#hesitant caretaker

[cozywhump]

A doesn’t have anyone who they can rely on. They don’t have any friends, and any family they have is too distant to ask for help.

A never considered their loneliness a real problem until one day, they ended up in the hospital with some pretty serious injuries. They can’t afford to extend their stay very long, so as soon as they’re given the approval to leave, they want to do so immediately—but due to the nature of their injuries (maybe something to the legs or minor to the head that would hinder their ability to move), A can’t exactly make it home on their own.

They give the hospital a few emergency contacts to try calling, most of which are family they haven’t spoken to in forever or mere acquaintances who probably don’t care about them enough to help. A begins to lose hope…because there’s only one person left who can realistically make it. B.

A and B never got along, ever. Some weird, drawn-out rivalry between them that they each swear only exists because the other started it, yet they find it impossible to get along. A only has their contact information to send them the occasional nasty, sarcastic text.

Begrudgingly, because they really just want to go home and have exhausted every other option, A gives the hospital B’s number to try. They know that B will probably just laugh and hang up, but they’re just so tired and their injuries ache and they just wanna get home so they can change into fresh clothes and sleep in their own bed.

They were shocked when the nurse told them that B was on their way.

A had to rationalize for a moment. They were probably coming over to laugh at them or something. They’d laugh, probably sneak a few pictures, too. There wouldn’t be an ounce of empathy in their body. But at the very least, A could go home.

It takes B about 25 minutes to get there (seriously, couldn’t they have gotten here any faster?) and when they enter A’s room, they’re stuck staring at each other for a few moments.

“Wow,” B starts, “you look way worse than I thought you would.”

A wants to bite back at them, but now that they look closer, there’s no enjoyment on B’s face at seeing A’s condition. There’s not exactly sympathy, either…if A could describe it as one thing, it was pity.

They wanted to hate being pitied, but honestly, it’s the closest they’ve ever gotten to someone actually being worried about them.

“Whatever,” A muttered. “I just wanna go home.”

They leave the hospital room and eventually make it outside (with more help from B than A was willing to admit), and with some struggle, they were able to slowly maneuver A into the car without aggravating any of their injuries.

The ride is slow and painfully quiet. A can’t tell whether B is keeping the radio off to spite them with the awkwardness, or maybe it was busted, or maybe they were so focused on driving that they didn’t even notice the tension. No matter the answer, it pissed A off.

“So.” B’s voice quickly snapped them back. “What the hell happened to you?”

A just scoffed, though there was none of their usual energy behind it. “None of your business.”

“Fair enough.” They were so nonchalant about it, that also began to piss A off. “Then, you mind explaining why I was the one you decided to call? I thought you had, like, way more friends than me or whatever it was.”

Oh. It was probably something stupid they’d lied about during the heat of an argument. B actually remembered that shit?

“Oh, yeah, that.” A paused, probably for too long. “I tried them. They didn’t, uh, answer.”

“Not one of them answered.”

“Yeah.”

“Out of every single one of your friends.”

“Um.” A faced away from B, even though B definitely wasn’t looking at them. If their hand wasn’t stuck in this cast, they’d definitely be fidgeting like crazy. “Yeah, uh…no, actually. I, uh, lied. About…that.”

“Hm.”

It didn’t sound like B was surprised at all.

“I really did try everyone else in my contacts, though. They were all busy, or it was just…inconvenient, I guess.”

“Sounds to me like you need new friends.”

Something leaped in A’s chest when they heard B say that, and their head quickly turned to face them, though B was focused on the road. “You…think so?”

“Yeah,” B said with a nod. “Because this is an inconvenience to me, too, but here I am suffering anyway.”

And there goes that. “You ass!” A shouted, much to B’s amusement. “I actually thought we were having a moment—oh, you’re so lucky I’m stuck like this, or I’d…”

“You’d…?”

Another prolonged silence, and A just silently dropped back into their seat.

Even then…B was kinda right. A had other people, people they tolerated way more than B, and people who didn’t seem annoyed by everything they said. Yet it had been B who showed up to help.

…No. That didn’t mean anything. In fact, that said more about B than themselves. It meant weakness. B had a weak spot! They weren’t so tough, and deep down, they actually did…

…Wait a second.

“Hold on,” A cut in, sitting up as they watched out the window. “You passed my complex. It was back there.”

“I know.”

They turned back towards B. “I wanna go home.”

It was almost pathetic how whiny and tired they sounded, but right now, A didn’t care. Something seemed to flash across B’s face, but for A’s own sanity they chose to ignore it.

“So, I was thinking about just dumping you off at home,” B began. “And that’s what I was gonna do. But honestly, looking at you again, you definitely can’t fend for yourself right now—“

“Don’t word it like that.”

“—and I don’t want you calling me in the middle of the night to come over because you got your shirt stuck over your head or something. So, until you look like you got hit by…maybe a motorcycle instead of a truck, you’re staying with me.”

…Oh.

A blinked up at B, who just kept their eyes on the road the whole time. After a few seconds of silence (which felt weirdly comfortable now. A was probably too tired to feel awkward), they settled back into their seat again.

They thought about it again, and A couldn’t help the small smile that spread across their face.

“Good to know that you do care about me.”

“Just shut up before I leave you in a cardboard box on the street.”

[critterbitter]

How did Elesa get a Blitzle as a starter if she's from Sinnoh? (hang on this is ironic she could've learned about warden ingo in school back there)

Blitzle Elesa backstory under cut!

Blitzle was gifted to Elesa so she has an “easier time” integrating into Nimbasa by her well meaning dad. This is not the greatest move, since the two feel they are more obligated to stick together then, you know, actually choose each other. Blitzle’s meant to be a utility mon— he helps charge elesa’s hearing aid batteries and basically serves as an emotional support when things get rough. He’s… not the biggest fan. (I like to imagine Blitzle was originally part of a battle track, but his IVs aren’t the greatest so they shuffled him out. He’s a bit bitter about that.)

Inciting incident where they actually start taking the proper steps to becoming partners is when Elesa takes a tumble down a hill and Blitzle twists his foreleg going after her. (Local child eats shit! More at 11.)

They’re just kids, and they’re still learning.

(When Elesa decides to challenge the gyms, Blitzle’s so excited he accidentally trips their house’s circuits.)

((As for Elesa hearing about Warden Ingo, well… that’ll be a future issue.))

((DIRECTLY INSPIRED BY THIS ASK!! TY @scarftale-bryan ))

Yes. YES.

MASTERLIST FOR POKEMON CONTENT:

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Sugu being a tummy hugger when you both cuddle and sleep 💕

He just finds hugging your belly comforting and you can rest your head on his lucious nice smelling hair 🥺❤️

YES. TUMMY LOVER SUGU YOU ARE SO REAL TO MEEEE….. he truly adores all parts of you but i think has such a fondness for your stomach 😔 he loves burying his head in it when he’s stressed. if you have enough body fat to grab he will be absently pawing at it…. i also think he likes flopping down on top of you like a big cat :33 having you play with his hair….. coddling him……. sugu is such a clingy little baby when he’s sleepy i’m so convinced of this

[beaft]

normally im violently resistant to spotify's ai generated playlists but i will be honest their "hauntology" mix really dungeons my dragons

[fallloverfic]

I know not everyone has read the Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible, but there's an interesting section I think even some folks who did missed when it comes specifically to Mithrun and what he can and cannot do in re: taking care of himself. Spoilers for the manga. (And obviously to each their own headcanon, but I'm just looking at what's in the canon text)

On p.73 of the Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible, there's this bit of text in Mithrun's character section, "Even though he has no desires, he still has routine habits, so he can handle everyday life on his own. However, when he's in a dungeon, he tends to neglect things like eating and sleeping." Nowhere in there does it say anything about him needing help to bathe or go to the bathroom. We know Cithis is assigned to look after him (so that he "doesn't collapse during missions." (p.82)). We know from Daydream Hour that he at least seemingly needed help to bathe while he was recovering. It's possible he's since gotten over this and can do it on his own (one targeted focus of Milsiril helping him was to get him to keep himself clean).

