother's wishes, you would've been doing work instead of putting up with horrid dates over and over again. You'd willingly take on styling an energetic Jungkook at 6am trying to dodge your brushes and play fights with them then sit in front of another insecure man.

A clang of a metal utensil making contact on the tile took your attention to the two men sitting a few tables in front of you. Suddenly, you're reminded of the lovely bodyguards who have volunteered to watch the mess that is your love life for lunch.

You caught one of their gaze when he looked over his shoulder, pitiful, before kicking his friend's leg and picking up his phone.

Immediately, a vibration rang from your bag and you checked the message as discreetly as you could.

            [13:24] Mimi: I feel so bad for you, noona. Is this really how guys are like these days?             [13:24] Mimi: It's appalling how he thinks finally getting his own space at 28 is impressive.             [13:24] Tete: do you need help? Please say yes, I don't think I can sit through the whole date and hear this bull.             [13:25] Tete: Just seeing it is mentally scarring enough, I can't imagine how you're feeling as the one that has to actually listen.

"Hey, are you still listening? I hope I'm not talking too much." A voice interrupts before you could reply.

Looking up from your phone, Binwoo's face now displayed a sheepish smile, the smear of ketchup on the edge of his lips not going unnoticed. His greasy hand had reached behind his head to scratch the back of his nape and you had to gather every strength in your body to not grimace when the same fingers he ate with met scalp.

You try not to notice how oily and stiff his hair already looked. You really tried.

You shook your head despite wanting it all to end for the sake of appearing respectful and the man immediately continued his empty boasting, the same hand he scratched his neck returning to claw down at your fries without another thought and immediately your phone pings again.

            [13:29] Mimi: did he just              [13:29] Mimi: did he just eat with the same hand he scratched with? On your plate of fries?             [13:29] Mimi: I'm gonna barf             [13:30] Mimi: Please free us from this torture, noona. My heart can only take so much             [13:30] Tete: Screw this, we're going back. I can't do this anymore

A screech of a chair being dragged through tile took your attention back to the masked men in front of you and saw the tall and imposing form of Taehyung marching towards your table, brown beanie hiding his dyed hair and a black mask covering half of his face.

"The fucking gull you have to show your face here after you ran away with my heart last week!"

You sigh internally and hope he's not about to choose an embarrassing trope to follow through this time.

If he takes on another dramatic golden-spooned CEO character who throws tantrums when he can't do or get what he wants, you might just stab yourself with the butter knife next to you. Witnessing and being on the receiving end of his tantrums, even if it's acting, in such a public place like the park once is enough.

With a silent wish that Tae has picked a good trope to follow this time, you followed his lead.

Comically widening your eyes, your gaze bounced from Taehyung and Binwoo with a mystified look before sputtering out a reply.

"Wo-Wooyoung! I thought you went back to the states! How's being home again feels like?"

"Is this how you're gonna be? You're just gonna act like everything's alright after you took my youth ?!"

A couple of gasps erupted from the guests around you, in the seas of scandalized reactions there's a burst of hushed giggles from one guy in black from a particular table and you refrain yourself from glaring at his ducked head and shaking shoulders. The phone pointed in your direction didn't go unnoticed, no doubt recording it all from start to finish to send to the group chat as he always does.

Ever your biggest supporter.

At this point, everyone in the restaurant is looking at the three of you. A glance at Binwoo told you of how close you are to freedom. The man has hunched his shoulders, shrinking into himself, trying to disappear from the public gaze while his eyes busied itself by tracing the details on the tiles. He has long stopped from eating now as he hangs his head in embarrassment, ashamed to be associated with you.

"Hey, I'm sorry man. I didn't know you were like that, in your profile it said that you were experienced in hammering."

"I do woodworking, of course I'm amazing at it!"

You hear a dull thud erupt from two tables over. At the edge of your eyes you see Jimin hitting the table with a closed fist, his giggles a little louder; enough to gather a few confused eyes but quiet enough to limit the range to the patrons next to him.

"I-I'm so sorry."

Binwoo flushes before darting out, towing his black suitcase that looked suspiciously light, away from the eyes of everyone in the restaurant and relief floods your body, muscles relaxing as you watch his form disappear behind the partition between the tables and the exit.

You stare up at Taehyung to find him already looking back at you with crinkled eyes past the dim shades he was wearing, his cheekbones poking above the mask as he smiled.

With your date finally out of the shot, Jimin's laughter explodes into loud cackles of a mad man as he stands, stumbling before he manages to approach you both. When he was close enough, he latched onto Tae's arm to stabilize himself as he held up his phone with the camera app open. Immediately, everyone's displeasure echoed in the room at the implication that the intense scene they just witnessed was a part of a vlog.

Despite how much of a spur of a moment their plan seemed, the duo has managed to construct a simple start and conclusion to their plan and you couldn't be more proud of your smart boys.

Taehyung turned to the mass and bowed.

"I'm sorry for disrupting everyone's afternoon, I was just saving my sister from a bad date and decided to make a vlog out of it. We're really sorry." Taehyung exclaimed.

The disturbed patrons' voices grew louder and angrier, a few attempting to approach your little group to possibly get physical.

Next thing you know, Tae's grabbing the paper gift bag your date has given you earlier before reaching to your and Jimin's hand and pulling you both out of the restaurant at full speed with a wide grin, leaving behind indignant screams of 'YA!' . You couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of your chest as you three raced down to the stairs, taking the safer and the long way down. You'd regret the decision later once your age kicks in and the ache on your knees comes but the thrill thrumming under your skin keeps you occupied.

They'd probably ban you from ever entering the establishment but for now, you could care less, the place felt too pretentious for you anyways.

The laughter didn't stop even when you entered Taehyung's car, your joined delight bouncing off the small space and when it ceased, a satisfied silence followed. You and Jimin sag to your seats as the giggles die down, arms clutching your stomachs while Taehyung hunches over the wheel.

Even with how ridiculous the youngest decides on how to go about destroying a date, you couldn't deny the overflowing gratitude you hold for the guy for selling his dignity. Although as an idol with an interesting internet background, you doubt he still has one.

"Wow, that went better than I expected."

"I'm never taking you both to my dates again."

Jimin rolled his eyes at you, lips tugged into a grin. "You say that and take us anyways."

"I'm so glad Tae didn't pull another jealous CEO persona, I was so embarrassed that day!"

"Hey! I still got you out so it's not that bad!" Tae protests, turning to the both of you on the backseat. "At least I didn't act like an embarrassing ex that cried and begged on his knees by the outlook!"

Jimin's swat was quick and Tae hissed and gasped dramatically, cradling his arm as if it was broken by the slap.

"Now he's trying to hit me!"

"Nonetheless, we did so well ruining your dates this month, noona. I think we deserve some reward." Jimin's lips tugged up into a sly smile, eyes glimmering with mischief as he suggestively raised his eyebrows.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Before you returned home, you had Tae stop by the nearest grilling restaurant to treat the two of them to a couple of orders of meat. If Jimin looked like a kicked puppy upon realizing you've misinterpreted his words, you didn't say anything.

In your defense, he didn't specify what he wanted. Even if he did, you wouldn't have entertained his flirty jokes.

Not a minute longer since the three of you had seated yourselves at a secluded corner at the far back of the restaurant did Jimin's phone ring. You didn't have to look at the screen to know it was Jungkook, ever so eager to hear about how his hyungs managed to scare off your date this time.

He treats it like he was watching those public prank videos on the internet but instead of random targets, it was your dates.

When the video call loads in, you are met with the sight of Jungkook and Jin sharing half the screen while the stylists hands tend to their hairs, stuck deciding between leaving a strand astray from their elevated fringes or keeping it neat.

"Hyung, did you manage to do what you were telling me last time?"

Taehyung grinned. "You should've seen how they all reacted!"

As Taehyung recalled the event with exaggerated movements and expressions—with Jimin adding his extraordinarily unique perspective every now and then—the plates full of meat to grill and bowls of rice you ordered came. Immediately, they were recognized by the waitress who bowed her head at them before shyly asking for an autograph. If you felt her eyes burning a hole through your skull throughout the encounter, you pretend not to notice.

You've introduced yourself as their make-up artist early on in their career, sneaking into their hearts with behind-the-scenes photographs of their idols. A few photographs in exchange of their respect which the boys and the company allowed. Even then, you wouldn't be able to avoid exchanges like these.

Once the waitress was gone, the boys continued to delight the others with their tales. They laughed and expressed their disgust, picking apart your date piece by piece down to his last molecule but as they continued noting down their observations, you started to feel that they're making up random facts out of spite.

Like, what do you mean you saw the guy kept wiggling in his seat to subtly scratch his ass? How did you even see that, Jimin?

But due to them sneaking out to be your guard dogs, they were called to return soon by an unimpressed Namjoon who took over the phone call at some point, threatening them with Hoseok who just laughed in response. You didn't miss the opportunity to rub your week-long rest in their faces with a smile when Taehyung and Jimin tried pouting their way out of punishment.

They ended up being given the chance to at least finish their food before they're given the countdown when Jimin bribed them with takeout.

"Come with us to drink that memory away instead, noona! Hyung and I are better drinking buddies anyways."

You waved Hoseok off. "I don't think Sejin would appreciate me distracting you guys more than I already do."

"Look into my eyes and say that you don't want to drink the memory away!" Yoongi said matter-of-factly from somewhere in the background.

"We won't even drink much, promise!"

"Stop lying to yourself, Hoba. We know you'd tap out after the third glass."  Jin snickered.

"Hey, I've changed! I can do four now."

Before you could further shoot his idea down, your phone flashes open with a ring displaying your mother's name and your heart drops. As if sensing the change in the air, their heads perked up to look at you.

You knew she'll contact you eventually but seeing her name on the screen glare back at you, a shiver wracks down your spine.

"Who is it?" 

"It's my mom."

Jimin and Taehyung gasped, shushing the people on the other line like kids trying to hide a stray pet from their parents who came home as you answered the call.

"Hello my dearest daughter, tell me why the hell did Binwoo's mother just call me to tell me that you've been going around stealing people's youths?! I don't remember raising you to be such a person!"

Despite not having the call on speaker, her rage is loud enough for the other two to hear. Instead of sending pitying looks towards you like a proper friend should, they were grinning and trying to stop themselves from cackling. Your mother's screeching evolved into rapid fire scolding with barely any breathing in between, sending your companions into silent laughter.

You could only glare as Taehyung threw his head back as he guffawed noiselessly while Jimin had hunched over the table, his shaking shoulders being the only indicator that he too was laughing.

Kicking them both under the table, you gathered the courage to interrupt your mother so she could breathe.

"Mom, it was just a friend who wanted to save me from Binwoo."

"A friend?!? A friend my foot! He must be an-uh what do you call it these days—a friend with benefits! Here I thought you've been busy fussing over those Bangtan boys to fool around!"

At this, their ears perked up, attention falling to yours.

"God! If you just started dating them then I wouldn't have to stress myself over finding you a husband!"

Taehyung sobers up, playing with the meat on the grill as he whispers. "Oh I wish auntie but noona is too professi—ow!"

Your foot swiftly connects with his shin and Taehyung hunches over the table, hand disappearing down to cradle his foot.

"I assure you, Mom, if you've seen how he acted, you'd thank your daughter for dodging such a disgusting guy. He didn't even ask me permission to eat my fries!"

"Aishhhhh! If you were here I would've hung you upside down in a sack outside our house! God, I'm gonna have a cardiac arrest because of you!"

"The guy is really my friend, mom! It's the same guy who interrupted my dates before. Remember the crazy CEO?"

"I know I know! But with how picky you are, you'll end up alone! I know you're trying to wait for your soulmate but you're 26 now! You're way past the maximum marking age!"

Taehyung and Jimin fall silent as an awkward silence settles between your group, continuing to place their pork into the leaves and engulfing them almost meekly; almost because the way they ate the wrap is far from graceful.

You've known that for a year now, accepted your fate but the reminder made your heart ache. Imagine how it was for a hopeless romantic, who dreamt of fated meetings and whimsical red strings on your pinkie, to find out that they're untethered. Even then, a small part of you, a much younger version, keeps hoping for a chance that you're just a late bloomer.

Who wouldn't want true love for themselves?

Even a solitary man would crave affection.

"I-I know that. But you can't expect me to settle for less, you wouldn't want to see your dear daughter in a miserable marriage do you?"

There's a deep sigh from the other line and you could imagine your mom pinch the bridge of her nose before she spoke:

"I'm just worried, I hope you understand. I'm not getting any younger. Your older brother and sister already have their own family and seeing them happy while you're still on your own, it hurts this old woman's heart, you know?"

There's a quick succession of dull thuds from across the line and you assumed your mother was hitting her chest with her fist, ever the dramatic.

Jimin flips the newly added meat on the grill, taking the cooked strips to distribute between yours and Taehyung's bowl. It was such a small gesture yet it made your stomach flutter for a second. Always the caring and golden hearted boy you've met years ago that never hesitated to give you hugs and make you smile either with exaggerated movements or from touch alone.

If only there's more Jimin in the world, you would've been married a long time ago and you wouldn't have to deal with your mother's horrible matchmaking.

You sighed. "I know, I'm trying my best so don't worry too much."

"That's my youngest. Now, since you're trying, I have another—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Mom, please."

"I swear this guy is better. He's a lawyer, 30 years old, and he's got a penthouse!"

There's a shrill ding! from your phone and you turned to look at your screen to find yourself staring back at a picture of the suitor your mother was just talking about. In a blink, Jimin and Taehyung have teleported  behind you with side dishes in hand as they peered over your shoulder to look at the photo.

The picture was roughly cropped and showed a man in a tailored black suit leaning against what looks like his mother from how similar the shape of their eyes and lips are. He had his coat hanging from his arm, giving you a full view of how his chest and shoulders filled out his white button up. With a narrow and refined jawline, topped off with good hair waxed into a small quiff and a pair of sunken dimples on each side of his bowstring lips, as an idol's makeup artist, you wondered how it is possible for him to be single.

But what distracted you more was how your mother has sent you someone visually appealing instead of the challenged men she had recommended to you. It's making the ends of the hair on your arm stand up.

It's new and it's creeping you out.

You make a mental note to ask your father about her strange behavior.

"His name is Yoo Guwon, isn't he good looking? His mother and I met at the salon by the market in front of your aunt Jia. I saw him once and he looks exactly like he does in that picture!"

"He looks good."

A hiss following a slap muted by thick clothing erupted from behind you, looking over your shoulder, you see Taehyung staring at Jimin with a shocked and betrayed expression.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to be against this!"

"Well now that you've mentioned it," Jimin hums, crossing his arms as he leaned closer over your shoulders. "He does look like a manipulator. He has the eye and facial structure for it."

You turned to him with a puzzled expression. "What do you even mean—"

"No no no wait, I can see what you mean." Taehyung butts in, narrowing his eyes as he also inched closer to the screen on the other side of your face before reaching over to expand on the man's face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still not seeing how a skull's formation could mean manipulator in their eyes. But before you could ask how they came to the conclusion, your mother gasped.