Another note is that while Cithis does kind of leave things vague when asking Kabru to "see to his needs" (p.144, Volume 9, Chapter 61), the only thing she specifically tells Kabru to do is make sure Mithrun eats. Kabru is the one who takes it a lot farther. And while, yes, carrying Mithrun to safety and making sure he rests properly is a lot more than feeding him, it's also not "make sure he goes to the bathroom regularly". You could argue Cithis was just being delicate or they didn't have time... But still. Cithis didn't say this. She just says, "Until we do, we'd like you to see to his needs. Food in particular! Three meals a day. If you feed him properly... ...we'll overlook this incident." And this matches what the Adventurer's Bible says. In the Cithis comic in the Adventurer's Bible, the only things we see Cithis telling Mithrun to do are: eat, sleep, and switch out his clothes. While the clothes thing is kind of a question mark (and probably a joke), again: the only things we really see him having an issue/getting help with are really eating and sleeping properly. Principally, while it's clear he does need more help than just someone to feed him... the things we see Kabru do are adjacent to his eating and sleeping properly. Mithrun doesn't register a need to rest or eat, so he doesn't sleep or ask for food until he collapses. He's unable to sleep without aid (and a foot massage, to my knowledge, does not solve "uncomfortable but ignored need to go the bathroom"). And he generally tends to overuse his magic until he collapses. He doesn't like... collapse because he just forgot to go to the bathroom for too long. Nor does Kabru seemingly indicate that he smells. The one time he noticeably has an issue bathing is with the mushrooms, and Kabru seems to be going to the next level with making Mithrun's hair glossy, which implies maybe Kabru's either getting Mithrun better shampoo or cleaning and/or brushing Mithrun's hair himself. But outside the mushrooms it's not clear Mithrun needs the help bathing, and the difference might be because his body has changed completely due to the mushrooms.

Additionally, what does Cithis say when Mithrun is using his magic a lot on floor one: "We'll have to make sure Captain Mithrun eats soon. Once we're finished here, let's get some food in town." (p.146, Volume 8, Chapter 55). Again... all roads lead back to: he forgets to eat and sleep properly at least some of the time, and his comrades have to keep an eye on him for that. But that seems to kind of be it.

Where I think folks might be getting confused is in trusting Kabru's estimation of things a bit too much, and I do understand why. After all, he's the massage feet guy! He kept them alive (with Mithrun's help)! He helped Mithrun choose to live on! He knows his stuff!

...But that doesn't mean that Kabru is always right. In fact, he's not right a number of times in the manga (e.g., when he's describing Past!Mithrun in the Adventurer's Bible, or when he's trying to convince Laios to wait without explaining what happened to Marcille).

But let's start at the beginning: the one set of panels where it's left sort of open-ended whether or not Mithrun needs help to remember to go to the bathroom:

(I personally imagine Mithrun just going along with it in the end might be due to the fact he's exhausted to the point of collapse, and just generally goes along with what other people want in these situations so long as it doesn't endanger his mission, such as with Cithis and Fleki)

I just think it's interesting it never seems to come up anywhere else that I'm aware of (even Daydream Hour doesn't show the caretakers going to that level of care, though I imagine he would at least need help getting out of his bonds to go to the bathroom), nor do we see how this specific scenario - Kabru literally dragging Mithrun out of bed to go to the bathroom while Mithrun protests he's doesn't need to go - turned out. The scene literally fades to black while they're running; not that I'd expect Kui to draw Mithrun doing his business or Kabru forcefully encouraging him to, but it does still leave it more open-ended than clear-cut. You could argue that because bathroom stuff grosses people out a lot, bringing it up once twice and solely for a gag works, but also only showing this much and not bringing it up again makes sense as well, so the fact that it isn't clear-cut + isn't brought up again doesn't necessarily mean that Kabru was wrong in his belief that Mithrun needed this help, so much as it's practical storytelling... Also Kui literally has a whole comic about Laios' poop creating forests from makeshift toilets, this comic is not above literal toilet humor.

But also it still leaves open the idea that Kabru was wrong. Because while Kabru is often right about things, he isn't right all the time (especially when he panics). And one of the notable times he was panicking about something, Mithrun was the one who slapped him to his senses.

(I mean part of it was probably revenge for Kabru knocking him out at Sissel's home earlier but the point still stands). This isn't even the first time Mithrun calls out Kabru's wild imagination: it's technically the second/third.

Also as astroloquacious pointed out in the notes: Kabru's role model for caretaking was Milsiril, who was notably overbearing. Specifically before he is thrust into working with and then looking after Mithrun, he recalls a memory of Milsiril being overbearing in her caretaking of Kabru, and how he would rather stay in Merini with its dangers than return to that life. He probably internalized some of the stuff he disliked about her. And if Milsiril, who is a lot older than Kabru, can get stuff wrong about his needs, then who's to say that Kabru doesn't get stuff wrong about Mithrun's needs?

tldr; Believe what you want about this aspect of Mithrun's lifestyle. Not showing a thing doesn't make a heavily implied thing untrue. But I think the Adventurer's Bible is pretty clear. Also, according to the complete Adventurer's Bible, it seems Pattadol is still helping him a little post-Merini, and he's clearly not averse to having a helper (e.g., Fleki). I just don't think it's necessarily factual that Kabru is right in that Mithrun needs this level of care/attention in this particular area, particularly outside a dungeon.

[seaweed-whump]

This is Hyacinth

A villain known to target the International Hero Network and considered too dangerous for sidekick aided missions.

He's 24 and having a very bad few months. I'd go into more detail but it's kinda spoilers for later.

But he wakes up, very cold and under a bed. Then apparently his only real shot at both medical treatment and escape is a hyperactive teenager who apparently brought him to the Training Center. Which is a very bad place for villains to be. Hope no one else finds out he's there.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

"Is that a kid!?"

WoW Birthday Whump Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!"

Whumpril Day 7 (Hesitation)

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

TW: blood, referenced kidnapping, referenced poison, referenced torture, cleaning wounds

Context: Draven receives an unexpected visit from Octavian. And he's not alone. A.K.A. Draven meets a child who is definitely not traumatized.

-----

Draven was in the middle of housework when the front door lock clicked. He froze, dusting cloth in one hand, the other reaching for the pistol at his side. The door creaked as someone pushed it open, then it shut just as quickly. Was that two sets of footsteps?

The door lock clicked a second time, and Draven drew the pistol, letting the dusting cloth fall to the floor. “Hiro?” He called, scrambling off the table—where he was dusting off the lamp above—and moving towards the doorway that connected the kitchen to the main living space. What he saw when he entered the room gave him pause.

“Is that blood?!”

Octavian glanced down at his hand. The skin on his knuckles had broken, and the cloth wadded tightly around his palm was soaked in the pale red liquid. A nasty gash above his right eye dripped blood down his face like tears. “...yes.”

Draven jumped as a small head popped out from behind Octavian. “And is that a kid?”

The girl flinched at his words and ducked back out of view. She was young, couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen, with short blonde hair.

“Also yes,” Octavian said simply. “I found her in the forest while hunting.”

Draven slid the pistol back into its holster. “Did you lose a fight with a bear? I expected better from you, de Silv.”

The devar rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. I sustained these injuries while trying to escort her home.” He gave the girl a significant look. “Because she hadn’t bothered to tell me she’d been kidnapped.”

“I said I was sorry,” the girl mumbled, barely audible from across the room.

“Kidnapped? Is that why you brought her here, of all places?” Draven crossed the room and reassessed both their injuries. Other than the bloody knuckles, the cut above his eye, and probably a few bruises, Octavian looked all right. The girl, however, was another case.

Upon first inspection, she only looked to have a partially scabbed-over cut on her left cheek. But the deep red stains on the sleeves of her jacket, too big for her, told a different story. She also didn’t look like she’d had a proper night’s sleep in some time. Draven could relate.

The girl’s face reddened at Draven’s inspection. Her eyes were downcast, and she picked at the hems of her jacket.

“Yes. I assume that whoever had taken her had agents in Zariya, they tried to snatch her off the street before we got out of sight.”

The key word was ‘tried’. Draven nodded before turning on his heel and darting back to the kitchen. Snatching his bag from its place on the table, he returned and dropped it in front of one of the couches. “Sit,” he ordered.

Octavian did so without question or hesitation, and the girl meekly followed. Draven rummaged through the bag, searching through the disorganized mess for the medical supplies he kept on hand. The hunting business was notorious for many on-the-job injuries, even for the mercenaries.

The first thing Draven shoved at Octavian was the tiny bottle of augri, alcohol so pure that ingesting it might cause death. “For cleaning the wounds. Not for drinking.”

The devar regarded him with mild amusement. “My people—er—my poison tolerance is greater than you realize, Cozenson.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Draven handed him a pair of handkerchiefs. “I don’t have extra on hand and it doesn’t taste good anyway.”

“...how do you know that?” the girl asked quietly as Octavian wet one of the cloths with the augri.

Draven tossed the rest of the medical supplies onto the couch next to Octavian. It was a jumble of different bandages that he hoped would be enough to bind their wounds. All as clean as possible, of course. He had standards. “Hiro—my roommate—dared me to try some once when we were in training. I didn’t swallow it, obviously, but let’s just say I prefer whiskey.”

The girl frowned. “‘Training’?”

Octavian pressed the handkerchief to his injured knuckles and hissed out through his teeth. “He’s a lycanthrope hunter. My apologies, I didn’t introduce you. This is Draven Cozenson, my partner. Draven, this is Reese.”

Reese’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re the werewolf hunter? The one who used to work in the northern forests?”

Draven rocked back on his heels, mystified. “Yeah, that’s me.” He knew his fame had grown since training, but for a random Zariyan girl to know who he was… had he really gotten that famous? Apparently so.

Octavian finished cleaning off his hand and started wrapping it. “You’re going to have to remove the jacket,” he said softly. 

Reese glanced down at her forearms, hidden underneath the stained sleeves, and grimaced. “Oh… yeah….” She slowly slipped off the jacket, jaw set as her wounds were revealed.

Draven cursed. “What in the depths did they do to you, kid?”

The cuts were shallow, thank the celestials, but so much of her blood was smeared over the skin that it was impossible to tell the extent.

“The cuts weren't them,” Reese said, numb. She pointed to the bruises on her inner elbows and wrists. “That's what they did. The cuts were done by… I think it was a fellow prisoner. With broken glass.”

Octavian froze in the act of scrubbing the blood from his face. “You didn't tell me that.”

Reese only shrugged, reaching for the augri and the other handkerchief. She winced when the alcohol made contact with the cuts but did not cry out.

Draven made uneasy eye contact with Octavian as the devar cleaned the gash over his eye. This changed things, and they both knew it. Not only had the people who'd taken Reese tried to get her back, they'd done so in broad daylight. Octavian defended her, and although they escaped, her abductors would be keeping watch for both of them.

“I need you both to lie low for a few days,” Draven began, rising to his feet. “Perhaps even move to my other safehouse when it gets dark. Then we get Reese home safely and figure out our next move from here.” He glanced at Reese. “Did you learn any of your captors’ names?”

She hesitated before responding. “Only Sagon. I don't know his last name. He has long black hair, it's always pulled back, but he wore a mask like a black circle to cover his face.”

Octavian folded his arms. “I can handle myself, Cozenson. They were no match for me.”

“Clearly…” Draven deadpanned, eyeing the cut on his head. “How'd you end up with a wound like that, anyway?”

The devar muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“Hmm?”

“...I let myself get slammed into a table…” Octavian repeated, face darkening.

Draven smirked. “‘Handle yourself’, indeed.”

“Shut up.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[katwriteswhump]

Whumpril 2024 Day 7: Hesitation

@whumpril get tagged

Content: selma being scared of finn again but what else is new

this is from right at the end. when finn’s about to land in jail (it gets more complicated but you can find out about that later this month <3)

this is like, barely whump unless you’re putting angst under the whump umbrella

Day 7: Hesitation

Selma paused, for just a moment, outside the door of the courtroom. Morgan went in, but Everly noticed Selma and hung back.

‘Are you OK, Selms?’ she said gently.

‘No,’ Selma immediately said. ‘I can’t be OK until he’s behind bars, locked away forever, or better, dead.’

‘He will be, soon, so soon.’ Everly reached forward and took Selma’s hand. ‘C’mon, Selma. Just a few hours, and you’ll be OK forever.’

Selma nodded, wishing desperately that she had the courage, the conviction, to go ahead into that courtroom. She wishes she was brave enough to go and talk and look that bastard in the eyes while explaining every last detail of what he did to her, proving his guilt once and for all. But what he’d done had changed her. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t face him.

‘Hey, Selma…’

‘Mm?’ she said in the most nonchalant tone she could muster.

‘He hurt you. And if you want to wait, if you want to stay outside, then that’s fine. I wouldn’t blame you. I understand. He shouldn’t have done those things to you, and if it were me I’d never want to lay eyes on him again.’

Selma looked at Everly, searched her eyes.

‘There’s a “but” coming, isn’t there?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ Everly sighed, taking Selma’s shoulders. ‘I’d understand if you don’t want to come, but wouldn’t it just be the final slap in the face for him if you walked in there, and looked him in the eye, and proved to him that hurting you was not only pointless but a waste of his fucking time? That you can come back from anything that he does to you, stronger and more powerful that you were before?’

There was a silence.

‘Yes.’

‘So? Are you coming?’ said Everly gently, aware that she was asking a lot of Selma.

‘Yes,’ said Selma slowly, ‘if you hold my hand.’

And she did, and so together they walked into the courtroom, ready for Selma’s nightmare to be over at last.

Selma couldn’t know that Everly was also hesitating. Wondering if she’d be able to wait until they were out of sight to get her hands on that bastard. Hesitating around the notion of letting herself kill him. She knew Selma wouldn’t feel safe, truly safe, unless Finn was dead.

She knew she could kill him, if she wanted. She had the ability. The only problem was how she was itching to get to him, waiting desperately until she could catch him in the shadows.

Well, no matter. Selma would never know.

[zaricats]

maybe this is a stretch, but there is something very compelling about brian as a mother-adjacent, mother-proxy figure to dexter, and how brian is at complete odds with harry, dexters obvious father figure

[unmeinoniwa]

me: man theo and his lil sis are gonna have such a cute relationship bc theyre each other’s first real human connection! theo: so anyways i woke up and chose violence

[whomeidontknowthem]

Content warning: slavery, implied sexual slavery, implied torture, implied non-con

From the author: THIS STORY IS GOING TO BE REWRITTEN. The details will change. Once I have a new version, I will take this one down and repost it as it's own thing. It's necessary so I can get the story progression and worldbuilding straight, as now I have plans for a series based on these characters, but initially I didn't put much forethought into it.

When six years ago Kris promised she'd never give up until she found Ayzan, she didn't know how it'd be. She thought it'd be simple: she had a trail to follow and people to interrogate, and she'd not give up until she got to the bottom of it all. She did, get to the bottom of the whole slave trade organization. Ayzan was not there.

She followed more trails, then, went through the names in encrypted documents, through sellers and buyers and all the people in between, got into fights that almost killed her and conflicts with higher ups that nearly ended in worse disasters.

Ayzan wasn't there. They weren't anywhere. No matter how she tried, what lead she followed, how many times she rode across the country and visited places where only a quick smile and smart words separated her from being found at the bottom of the nearest lake, they were not there.

Ayzan had simply disappeared. Kris was told that they had probably died and that she should give up. Should accept it. Move on and live her life, not haunted by the echoes of her past.

Deep in the dark of the night, these words rang in her head and she gritted her teeth against the desperation and grief.

She dreamed of them often.

She saw them:

As the teen barely older than her, when Ayzan cheated her in a game for all the money she had left, and then bought her a dinner and showed how to move someone's attention away until their pouch found a new home in her hands.

As a friend that held her during the long nights after her mother's death and made her laugh through tears until she felt alive again.

As a lover with a tongue made of silver, who teased and teased and teased until she learned how to answer and then it was Ayzan's turn to hide their red face behind their hands.

As a figure larger than life and the closest family she ever had.

At the end of every dream, they smiled, their eyes turning into half-moon slits of pure giddiness. And then they turned and walked away, and no matter how she tried to run and reach out, she could never stop them.

So, it was easy to hold on to the hope the first few weeks. It was easy to cling to the determination as the weeks turned into months that threatened to turn into years. When years passed by and the features of their face in her dreams grew more and more blurry, she wondered if the others had been right. If she was supposed to move on.

Which was why Kris wasn’t searching for them that day. Walking through the underbelly of a city as if it was her second home, among the dangerous and the poor, the unlucky and the cruel, she didn’t think about Ayzan, focused on the mission at hand. She was far from the lands she called home, on the southern peninsular with different customs, traditions and laws. Slavery wasn’t frowned upon here. She felt her skin crawl and kept her mouth shut because she was alone. In places like this, it was all too easy to disappear and never be found if you’re not careful.

Kris meant to walk past a makeshift slave trading ground. She did it more and more often lately, sparing a glance or two to the poor dirty things huddled together in front of a small scene, because stopping and truly looking felt like flaying herself row only to be met with unavoidable disappointment. Hope hurt, these days. And there didn’t seem to be much reason to hold on to it anymore, — Kris started to accept.

Nearly accepted, before her eyes locked with the familiar pale blue. Before their eyes blinked, widened, suddenly focusing, as she stopped dead in her tracks. Before she looked at the dirty face with unfamiliar scars and greasy short hair that once fell on the shoulders in radiant curls, and her whole being froze, overwhelmed with the sense of recognition.

Someone bumped into her and she muttered a quick apology and ignored the obscene yelling, and with a long look sweeping across the market, noting the other slaves and the seller and the few people walking by, ducked into the nearest side street to wait for her hands to stop shaking.

Ayzan was right there.

Thoughts ran through Kris’ mind in a hurricane, leaving a few facts in their wake:

She could not confront the slave seller. Back in her kingdom, sure, she could afford to deal with whatever mess it would cause, but not here. She couldn’t get into a fight directly, nor did she know enough to go through the indirect means.