"Is that one of your boys? Taehyung and Jimin?"  

"Yeah, I took them out for some meat since they saved me earlier."

"Oh? Put me on speaker, I want to talk to them!" You obeyed her and hummed a confirmation before holding your phone towards them. "I hope my daughter hasn't disrupted your busy schedules to play jealous exes for her."

Jimin laughs. "It's nothing too much, auntie~ She took great care of us back then, it's just us repaying the debt! Besides, I like watching her fail her dates!"

"Oh aren't you quite mischievous?" Her tone was teasing and delighted as she giggled. "Don't enjoy it too much, okay? My daughter needs to get married soon!"

"Don't worry too much, auntie! I also want our noona to find a good husband!"

"What a sweet boy! Too bad company rules can't let you date, I would've loved you as my son-in-law."

A smile stretched across Jimin's face as he shyly laughed, hiding his delight behind a hand. "You can't say that and expect me to not try and court your daughter, auntie!"

"What about me, auntie? I sold my dignity just to push away her creepy suitors when hyung only sat back to record. I did a lot!" Taehyung jumps in with a pout, feeling left out of the conversation.

"Any of you boys are welcome in my family as long as my daughter is married and treated well! Ok, I'll stop now since I have some friends to meet up with. Visit me soon, my lovely daughter!"

After saying your goodbyes and your i-love-you's, the call ends. Immediately, your phone was fished out from your hands by Taehyung as the two boys returned to their seats, zooming in on Guwon's face and speaking in hushed whispers among themselves. At least until Jin and Jungkook's insistence to be included in the discussion came booming.

"Ya Taehyung! Aren't we friends for so long? Why are you not showing us the picture like a normal friend would do? Forward it to the GC!"

Even after forwarding the picture to the GC, they're still far from pleased after being ignored for so long. Jungkook and Jin didn't spare any words from expressing their wrath, especially the elder. A problem easily buried for everyone to forget with an offer of bringing food when they come home. Your mother expressing her openness to the idea of having any of your bosses as your husband seems to breeze past their heads. You do have an inkling they'll discuss amongst themselves later on.

Soon, Jimin and Taehyung are dropping you at your apartment building, parting ways with hugs before they leave.

Since you've finally claimed some of the absent days you've gathered throughout the years for a nice week off before the eventual tour, you decided to take full advantage of it by treating yourself with a nice night in, stuffing yourself with ice cream and an unhealthy amount of pizzas. Doors locked and blinds shut.

Just you and your TV.

And the generic drama that's playing before you.

It's about a poor girl who got rescued by a handsome rich man who has an obsessed admirer and a family who opposes their relationship despite the soulmate mark they both wore due to their different levels in society.

The trope has been overused but you indulge in it anyways.

But as the night gets deeper and the plot thickens to its climax, you find yourself slowly liking it. Watching the young couple be domestic around their apartment, your heart starts to yearn. Their kisses looked fantastical and sweet, as if the taste of each other could energize them for the whole month. 

You watched as brief passing touches scream louder than words, eyed the way their arms wrapped around waists with jealousy and wondered when you'd be able to experience such a thing too.

Emotional torture is what you're doing but you couldn't find it in yourself to stop watching it.

You remembered how realization felt like plunging into the darkest depths in the ocean, cold and harsh, the pain in your chest when your 21st passed by without any notable changes in your life. 

You recalled how you'd wake up and excitedly look over your skin for a hint everyday with no fail, hoping for a telltale sign that you weren't assigned to a fate of love bare of the genuine and rawness of a soulbond. The devastation gnawing at your dreams when your 21st ends uneventfully and the 22nd comes with the same nothingness still fresh in your mind.

There wasn't a cure for being untethered but you learned soon how to accept your fate. Having your friends comfort you through those years helped. From the maknaes' grounding tight hugs to Yoongi's silent support in the form of distractions and Seokjin's insistence on how unimportant soulmates are, healing came easier with them by your side.

Being untethered or alone isn't a disease cured by human medicine but you think your friends' support came close.

Your phone then vibrates, taking you out of the train of thought you got yourself into, screen lighting up to a message from an unknown user.

            [21:39] Unknown: Hey, it's me Yoo Guwon. Your mother gave me your number and said to contact you first because you might be busy with work.

None of the suitors your mother has brought forth has ever worked out. At this point, you should ask her to stop and try to find a good man yourself.

But none of them ever made the effort to reach out first.

But he's a lawyer and you know damn well what they're good at .

He looks cute and tall though, got a good background as well.

Everyone before him also had that.

With a heavy exhale, you picked your phone up and opened his message.

            [21:40] You: Hello, I'm actually on a week-long break so I'm just rotting on my couch instead haha

"That's too awkward." You muttered to yourself, subconsciously biting your lips as you rephrased the message a couple more times, frantically deleting and adding words onto your ever growing introduction message.

But then it's too wordy, it makes you sound desperate so you deleted it all again, starting once more from the beginning.

You didn't even get to send it when Guwon sent another message.

            [21:48] Yoo Guwon: I'm free tomorrow, I hope you are too. What do you usually like to do?

He's giving me options? You stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows before narrowing at it suspiciously.

What's up with this guy? Why isn't he taking the lead?

            [21:50] You: I'm more often working and staying at home than visiting places so I don't know where ;-;. I'll go wherever you want to go.             [21:51] Yoo Guwon: It's fine, just send me your address and I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9am, dress formal casual.

Throwing your phone to the side, you reached for the canned beer from your table and took a long sip before titling your head back to stare at the ceiling. There's a careful rise in your heartbeat, a traitorous action of your body. It was hopeful and you hated how you felt like that, you sighed again for the nth time that day but for a different reason.

Your mind takes you back to the mischievous duo, wondering if you should take one of them for this date but find yourself shutting the idea down as quick as it came. The guy looks decent enough for a solo adventure, going alone shouldn't hurt.

Maybe this time will be different.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After weeks of looking forward to a quiet day with you and Rose, Bradley almost messes up his own Father's Day celebration. He's lucky you're quick to forgive him. Every day with his daughter is a collection of moments he wants to commit to memory. Every day with you makes him fall more in love.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, blowjob, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Do you have any big plans for Sunday? For Bradley's first Father's Day?"

You looked up from your computer when you realized Cat was talking to you. Truthfully, you did have plans, but they weren't big at all. Your husband just kept telling you that all he wanted was to spend the day with just the three of you.

"Isn't it kind of Jake's first Father's Day, too?" you countered with a grin. When Cat sputtered instead of actually answering, you felt like you'd won this wrong of proverbial chess against a master. "It's okay... you don't have to admit it out loud, but I just know Jake is exceeding all of your expectations."

She dropped down into the seat next to you and leaned in like she was afraid someone else might be listening. "He took Jer to the park with Bradley and Rose the other evening."

"I know," you replied with a laugh. "I needed to clean my house, so I kicked Bradley out and told him to call his bestie, Jake."

Cat looked a little panicked now. "No, you don't understand. I can trust him to take care of Jeremiah."

"Yeah... that's good, right?"

"I don't know!" she hissed. "When I moved to California, it was my intention to never ever get involved with a man again. Just me and Jer. And then when he went away to college, I was going to start collecting exotic pets or something."

You tried not to laugh. "Yeah, Jake kind of ruined that agenda for you, huh?" She buried her face in her hands, and to your surprise, she started crying. You glanced around the lab, but Macy wasn't paying any attention as you put your arm around Cat's shoulders. You were very confused as you whispered, "Are you okay?"

Cat's dark eyes were wet with tears as she met your gaze while somehow shaking her head and nodding at the same time. Her voice was raspy and uneven as she said, "He bought an engagement ring."

"Jake proposed?" you gasped, ready to jump out of your seat. You knew for a fact he wanted to, but he kept saying he didn't think the time was exactly right yet. 

"No. I found the ring. He's terrible at hiding things."

You sat quietly for a minute while she worked at getting herself under control, but then more questions started to formulate in your mind. "I know this isn't where you saw yourself, Cat. I know trusting Jake after leaving your ex is something you've struggled with, but if you love him, then what's holding you back?"

Her fingertips were pressed to her lips, and her hand was shaking. You weren't sure she had even heard your question as she stared off into space and said, "I can't even accurately describe it, because it was so pretty. The diamond was huge. Absolutely enormous. Obviously expensive." She paused and pulled away from you, opening her computer like she didn't just let herself fall apart on your shoulder. "And I have nothing to offer except a child that isn't biologically his and a crippling amount of debt that I'll probably never see the end of." When you opened your mouth to respond, she slammed her computer shut again and said, "And now I'm late to meet with Bickel," before rushing out of the lab.

You stared at the door for a few seconds before you took your phone out and started to draft up a text for Cat. You didn't see her again for the rest of the day, and you didn't send the text until you got home with Bradley and Rose. But you meant every word of it.

You're tenacious and strong, and that's worth a lot more than money. You're the kind of person someone would want to buy a big diamond for.

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

"Why is everything so expensive?" Bradley muttered to himself. "Holy hell."

He was trying to plan out the few days he would have alone with you when your parents came out again for Independence Day. Going back to the oceanfront boutique hotel in La Jolla where you and he had celebrated his birthday two years ago was going to cost a fortune over the holiday.

"Rose isn't going to need money for college anyway," he mused, shrugging at his phone before charging the room to his credit card for three nights. His daughter was going to be a genius. She was already so strong, trying her best to roll over and getting better at holding her head up without support. Suddenly he needed to see her.

Bradley tossed his phone aside and headed for the nursery where you were feeding Rose in the glider chair. When you looked up at him expectantly, he said, "I missed you."

Your gaze was soft as he sat down on the floor next to your feet. "We were with you ten minutes ago."

"Ten minutes ago? No wonder I was getting so lonely," he whispered, reaching out to run his finger along the back of Rose's hand. "Hey, Nugget."

She paused, lips pursed, before she continued eating. It was unreal how adorable she was. Bradley could look at his daughter all day long and never grow tired. He could look at your tits dripping milk all day long, too.

"Let me burp her," he said, making grabby hands as soon as she started to slow down. "It's my favorite."

You handed Rose, who was already dressed in her sleeper, to him, kissing him on the cheek as you stood. "Should I just keep these out for you?" The way you gestured at your breasts left a smile on his face.

"Please. I would very much enjoy it if you did."

You stretched your arms over your head and said, "I'll meet you either in the shower or in bed." Then you were gone, and he was excited to burp the baby and then do whatever you let him do to you.

"Let's see if we can get a nice, big burp out of you so you'll sleep for a few hours," he muttered, pulling one of the many storybooks down from the shelf from his spot on the floor. He'd read every book in the room to her multiple times already, and he couldn't wait until she started to have favorites. Tonight he read about a dragon while he patted and rubbed her back, pausing every page or two to kiss her soft cheek.

She was yawning by the last page of the book, and she did indeed burp for him. When he set her gently in her crib, Bradley whispered, "I can't believe I get to be your dad." He stood there, leaning on the side of the crib until he was certain she was asleep, then he headed for his own bedroom, unzipping his pants along the way.

Bradley found you naked in bed, fresh from the shower and rubbing lotion all over your legs. It was such a mundane yet intimate thing for him to watch, and you didn't realize he was in the doorway yet. "Get in bed," you told Tramp, nodding toward the fluffy mat he slept on next to the bathroom door. "You can't play with Rosie any more tonight. I'm sorry, but she needs to go to sleep after Daddy finishes reading to her."

"I'm finished reading to her."

Your gaze met his as your palms went gliding up your thighs, and you smiled a little shyly at him. Then you reached for the sheet like you were going to try to cover yourself, and he headed for the bed.

"Please don't, Baby Girl," he whispered. "I was really enjoying that view."

You paused and let your eyes drift down his body. "Get undressed and come here."

He did not need you to ask him twice. Bradley yanked his jeans off and tossed them aside followed by his tee shirt and his boxer briefs. You giggled when he climbed into bed in just his socks and hovered above you like he was going to do push ups with his hands planted next to your shoulders.

When he lowered himself down to give you a kiss, you raked your fingers through his hair. He knew there was no hiding how hard he was getting, so he didn't bother. He just pressed himself against you while you licked his bottom lip.

"You're really horny, Roo," you murmured, and he simply nodded. You let one hand drift down along his scarred cheek, and then you were touching your tits. 

He was salivating immediately. He could practically smell you. White beads of your milk formed on your nipples as you gently squeezed yourself, and he whimpered your name. His cock was tapping against your thigh in excitement as he lowered himself down to kiss your lips again.

"It's okay," you whispered. "I know you want to. Go ahead."

Bradley sighed and came to rest on his elbows, letting his mouth meet your nipples.

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

You spent all day Saturday running to three different grocery stores to buy ingredients for Bradley's Father's Day picnic lunch. It cost a small fortune to get everything you needed to make chicken salad sandwiches on homemade bread, a charcuterie board, fruit salad, and brownies. Your plan was to get up very early on Sunday to start making everything, but now Bradley's words made you feel like you were going to cry.

"I'm playing golf in the morning."

He was so nonchalant about it, you thought perhaps he was joking at first. But his expression showed a tiny bit of alarm and remorse, and you knew he was actually ditching you and Rose on Father's Day.

When you spoke, you hated how small your voice sounded. "You said all you wanted was a day with just the three of us."

"I do!" he insisted, reaching for you and pulling you close. "That's all I want. I promise I'll be home by lunchtime."

With that, you excused yourself to go to bed. You didn't bother to set an alarm, because what was the point? Rose would wake you up when she started crying her lungs out to eat, and Bradley would already be gone with Jake, Javy and Reuben. Honestly, you would have thought Jake would want to be home with Cat and Jer, and now you were mad at him, too. You thought about texting him but turned your phone screen side down on your nightstand and tossed your glasses aside instead.

A few minutes later, Bradley climbed in bed as well, and you could feel him trying to coax you closer. "I love you," he whispered, but you stayed curled up in a ball until you fell asleep.

Sure enough, he was gone when you woke up. You didn't even bother changing out of your pajamas to feed Rose. Your plans to wear a cute sundress seemed pointless now as you tried to appease your cranky daughter while you made chicken salad and baked a small loaf of bread.

"You'd probably calm down if your dad were here," you mused, handing her toy after toy only for her to push them all away. Finally Tramp had mercy on you and plopped down next to her on her play mat for a few minutes.

Of course the picnic foods looked absolutely perfect, and you struggled to get Rose burped and down for a late morning nap. "I swear you don't act like this for him," you groaned, fighting the urge to start crying. You'd been feeling better over the past few weeks. Your body was becoming more your own again, even though you were still sharing it with your daughter. The birth control and the healing time were certainly helping, but right now, you and Rose came in second place to a round of golf. On Father's Day.