Besides. Kris could not tolerate the idea of leaving the market when Ayzan was right there, so close. Closer than ever in these six years. She couldn’t leave and hope she’d find them again. She needed to get them now, and leave with them.

It meant playing by the disgusting rules of this place.

She opened her purse, counted the money. Cursed. Took a deep breath. She’d accomplished more with less. Failure was not an option.

Kris returned to the market from another street and strolled by, her gaze lazily moving from one face to the other and never stopping at Ayzan for longer than a second. Her clothes made her look like a wealthy foreigner, she knew and made sure her face reflected the bored expression she often saw on an experienced buyer. It didn’t take long for the merchant to come to her.

“Have something caught your eyes, lady…” he drifted off.

She inclined her head. “Teyol,” a fake surname naturally rolled off her tongue, made more realistic with the skilled northern accent. The merchant immediately answered with a wide smile.

“Come, lady Teyol,” he invited. “I have many remarkable items here. Something for anyone’s taste! Has any of them caught your eyes?”

Kris let him lead her closer to the slaves, all sitting right in the dirt, all tied to a long railing by short leashes connected to rough leather collars. Hardly the astounding selection the merchant was trying to sell it as. Ayzan was among them, sitting to the side, and Kris felt their stare on her face as she refused to look in their direction more than necessary. She inspected other slaves instead, letting the merchant pitch his property and feigning interest. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Ayzan sink back in line as the merchant pushed them back in passing. They didn’t do much of anything to make her turn attention to them, and Kris was infinitely grateful. It would go so much easier if the merchant didn’t suspect any connection between the two of them.

After looking at two slaves and nodding along to the merchant’s tales, Kris finally decided it was enough. “What about that one?” she asked and pointed at Ayzan, who flinched from the sudden attention of the both of them. “They seem pretty.”

“Ah, you have a great taste, lady! They’re one of the better ones,” the merchant hurried to assure her. “Years of training. Very obedient, and can do many things, too, outside and inside the bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

He flashed a grin, untied the leash and tugged at it, making Ayzan follow on their knees. They didn’t try to use arms to help them. Ayzan stopped before her, kneeling and keeping their head low, the looks they’d been giving her this whole time disappearing in an instant. She could see their hands, one curled on their lap, shaking slightly.

It took all her willpower to not reach out to hug them then and there.

Instead Kris let her gaze slip from their form, rising to meet the merchant’s eyes with a pleasant smile. “Where were they trained, then?”

“In Ashtar,” he answered instantly and proudly. Kris nodded in understanding and approval as her stomach sunk. Ashtar. She met enough people who’d been through that place to know it was nothing short of awful. She knew also that a slave from Ashtar wouldn’t end up in a place like this for no reason. There was something else there, something that’d lowered Ayzan’s price so much they ended up covered in dirt and rags, sold on the street among other cheap slaves. And these were cheap, Kris could see, no matter what the merchant was trying to tell her. She’d been to enough auctions to know.

“Ashtar,” Kris felt her lips move when the silence went on for two long. She was distantly impressed that her voice sounded calm as it did, tinted with curiosity and doubt. “They have an awful lot of scars for someone from there.”

Slowly, she reached out and put a hand in their hair — so, so short, when she knew they always preferred to let it grow out, — coaxing them to look up. There was a moment of resistance as they tried to flinch away, sink even more onto themself. The merchant noticed immediately and tugged their hair with no hesitation.

There was a quiet, sharp exhale, and then Kris could finally see their face. Her blood turned cold from just one look.

There were scars there, those she’d noticed even from afar: a wide one crossing their cheek, an old one through their brow, leaving pale skin where once was hair. This close, she could see more: a thin line starting from under their ear and going down to their neck. Many small but uneven, angry red dots around their lips, in an uneven pattern Kris took long seconds to recognize as what it was: the marks left behind from the thread that once held their mouth shut.

Never, in all her years, had Kris wanted to kill so much as at that moment.

And then, there were their eyes. She looked into them, finally, and had to fight to keep her features relaxed. There was so much in those blue eyes, so much she never wanted to see there: hurt and barely contained fear, and confusion, and, more than anything else, desperate, painful kind of hope. They didn’t say anything, didn’t even try to, only looked, until a smack came from the merchant, forcing their gaze down.

Kris silently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, before tuning in the merchant’s words.

“…long time. They were a feisty one once, you see, with a spirit. All the better when they’re finally broken, isn’t it?” he smiled as if it was a joke. She laughed and nodded in agreement. “I can lower the price for the scars, but believe me, they’re worth every coin you pay for them.”

“And how much is the price?” Kris asked. The merchant smiled widely.

And said, “two thousands.”

It took her a moment to convert the sum to the currency she was more familiar with. She didn’t need to fake the indignant snort. “That much?”

Kris knew the prices, that was the thing. She saw so many of such places, so many of such people putting a tag on a person’s worth, and she learned the numbers. Slaves from Ashtar meant to be pets, toys, pretty playthings for their owners, trained to be obedient and appealing in every way the owner wanted. They were meant to be kept healthy and beautiful, and any permanent mark immediately dropped their price.

Two thousands was too much. She’d give it barely seven hundred, maybe eleven if she was generous.

She felt bile rise up in her throat as she realized she was thinking about Ayzan in these terms. She felt the shudder go through their body as her hand stayed in their hair. Kris hoped the gentle touch felt reassuring.

“They’re the best you can find around these parts,” the merchant answered quickly.

“A pleasure slave, scarred like that?” she replied coldly. “Hardly.”

“A highly trained slave with just a few unfortunate but faded marks. You said it yourself, lady Teyol, they’re pretty. You won’t have to work hard to forget the scars are there at all.”

“Well, I don’t think I can just ignore them, they’re quite unsightly, in my opinion,” Kris argued. “You said you’d lower the price for them.”

“And I already have,” the merchant assured her. “You see, ordinarily I’d ask two and a half, even three thousands for them!..”

“Don’t try to cheat me,” Kris cut him off. She crossed her arms, letting go of Ayzan’s hair with the last gentle stroke, and added, softening her voice. “You are a smart man, lord…”

“Just Relo, lady Teyol.”

“Relo. You must know when what you’re asking for is beyond any limit.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t think it is,” the merchant continued stubbornly. “They’re the best you can find around these parts. Try finding other shops or even going to the auctions, see for yourself. Ashtar slaves are hard to come by.”

“Perhaps they’re hard to come by because there’s no need for them here. Who else would you sell them to? The mines? Even with all their… training, you’d be happy to receive even a few hundred.”

“I’m sure there’ll be those who understand the value of what I’m offering,” Relo countered.

Kris saw as his pose changed, closed off. She spoke quieter, friendlier once again. “I must say I am one of those people. An Ashtar slave is something I’d gladly buy, but not with this price; like this, I’d be better off making the trip myself. It wouldn’t be much more costly, and I’d surely find one there that isn’t so… defective.”

Ayzan was quiet before the two of them, hunched onto themself now that nothing held their head up. Kris sneaked a glance at them and saw the white of their knuckles as their fingers dug into their thighs. Ayzan made themself so easy to ignore with how quiet and motionless they were, and Kris hated herself for talking over them like this.

“Perhaps, I could go a bit lower without it being a loss,” after a few seconds of consideration, the merchant relented. “Eighteen hundred, how does that sound?”

Kris laughed, “I was thinking more in terms of five or maybe eight hundred,” and quickly raised her hand when Relo opened his mouth to protest. “But I apologize, I understand, it’s not an adequate compensation for your efforts. The transportation itself must have cost quite a bit. Perhaps, we could settle on a thousand?” she flashed a persuasive smile.

The merchant answered to her smile with his, but then shook his head. “I’m afraid it is so low I’d have to try my luck somewhere else. Seventeen hundred is the lowest I can go.”

It was better, closer to the real price. She only had fourteen hundred in her purse. She needed to go lower.

She turned her attention to Ayzan once more, looking them up and down in search of something to use as a leverage. They were skinny, pale, but this was normal for a slave, even desirable in the eyes of some. Easier to control, when they’re weak from hunger. Ayzan didn’t look like they’d starve at any moment, and that meant she couldn’t use it as an argument. Kris needed something else, and fast.

“It is a serious investment, you understand,” she said to the merchant who nodded. “I don’t want to disrespect you in any way, Relo, but, you understand, a slave bought for… the reasons… that I’m considering, needs to be in an appealing form everywhere. With such scars on their face, who knows what can be hidden underneath their clothes? Please don’t take it as a sign of distrust…”

“No-no, lady, I understand,” Relo reassured her. “It’s only natural to want to make sure.” He tugged the leash and then once again when Ayzan hesitated, frozen in place. Relo frowned and shot an apologetic look to Kris, which she waved off with a smile. “Get up and strip for the lady,” the merchant spat, “you know what’s going to happen otherwise.”

Finally, Ayzan moved, slowly rising to their feet but never looking up. They tugged the coarse, badly cut in shape fabric they had for a shirt up with their left hand, Relo helping them get it off the leash. Silently, Kris begged for forgiveness as they pulled their pants down with one hand. When she caught a sight of their face, it was uncomfortably, eerily empty.

Finished, they stood before her and the merchant, not making a single move to cover their body. They trembled slightly, and Kris wasn’t sure if it was from cold.

There were scars on their body, but not as many as she feared. The one starting below their ear continued on to their chest. On the opposite side, there were lines starting from under their armpit and going down, where Kris knew very well the skin was more sensitive than in most other parts of the body. Even the shallow cuts must’ve hurt as hell. A few were on the legs, but they looked more accidental and less like deliberate torture. Their right hand was half covered in pink scar tissue, their little finger missing in its entirety. When Relo told Ayzan to turn around and they obeyed, Kris could see the long, numerous lines left by lashes, layered on top of each other so that there was barely any healthy skin left.

She stepped forward, raising a hand, and barely kept her face neutral when Ayzan tried to flinch from her touch. “Stand still,” the merchant grumbled and tugged the leash. He looked apologetic once more, “You know how some of them are, when with new people.”

“I understand,” she brushed it off once again. It was a good excuse to use with something else, but it wouldn’t get her much of an advantage by itself. Instead, she ran her fingers down Ayzan’s body as they kept horribly still except for rapid, panicked breaths. She prayed for forgiveness once more, taking their left hand and rotating it around.

Then, she moved to the right hand. The moment she raised it, slightly rotating the wrist, a shudder when through Ayzan’s whole body and a quiet, pained whimper escaped their tightly pressed lips.

Kris immediately let go of their hand and turned to Relo, who looked incredibly upset. “You must be kidding me,” she said, letting some of her fury reflect in her tone. The merchant frowned and stepped closer.

“Must’ve pulled something,” he found an excuse and shot a glance to Ayzan before grabbing their hand and forcefully rotating the whole way. Ayzan tried hard to stay silent. Kris saw how their breath hitched, their eyes fluttering shut, and stopped the merchant’s attempts to pretend it was nothing.

“Do you want to hurt them more,” she snapped. “Because if you do, I won’t be buying them for sure.”

That made Relo hesitate and ultimately let go of Ayzan’s hand. It fell limply down their side and they took in a deep, rough breath, their eyes still tightly closed.

“I apologize, lady Teyol, there wasn’t anything like this yesterday,” the merchant explained, and Kris felt too tired to guess if he was lying or somehow managed to genuinely overlook such a problem. “I’m sure it’ll heal in no time, but, because of the circumstances, I will cut down some more. Sixteen hundred.”

“Thirteen,” Kris replied. “I can’t know if the injury is permanent or will heal, but it’ll require attention and money. I’ll have to find a healer to look at them! Not only at the arm, too, who knows what else is wrong!” she made sure it didn’t sound like a threat, but was sure the merchant did hear it as such. She didn’t know what else she’d find if she continued on with the inspection. Whatever it was, it was in Relo’s interest to stop from trying.

“Fifteen,” Relo returned an offer with a wince. “You must understand, going any lower would put me at a loss…”

“Fourteen. They aren’t even as obedient as you promised, hesitating like this. Can I even trust you that they’re from Ashtar? Or is it something you’ve lied about just like you neglected to mention that they can’t move their right arm?”

The merchant winced again. He must know, Kris thought, that with such an injury he had no luck of selling them to anyone. Even the mines would refuse a slave that couldn’t use one hand. Now that it was noticed, he couldn’t afford to cling to the bigger price. What she was offering was already generous. He must know that. He must accept.

Relo chews his lips, deep in thought.

Then sighed.

“Fourteen hundred it is, then. Deal.” She shook his hand and gave nearly all the money she had to him. After being paid, Relo smiled with much more sincerity. Kris found it hard to much his enthusiasm.

She helped Ayzan dress up, mindful of their arm, and took the leash from the joyful merchant. Just a few minutes, until they got to the room in the closest inn, she promised herself.

Ayzan didn’t make a single attempt to look up at her, following her steps as a second shadow, quiet and gloomy as one.

In the inn, she cut the small talk with the innkeeper short, getting a key for a room with one bed (it would be suspicious if a slave was given their own bed; she’d sleep on the floor if needed) and swiftly making her way upstairs. She let them inside the room first and shut the door after herself, immediately slumping before it.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed and then muttered a whole string of curses as the adrenaline wore off, leaving her fingers shaking. She did it. She’d got them. She’d got them.

She took half a minute to herself, staring at her hands and willing her emotions back under control. Then she looked up.

Ayzan stood where she left them, in the middle of the room, their head hanging low and left fist tightly clenched. They were so still she couldn’t even notice if they were breathing. They didn’t move to look at her, not even once.

“Hey,” she whispered and stepped closer. They tensed but didn’t back away. She worked on removing the collar, letting it fall down once she was done. “Ayzan, will you look at me? Dear?” gently, oh so gently she touched their chin and guided it up. They used to be higher than her. Slouched as they were now, she had to look down to meet their eyes.

Back in the market, there was fear there, and she’d thought it was the worst. Now, she searched and searched and could only find — something like defeat. Like resignation. They looked at her with pale blue eyes that always used to crinkle in a smile, and this time there was nothing.

Kris was the one who let out a shaking breath and had to fight to hold back tears. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly as she could, when her voice was back under her control. When she let her hand fall, Ayzan’s head immediately hang low, too. “I didn’t mean any of what I said to that bastard. I just— you're worth so much, but if I didn’t make him think I didn’t care, I— I couldn’t let let him take you away! I’m so so sorry you had to hear it. You had to— I’m so sorry. None, none of that is true.”

Ayzan’s chest slowly rose in a deeper breath than they’d taken before. If Kris wasn’t staring at their features so intently, she’d miss the way their lips twitched, just a bit.

“Love,” she begged. “Ayzan. Say something, please?”

Their lips twitched again, opened just a bit. They didn’t look Kris in the eyes, but their gaze moved just a bit closer. Slowly, quietly, they breathed out in a raspy voice, “Kris?” and then fell silent again.

“Yes. Yes, Ayzan, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve— I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” she repeated and reached out to clench their good hand in hers. Ayzan didn’t move, staring at their hands as if unable to see it. “I’ve got you,” she repeated again as her heart bled from the distant, uncomprehending look on their face.

After a long stretch of silence, Ayzan’s lips moved again. “What do you want me for?”

It felt like a punch. Like somebody made a hole through her chest and squeezed her heart until it turned into burning mash, coating her insides with pain. She took a breath that sounded like a sob.

“Nothing. I— nothing like that. I needed him to believe that I did, but I wouldn’t— I didn’t—“ she tried to find words to explain and failed. Ayzan stood before her, terribly still, terribly distant, terribly tense. As if they weren’t safe. As if they expected her to hurt them.

She tried again, “You’re not here as my property. I am very, very happy to see you alive. I’ve been searching for you,” she paused as her breath hitched. She hadn’t been searching for them this time, had she? She would walk right past them, not pausing to even find out that they were so close. She’d nearly given up. She forced the thoughts down, focusing on here and now and the fact that she’d found them. “I want you to be free, and safe, and happy. This is all.” She repeated, helplessly, when they didn’t move, “this is all.”

Kris watched their face as they breathed. There was no reaction to see if they understood, if they even heard her. Ayzan’s face used to be so open, so emotive, all their feelings written loud and clear all over it, be it a bright smile or childish pouting. She rarely remembered them genuinely upset, but even that was better than the careful, nearly complete blankness. As if they weren’t here at all.

She fought to blink back tears. “May I hug you?”

Their brows twitched, barely perceptible. Their eyes moved to the side. They didn’t answer.

She didn’t reach out to touch them.

She took a deep breath instead, trying to ground herself. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know it’s sudden and hard. We have time now, okay? You have time. You’re safe, and here, and—“ another deep, deep breath. “You’re safe. I promise you. I won’t ever let you be hurt again. I promise.”

Ayzen didn’t answer, but Kris saw as their breaths grew deeper, slower, calmer. It was okay. They were here, and they had all the time in the world.

Whump prompt XVIII

Caretaker is trying to buy whumpee to free them.

Only they cannot afford the asking price, so they're left haggling down whumpee's value, picking out every conceivable flaw and arguing with the seller that whumpee really isn't worth that - all fully within earshot of whumpee.