She spit up all over you before she fell asleep, forcing you to change into your dress anyway. The wrapped present on the coffee table along with the homemade card were enough to make you set a timer for noon. If he wasn't back, you were going to eat the meal yourself. Your stomach was already growling.

But Bradley came through the door at 11:58 wearing gym shorts and a tank top with his aviators low on his nose. "Sweetheart," he said, sounding a little bit out of breath as he headed your way. "You look pretty."

Did he think you were stupid? You got up from the couch and turned off the timer. "Where were you, Bradley? Because you weren't playing golf dressed like that."

His cheeks flushed pink at the same time you noticed something wrapped around his right bicep. When he held his arm out to his side, you gasped.

"Why didn't you just tell me that's where you were going?" you whispered, tears burning your eyes. You felt frustrated and embarrassed that you got upset in the first place.

"I wanted to surprise you," he murmured, wrapping his left arm around your waist. "I've been waiting to do this since you told me you were pregnant." You buried your face against his chest and let yourself cry. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said I was golfing. I panicked when they called me back and said they could fit me in this morning. I just really wanted to get my second paper plane as soon as possible."

He held you tight with both arms wrapped around you. "You said you just wanted a day with your girls, and I planned a picnic and got you a present, and then you said you wanted to fucking play golf," you sobbed. "Next time just tell me you're getting another tattoo, okay? Because now when you say you're going golfing, I'm going to think you're getting another one anyway."

"Hey," Bradley rasped, tilting your chin so you were looking up at him. "I'm spending the rest of today with my girls. That really is all I wanted to do today. I'm sorry I lied to you. I feel terrible about it now." His brown eyes were sincere which made you feel a lot better, and now you weren't mad at Jake anymore.

"Can I see it?" you whispered, and he immediately started to unwrap his arm. Right there next to the large paper airplane that had Baby Girl written across it was a smaller one that said Rose in the same script. "God, Roo. It's perfect."

"Just like my girls."

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

Okay, so he came within an inch of completely fucking things up on Father's Day. It wasn't like he planned it that way. He wasn't even sure why he said he was going to play golf. None of his friends would even make a tee time on Father's Day and include him. Or Jake for that matter. Plus, Bradley was fucking terrible at lying. He felt apprehensive the entire time he was getting the tattoo done.

It didn't even really matter if you knew about it ahead of time, but he wanted it to be a surprise declaration of his love for his family. Instead he made you stress out and cry, because of course you had a whole fucking day planned. You loved him that much.

He was right there with you and Rose for the rest of the afternoon. He changed her diapers and helped you pack up the food along with a bottle of pink champagne that was tucked way back behind everything else in the refrigerator. He carried everything out to the Bronco and got both of you buckled in. Then he started driving where you told him to.

"Are we going to our wedding venue?" he asked after a few minutes, and you started laughing.

"Is that what we're calling the parking lot?"

"Sweetheart. That's our wedding venue." Rose hadn't been to that beach yet, and now he was excited. So excited. "Rosie, we're going to show you where Mommy first kissed me and fell so in love that she's incapable of being mad at me even though I didn't tell her I was going to get tattooed this morning."

Now you were laughing harder, and you turned his playlist up a little louder, and the sun felt a little brighter. When he pulled into the parking lot, he backed into the spot where you became his wife, and then he strapped Rose into her baby carrier against his chest.

Bradley watched you pull Rosie's little sun hat out of the diaper bag, and you kissed her nose before putting it on her head. "Don't want you to get too much sun." Then you led the way down the rocky path to the sand below where you spread out a beach blanket. You tugged Bradley's hand until he was on his knees, and then you kissed his nose as well. "Don't want you getting too much sun either."

When he remembered the sunburn he got the day of Mickey's birthday kegger, he shuddered, but you were already squeezing some sunblock onto your hands and smoothing it along his face. You smiled when you got some in his mustache, and Bradley leaned closer to kiss you, and then he didn't want to stop. You ended up on your back on the blanket with sunblock on your nose while Bradley cradled Rose's head.

"Happy first Father's Day," you whispered, running your fingers up inside his sleeve to touch the wrapping around his bicep. "Rose is lucky you're her daddy."

The lunch you made was absolutely perfect. Bradley couldn't remember ever having homemade bread before, and he ate two sandwiches in a row. You and he drank the champagne from the bottle on the blanket before walking down to the water. Your tipsy giggles as he dipped Rose's toes in the water made him smile.

"She hates it!" you cackled when Rose pulled her legs up and wailed. Bradley lowered her down again when the next wave came in, and she pulled her feet away from the water once again.

"Aww, Daddy's sorry," he said, lifting her up and flying her around in the air like a plane to get her to calm down. "I'll take you to Virginia Beach where the water is warmer," he promised. "And we can go to the cemetery and visit Grampy Goose and Grandma Carole. How does that sound?"

His daughter looked much happier at the prospect of warmer water and more time with grandparents. Even though Bradley was here with his family, he couldn't help but think about everything he missed out on. Everything he was still missing out on. 

He never had a dad to fly him around or dip his toes in the water, at least not that he could remember. All he could recall were glimpses of laughter and being lifted out of his crib. He could almost hear a voice, but he wasn't sure if it was even Nick's or if his memory was playing a trick on him.

Bradley held onto Rose a little tighter as you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for him to hear you over the waves. "I wish I could have met them. I wish they were here to see you with Rose."

He knew one thing for a fact. "They would have loved this little Nugget."

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

Quite effortlessly, Bradley led you back up the rocks while he carried Rose and all the gear. As soon as the sun started to set, the wind picked up and the air got chilly. Even though you nursed Rose, you knew she was going to need to eat again so she could fall asleep.

"Oh, you still have to unwrap your present," you told Bradley when you got home and walked past the living room table.

"Right now?" he asked with a smirk.

"If you want to."

He started to take your shirt off, and you ducked out of his grasp with a laugh. "Not me!"

"I don't want anything else though," he rasped, still reaching for you, but you pushed him toward Rose on her play mat instead.

"She needs a quick bath while you open your present, and then I'll give you a blowjob after she's in her crib."

"Hell yes," Bradley muttered, scooping up the baby and the wrapped gift and heading for the bathroom. You filled up Rosie's little tub, and he set her down in the water then started unwrapping the present but keeping his attention mostly on his daughter. 

"Do you like it?" you asked over your shoulder, and then he realized he was holding a book. A book about him and you and Rose and Tramp.

Bradley flipped through the pages, staring in awe at the cartoon versions of his family. Each of you had been drawn as a superhero, and even the sketched version of Tramp was wearing a little red cape.

"This is the cutest thing I have ever seen. How did you get this?"

"I had it made," you told him. "I sent photos of all of us to a local artist, and she created the book for you."

"Damn," he whispered, tears in his eyes as he looked at each page again. "I'm such a sappy mess now, I swear." Then he sat down on the floor next to you while you rinsed the sand from Rose's tiny feet and started to read the book out loud. "Once upon a time, the Super Bradshaw Family was just about to eat dinner when Super Dad Bradley's phone rang. The city of San Diego needed help, and there was nobody better to turn to."

The story was fun, and the drawings were silly, and he just knew Rose would probably adore this book when she got a little bit older. And he was so lucky he had a wife who did things like turn him into a cartoon superhero for Father's Day and make him a four course picnic lunch.

He also had a wife who dropped to her knees as soon as they were alone. You looked up at him as you pulled his shorts and underwear down to his thighs, kissing his cock as you whispered, "There's my Super Daddy Bradley."

He grinned as he pulled his shirt off as well, enjoying how pretty you looked below his flat abs with your hand cupping his balls. "You absolutely own me, Baby Girl. I'm a fucking wreck for you. I'm all tattooed for my girls now. If you want me to be your Super Daddy, you know I will be."

You licked your lips and parted them, and then Bradley was in heaven.

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

I need Jer to have a dad. I need it in my bones. I also need Bradley to have a sensational 38th birthday before he packs his bags and goes to La Jolla with his wife for three days in bed. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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[poppy-metal]

what if i said the words step dad patrick……….. fucking ur mum for a place to stay when he finds your cute little college ass and oh look! you’re into tennis! he can show you some stuff if you like, he used to play art donaldson and win………..

why would you say this to me. what have u done what have you wrought. wow this got away from me and i ended up giving us a whole backstory here my bad fr.

i imagine you're visiting home from college - a prestigious one - not excited, in the least. probably a horrible relationship with your mother, father nonexistent, out of the picture. probably got into tennis as just a hobby, but it turned into a way to channel all your anger and resentment built up towards your mother - how she never pays attention to you, how money and jewelry and the next man who'll blow smoke up her ass to leech off her, is more important to her than you are. every slam of your racket against the ball is you smashing a vase in your picture perfect mansion.

so, no, you're not happy to be coming back for the summer but all your friends are going back home and you dont want to be the one girl on campus who wont go back home - you dont want to be that girl. you're perfect over there, you're good. no one knows you hate your mother and mourn a father you dont even know the name of. no one knows you feel so alone it empties your chest out sometimes, leaves you with a pit that feels like its rotting you inside out. you're good at tennis, and you're cool and you're friendly and you have men falling all over you. they never fill that void, but its nice to feel desired. even if their age stifles you. irritates you. immaturity grinds your gears.

so, no, you're not eager to throw all that pretend and comfort away for the summer. lugging your suitcases up the pristine driveway with a scowl already in place. wondering if your mother will even notice you entering the door. probably not. probably she's already out, or making plans to be so.

anyway, you're miffed and moody and not at all prepared for when a man jogs up to you. you startle when a hand, a very tan hand connected to a strong arm - arm that has fine hair, and veins and muscles you can see - intercepts you to take the handle of your suitcase. you look up.

you look up to see the hottest man you've ever seen in your life grinning down at you. dark curls damp with sweat, heat kissed skin, freckles and seagreen eyes. tall and broad, and soaked in sweat. his tank top is practically see through, you can see through. right to his equally strong chest, which is hairy and tan looking - two twin nipples peaking, red and flushed. you throat feels dry. "uh."

"fuck, hey." he lets go of your suitcase to shake your hand. you limply let him. hes smiling at you in a practiced sort of way, almost like hes nervous. odd since hes clearly older than you. but hes trespassing, so maybe thats why. "i wanted to get cleaned up before i met you, but you're early, huh. i was just on the court - here let me."

he takes the handle of your luggage again. he seems to know you already and you squint. a familiar feeling of irritation filling you. hes not so different looking from all the help your mother has hired over the years, pool boys and yardworkers and the like. young men she could ogle. although this man does seem older - he's definitely ogle worthy. more than.

your mouth twists in a sneer. you haven't even gotten into your house and you're already dealing with your mothers shit. you can't be fucked.

"rule number one," you snap, curt, jerking your luggage back from his grip. you try to stand tall, but he still easily towers above you. no matter. you're still above him in station. "dont fucking touch my stuff."

you flick your hair behind your shoulder as you make to walk by him. you hear his sharp inhale of suprise. curious since you're definitely sure your mother has degraded him in many ways by now. he should be used to be talked down to. maybe its his first day.

he comes up in front of you again, walking backwards as you walk forwards, with a kind of ease that irritates you. he holds his hands up, placating, still smirking, which irritates you even more - "got it. got. you know she warned me about you - didn't think you'd try to bite my fucking head off so soon, though."

something in your gut sours. not new, then. your mother has spoken to.... the help, about you? this makes you uncomfortable. prickly and hot like you just found out someone had been talking shit about you behind your back. your hackles rise.

you stop in your tracks. glare at him.

"my mother spoke to you about me?"

his eyebrows - he has annoyingly smooth eyebrows, annoyingly long lashes too - lift, as if to say, 'fucking duh.' he makes a so and so motion with his hand, you glimpse a ring on one of his fingers. "here and there."

your grip around the handle of your suitcase burns its so tight. you think you could melt it with your anger if you concentrated long enough.

"and? what did the bitch say?"

a shocked laugh leaves his lips at your curse. your eyes narrow because you dont find it funny and because the longer you are around him the more you notice about him and the more attractive he noticeably is becomes apparent to you. when he lifts a hand to run it through his hair, the muscles in his arm bunch and flex under his skin - which is still very much gleaming with sweat.

"man, its fucking bad with you. the mommy issues -" he has this little smirk, one that lifts one side of his mouth more than the other. "- she said you were a fucking brat, that i shouldn't bother with trying to make a good first impression. i can kinda see why now."

yeah, you really dont appreciate his attitude. hes hot and all, but he's spoken way out of turn and you're done entertaining it. you want to go inside and flop onto your bed and scream.

you take a step forward and poke him in the chest with a manicured nail - he looks down at it, like, oh hey - sharply. "just because you have a pretty face and a big dick my moms probably sucked more than once, doesn't mean you're fuck all to me. you're still just the help. you can remember that when you're cleaning up my shit." you take your hand away, trying and failing not to smile like a bitch when his lips part in shock at your words, knocking his - fucking broad - shoulder with yours as you walk past him. you pause at the steps to turn just a little. he's looking at you with this unreadable expression, but if you'd have to guess you'd say it closely resembles amusement. "and I'd like a smoothie. have it brought up to me ASAP or I'll make your life here hell, got it?"

you raise an eyebrow.

his mouth finally snaps shut. you hate that he still looks amused. his lips just barely quirking. he works his jaw like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, biting his bottom lip instead as he looks up at you with those green eyes.

"got it."

-

its sometime later when you wake up. head a fucking rats nest. you've just managed to drag yourself out of bed and to the chair in your vanity, working a pink brush through what you can of your locks when your door flings open.

you dont even look up from the mirror. only one person wouldn't respect the privacy of a closed door and what it means.

"hello, mother." you say cooly, not taking your eyes from the mirror. you try to smooth the brush through your end strands first, coaxing your hair into submission. she's probably here to rub something in your face under the guise of saying hello. a new car she'd bought, a new boyfriend she has, a new vacation home she rented in malibu, ect.

her perfume fills your nostrils with its potent stench as she sashays into the room - your room - and perches her ass on your vanity, rudely jostling several trinkets there. your eye twitches. you brush some more of your hair.

"hello, my darling girl."

her voice is faux sweet. the pet name makes you want to flinch, recoil from its fake meaningfulness from her cold lips. they dont mean anything coming from her. you're not her darling anything. she'd treat a purse more fondly than you. yet, she calls you these sweet things sometimes. you think because it amuses her to play the part of a doting mother. she did always love acting.

you dont say anything more. work the brush. easy and slow wins the race. you remember when you used to be so frustrated with your hair you'd yank the brush through it in a rush, until your scalp bled from the stinging yanks. you'd lose clumps. an act of self harm, your therapist had told you. anxiety of not being perfect. you'd forgotten to put hair serum in your hair to make it easier to deal with before you'd fallen asleep. you shouldn't forget such things. your meeting with that man had rattled you.

"i have some wonderful news."

your mother drums her fingers on your dresser. you imagine her fingers as a witches, long and spindly. no amount of cream and lotion could hide her aging. that made your lips quirk.