[valleydoli]

ʚɞ Sukuna Ryomen Fic Recommendations ʚɞ

Clipped Wings (O)

Blank Canvas (C)

Cosa Nostra (O)

Yuji’s Caretaker (O)

They Kiss on The Ring. I Carry the Crown (C)

Silent Love (C)

Shameful Attraction (O)

Karma (O)

The Black Swan (C)

First of You (O)

Blackmail (C)

Done Waiting (C)

Forgotten Souls (C)

Knockout (C)

Him & I (O)

Anger Management (O)

Bonds of Fruition (O)

Chained (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (discontinued but it was really good and scary!)

Fuck The List (O)

Barley Beloved (O)

The Apartment Across The Street (O) (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat?)

Hopelessly Devoted (O)

Completely Casual (O)

Hesitance (O)

Defiance (O)

The Butcher (O) (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)

If You Really Love Nothing (O)

Below The Belt (O)

I Wanna Be Your Endgame (O)

[blushedfemmes]

i really do need to spread more nursing kink propaganda bc anxious dykes with mommy issues and oral fixations and equally anxious dykes with caretaking complexes and pretty tits need to find each other and see the light. nursing feels so good once you get past the ‘this is kinda weird’ social hesitation like who gives a fuck we’re all so tired and anxious and it feels SO GOOD. Nurse a Tired Dyke Today

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!Sukuna. You and Sukuna have been dancing around each other for weeks, and when you tell him you've found another apartment for you and your daughter, he decides he's had enough.

cw: smut, breeding kink(heavy emphasis), Sukuna is a bad dude but you know that already. Your daughter's nickname is Bug but she's given no official birth name.

Sometimes, Sukuna remembered how much he felt like he would die if he didn't touch you back when he first met you. Now, he wanted to go back in time and punch himself in the fucking face because that him, that him did not know what it meant to suffer.

The past few weeks since the birthday party where he felt like you had finally, finally seen him had been the worst, but somehow best, weeks of Sukuna's life. On the surface, not much had changed. You still were crashing at his place, he continued to take on more and more caretaker duties with your daughter and the two of you were continuing this dance where you participated in the outline of what a relationship between the two of you could be but for some reason, you still seemed hesitant to embrace it completely.

Sukuna could be patient, he had been patient, but the fact that you two still weren't together when he was positive now it was what you both wanted, it was driving him insane.

You looked at him more than you did before and sometimes he would catch these quick glimpses of a desire that burned him, that made him want to show you just how much he had been wanting you. How he was never going to want anyone but you. But then, he would look again and you were back to feeding your daughter or cleaning a dish and just continuing with this facade where you were just crashing temporarily at his place.

Sukuna could feel the tension tighten across his back and shoulders as the three of you finished dinner. Your daughter was telling a story about something her and her "Uncle Uuji" had gotten up to when Sukuna's brother had been babysitting that afternoon, and you were smiling and giving the right "oohs" and "aahs" when you had looked over at him.

You looked so content and happy that Sukuna felt his shoulders relax in response. The waiting was killing him, but he reminded himself it was worth it, he was so close he could almost taste it. Soon, he wouldn't need to hold himself back and he could hold your hand and kiss you anytime he wanted, while his daughter monopolized the dinner conversation. You were both so clearly meant to be his and if he needed to give you some more time so you were comfortable, then he would give you more time.

Feeling at peace with his decision, Sukuna took the lead on bedtime duty that night. He read your daughter a story-"Do the voices 'kuna!" "I am doing the voices, kid"- and then tucked her in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she was struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Night, Bug."

"Night, 'kuna."

Sukuna finished tucking her in while you watched from the doorway. He was about to leave when the little girl grabbed his wrist.

"Love you."

Sukuna felt something catch in his throat and all the sudden he was a scared kid again holding a little Yuuji to his chest so the roaches that were all over the floor of their apartment didn't touch him. A fierce protectiveness lit up his chest and he promised to himself, for not the first time, that his little girl would never know experience any of that. It had taken him years to get Yuuji out of there, and Bug had already lived a few years without him, but she was home now and it was clear she knew that too.

"Love you too, Bug." He couldn't resist pressing one more kiss to your daughter's forehead but the kid was out like a light already. You moved aside so Sukuna could close the door, which he did very gently.

"Took her long enough tonight, huh? I think I'll still be able to recite 'Goodnight Moon' when her grandkids ask for it."

You don't smile and he knows you're aware he's joking about the time. There's a reason you're co-owning story time now, Sukuna isn't developing his voice actor repertoire for nothing.

He goes to put his hand on your shoulder but you move back a little as if you're trying to avoid his touch. Now he's concerned.

"You okay?"

You shake your head and gesture your head towards the living room. Sukuna follows, not appreciating the uncertainty he's feeling at your strange mood.

When you get to the living room, you hesitate and take a seat on the armchair. Usually, you only use it when you're reading or doing something on your laptop. Whenever you're together, you always share the couch with Sukuna and he notes the decision to distance yourself with distaste. He's sure the wariness shows on his face as he goes to sit on the side of the couch closest to you.

"Alright, what is it?"

You bite your lip and he's about to ask again, with less patience ,when you take a deep breath and begin. Your eyes trained down on your lap.

"I found an apartment for me and Bug. It's close to the daycare and it's a little smaller than we're used to, but it will work for now. A friend helped me find it and there isn't even a creepy landlord! I'm going to sign the lease Monday and we should be able to move in next weekend. So, I just wanted to thank you for everything."

Sukuna thinks he's stopped breathing and he feels a wave of anger so intense he can taste iron against the back of his teeth.

"You're leaving?"

You take another deep breath and nod while Sukuna's world continues to fall apart.

"I think it's time. You know, I appreciate everything you've done for me and bug. The past few months have been amazing and we never would have gotten through them without you."

Sukuna doesn't have it in him to let the pause you leave sit there long. "I keep telling you, you don't have to thank me. It's really fine. I like having you here."

You look down at your fingers where he sees it looks like you've been picking at them. He gets a bad feeling, worse than what he was already feeling.

"I know and that's-it's really nice, really."

"Great."

"But, I think it's starting to get confusing."

"Confusing? What's confusing?"

You go on, ignorant to, or ignoring the rage that's rising in him.

"It's just, when we were at that party a few weeks ago and everyone kept asking about us and if we were together, and about our situation, it's obvious that what we're doing isn't normal."

"Not normal, how?" Sukuna prompts and he's going to snap if you keep refusing to even look at him.

"You don't just crash with your neighbor for months on end because your apartment flooded. They don't help you with chores and spend all your time together. Neighbors don't babysit your daughter-"

"I like spending time with your daughter, that's not a favor I'm doing for either of you," Sukuna finally snaps, annoyed that the special moment he'd shared with Bug earlier was being overshadowed by you denying the relationship he'd been so careful about building with her. "I told you, I care about both of you and I don't give a fuck what other people think about our situation. I chose to let you both come and stay with me and I like the life we've built here."

You finally look up at that last part and your eyes are full of tears. Sukuna is able to hold back some of his anger at the sight of you in such clear distress.

"That's the thing, we're not building a life here, this is temporary and I think we've been forgetting that." A tear slides down your cheek. "A few days ago, Bug brought home a picture she drew in daycare. She drew the three of us as a family, Sukuna. She thinks you're going to be like her new dad and how am I going to explain to her that you're not going to be in her life when this is over? She barely understands what happened with her dad, I can't do that to her again."

Sukuna seethes. "Don't compare me to that piece of shit. He hasn't even tried to contact you or Bug since you moved in."

"Well, he's still her dad-"

"No, he fucking isn't," Sukuna is done and you're crying freely now and he doesn't understand where he went wrong with all of this. "In a few years, she won't even remember that bastard. I'll be the only father she's ever known because I'll be the one that's actually here."

You laugh a little and wipe at your face but it just exacerbates the mess. "What are you even talking about? You're her neighbor, Sukuna and when we move you won't even be that."

"Is that all I am to her? To you?"

"What else are you supposed to be?!"

Sukuna is so pissed, he doesn't know how he's going to recover from this. This is not what he wanted at all and here you were now-

Crying, you were crying.

The pieces started connecting and Sukuna realized that he wasn't being left. You weren't rejecting him or what he was to you or to your daughter. You were panicking. You were doing what you had been taught to do by everyone else in your life, to leave them before they could leave you.

You were right, after all. You were confused.

Sukuna was going to fix that.

You must have noticed the abrupt shift in Sukuna's mood because you seemed puzzled as Sukuna started to smile. You didn't have time to ask any questions before Sukuna stood up and walked over to your chair.

"Sukuna?"

"I see now, I wasn't clear with you. That must have been so frustrating, sweetheart."

You'd stopped crying in your bewilderment. "Sweetheart? Sukuna, what are you doing-"

Sukuna shushed you as he leaned you so you were face to face, his body almost shielding you from the rest of the room. You blinked a few times to adjust to the lack of light as he blocked everything else but himself from view.

"I'm going to help fix your confusion, sweetheart. You seem to think I've just been doing this all out of the kindness of my heart and I want to assure you, that's not the case," he says, leaning his forehead against yours. "See, I'm actually not that kind and if you were anyone else, I wouldn't have given you a place to stay, even with a brat."

"You don't mean that-"

"Yes, I really do. I don't help people, I don't give a fuck even whether they live or die. The only people I give a damn about are Yuuji, you and the kid and that's it. When I say I would have left anyone else to tough it out on the streets, I fucking mean it."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," you argue and Sukuna finds it adorable. "You're making it sound like-"

"Like what, princess?" Your breath hitches at that one and his grin turns predatory. "Oh you like that one, I'll keep that in mind princess." You gulp and he watches the way your throat moves and can't resist pressing a kiss to it.

"S-Sukuna-"

"No, no, go on princess, you were telling me what you thought the reason must be for me doing all these things. Go on, tell me your theory. You're a smart girl, I think you've figured it out."

"You like me," and the way you say it as almost a question is so endearing Sukuna can't hold back the trail of kisses he plants up your throat until he gets to your jaw.

"No, I don't like you princess." You seem to accept this and you're nodding, opening your mouth to probably say something stupid when Sukuna cuts you off. "Like isn't enough to describe the way I feel about you."

"Really?" You're so hesitant and sweet as Sukuna presses kisses up and down your tear stained cheeks. A new one slips down your cheek and he holds your face with both hands as he licks it up before it can fall all the way. You're almost panting now and he loves it.

"Trust me, I haven't gone to all this effort just for some lousy date or to get my dick wet." He leans back so he can see your face and cups your face so he can tilt it up to look at him.

"You're it for me, princess. This isn't temporary and I'm not going to let you go. Either of you."

"Sukuna, it's one thing to be interested in me but it's another to just-to just say you're going to parent my kid. I mean, she's a person you'd be tied to your whole life."

Sukuna hums, finding it cute how much you're still not grasping the situation. "All of your children will be mine, that includes Bug."

You laugh. "Children, plural?"

"Definitely plural." Sukuna looks your body up and down making his meaning clear and you seem determined to try to be the voice of reason as Sukuna goes back to kissing your cheeks, your temple, your forehead.

"We're not even dating, Sukuna."

"What do you call the past few months? We spend every day together, go everywhere together, we live together, we're raising your daughter together, what else do you need to know about me?"

"I'm wondering if there's in fact very important things I need to know about you." That's his smart girl and Sukuna finds the suspicion adorable, especially since it doesn't stop you from tilting your head so he can get to your neck.

"Well, you'll have the rest of our lives to get to know me," he nips at part of your collarbone that's exposed by your shirt and you hiss before gently pushing him away.

"Okay, this is nice."

That word again.

"But, just because you're interested in me and care about my daughter, that doesn't mean we should just jump into something. I still think the best thing would be for us to figure this out after Bug and I have our own place-"

"No."

You look confused, obviously thinking you misheard him.

"I'm sorry, you can't just say no, it doesn't work like that."

"But you can just decide to leave our home, with our daughter and for what? So we can do a worse version of what we've been doing? What purpose could that possibly serve?"

"Because this is too fast for me?"

"We already live together," Sukuna points out and knows this isn't the moment to mention he's the one who destroyed your apartment to make that happen.

"That doesn't mean we'll be good together."

"What exactly are you worried about? Do I not do my share of the chores?"

"No, that's fine."

"Do you not enjoy spending time with me?"

"Of course, I enjoy that," and he smiles smugly at that and pulls your arms gently so they loop around his neck.

"Do I not take of our daughter?"

You seem like you want to fight him on the 'our' but he goes back to kissing your neck and the way you tighten your grip lets him know you're getting distracted by the attention.

"She loves you," and that soothes the last bit of anger that had been present in Sukuna. Now, he was just ready to get started on the next part of your lives.

"Oh I see, so it's that I haven't been taking care of you? I'm so sorry for neglecting you. Don't worry, I can fix that right now."

Even if Sukuna kisses you a million times, he's never going to forget what it feels like to kiss you for the first time.

Your lips are soft and so warm. At first you don't react, your mouth still poised as if you're going to argue one last time, but then you're relaxing, leaning in and you give this sigh of relief and Sukuna knows you're hearing the same voice that he's hearing in his head.

This one.

Sukuna has long assumed that love and romance was nonsense shit for weak people who needed to find purpose. Sukuna wonders what it says about him that he thinks his purpose in life might have just been to find you.

You're kneeling on the chair now, Sukuna still hunched over so he can hold you. He's getting annoyed at the angle and how it's stopping him from feeling more of you and so he slides his hands down to your waist and pulls you up to him. With one hand on your hip, he uses his other to wind your right leg around him, you moving your left to follow suit. The new position has your core pressed up against where he's already half hard and you sigh into his mouth so beautifully, that he can't help but use the opportunity to explore your mouth.

It's hot and sloppy and so good that Sukuna moans and your legs tighten around his waist in response. The living room feels hot with every breath you exchange and he can hear the sounds you're making fill the space. Thinking about the child sleeping not nearly far enough away, Sukuna starts to walk you towards his room.

Even when he wants to be responsible and not have his first time with you interrupted by your daughter, he can't stop himself from pressing you up against the wall at least twice before you finally get to his room.

It's going to be your room now too, and he's so happy it disgusts him a little.

Sukuna has you pressed up against your door, one hand holding your waist and the other grabbing your ass so he can control the way you're rocking up to meet him. He angles you down a bit and you both moan at how the position lines you up to grind directly on his cock. There's too many layers separating you still, and it's that thought that pushes him to finally open the door.

He makes sure to lock the door behind you before he tosses you on his bed. On your bed. That's never going to get old.

He crawls over you and is back to kissing you into the mattress before you even have time to fully catch your breath. You're panting into his mouth and he nips at your top lip as you pull away to breath, catching it in his teeth. You don't need any prompting to spread your legs and he fits between them like he was meant to be there, letting his weight drop enough on you so you can feel him.

While he's excited to finally explore your body and see what he's been thinking about for months, he's having a hard time separating from you long enough to move any further than you are. Sukuna usually doesn't care much for kissing, but kissing you is different. He thinks he could kiss you all night even if his hard cock very much disagrees with that sentiment.

Fuck, if you kept grinding your cunt on him like you were, he may just come before he even gets inside you.

It's that thought that finally makes him get up on his knees to take his shirt off. You follow suit under him and he can't stop from kneeling down to kiss at your newly exposed skin. You're not wearing a bra and your tits are too perfect for him to ignore even for the sake of getting to your cunt.

These are the same tits that fed your child and will one day feed his and something about that gets to Sukuna in a way he hadn't ever really thought about before with other partners. It makes him softer, more gentle with his worship and you thread your fingers through his hair when he takes one of your nipples and sucks it gently in his mouth. He releases it so he can leave a few quick hickies around your chest. You're squirming so hard underneath him, he has to press you down with a thigh slotted between your legs to hold you still.

"Sukuna," you whine and he hushes you before leaving another mark under your collarbone.

"I'll get there, pretty girl. Just use my leg for now," he says continuing to leave marks wherever he can while you groan underneath him.

"I want you inside me," tempting but Sukuna is getting greedier the more desperate you are. Maybe if he fucks you hard enough, you'll stop thinking about stupid shit like needing your own apartment.

"I'll be inside you soon, I just want to taste a bit first. The way you are, I think humping my thigh will be enough to get you off," he teases and you whine, embarrassment clear in your voice. If you can still be embarrassed, more proof you're not ready for his cock in you. He presses against your cunt harder and he can feel the warmth of you on his thigh even through your leggings and his pants. He moves in a way more meant to tease than to provide you any relief and your frustration is clear when you start moving your hips to a faster, harder rhythm.

Sukuna smirks against your marked up throat when your whines start getting faster and closer together. You're still holding onto his shoulders when your grip tightens and you let out a gasp signaling your release.

Sukuna laughs meanly as you take in deep breaths, body still shaking from your orgasm. "Wow, someone was really pent up. No wonder you're having trouble thinking straight," he teases as he moves so he can take off his pants and boxers, giving his cock a quick stroke, drawing your hungry gaze down. "Don't worry, I got you. I'll give that tight cunt what it needs."

You pull him down so you can kiss him again and you're uncoordinated now, but Sukuna likes you better like this. Likes the proof that he's making you feel good. He presses down and your fingers scratch where his neck meets his scalp pulling out a moan that vibrates through his chest. He breaks off your kiss because he really does need to get inside you or he's going to come, and while the vision of you covered in his seed is a compelling one for another time, he plans on coming inside you first.