"oh? what is it?"

"I've met someone."

not new. you barely restrain the urge to roll your eyes. brush some more hair. you've worked mid way to the top now. almost to the roots.

"have you." you couldn't sound more bored if you tried. really, you couldn't.

"i have." she lets out a swoony breath - "oh, hes wonderful, darling. he's different from the others. treats me like a woman ought to be treated - not that i expect you to know - and its going so well."

you've heard it all before.

"why, he's asked me to marry him!"

you hairbrush stills. you look at your mother for the first time. shes beaming. you feel sick all at once when you look down to her hand - see the ring she's flashing at you, gaudy and dramatic.

"i bought it for myself, of course. he's not the richest man - but he's wonderful! I'd like you to meet him - "

your memory flits back to hours ago, when the man you'd assumed was the help had lifted his arm, hand sifting through his hair and you'd caught a flash of something around his finger - silver in constant with his tan skin - a ring.

your lips part at the same time your brush snags on its first tangle, and footrests, heavy, thumping, a mans, approach your room. your mothers puttering is like static to you now, your eyes flitting from her to the door - and there he is. filling your doorframe. leaning against it with a kind of confidence like he belongs there. like the house is his.

"- eet patrick zweig." your mothers voice comes back to you. you imagine her mouth splitting open from how wide shes smiling - teeth flashing at you like a horse. "my husband. your new stepdad!"

she leans back against him and he wraps and arm around her easily. drops a kiss to her stiff hair, but he doesn't take his eyes off you when he does. everything about him is screaming cat that got the cream. his eyes are twinkling. his cheeks dimpling with a barely hidden grin.

"and." your mother claps. so fucking full of energy, the old bat. "he plays tennis!!! isn't that the most beautiful thing - he used to play with that - oh whats his name, honey -"

"art donaldson." patricks voice is thick and smooth. easy like syrup. he's still looking at you. pinning you with his gaze like you're one of those taxidermied bugs with its wings splayed open on display. "yeah, we used to play together. beat him a couple times."

"him, yes! oh, i told him all about your crush. dont flush, sweetheart, you had his posters in your room! and i thought- wouldn't it just be so fun if patrick and you trained together during the summer! oh, i know I've just been a mess over the years." she puts a hand to her heart - where it would be if she had one, that is - "bringing men in and out of our home. i can only imagine how lost you've felt without a proper male figure in your life. well, no more."

she pats patricks chest. hes opted out of a tank top for a soft cotton top. it hugs his frame too well.

"patrick here is all the father figure you'll need. thing's are really going to change around here, button. we'll be a family."

"a family." you echo, hollow.

"of course." patrick nods. he wants to grin so fucking had you can tell. "oh - and here you go - " he hands you a smoothie he'd been holding, you take it numbly. humiliation burns through you at the memory of how you'd talked to him before. when you'd assumed he was the help. "- that smoothie you wanted."

you stare at him. not sure what to make of any of this. your pride is shot to shit, you're embarrassed, you're angry, you're you're you're -

"and dont worry, babe." he jostles your mother under his arm. he's still. looking at you. you can see what the emotion was now - from before - worse than amusement. fucking glee. he's eating this shit up. "we'll get along just fine. won't we?"

no. no you absolutely fucking wont.

but saying that wont get you anywhere. not just yet. you set your smoothie down and try to smile. it feels wooden. this feels like a chess game suddenly, and hes knocked down one of your knights. and you have to try not to fucking scramble as you jump to defend your queen.

"sure." great move. real intimidating. that'll show him.

"yeah." he smiles at you - kisses the side of your moms head. "why don't you get dinner started, hm?"

you try not to gape as your mother preens and flushes like a housewife. your mother cooking. in the kitchen? preforming labor? doing tasks? willingly? you watch her flit out the room in a daze, wondering if fairies are real and one of them has bodysnatched your mother.

its just patrick and you now. the air in the room thickens with that fact, and you swallow. you've never felt this out of place. never felt so blindsided. not in awhile. you'd made sure of that. taken deliberate steps to adorn armor to prevent yourself from feeling this way. from feeling small. from feeling like the barely adult that you are, freshly nineteen and still so fucking confused and raw and scrambled about everything in your life. not at all like the 30 something in front of you who is a fucking man. a full adult. a full frontal lober. who's been through shit, you can tell, by the callouses on his palms, the hair on his body, his stubble, and the enormity of him in your space. in your little girl room that's still all pink ribbons and plushies on your bed and fairy lights strewn everywhere. he feels like the big bad wolf leering down at your straw fucking house, seconds away from blowing that shit to the ground.

you say nothing.

he crosses his arms and takes his time looking at you. you feel every touch of his eyes on your body, suddenly aware of how little you're wearing. just a sheer nightgown. you feel your nipples pebbling under the fabric that's definitely fucking see through and swallow.

"so."

he lets that hang in the air.

and what can you fucking say? you haven't had the time to recalibrate. you hairs still a mess.

"so.... what?"

you want to stand up - make the playing feild more even except thats a fucking joke because hes taller than you regardless. you feel pinned to the spot anyway, your muscles locked in place in your little chair. like you haven't been given permission to move. its the oddest feeling.

"she's right you know." he tells you, and he eases off the door frame, comes closer so you have to crane your neck up to look up at him. you feel demeaned. and yet, you dont look away. "things are different around here - they have been for awhile now."

you find some semblance of your fucking fire. try to hold your little straw house together. glare up at him.

"you can swing your dick around all you want and make my mom cook and clean for you but you're not the boss of me. you're not my dad."

he just looks at you. folds his lips together. his tongue peeks out to run against the front row of his teeth, wolfish.

the lean in is so jarring you nearly fall out of your chair. you do let out a squeak, jolting as your space is invaded suddenly by him, his arms braced on either side of you, one gripping the neck of your chair. his breath smells like spearmint and the chain around his neck swings back and forth as he gets in your face.

he straightens back up. casually like he didn't just rock your whole world off its fucking axis.

"you think I haven't dealt with you before? i fucking was you - spoiled little rich kid with mommy issues and no fucking daddy. s'that why you think you can stick your fucking nose up at me? dont try to play the game with the man who wrote the fucking rulebook. your display back there at being a big girl was cute, I'll give you that, but it ends there. this is my fucking house now. my fucking rules. and as long as you want to park your polished little ass here in your princess castle you'll listen to me." he does grin then, "I'm your daddy now."

"we cool?"

what can you do?

"we're cool."

he just blew your fucking straw house down.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

As a crazy cat lady, may I offfer...

Eddie who has always loved cats, how free and soft and elegant they are, how they purr and close their eyes in affection, how they make him forget all his worries and stress. He's loved them ever since a neighbor's cat found him crying behind the trailer after he got bullied for his new haircut, the last gift from his shitty dad before Eddie got whisked away by the social services. The cat ignored his sniffling and jumped in his lap, plopping herself over the bony knees and thin thighs, and when she started rubbing her face against his scraped palm, Eddie felt complete.

He can't adopt one yet because he lives with Wayne who is allergic. Wayne offers to take antihistamines but Eddie refuses, he doesn't want to inconvenience him in his own home. Still, he dreams of one day sometime in the future, a small apartment of his own and at least two cats who will greet him when he comes home.

Eddie finds himself volunteering in a shelter and when a new cat café opens, he jumps at the opportunity. He is hired and spends his days taking of their cat ensemble and preparing delicious coffees. Cats help him be less jittery and more grounded, so it's a win win. Eddie loves this job.

Enter Steve Harrington, an insanely handsome man who stops by to make a reservation. Eddie is his usual flirty self, although he expects Steve will bring a date and that's the end of that. But then Steve leans to Eddie and asks: "Listen, uh...I will need some help."

Suppressing an internal groan, Eddie asks: "what, do you need me to drop an engagement ring into the coffee or something? Because can do, but it needs to be sanitized first."

"Oh no. Not that, no..." Steve runs his fingers through his hair and even though it looks like a nervous gesture, Eddie is seconds away from a cuteness induced nosebleed. "Not at all. I just...I have a little sister, you know? I mean, my adoptive dad is fostering her and she's the kindest girl you've met, but she had it rough in her original family. Apparently there was something involving animals and...she loves cats so much, but is terrified of hurting them. She would never!" he clarifies when he sees a frown forming on Eddie's forehead. "It's just that whenever she showed affection to any animal, her biological father made sure it would get hurt or at least chased away. And that's gone, that man is in jail and I just...I want to show her that it's okay to love animals again. That she can pet a purring cat without worrying about its safety."

Eddie just stares at him with mouth open. "That's...wow," he says. "Sorry. Processing."

Steve does the hair thing again and laughs and Eddie thinks that this man deserves a brother of the year award, yep, he'll ask Gareth to 3D print one right fucking now. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but I had to be honest because this is a big deal to her. To me as well. Just...listen, I like cats a lot, but I'm not the best at interpreting what they mean, their body language and all that. And I really need Jane to have someone here that can tell her what to do, when she's doing a good job...someone who will protect the kitties if she messes up. Her words. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

But Eddie shushes him. "Say no more, big boy. I'll be here and I'll give the young lady the cat experience of a lifetime."

Eddie used to think he couldn't love his job any more. But with Jane's uncertain smile and big eyes, her incredulous squeal when a cat chose her for the first time, when she kept asking Eddie for specifics of each cat in his care - "which one is more shy, which one likes to be picked up, which one is a picky eater?" - he thinks he's finally found his calling. Steve beams at him and comes back the next day with a bag of approved cat treats for the cats and a box of chocolates for Eddie as a thank you, then asks him out for a dinner - "if that is even appropriate, shit, sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured or something, this is your job, I get it, but I just really admire you and you were amazing to Jane, uh, and the stuff you say about cats is so interesting I'd just love to hear more". Eddie's heart flutters like the traitor it is and he thinks - maybe this is someone I could adopt a cat with one day.

And unsurprisingly, he's right.

[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[just-some-user-hunny]

Vampire hunter D and Hellsing Alucard fighting over the same darling

I'm going to have to take some creative liberties and ignore some canon material for this to somewhat work, due to the difference in vampire rules and whatnot in each respective lore and world-building, but this idea was too fun to pass on. I think a dynamic between the two would be so entertaining- seeing as they are both Eldrich horrors in their own respect, yet so different. both are complex characters with many layers to them, so I hope I gave them justice with this.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading! . ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Their rivalry is inevitable. D has sworn to spend the rest of his days slaughtering the undead- and Alucard is possibly the strongest of his prey as of yet. They are alike, but not- two of a kind, who share the same shadow and bloodlust.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Alucard is both immensely curious and irked by the vampire hunters existence. A being that is not dead, nor alive. A creature born from both the undead and living. A dhampir.

D is something of a worldly curiosity to him- how can such a thing exist? Throughout all of Alucard's un-life has he witnessed such a being. It both fills him with awe, and unrest.

The complexity has even himself spiraling into an unrestful haze- because finally. A rival. A true rival. A being that has the redeeming quality of a semblance of humanity. He can see right through the dhampir- that sorrow and loneliness and regret is so human. So raw, and unabashedly hidden with shame. What a solemn moping creature D is... Interesting.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ D is troubled by the vampire king. A monster whom resembles the likeness of Dracula- a twisted shadow of his own father, a being from another timeline, who mocks him with his mere existence. Just being in the same vicinity as him makes his blood boil and stomach churn in disgust. Knowing that this violent blood hungering beast is yearning for you makes him sick. The implications that if he fails, and you fall into the monster's claws, that another dhampir may possibly be brought into its wretched existence is simply something he cannot allow.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ The two clash in every possible way- yet align in every possible way. Like a dark twisted duet. Like a shadow clashing with a shadow. It shouldn't be. Two beings having met behind the veil- a veil that should have never been pieced. They glare at one another in the shadows of your footsteps, constantly watching with bated breath.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧The dynamic of being caught between the crossfire of the two horrors beyond the veil is a restless nightmare- yet an enveloping dream. It doesn't feel...real. To be yearned over by these two men monsters is an enigma of itself, and you've inevitably become the taut rope between an endless tug of war. Back and fourth, back and fourth, neither breaking sweat nor losing their footing. Clashing blades, explosive bullets, the silver of guns and swords glinting in the moonlight. Spilt blood, open wounds, unrestrained ferocity. There is no hunter or prey in this dynamic- their very strength teeters on the edge of a blade-steady yet, wavering. All that is established is that they have both set their claim. And neither are willing to give up.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Their motives are simple, yet complex like entangled string. Red and black thread ensnaring you till you are but a meager little morsel struggling in the spiders web. D wants to eradicate Alucard- rid the earth of his bloodied existence. The very personification of self-preservation and fear of death taken in the form of something bloody and full of hunger has no right to belong in this world. It should be laid to rest.

You, poor little human, are an unexpected obstacle of both himself- and his prey. You're the flesh caged in the bear trap- the butterfly in the web, the pretty patisserie cake on a porcelain platter. He's the jarring metal teeth, the descending spider, the glinting cutlery.

He's a parasite who attached itself to an unsuspecting human- who has no say in the matter. Either you love him, endure him, or despise him, it doesn't matter. He's sunk his teeth into you and won't let go- always in your shadow.

D is a hunter. That's all he has left for himself. He can at least do this favour for both himself, and you. If you call for Alucard's name, it is not enough to deter him. You don't know any better, you can't. You don't know the extent of this horror. You never shall. Never should.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Alucard is frustratingly simple- yet simply complicated. You are a human who's ensnared his interest- his curiosity and fascination. He wants you, all of you. Your voice...your breath...the smell of your skin...your thoughts and dreams and fears. He wants all of it. He's selfish and hungry, and you are the soothing balm to his wounds. He admits he's a monster- a monster that can only hunger and obsess, he has no shame in that. He accepted he's irredeemable long ago- an attack dog, a weapon, something to command and leash for the sake of numbing the boredom and insanity of everlasting existence. He needs motive. Reasoning. Distraction. And you are the best distraction he could ask for.

He's caught in the swing of finding this hunter's endeavours amusing and annoying.

Leave him be, let him enjoy this last thing. Then he may have his spill of blood.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Regardless of the madness- it can come in useful for your own sake of survival. You'll never have to worry about being harmed whilst under the watchful eyes of not only Alucard, the no life king, but the Dhampir hunter, D. It is the one thing that they can seem to agree and find truce over. They are content to slaughter the vile beasts that dare to think they can harm a hair on your head, casting aside their rivalry to kill together. Their protection is priceless in a world filled with danger- not even the wealthiest of people could pay a price to ensure such safety.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ those dynamic is full of banter and jeering- Alucard most often the initiator. How can he help himself? This enigma of a being is so ripe and ready for the teasing and prodding. Something that is half monster, half human... It shouldn't be. An abomination as much as himself. Although he shares his hatred through his own twisted morals, the hatred towards lowly vampires who do not abide by nature and kill monstrously with no goal or end- that disgusts him. His respect for the hunter draws a fine line between mutual respect- and despair for his existence.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ "You're disgusted with yourself? As you should be. All creatures of the night deserve nothing. Useless beasts"

"You realise you speak of yourself, Nosferatu"

"How witty of you to clue on. You should know better, do you feel the weight of existence? Isn't it crushing? Yes...it is, isn't it..."