Sukuna pulls on your leggings until you get the hint and lift your legs so he can pull them off, leaving you in a pair of familiar blue panties. He laughs when he sees them and you come out of your daze a little bit, so he pulls them off too and tosses them aside so he can get to where you both want him.

Sukuna lightly touches your slit and smirks down at you when his fingers come away wet. Keeping eye contact with you he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean and holds down your wrists with his free hand when you try to cover your face.

"All this just from my fucking thigh, just from some kissing. I'm starting to worry my cock might actually kill you."

You glare up at him and he grabs your leg as you try and kick him. "If you're so worried, maybe I should just leave then?"

Sukuna laughs and you gasp when he brings his fingers back down to you, slipping in two fingers to the knuckle. Your pussy is tight but you're so wet, he slides right in and he can't wait to get you on his cock. He brushes his thumb against your clit as he stretches you out, your voice leaving you in pants and gasps that are making him feel like a god.

"You're not going anywhere princess, not tonight, not on Monday, not next weekend," he moves so he's covering your body. His lips catching yours mid-moan. "When I'm done, you're going to be too tired to keep running from me."

He pulls his fingers out and you whine at the sudden emptiness but he keeps kissing you as he moves so his cock is touching your entrance. He moves it up and down, wetting himself in your slick. He cuts off your kiss so he can see your face, wants to look at you when he fucks into you for the first time. Finally getting some oxygen to your brain and the feeling of his cock pressing into you seems to bring your thinking back online.

"Wait, Sukuna, a condom," you say and he grins, not even pretending like he's thinking about it.

"We don't need a condom."

"Yes, we do, I'm not on birth control," you say and Sukuna has to tighten his grip on himself so he doesn't come.

"And?" He asks and he slips just the head in, you let out the cutest noise and your pussy clings to him as he pulls out.

"I-I could get pregnant, Sukuna!" He hums like he's actually thinking about as he presses in again, this time moving another inch into your tight cunt. It's teasing you both and he doesn't know how much longer he's going to be up for conversation as he pulls out only to thrust in, again just barely giving you his cock.

"Good, Bug wants a sibling. She was telling me how excited she'd be to be a big sister."

"Sukuna!"

"What? You don't think we'd make a cute kid? I think they'd be as beautiful and as brilliant as their mamma," Sukuna would take your protests more seriously if your pussy wasn't literally gushing. He could swear his balls were wet with your slick and you weren't even really fucking yet.

"This is a big commitment, Sukuna. It's not a joke."

"Good thing I'm not fucking joking then," Sukuna kisses you again and nothing beats the way you gasp into his mouth when his rubs the head of his cock against your clit. "You really want me to stop? Want me to go away? If you tell me you don't want my baby, that you don't want to be my little wife and grow our family, I'll go find a fucking condom. But I'm going to need you to tell me that. Make sure you're loud, princess. I'm a little distracted, right now."

You hesitate and Sukuna thinks he might actually have to try and figure out where he stashed his condoms, since he hadn't gotten laid in damn near six months when he feels your hands move to cup his face.

"And if I want that?"

Sukuna feels his heart skip a beat despite it all, your hands on his face feel just as intimate as all the rest, another way you continued to humble him.

"Want what, princess? Going to have to be more specific for me."

"All of it, the family, the baby, everything." You seem to be drawing on your courage and Sukuna is proud of you despite himself. "I want you, Sukuna."

Sukuna crashes his mouth into yours and you follow him willingly. He uses his hand to guide his cock into your cunt and you move your hips, greedy for him, as he slowly pushes in. When Sukuna is finally in all the way, he feels a warm contentment fall over him. Imagining this, it had always been defined by a frenzy that he finds absent in the actual event.

Maybe it's because you've finally acknowledged him and what he means in your life, but he doesn't feel desperate as he fucks into you slowly, his thrusts purposeful. He feels victorious. The satisfaction curls around his body and makes your lips sweeter, your hips fit even more right in his palms and your cunt wraps around him like it was molded to fit his cock. He doubts you were made for him, you were too good for that, but he had managed to get you anyway and you're recognition of his possession over you made him smile into your mouth.

He kept his pace slow, thrusting deep enough inside you each time that you couldn't stop the way your breath hitched at the feeling.

"Sukuna!"

"Yes, princess?"

"F-faster, please!"

"So polite, how could I say no," his voice is more breathless than he means it to be but he doesn't give a fuck. Not when your pussy is so sweet, or given the way you moan for him as he begins to pick up the pace. Sukuna loves the way you sound but he thinks of the little girl sleeping down the hall and he covers your mouth with his hand.

"Don't want to wake up our daughter, do we?" Something about that makes you tighten up and your eyes roll backwards and Sukuna thinks he knows what it is.

"Gotta make sure I can put this baby in you, right? You did so wonderful with the first one, I just got to see it happen again." You're moaning so loud Sukuna isn't sure his hand is doing much good, but you're both close enough he doesn't think about trying to stop you aside from a throw away thought about gagging you with your panties.

Oh well, thoughts for next time.

And the idea that there would be next times, that you were going to his to fuck anytime he wanted, had Sukuna reaching down to play with your clit. He could barely stand to pull out of you at all and at this point you two were more grinding than fucking but it was so good, you were so good-

"Come on princess, you're almost there. Be a good girl and come for me and I'll give you a baby, I promise. Just need to feel you come on my cock."

You bite his palm as he feels your cunt spasm and he only gets in another few thrusts before he's coming too and he hopes it takes. He presses his lips against your temple as you catch your breath and he continues to kiss your face as he feels himself soften inside of you.

Later, he'll clean the two of you up and finally get you under the covers. He'll get to hold you in his arms and feel what it's like to fall asleep with you. He'll also wake you up for another round so he can make sure Bug gets that little sibling he was now very excited to meet.

********

When Sukuna wakes up to you in his arms, he's debating waking you up for round three when he hears the sounds of sniffling and little footsteps outside. He gently moves your body off his arm and gives you a pillow to cuddle when your body turns to look for him. Your little pout in your sleep makes him feel bad for the trick but there's someone else who needs him right now.

Throwing on his pajamas, Sukuna makes his way out to the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

"Good morning, bug."

"Morning, 'kuna," your daughter is holding onto a little plush fox that Yuuji had won for her at an arcade a few weeks ago and she's still sniffling looking confused. He thinks he knows why.

"Your mom's asleep in my room, kiddo. She's okay, she's just sleeping."

"Why is she in there?"

This is a loaded question and Sukuna knows he should probably ask you on how you plan on introducing your relationship to your daughter, but he feels that same unsettled feeling when he looks at her sad face now that he had felt looking at your tears the night before.

Sukuna leans down and holds out his arms and Bug goes to him, trusting despite her confusion, and he picks her up and carries her to kitchen. He puts her down on the counter so she's as close to his eye level as she can get given her size and he decides to be honest with her.

"You know how I love your mom?" Bug nods her head and Sukuna feels warm. "Well she loves me too, so we decided we're going to share a room from now on."

"Forever?"

"Yeah kid, it's going to be forever."

"Can I sleep with you too?"

Sukuna smirks and then kisses her forehead. "Sometimes, but you're going to want to stay in your new big girl room I think. It's way cooler than the boring adult room."

"Big girl room?" Her eyes widen and there's a familiar gleam of ambition.

He's got her.

"Well now that it's your own room", and her eyes just get even bigger at that. "You're going to need all your own stuff to make it yours."

"All mine?"

"All yours, Bug. At least until you have a little brother or sister, you may have to share then. Would that be okay?"

"Yes!"

Bug jumps on the counter and then into Sukuna's arms and he holds her close to him as she burrows her face into his neck. He breathes in the smell of her hair and he's so relieved now that he knows she's going to stay here forever, that you both are.

"Does that mean we're going to stay with you?"

"Uh huh, you're stuck with me. I'm never leaving."

Bug pulls back and holds out her pinky finger. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid, I promise."

Many, many years from now, at your thirtieth wedding anniversary, Bug will stand up and tell the story about the day Sukuna became her dad. Her mom, her siblings, her Uncle Yuuji and many attendees will cry, but Sukuna will maintain his dry eyes and his dignity.

Or that's what anyone should say when asked.

He'll still kill a motherfucker.

That's it, it's the end! I may return to this universe in little drabbles but the main story is done! As a fatherless daughter, ending it with Bug was very necessary to me. I also think a big part of this story is Sukuna finding fulfillment in the family he was denied growing up(projecting is the name of the game here).

Much love.

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed. 

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

[seaweed-whump]

This is Creo

He's Rye's mentor and the IHN's golden boy, he specializes in preemptive missions and bringing villain in. More off the books he's also very good at getting information out of the villains he brings back.

It's not as relevant to the actual plot but Creo also found Blitz and brought them back to the Center, at the time he was a trainee himself and partnered with Wren. That team didn't work out very well due to uh. moral differences