"..."

"For someone who is half human, you are certainly as silent as the dead-"

"Enough."

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ D is... Often wavering with his control around you. Beyond the soft nonchalant veil that he drapes himself with, internally he often finds himself holding back his insatiable bloodlust. You'd probably never guess- by how tamed and calm he is, through both his slow methodic actions and lulling voice- but every part of him is yearning to taste you.

He's not proud of it- ashamed, is the best way to describe it. It's something he's intent on you never discovering- lest you fear him, God forbid. Pain and fear are things he never wants to stir in you from his own doing. He's not the monster who hides under your bed- not the frightening creature who lurks in shadow, hunting for blood. He's more than that, he likes to believe. There's a part of him that regains precious humanity.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Alucard however isn't a creature who can be swayed easily with the scent of blood- his experience and self control has far surpassed his mindless animalistic bloodlust. Despite the way that he is, He's not one to become lost in a mindless haze- eager to snatch you up and shake you around with your throat in his jaws like he was some depraved starving animal. Although the scent or sight of your blood does utter some excitement out of him, he's never one to act upon it. He'll simply stare at you knowingly, smiling softly and offering to bandage wherever you are hurting. he'll be more than happy to lick the wound.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ You can imagine the taunting this no-life king has in store for the vampire hunter, watching with smug amusement as this halfling struggles to keep his drool in his mouth just from the mere scent of you. It’s adorable. Pathetic.

He loves taunting the hunter- playing with you like a cat pawing gently at a mouse, to see what kind of reaction he can summon out of this nonchalant creature. His lack of response always irks the vampire, so watching him grow annoyed and angry just for merely being too close to you? Oh it’s bliss.

Alucard loves to stray closer- closer and closer, pushing his luck, all under the watchful eye of the hunter. He’s more keen to touch and caress you like this- like a lion with a lamb, towering over you frightfully as you stand there sweetly and innocently in his claws. As if he were playing with his food. Rest assured you'll never be his food, but that shouldn't damper his fun regarding toying with the naive hunter.

You’ll become surely equated with the Eldritch horror of a man swallowing you up in his shadow- standing closer than necessary. Your back practically flushed against his torso, as large gloved hands gently pet and caress you like you were some pretty little thing to fawn over. It doesn’t matter how you react. Either you tremble and swallow anxiously as your throat is swallowed up his palm- his fingertip dragging softly over the skin to trace the hollow in your throat, unsure and confused- or you may simply stand still and allow your loyal hound of a vampire preen and coo over you with patient endurance. It’s not your response Alucard is after, although it doesn’t hurt to enjoy it, but D’s.

He wants his anger.

His jealousy.

His envy.

For D, the sight of your delicate neck in the hands of Alucard is something that never fails to make his stomach lurch in fury. He’ll glare wordlessly at the vampire mutt- his own blood red eyes simmering like boiling viscera as he clutches his own aching throat.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ I know very well how tempting they he’ll say with his eyes, the deep pleased hum rumbling in his chest like a content beast as he tenderly strokes the delicate skin above your artery. Feeling it pump quickly beneath his fingertips, as his eyes glint with amusement at the dhampir’s simmering anger.

See how I can be so near, so close to touch them whilst you salivate and struggle like a starving dog. A dog. That’s what you are.

D could rip him a new one if you weren’t so in the line of fire.

God, this guy's one smug asshole huh D.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ That is not to say that Alucard is the only petty one, because D is just as bad. he can be worse.

It is not unusual for the Dhampir to snatch you away and keep you tucked safely beneath the shelter of his cape- keeping you swallowed up in billowing fabric, nestling you close to his side or ribcage. Silently-softly- he’ll extend his arm out welcomingly, draping his cape open for you to hide if you so please. Please. It is the safest place for you in his eyes, swaddled safely from sight nor scent- with you so swallowed up in his clothes and stature, your pretty scent is masked with his. Practically bathing you in it. All you can do is keep up with his strides as his hand settles securely upon your shoulder, keeping you tucked into his side whenever you walk together.

Look D, as much as I like seeing this assholes face prune up, I'd like our body to stay intact. Hey, are you even listening?

So you can image the irk and seething jealousy that burns like hellfire in Alucards vermillion glare as D unveils you to the vampire king- your form nestled close to him, wrapped up in the safe recluse of the dhampir’s cape. That halfling abomination has rubbed off all your scent and his.

The nerve.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ It's safe to say that they both become clingy in their efforts to claim possession of you no matter how much D refuses the concept of possessing you, they both know deep inside that's what he yearns for with his lonely dead heart.

So be prepared to be clung to by these two towering children of the night. Alucard pressing himself to you like a touch starved dog, possessive and enveloping. His gloved hands resting upon your shoulders or idly stroking your head/jaw/neck. If not in your shadow, he's by your heel- the tip of his own polished shoes brushing against your heel.

He does it so unnaturally fitting. His large hand curling around your jaw, tilting your head up to wipe something off your face. He could so easily crush you, but that thought never comes to fruition in his mind. or he may drape his arm over your shoulder, his gun bracing against your chest like a makeshift shield. (Or perhaps a little empty threat to make your heart skip a little in your chest). He loves how much it winds the Dhampir up.

"Get that thing off her, if you know what's good for you."

"I don't, you see"

"Off."

"What's wrong? You surely don't think I'd hurt her to you? She's my dear little human, Dhampir. Mine"

"She's not yours, or anyone's."

"Is that so."

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ Both are eager to claim the spot to reside in your shadow- both literally and metaphorically. They share the same inevitable fate of losing you to time- so they are insatiably eager to take their fill of life from you. To have the pleasure of watching you grow old and silver, front row seats of your existence- if you will. It is unspoken, the sorrow. It’s a lengthy pause that’ll always settle between them; both fully aware, but not strong enough to say it out loud. It all but makes it too real. Alucard is full of pretty poetry when it comes to the concept of losing you- always grinning and wistfully lamenting how full and easy he’d make life for you, but internally there’s a pit of anger and sorrow inside him that’s festers like rotting fruit. Sweet and syrupy, but spoiled and repulsive. These emotions only come to surface through silent lingering glances of softened expressions, which always throw you off. They’re quiet and contemplate, and for once you don’t feel like a yummy morsel under his watch. You’re something to be mourned and cherished. This deep sadness that dwells hidden in his garnet hued irises.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ D is just as in much sorrow, and that is something that the two creatures of night can fall into agreement with. Immortality is a curse, not something one should wish to possess.

D does not keen to dwell too deeply into the concept of your demise- no matter how peaceful it’ll be. Every smile-line and pretty wrinkle upon your face serves as a reminder to him. He will forever remain porcelain- his hair will remain deep mahogany, whilst you turn silver and frail. Reminding him of how fragile you are- how privileged you are. Still- he is silent with his emotions. Like carved marble set into a beautiful and gaunt expression, never will he show anger or jealousy. He cannot bring himself to bear it.

As long as you are safe and cherished, that is all he can wish for.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ their fight for claim can go on and on, scrabbling for a secure footing in the game they've been began- with no means to an end to finish. They are both strong, no matter how endurable D is- nor how many levels of his own power that Alucard unleashes, there's always a standstill. D could be near shredded ribbons of flesh and fabric, but he'll still stand. Alucard could be standing tall in his armour from his days of impaling and bloody reign, and he'd still be toe to toe with the Dhampir. It's infuriating for the both of them. There must be only one victor, one to take their stead in the shadow of your existence. But it's never ending.

This isn't about simple rivalry anymore. It's a neverending duel between themselves, eager to win or die. Death would be a privilege if not for your own place in the matter. They can't die yet, not whilst you are still breathing.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ you'll be caught in the crossfire of possession and duty, desire and a twisted version of love. It is for you to bear witness to, So don't look away.

[senseichaos]

I JUST HAD THIS THOUGHT HAD TO WRITE IT

IMAGINE

Priest kink with Alastor.

You'd come back to your hotel room one day, tired from the day with Charlie and wanting nothing more than to be with your darling boyfriend Alastor. The ache in your feet is immeasurable against the flooring as you place your hand against the door knob, wrenching it open to be met with Alastor on the other side.

Though he isn't himself.

He's wearing a Priest outfit. A tight, black shirt that accentuates his broad chest with an iconic white collar. And then a pair of slightly too-tight dress trousers that cling against his hips in the most attractive way. You can't help but let your jaw drop, especially at the way he has his hands clasped together as he stares at you, unspeaking.

But your biggest question is, how the fuck did he know you were into that? You had never told him of this kink, nor had you even given him the slightest hint that you were. How does he do it? You wonder.

Your legs suddenly feel light and airy as you take a step forward, closing the door softly behind you as the air runs slower than molasses. The tension so think not even a knife could manage to cut through its heavy muscle. Taking another step, you place a hand against his chest, feeling the fabric of the shirt beneath your fingers as he stares with such a deep glance. Unreadable with his features.

"Alastor?" You ask, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He chuckles "That's father to you, my child,"

Your knees go weak, legs threatening to give out as goosebumps spread across your skin. Alastor sees this, taking the hand against his chest into his own large hand, dragging the other hand of his up your bare arm with a dark unmoving gaze. You gulp, intimidated and feeling small from it all.

"I read through that Diary of yours, what sins you've committed, my dear.."

Your blood runs cold and your throat clenches. Your diary. There is an entire entry about how hot you found priests, and well... A lot worse stuff, if you're honest. That would explain this, and the sins he speaks of. And even still at his deep voice you feel frightened, especially at the way his claws pinch at your skin.

"I do have to say, I don't know how I kept myself from reading it for so long, but even so I think you have to repent.."

You gulp down thick saliva in your throat, staring at him with large eyes.

"H-how, Father..?"

He chuckles, placing his hand against your cheek as he leans forward. You feel small, helpless. Even in such an intimate grasp you feel like your whole body is turning into mush, even at the slightest pry of his handsome hands.

"Get on your fucking knees,"

You don't think you've ever dropped down to your knees faster, at such a pace you most likely bruised them both. But you don't care. Instead you watch with an unwavering gaze as Alastor unbuckles his belt, lip set between your teeth in arousal. Your core pools with an aroused heat, drenching the thin panties beneath your skirt. You feel like by the end of this there will be a puddle from such arousal.

Alastor grasps the base of his cock, pulling his half-hard length from the confines of his pants, balls and all. You practically drool with desire, saliva gathering in your mouth as you bring your hands up. Though Alastor growls at this, jerking his cock in your face as his dark eyes pour into your own.

"No touching yet, my child. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes father.."

"Good girl, now open for me, hm?"

You tremble, opening your jaw as wide as it can go to welcome his length.

Alastor digs his hand into your hair, tugging you forward until your lips are clasped around his tip. You whine, not expecting this to happen. Especially when he begins sinking his length into your throat.

And then without warning, Alastor shoves almost all of his length into your throat, leaving 2 inches out that he couldn't fit in without you choking. And even then you choke, crying out against his cock as he tugs painfully on your hair, watching tears spring in your eyes.

"Fucking repent. Take the rest of my cock in that filthy throat of yours or I'll make you." Alastor demand, pushing your head down until you have no choice but to let the rest of his cock dive into your throat. You choke, of course, tears falling down your cheeks and dripping against the floor below.

Then Alastor begins fucking that throat of yours, drawling his hips back in hypnotic movements at a harsh rate. Your nose continuously presses against the bed of his pubes, tickling you very slightly every time. You can't see anything, the only thing in view the red haze of pleasure that fills your vision whilst being used like this.

Alastor's tail twitches in pleasure, yet his brows are angry and his smile is condescending and forceful. He enjoys every second of fucking your filthy throat, dead set on making you think about every single thing you wrote in that diary of yours.

He'd revel in the way you cry out, eventually having to take your head off of his cock for a few moments to let you breathe before diving your head back onto it.

"The things you wrote about me in that diary were filthy. Just filthy. I hope you understand this will not be tolerated without consequences, little fawn." Alastor lowly mutters, making his words more powerful with the way he thrusts particularly hard, cock head hitting against the back of your throat.

You moan, sobbing onto his cock as his claws press against your scalp. And yet you don't care. You'd let father Alastor ruin you like this any day. Use your filthy sinful throat. Fuck your tight holes. Make you think about the things you dreamt. He'd make everything come true and yet also reprimand you for wanting them.

"Stupid girl, stupid stupid girl." He tuts, hips quivering as his high begins to take him over.

And before you know it, he's forcing your head onto his cock all the way, emptying his thick warm seed into your throat as if you're just a cum dump for his using.

"Tell father you want him in your dirty pussy now, hm?"

You beg him for it more than you've ever begged before.

[yuri-is-online]

Ok so jadeyuu! Jadeyuu? Jade is an eel. Jade has never been in a relationship- never even got the urge. So he's kinda panicking when he finally snaps out of his little domestic daydreams only to realize. He has no idea how to actually get to those daydreams.

How do humans court? Fuck humans for a second how does his own species court??? He only know surface level (ha) shit he never paid attention beyond that cause it was "irrelevant" (he wants to go back in time and punch himself so bad. For several reasons).

So now he's trying to figure it out but heres the thing, he only has super cheesy media to work with. Bro is taking it so seriously but some of the stuff is just???

Why is sharing clothing so important?

Are flowers really that big of a deal?

Why do all these couple fight all the time? He doesn't want to fight with yuu he just wants to feed them mushroom dishes and cuddle and "cuddle" He doesn't want to fight! Why do couple always fight in these movies is it necessary?? Is it a love language??

What's a one night stand?

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WITH SOMEONE YOU JUST MET???

... has yuu had any? They told him once that most of their past relationships were "situationships" and he had to laugh and pretend he wasn't about to simultaneously raise hell and profusely thank your exes for fumbling so hard.

What's this about your father's consent? Does he need to get your father's consent? Would any parent work or just your father? Do you even like your father- shit you haven't even seen your father since you've been here and he's a literal world away. ....shit.

Someone stop him he's about to create an entire world wide scheme to invent otherworldly communication just to ask his not-parners dad if he can even court them in the first place-

Oh it's not that important in modern day?? Oh. Thank goodness.

At what point in this can he ask you to be his officially?

At what point can he start indulging himself in all his somewhat ugly jealous urges in public without scaring you off?

Would it be considered a "red flag" to ask you to only talk to him? He knows it is he's just holding out hope that maybe you'll agree to be kept in a large terrarium of his and be completely his and-

You would never agree to that. Oh well, an eel can dream. If Ace gets all clingy with you again he's going to break his arm off.

How long does he have to wait until he can show you to list of names he's already thought about giving your future children?

CAN HE PLEASE JUST HOLD YOU??? PLEASE!!!

Idk where I'm going with this I just got the mental image of jade watching titanic (something something convenient potion accident) and hurriedly scribbling down notes every time something romantic happens and I wanted to share that image.

I like the idea of Jade doing research about human courtship. I really really like it I think it's so stupidly funny to picture Mr. Suave, one hell of an eel butler reading human x merfolk fanfiction and going O: that's me (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) Or watching romcoms and taking notes that's hilarious. He watches titanic and nods "yes this would never happen with us, I would simply drag them into the sea and then we would live together happily ever after while everyone else drowns- ah or is that too fatalistic?"

But yes he doesn't know much about courtship in general. He can "flirt" but its not intentional on his part, he's just being snarky. But with you he has no idea what to do. The clothing thing makes no sense to him, is it to stake a claim? Then why not bite you? That would get the point across faster... is it a him thing to want to do that or is it a mer thing? One night stands are too complicated, there's too many ways for that to go wrong the only reason Jade could think to have one is if someone has information you want to steal and he's not interested in obtaining things that way. They don't owe you anything that way.

Jade with soft yan! urges he tries to tamp down because he knows they're not healthy but he just wants to protect you form the dangerous that exist in the coral sea. Even if you become a merfolk you still used to be human, soft, fragile, and so naive... really there's no end to the things that could steal you away from him. Like Ace! Now if you could please look the other way while he disposes of this pest- he jests. He would never rob you of your friends, everyone needs them and he needs you to need him the same way humans need air.

Also the sheer irony of Yuu complaining all of their past relationships being situationships when that's what they have going on with Jade right at that very moment. Maybe that was intentional huh Jade ever think of that? Maybe the pretty human was huffing at you and batting their eyes because they are frustrated that history is repeating itself and the sketchy guy their friends don't approve of is being unclear about his feelings again. He figures that out once he finally finds out the definition and he feels so so stupid

[blondieeu]

seasons. yoichi I.

yoichi isagi who is just the sweetest guy you've ever met.

he purposely goes in front of you just so he can hold it for you, he doesn't let you walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he even makes sure to not look down into your face just in case he accidentally gets a glimpse down your shirt.

for your first date he takes you to the aquarium. but its not because he really likes marine life or anything, just because he remembers one time on the phone you told him you'd never been to one before.

he picks you up in his fathers car, it's not the nicest thing in the world but you didn't even notice since you were so busy laughing and smiling at the joke he just made about how nervous he was.

when you go to hold hands with isagi while buying tickets together he doesn't even think about letting your hand go after that. he actually ends up holding your hand the whole date, with the exception of when you needed to let go to pick up the food he'd ordered you two.

when you're not looking at him, he's sucking in every detail of you. from the outfit you're wearing to the clips in your hair and rings on your finger that matched it, he thought you were so beautiful!

isagi is so nervous at the end of the night. its dark outside now and he's standing on your porch. the air is a little nippy but he's not worried about it since you're wearing his jacket and he's not that cold anyway.

he actually wasn't gonna kiss you at first. thought it was too fast and maybe you wanted to wait a little longer for that, but with the way you were standing and twiddling your fingers behind your back waiting for him to make a move, he knew he had to.

when he got home he couldn't stop thinking about you all night.

blondieeu xx

[lint-beetle4]

Hiii! Love your blog dude! I got a question! Or a request?? How would wukong and redson feel about thier past lover was reincarnated? How would they react?

The Cycle Continues (Wukong and Red Son x Reincarnated!Reader) Headcanons

Wukong:

Wukong is old, you don't need to remind him

He's seen his friend die, come back, and he's been tired of seeing random faces become more familiar as the cycle repeats and repeats

When he meets you, he found you to be charming and fairly cute

He fell for you hard, to say the least, and just like most deaths, yours was hard on him

He didn't expect to see your face again for another few thousand years, but no, in just centuries (a snap to the old monkey), there you were, in a new yet familiar face

Wukong nearly leapt at you with excitement, but he knew better

His old friends didn't remember him, he didn't expect you to as well

If you did? That's another story all together

If you remembered Wukong and called his name, oh, he'd be in love all over again

He'd ask about your new life and the people you've grown with

He'd also ask if he could be a part of yours again

If you don't remember, the sting burns a little, but he understands

He'll try to approach you, maybe chicken out, but he'll eventually say hi again, happy to hear your voice and the journeys you must've been on

Red Son:

When you met Red Son, he was a young adult in his demon years, fresh and full of anger towards a certain monkey

The Demon Bull Clan even without its king was strong and mighty, and Red Son made sure his subjects were obedient and loyal

You happened to be one of them, but unlike most, you and Red Son were close.

In secret, you two had been dating (it wasn't really a secret, but Iron Fan knew the important of letting your children be independent and allowing them to you when they needed), and both of you were quite passionate

Red Son depended on you when he would often feel inadequate for not being able to free his father quickly, and you were able to count on him to protect you when rival clans got too close

Your death was a dark stain in Red Son's past, like a glimmer that could never be captured again

As much as Iron Fan could provide her support, the mourning process still ate away at the flame prince

Centuries later, Red Son's father had returned, and a missing piece of him returned, but you were still gone

Of course, chance had it that he found you while shopping for ingredients

Unlike Wukong, Red Son wasn't old enough nor wise enough to notice how mortals reincarnated, so when he saw you, he was asking questions left and right

Those questions would only increase if you remembered him

If not, Red Son would be quite flustered at his behavior and apologize greatly before going to his parents for advice

In either scenario, you can count on him returning to you and quickly asking you on a date to get to know your new life better

There's a lot of missing time between the two of you, and Red Son is quite eager to make up for it

[adoreeenina]

For You, I’ll Risk It All

Part one: High School Crush

-Series Masterlist-

Relationship: DBF! Hank Voight x Plus Size! Olinsky! Reader

WC: 7.3k

Series Summary: He is corrupted and vicious, nothing but a dirty cop. At least that's what you've been told by your mother. You hated him and you weren't afraid to show it at the slightest, but that all changed when he protected you from going to jail when you were 18.

Coming back from New York after five years, you decided to live for yourself for once.

You didn't expect it would start by falling for Hank Voight.

You know your dad's best friend.

Being one of the well known detective’s daughter has its perks, the main one is protection from anyone and anything, the second anyone hears your last name, they quickly back off, knowing what to come of them if they even lay a finger on you; but it also has its downfalls. One of them involving dating.

Anyone who you brought home were intimidated by him almost immediately, you’re pretty sure they know about your fathers being a dirty cop, or atleast the whispers.

Yes. You knew about it, you always known since you were thirteen. You remember the late night arguments between your parents, you would be sitting down on top of the stairs and listen. They weren’t exactly being quiet, atleast your mother wasn’t. Your father trying to calm her down or atleast keep it quiet before you or your sister wake up. Since then, you try to keep your sister Lexi in the dark as much as you can, she doesn’t need to know how many people your father killed.

And that’s where Hank comes in. You haven’t met him yet or seen him. Your mother always mentions him in almost every argument she has with your father. Blaming him for getting your father involved in his dirty work and maybe one day getting himself killed because of it. And that thought scared you.

You were sixteen when you met Hank for the first time. It was the middle of your summer break. Your sister wanted to go to summer camp and your mom volunteered to be one of the chaperones, and the offered you to be home alone most of the time when your father works.

On the rare days when your father gets those days off, he spends them with you. You were having a movie night. Your father let you choose, you decided on a horror movie, Conjuring. You were in the kitchen making popcorn, one with kettle corn powder and the other with white cheddar.

You were making your way to the living room when the door bell rings. Startling you, you pause mid step, you look up the stairs where your father is doing god knows what.

Then you remembered your dad ordered pizza from the closest pizzeria 15 minutes ago. Your stomach grumbled when you thought of food, and you couldn't wait to dig in.

Walking the rest of your way to the living room, you place the bowls of popcorn down on the coffee table. Grabbing money out of your dad’s wallet, you quickly walk over to the front door.

Opening the door, ready to hand the delivery person the money, but pause when you see an unfamiliar man you’ve never seen before.

The man before you stood about 5’10, cropped black brown hair that was greying from the temples upwards and brown eyes that considered you carefully. He had the jaw line of a Greek God.

He looks down at you with a raised brow in confusion. Why the hell is he looking at you like that? If anyone should be staring like that should be you.

He scans you and you only just now realize what you are wearing. Or lack of what you are wearing. In your blue Cookie Monster pajamas shorts and an oversized black shirt that hangs on your left shoulder.

Feeling a little selfconscious by the way he’s looking at you, you subconsciously pull down your pajamas shorts down.

Pushing your feelings aside, you cross your arms across your chest and glare at the man trying to be intimidating but it only amuses him.

“Can I help you?” You ask not caring how rude you might’ve sound.

You could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his mouth twitch as though trying to stifle a smirk, after silently considering you for a few more painful seconds, he decided to speak.

“Hank Voight. I’m looking for Alvin.” your brows raised up slightly at the name.

“Sorry. you must got the wrong house. I don’t know any Alvin.”

He hums in the back of his throat, the only acknowledgement he gave to your answer.

If he is who he says he is, you don’t want him here at all. You only know what your mother said about him. He’s nothing but a dirty cop. Your mother would be infuriated if she were here.

“You sure?” He squints at you, obviously giving you a chance to be honest with him.

You give him a sarcastic smile, “I’m sure.” taking a step back, you grab onto the door to close it, “Sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for” you fake being sympathetic. “Bye bye.” you wave as you close the door with a smile.

“Y/n!” You hear your dad’s fast footsteps rushing behind you to stop the door from closing, grabbing the door to allow it to fully open.

“What?” You faux innocence. Your dad looks down at you with a stern look obviously not buying it.

Turning to face Hank with apologetic grin, “Sorry. My daughter can be a little asshole.”

“Dad!” You gasp with a glare his way.

Hearing Hank chuckle under his breath made you snap your head at his direction and glare.

Spurred by annoyance, you contemplate just slamming the door to his face, the scolding you might get be damned.

“Why the hell is he doing here?” Your face scrunch up as you wave your arm at Hank’s direction.

“Alright, Y/n that’s enough.” your dad grabs you by your bicep and tugs you away from the door.

“You know mom won’t like it if she finds out he’s here.” you whisper. Your dad sighs, glancing at Hank before dragging you to the kitchen.

“That’s why we won’t tell mom.”

“What?”

“Look sweetheart-“

“Are you leaving?” You cut him off. His face softened hearing the distressed pain in your question.

“Y/n-“

“You promised you would spend the day with me. I miss spending time with you, I never get to see you. All you focus on is your stupid job…. Is this why mom made you move to the garage?”

Alvin was lost for words. He should’ve known better he’s oldest daughter would’ve caught on with all the fight and late discussion he had with Meredith. It hurt him the way Meredith looks at him but it hurts even seeing the broken look in your eyes.

“Y/n.” he reaches his out to you, making you take a step back. Feeling betrayed and hurt.

“Actually, You know what dad? You can do whatever you need to do. Clearly I’m not your first priority.” pulling your arm out of his grip, you move past him, and grab your phone from the table.

“Y/n!” Alvin calls behind you, but you ignore his calls, not giving a glance towards the door, knowing Hank is still there waiting. You rush up the stairs to your room, slamming the door behind you.

You might’ve been dramatic, overthinking, or overreacting, but since that day, your relationship with your dad hasn’t been the same. You’ve always been daddy’s girl, so it hit you pretty hard not having that kind of relationship with him anymore. But you were tired of being put a side and not being a priority, you miss spending those days where it’s just the two of you, it could be him taking you shopping,or taking you to the ice cream parlor, or just taking to the park.

Now, it’s like you don’t even have a father, at least one that’s present in your life. Not only is your relationship with your dad went downhill, your mom isn’t any better.

Your mother can be a bit overbearing at times. At least with you. Mostly about your weight. She always been pretty brazen about her opinion on your body. Telling you to lose weight by going to the gym, go on a diet, even going as far to suggest some supplements she seen on TikTok that could help you(which you know are BS).

You’ve always been a big girl, even when you were a little girl. Though you went through puberty pretty early in your life, your curves came in and shaped your body beautifully.

You love your body, you might get a little self conscious about it from time to time but what girl doesn’t? You learned pretty early on you might not be everyone type but you might be someone’s type and that was enough to give you confidence about your plump figure.

Now how your luck has it, you actually know Hank’s son Justin and adopted daughter Erin Lindsay though you didn’t know it at the time. You went to school with them, Erin is a little older than you but Justin is the same age as you.

Now back to your father’s best friend. After your first meeting, you started to hold a little grudge against him.

But it seems like luck isn’t on your side when you keep crossing paths with him once or twice. More since you became close friends with Justin and Erin. Though you you try your best to never interacted with him. Yeah, you might’ve been a little brat about that.

Once Erin graduated, she went straight to the Police Academy, wanting to follow Hank’s footsteps. That left you spending most of your time with Justin. Who would’ve thought you spending so much time together would’ve led you to lose your virginity to Justin Voight.

But sadly it wasn’t mind blowing like you had thought. Your girl friends always talked about how their first time was magical, even went into to much details. Now that you think about it, maybe it was all bullshit to make themselves look better in front of your friend group.

Though you can’t put the full blame on Justin, he has a decent size penis and tried to make you feel good, even tried to put your pleasure over his own. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. After that, you two decided to just stay friends and act like it never happened, which you were glad it didn’t mess up your friendship.

There’s also one big thing you learned about yourself pretty early on… you liked men. Older men. Old enough to be your father.

You always knew you liked older men but being under aged is what stopped you most of the time. You were flirted with by older men more than boys your age.

And you liked it. You liked it a lot.

You liked the attention they’ve given you, they were shameless and wasn’t afraid to get what they want. They didn’t care about how much you weigh or what size of clothes you are.

You didn’t know what to was about men that really turns you on. It could be the deep voice. Salt and pepper hair. The way men could get protective of you. Or maybe it could be they are experienced.

You need a man who can teach you a thing or two.

Now, you did an amazing job of avoiding Hank but that couldn’t be avoided when you were eighteen.

Justin💙: Party 2night?

You: Fuck Yes!!! You’re picking me up, right???

Justin💙: What about your parents?

You: Told them I’m going over to your place. Besides they won’t even notice. Mom is out with Lexi and Dad is most likely drinking and watching TV

Justin💙: You sure?

You: It’s the only way I’m going

You: What should I wear?

Justin💙: Something Sexy🥴🤤

You: I’m serious Justin😂

Justin💙: What are my options then?

You:

Justin💙: Fuck🫠😩

Justin💙: The red one. Definitely the red one

Justin💙: And wear those heels that makes your legs look so sexy🥴

You:😘

With a smile, you toss your phone to your bed and make your way to your bathroom to take a quick shower.

Today is supposed to be the best day. You’ll graduate the end the week. Which means you’re done with the people you could care less from High School completely.

Tonight you’re going to party. One of your classmates is having at party at his place while his parents are away for their anniversary.

Getting out the bathroom in only a robe and a towel over your head. You sit down in front of your vanity and do your makeup as natural as you can, you’ll be sweating and drinking, you need your makeup to last all night and not look cakey.

You look at the time and quickly put on a pair of biker shorts and a zip up hoodie. Grabbing your backpack, you place your dress, heels, and purse inside, along with your perfume and extra makeup to finish yourself up.

Justin will be coming by to pick you up in his car. Everything was set and making it home from school the excitement made you zone out.

Your phone flashes signaling you Justin has texted you.

Justin💙: I’m outside

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you race down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Your dad stops you before you could reach the door. He is sitting on the couch with his feet prompt up on the coffee table with a beer in hand, watching TV.

“Over to Justin’s. I told you already.”

“He’s picking you up?”

“Yes.”

“Just the two of you? Alone?”

“Dad.” you groan, “I’m eighteen, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“That may be true.” you watch as he gets up from the couch with a grunt and stands in front of you, “but you’ll always be my baby girl. No matter what.” He smiles sweetly at you.

You give him a sincere smile. Even though your relationship has been somewhat strained, moments like these is what you cherish the most.

“I love you. C’mere. ” he pull you in for a bear hug.

“I love you too, dad.” you smile into his chest. Alvin presses a kiss on your head then leans his head back to look at you.

“What?” You question. He tilts his head with furrowed brows.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“Dad!” You whine as you cover your face to hide how embarrassed you are.

Your phone rings once more, another message from Justin telling you to hurry your ass up.

“I gotta go. Justin is waiting for me.”

“He’s outside?”

“Mhmm.” you hum, looking down at your phone messaging Justin back. Your dad nudges you to the door.

“Bye dad.” you peck his cheek.

“Bye baby.”

“Hey, Justin!” Your dad waves once he opens the door allowing you to leave.

“Hey, Mr. Olinsky!” Justin waves back through the open window of the car.

“Better take care of her!”

“Oh I will. Don’t you worry!” Justin winks at you.

“Oh my god.” you roll your eyes at Justin, waving bye at your dad, you get in the back of Justin car.

“Why you sitting in the back?” Justin looks at you through the rear view mirror.

“Hey! Eyes on the road, pretty boy.” you reach from the back seat and hit the back of Justin’s head “I’m changing.”

“Why don’t you wear the dress under your clothes like any normal girl”

“Cause I’m not normal, you should know that by now.”

You unzip the thin jacket you have on and pull it down your shoulders. You’re wearing an adhesive bra, to hold up your heavy breast while wearing the dress that reveals your shoulders.

“Damn.”

“Fucker!” you hiss. Zipping open your backpack, you grab your dress, putting the sleeves of your dress on first, “I said no peaking.”

Justin lets out a low chuckle, keeping his eyes on the road once more.

Placing the dress over your head, you tug it down to your waist. You pull down your shorts and throw them in your backpack, then tug down the rest of your dress down to your mid thigh. Lastly the best for last, you strap on your heels.

“What did you tell your dad, when you left?” You ask to break the silence.

“Nothing. He’s working late. He doesn’t know I’m gone.”

“My, my, what a naughty boy you are, Justin. I might have to punish you.” you lean forward against the center console to look at the side profile of Justin.

“Shut up.” he laughs.

“You know… I might not like your dad but I can’t deny that he’s hot.” you tease.

“Of course you would say that.” Justin face scrunches up in disgust making you laugh, “I forgot how you prefer older men.”

“Yep! And it’s thanks to you.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad!”

“You weren’t good either.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Justin shakes his head with a laugh.

“Yeah but you still love me though.” you smile smugly at him.

“Unfortunately.” you slap his shoulder making him recoil away from you with a smile.

Justin parks the car a little further than the house since the road was already cut off from how many cars were parked. ‘Rack City’ by Tyga burst through the loudspeakers, you could feel the vibration in your entire body.

Justin being the gentleman that he is with you, opens the door for you. He helps you of the car and steady you in your heels. He tugs down the back of your dress as he closes the door. You thanked him.

Justin places his hand on your lower back and guides you to the house full of people.

“Woo!!! Senior graduates!!!” You hear someone cheers running into the house.

“Woo!!!” Justin mimics next to you, he wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling close to his side.

Entering the house, the place is decorated in the school colors of blue and black streamers, paper graduation caps hanging from the end of a stream decorates in various places in the ceiling, different color lights shine brightly in different rooms of the house. The party is awesome.

“Yo, Justin! Glad you could make it bro!” Mickey steps in front of the both of you, he hands Justin a drink.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Justin chugs down whatever alcohol was in the cup like it was nothing.

“N/n you look scrumptious as ever.” Mickey smirks at you.

“Bite me.” you roll your eyes, showing your disinterest at his attempt of flirting.

“I will if-“

“Hey what did I say?” Justin points a threatening finger against Mickey’s chest.

“Sorry.” Mickey raises his hands up, palms out.

Yeah, Justin is over protective of you, that’s much is clear. He’s basically one of the reasons why no one never really picked on you. They were afraid of Justin, he has just as much of a reputation as his father.

The last time a guy tried to pick on you ended up with a concussion and Justin suspended.

Not only is he over protective of people picking on you, he’s also over protective when it comes to guys flirting with you. He acts like an older brother wanting to protect his younger sister’s innocence, which is kinda weird to you since he was the one that took your virginity.

“Y/n!!!” You hear someone suddenly screech and jumps on you wrapping their arms around you.

“Bitch!” You groan at the added weight. You thank the lord for Justin holding you up if not you would’ve fell and everyone would’ve gotten an eyeful.

Recognizing the blue hair, you instantly knew it was Gwen.

Gwen pulls herself away from you, her hands on your shoulder and her eyes gaze up and down at your figure with a smirk.

“You look hot, babe.”

“Thanks Gwen.” you laugh at her bluntness.

“C’mon the others are waiting for you.” she grabs your wrist to tug you along with her.

“Hey!” Justin shouts offensively, throwing his arms up.

“Relax, pretty boy. We’ll be by the pool so you know where she’s at. Geez he acts like he’s your boyfriend or something.” Gwen rolls her eyes.

You smile sheepishly at Justin who doesn’t stop glaring at Gwen. You let Gwen take you to the back of the house where the pool is.

There you meet up with Daniel, Jacky, Sean, and Kate.

“Y/n Olinsky at a house party. Never thought I’ll see the day. I didn’t take you the type to be into this kind of thing. I thought clubs will be more your thing.” Daniel grins.

“Hey if theres alcohol involved I’m coming.”

“Speaking of coming. Here.” Kate hands you a red cup, “its squirt with tequila.”

“You’re the best.” you take the drink and chug it down, wincing a little at the after taste of the tequila but that’s to the soda it keeps it at bay.

Two hours into the party, you’ve danced with your friends, watched the guys play beer pong, and the people who are at the pool.

You, Jacky, and Gwen decided to take a break from the party and sit down on the steps of the porch to get some air that doesn’t smell like sweat and alcohol.

“What you planning on doing after high school?” Ask Jacky before she sips the rest of her alcohol.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’m ain’t going to college. I just want to travel around the world with my cat. I could do it, you know. I could just get a random job, buy a bus, buy the supplies, and just remodel it. I could just work online.”

“That’s sounds badass.” you respond to Gwen.

“What about you?” Gwen turns the question to you. You shrug.

“I got accepted in NYU Groosman School of Medicine.” you mutter. You hear the two girls squeal making you wince.

“Dude isn’t that your dream school?”

“It is.”

“Then why does it sound like you aren’t excited about it?”

“Maybe because I don’t want to go to the medical field. The whole reason I even applied was because I wanted to get out of here and be on my own. My mom wanted me go to a college close by but I want to be independent and be on my own.” you sigh.

You’ve been understandably stressed out. You wanted to get out of your parents house and be independent but you also don’t want to be away from home. You don’t want to leave Lexi alone with your overbearing mom, you know your dad would be there but he’s too busy with work to be at home most of the time.

You didn’t think you’ll be accepted to NYU. It has a reputation of being one of the hardest colleges to be accepted in. The only reason you applied is because you were good in Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and Calculus. Your teachers always encouraged you in the medical field so that’s what you did but now you’re starting to regret your decision.

“You know what you need?” Gwen looks directly at you.

“What’s that?” You answered, taking a sip from the cup in your hand.

“To get laid.”

The way that you choked on your drink was undignified and most unlady-like.

You glare at Jacky and at Gwen who was smirking. Jacky patted your back, sympathetically.

Surprisingly, the thumping music vibrated through your body, calming your mind. The alcohol also helped!

“First of all,” you clear your throat, “I get laid plenty, thank you very much. Second, how did we go from talking about our future to getting me laid?”

“Your still fucking that fire fighter?” Question Jacky

“Oh yeah.”

“I wonder what your dad would say if he ever finds out.” teases Gwen with a knowing smirk

“He will say nothing cause it’s none of his business.” you roll your eyes.

“Not if he finds out which one it is.” Jacky grins down at her cup.

“Maybe.” you shrug

“Dude, what is it with cops and firefighters having a war against each other?”

“Right? What’s up with that?”

“Who knows.” you shrug, “i think-“

“Shh!” Gwen shushes you, “ya hear that?”

Just as when Gwen says that, you hear the distance sound of police sirens. Leaning forward, in the distance you see the red and blue flashing lights.

“COPS!!!”

Just like that everything runs into chaos. Everyone runs around trying to get out of the house and make a run for it.

Everyone is drunk as fuck to even run straight. So were you but you were sober enough to get up and run in the house to look for Justin.

“Justin!” You shout over the crowd of people. You stand on your tippy toes to look over the crowd but couldn’t find him.

"Y/n, what are you doing?” Mickey suddenly appears in front of you, his eyes wide. He quickly takes your hand. "We gotta go."

“But Justin-“

“He’ll be fine. C’mon there’s no time.” you nod, letting him pull you out of the house.

The house is still half empty of drunk teenagers as the cops surrounds the house, but that doesn’t stop Mickey from making a run for it with you behind him.

“Freeze! Stop where you are!”

“Shit!” Mickey curses.

“Hey Cal, there’s alcohol surrounding the place. These kids been drinking.”

Of course someone called the cops on the party, what a cliche.

“Arms in the air and turn around. Slowly.”

Doing as your told. Two cops you don’t recognize, walks towards the two of you.

One reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing you by the elbow and cuffs your wrist in front of you. He grabs you by your elbow leading you to a police car.

“Hey!” You whine from the tight grip of his hand on you.

“Keep moving.”

“Calm it, I’m in heels, asshole.” you snap at him.

Opening the door, the cop pushes your head down as you get in, the other cop pushes Mickey in next to you.

“Fuck. My dad is going to kill me.” you quietly groan, throwing your head back. You look out the window seeing some other kids being dragged into different cop cars.

The drive to the police station was a blur. The same cop drags you out of the car with Mickey behind you.

Seeing the familiar silver haired woman with her normal stern face in the front desk, you keep your head down so she won’t recognize you.

“You have to be so rough?!” You glare at the cop as he pushes you down on a chair and cuffs your left hand on the armrest, “is that really necessary?”

The cop ignores you, he walks away with your confiscated purse in his hand.

“Hey asshole, watch it!” you turn your toward the noise to see Mickey being dragged, the cop shoves him down in the chair next to you.

“Both of you wait here till we get back.”

“Like we have much of a choice.” you bite back. The cop gives you a look before leaving.

“Fuck man.” Mickey groans next to you.

“Tell me about it. I had to get arrested wearing this.” you point at your red dress. Compared to the plain looking police station, you stand out like a sore thumb.

“Could be worse.” Mickey smirks down at you.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“You could look like him.” Mickey points at what looks like a man in women’s clothing. Is that a prostitute?

“Oh my god, Mickey! Don’t point!” you scold him and pinch his side with your hand that isn’t restraint.

“Ow okay!” he laughs as he tries to get away from you.

“Hank, you’re still here?” You overhear Trudy, you lean over slightly to see none other than Hank.

“Fuck.” you groan.

“I thought you left with the others.”

“Nah. I needed to get some paper work done first.”

“You know him?” Mickey looks between you and Hank.

“Yeah that’s Justin’s dad also my dad’s best friend. Quick make yourself big so he won’t see me.”

“Babe,” Mickey deadpans at you, “your dress is a far cry compared to everything here. He’ll notice you even if I try to cover you.”

“Shut up and do as your told.” you shove him.

“Hey!”

“Alright.” the police officer from before walks up to the two of you. “I’ll need your name”

“Y/n.” he writes it down.

“Last name?”

You hesitate, “Olinsky.” you mumble.

The police officer pauses, he gazes down at you before letting out a hearty laugh, “Olinsky? You’re Alvin’s daughter?” You wince at how loud he’s being, “No fucking way.”

Well so much for being discreet. If Hank didn’t know you were here now he does.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably, your eyes gaze around the room before hiding your face behind you hand. Trying to make yourself small as possible.

“Y/n?” You hear the all familiar gravelled husky voice of Hank. You look up to see Hank gaze on you with a raised brow. You two make eye contact for a split second, before you break it.

“You got to be fucking kidding me.” you mumble, sliding down your chair slightly and cover your eyes with your hand.

You want the floor to swallow you whole.

“What’s going on here?” Hank question the officer.

“Someone called about a house party. These kids been drinking.” You roll your eyes at the officers matter of fact tone.

“Is that right?” Hank gaze goes back to you, his expression hard to read, making you feel uneasy.

God kill me now. Please.

“Apparently this one right here is Al’s daughter.”

“I’ll take her off your hands and take it from here.

Mickey sits quietly next to you with raised brow, astonished. He looks at you and mouths ‘what the fuck’.

“Uhh Sarge, I don’t think-“ one hard look from Hank made him reconsider. “Okay. No problem.”

“Uncuff her.”

“Sure. Okay.”

You watch silently as the officer stumbles a little with the keys and takes off your handcuff. You sigh as you rub your wrist in relief from its tight bounds.

“Let’s go.” Hank gestures for you to get up with his fingers.

“Did you have anything with you before you got arrested?”

“Yeah my purse. It has my phone and wallet in it.”

Hank turns to the police officer.

“Where’s her purse?”

“It’s confiscated in a storage location.”

“Get someone to bring me her belongings and her arrest charges. I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes Sarge.”

He grabs you by the elbow, more gently than the cop did and . You both barely made it half way to wherever he planned on taking you when you start to protest.

“Hey! Wait a second! I’m not going anywhere with you.” you yank your arm out of his grip.

You watch the way Hank clenches his jaw as he looks at you, losing his patience with your bratty attitude, but you don’t shy away from his stare.

“For once, be a good girl and do what I say. Al might tolerate your attitude but I surely won’t.” Hank retorts, his eyes never leaving yours, a shiver going down your spine at his dark tone.

“Now move it, princess.” you roll your eyes at the pet name and begrudgingly let Hank lead you with a hand on the small of your back.

Hank leads you up the stairs to the bullpen and into his office. Opening the door, he allows you to enter first before he does and closes the door behind him.

“Sit down.” At his sharp tone, you oblige instantly with no arguement from you.

Besides your dad, Hank could be scary at times but you do have a tendency of pushing a little too far.

Hank not once takes his eyes off you, he stands in front of his desk. Hank leans back against it with arms cross against his chest.

“Does Al know where you are?”

“What do you think?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve gotten yourself arrested. You going to graduate on Friday and this is how act? You could’ve ruin your chances for college education.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Al told me you got accepted into NYU. You really want to ruin that by getting arrested for underage drinking?”

“Who are you to be getting after me? You’re not my dad.”

“No I’m not. But I am someone who cares about you. I know you don’t like me, Y/n. You made that perfectly clear. But your Al’s daughter and my son’s friend. I protect my own and that includes you!”

You and Hank don’t break eye contact. Both waiting for the other to break first.

“Sargent.?” someone knocks on the door before opening it and entering.

“Yeah?” Hank switches his gaze away from you to the officer who just entered.

“Here’s her belonging and her case file you asked for.” the officer hands hank a yellow folder and your purse.

“Is this all?”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks.” the officer nods and leaves, closing the door once again.

Hank walks around his desk looking through the file before slamming it shut and throw it the trash making your eyes widen.

Did he really just throw away your arrest charges down the trash?

Hank drops down into his chair behind his desk, not taking his eyes off you. Almost challenging you to say something.

“Why?” Is you could ask.

“Consider this me offering you a truce.”

“Truce? For what?”

“I want us to get along. And I’ll start by doing this.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t think he would basically erase your arrest charges. If anything you thought he would use this to blackmail you or something.

“Are you going to tell my dad?”

He leans back in his chair, fingers interlacing across his mid-section as he considers you for a few moments before replying.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Wow. You didn’t expect that. Hank just keeps surprising more and more. You assumed he would call your dad the second he saw you handcuffed in the police station.

“How much did you drink?”

“What?”

“You’ve been drinking haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“If you’re asking if I’m drunk. No I’m not. I only drank two or three cups but they weren’t strong. I was tipsy when the cops came. I got sober pretty fast when an officer roughly pushed me in the police car.”

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“The officer. Who was the officer that arrested you?”

“I don’t know. He had a pornstache that you see only in bad pornos.” you shrug.

Hank smirks amused at your answer.

“You still feel a little tipsy?”

“A little.”

“Okay.” suddenly Hank stands up from his chair and walks around his desk, grabbing your purse along the way and hands it to you, “let’s go.”

“Wait what?” You were taken back. You stumble over yourself trying to stand up.

“Where we going?”

“To sober you up.”

“I said I was a little tipsy.”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.” once again Hank places his hand in the small of your back to lead you out of his office. He turns off the light and closes the door, locking it.

You walk close behind him down the stairs. Hank stands on your right side, guiding you to the front entrance.

“Heading out for the night, Trudy.”

“Alright. See ya in the morning.”

Stepping outside, he leads you to his SUV. Walking to the passanger side, Hank opens the door and helps you before closing the door behind you once you sat down comfortably.

You reach for the seat belt buckling yourself up, you sit silently watching out the window with your purse on your lap.

The driver side door opens and Hank gets in. He takes a deep breath before shoving the keys in the keyhole and turn on the SUV.

The entire drive was in complete silence. You start to feel a little awkward being in close proximity with Hank. You never been alone with him before.

“Where we going?”

“There’s a diner close by that’s open 24/7.”

“Why we going there?”

“You need something in your stomach other than whatever alcohol you were drinking.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I told you, I protect my own and that includes you”

For the rest of the ride you kept your mouth shut. Arriving the diner, Hank gets out first, walking around the front of the SUV and opens the door, holding his hand out to help you down.

Such a gentlemen. Now you know where Justin gets it from.

Once the both of you enter the diner, you both get seated in a booth. Hank sitting across from you.

Looking around the place, it’s practically empty, reminding how late it must be. You have yet to check the time.

A woman in her late 30s maybe mid 40s walks towards your table, “Hello, my name is Rachel and I’ll be you waitress” she place down two menus infront of you and Hank.

“Before we start, will the check be separate or together?”

“It’ll be sep-“

“Together.” Hank cuts you off. Your brows raised as you look at him.

Not only did this man saved you from getting arrested, he’s also buying you food.

“Okay, want to start off with drinks?”

“You have sweet tea?”

“Mhmm, we do”

“I’ll take that”

“I’ll get the same thing.”

“Alright. You two ready to order or do you want time to look at the menu.”

“We’ll take the cheeseburger with everything on both and fries.” Hank tells the waitress. She lets out a soft okay, writing it down. She grabs the two menus before leaving, letting you and Hank be alone once more.

“You’re buying me food too?”

“I’m a gentleman.” he retorts making you shake your head with a laugh.

“Well now I know where Justin gets it from.” you grin at him, you place your elbow on the table with your on the palm of your hand.

“Speaking of Justin, was he at the house party with you? You two always been thick as thieves for as long as I can remember.”

“Will he get in trouble if I say he was?”

“Only for leaving you alone to get arrested.”

“He didn’t leave me alone.” you defend Justin, “we were separated with our different group of friends when the cops showed up. I was looking for him but Mickey stopped me and tried to get us out of the house but the cops caught us.”

“The boy that was sitting next to you at the station?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s your drinks,” the waitress comes back with two cups of sweet tea, “and your burger and fries.” she places down two plates in front of you and Hank, “enjoy.” she leaves.

“My dad told you about me going to NYU?” You mention, stuffing a couple of fries in your mouth, remembering Hank mentioning it back at the station.

“He did. He’s really proud of you. Had the biggest smile on his face when he told me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. You knew how excited your dad was about you being accepted to one of the best colleges, you also knew how he didn’t like how you would be moving far away from home but he won’t voice it. He knows this could be big for you.

Your mom is whole another story. She’s been trying to change your mind from going since you gotten the letter.

“Same can’t be said about my mother.” you mutter, taking a sip from your cup.

“Yeah Alvin told me about that too.” Hank sighs, shifting in his seat.

“She’s unbearable. Did my dad tell you she blames him for me leaving?”

“She what?” His eyes widen, telling you your dad hasn’t said a word about it.

“Yep. This whole time I thought my dad was the problem but it turns out it’s my mom. Or both.” you shrug

“Is that why you sneaked out to go to a party?”

“Technically… I didn’t sneak out. My dad saw me leave… but he was drinking when I left but he wasn’t drunk.” you tried to plead your case.

“Did you tell him you were going to a party?”

“No.” you play with your straw.

“Did he see you leave in that?” he points at your dress.

“No.” you mutter in between sips.

“Then you were sneaking out. Did Justin park at the end of the street to pick you up?”

“That’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, “he parked in front of my house. My dad saw him and even said hi.”

You smile when Hank lets out laugh and shakes his head at you.

“Why are you being nice to me? I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you since the moment we met.” you start to feel guilty.

Even when you started to hang out with Justin and Erin more, you would sometimes go over to their house. Hank for the most part would stay out of the way but he’s been nothing but kind and caring to you when you stayed over. Now you feel like a complete bitch.

You really let your mother’s words brainwash you into thinking Hank is the devil or something. But he’s far from it. At least with you.

You’re not naive, you know what Hank does in the dark where no one sees, but that’s doesn’t stop him from being gentle and caring to the people he holds dear to him.

You’re surprised one of them is you.

“I know your mom don’t like me. Al mentioned once or twice she argues a lot about me involving him in certain situations. I’m not denying they aren’t true but-“

“It’s okay.” you cut him off, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m not a kid anymore, I know what’s goes on around me. I know you and my dad -maybe your entire squad- do behind the scene. I know you’ve killed people. it doesn’t scare me.”

“It should, sweetheart.”

“But it doesn’t. You only do it cause you care. You don’t hurt innocent people. You just take justice in your own hands. You just do what others aren’t willing to do. I could respect that.”

Hank hums, considering you for moment before speaking.

“You’re something else, you know that.” he grins making you smile.

Finishing off your meals, Hank pays for both your meals. Once again being a gentleman, he walks you to the passenger side and opens the door for you to get in.

Hank slows down and parks in front of your house. You look out the window to see all the lights in the house are off, telling you everyone should be asleep by now. Giving you the chance to sneak in without being seen.

“Listen,” hearing Hank’s voice, your turn your to look at him, “I know you’re scared about moving away from home but do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” You squint your eyes at him.

“Take care yourself in New York.” he says softly and he genuinely means it by the way he looks at you.

“I will.” you gently smile at him. Hank shifts in his seat and opens the center console, grabbing a card handing it to you.

“Here.”

“What is it?”

“My business card. It has my office and my personal number. Don’t be afraid to call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

“Go inside. You should give Justin a call to let him know you’re alright. He’s probably worried about you.”

“I will.” You smile before leaning over and giving him a small kiss on the cheek, “Goodnight, Hank.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Take care.” You nod before getting out of his SUV. Hank softly smiles as he watches you round the SUV.

“Hey!” Hank calls for you, making you turn around. “don’t tell your dad you were with me.”

“It’ll be our little secret.” you wink. Hank shakes his head amusingly. He waits a little longer till you enter the house. The second the front door closes, he drives off.

(This took so long to write but I’m happy how it turned out. Please don’t be shy to let me know what you think. I love reading your comments.

Can anyone guess who the fire fighter reader is sleeping with? Anyone who guesses right gets a cookie🍪)

[radioactivesweet]

Hi darling! May I have some headcanons for Sasaki, Buddha and maybe Hades or Hermes dating Nyx s/o? She's the goddes of night and the ONLY goddess Zeus feared ('cause she's older and stronger than him) Sorry for my english :(

Hello! Hope you like it^^ and dw, your English is fine :) I was having some problems with my laptop while writing this, so there may be some mistakes

Sasaki is abnormally chill about dating a goddess feared by Zeus himself, one of those occasions where you can't tell if this human is brave or just incredibily dumb and reckless. Either way, he actually knows how dangerous you could be, but this doesn't mean he would leave you. You may be strong and ancient, yet one of the few deities he could get along with, not trying to exterminate humanity and such.

Sasaki believes that as long as he treats the way he would treat anybody else, without showing fear and trusting you, you will get along just fine. You are no different from other humans to him, so is treating you as one. You have just the same felings as everybody else and doesn't want to feel different in his eyes.This may lead to him straight up forgetting you are one of the most powerful deities out there and just act like you were the same as him.

Buddha doesn't really care which goddess are you as long as you gift him candies don't try to give him orders and limit his own freedom. The reason he got close to you in the first place was the fact that Zeus feared you - so having you around meant not getting the latter close to him. Also, believing in his own strenght doesn't really make him scared of you. He respects you though and also sees you as a valuable ally. If you actually gift him food though, that's a faster way to reach his heart. He is even willing to share his with you.

Quite literally a match made in hell. You're both ancient, strong, feared, related to darkness - with you being the goddess of night and him the god of teh dead - and quite misuderstood. You immediately got along and had known each other for a very long time - before Hades' brothers were even born. It was actually Hades who had later introduced to Zeus, who has been scared of you ever since. At parties you are basically that couple nobody approaches. Even though you actually aren't that scary, everybody seems to think so - which actually grants you both some quiet time together, without anybody bothering you. On the other hand, Cerberus loves you.

Hermes is used to adapt and deal with a lot of different deities, being the messenger of the gods, so you aren't that challenging to him. At first he was quite interested in youi because of of his father being scared of you - but really he hadn't met any difficulties with getting to know you, thanks to him knowing how to interact with others. He finds it really amusing when he invites you over for dinner - with Zeus and Ares, since he gets to see them strangely and unexpectedly silent. You are usually gossipping together - since you've been around for longer than him and know quite a lot about other deities, old legends and other facts he wouldn't otherwise have never heard of - you are someone he can learn a lot from, which of course has its perks.

[duckapus]

God, imagine being Zelda in Echoes of Wisdom

-You get captured by your kingdom's worst enemy, thought to be merely a legend by those who know of him at all

-You're stuck in some ruined temple with him, trapped in a magical crystal, for who knows how long waiting for who knows what

-Eventually a boy in green clothes and a blue cloak you've never met before shows up and fights the Demon King and wins, like a scene from the fairy tales Impa told you when you were a little girl

-and then something goes horribly wrong, and the boy is sinking, and he looks up at you without a hint of fear on his face and uses his final act to free you

-and just like that you're alone, in the dark, with nothing to do but leave the temple as fast as you can before the rift swallows you too

-you pick up his cloak as you run

-once you're out and your father's men have found you, it sinks in; that boy, that hero, gave everything to save your kingdom

-to save you

-and you don't even know his name

-you get back to the castle and reunite with your father, only for another rift to appear and take him from you too

-and then some thing wearing his face manages to trick everyone into thinking you're the one behind this new crisis and you're trapped again

-(in the darkest corner of your mind you can't help but wonder if you really do share some of the blame somehow. you're the only one who survived the very first rift, after all)

-a strange creature appears before you, offering to help in exchange for your aid, and of course you're wary because you've never seen anything like Tri before and her power seems far too similar to whatever made the imposters that have taken over your kingdom to not be connected somehow, but given the circumstances you really have no choice but to trust her for now

-you sneak your way through the bowels of your own home, past your own soldiers, and at the very end your luck seems to run out... only for Impa, loyal to the end, to jump in and rescue you

-she gives you a disguise and a map and tells you to go to a village to the south where you'll be safe, and she stays behind to cover your tracks

-as you emerge into the sunlight, even with Tri beside you and Impa on your side, you feel terribly, painfully alone

-you make your way to the village, and even though they have every reason to be suspicious of a strange hooded girl and her even stranger companion, especially with their home and families ravaged by the rifts, you're met with kindness and open arms

-Many of them tell you of a boy named Link, who's kind and helpful and so painfully shy that he barely says a word, and how some time ago he ran off on a journey with nothing but an old sword on his back and a strange feeling that someone needed his help

-As you hear their stories, it slowly dawns on you that the boy they're talking about is your hero, and the guilt settles heavy in your gut

-Well. At least you know his name now

-You continue on towards the very temple where this all started, pushed forward both by Tri's urging and your own determination to get to the bottom of all this, and eventually you find yourself in a nightmarish realm of stolen land and lost souls

-You reach the temple and brave its many tricks and traps, until halfway through you're met with the cruelest of jokes; Link, your lost Hero, looking at you with cold, hate-filled eyes the color of blood

-You have no choice but to fight him, and as you do it soon becomes clear that this is yet another imposter

-Eventually you defeat it, and its sword, Link's Sword, is left behind

-As you pick it up, you feel Something shift, as if your spirit has touched that of another, and you look down at yourself and find that you're glowing blue and wearing an unfamiliar-yet-familiar tunic

-your hero is with you, now, or at least a piece of him, and it finally feels like maybe you really can solve this crisis