#like you just made that up. who said he was a full time caretaker

[fruitpunchjollyrancher]

>opens disco elysium tag and sees jeancourse >ask if the point is real or headcanon >they don't understand >pull out fayde >they laugh and say "it's a good point sir" >read the post >it's headcanon

[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（╹◡╹）♡!

[pshcomforts]

➳ broken love | psh.

dad!sunghoon x mom!femreader

“every time i think of you, it’s just killing me”

synopsis: you and sunghoon still see each other whenever your guys’ daughter, seo-ji, is dropped off to one another — and it’s obvious you two still love each other, even after the divorce papers were finalized.

warnings/content: written in third pov. angsty fluff(?) — mostly angst. kind of aged up(?). not proofread. cursing (i think). unresolved tension. mentions of pregnancy. reader used to hate kids (lmao).

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: part two — ₊˚ʚ try again ɞ˚₊

fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend).

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: broken love by gemini

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:48 ───|──────────────── 2:04

y/n’s heart was heavy with the burden of being at his doorstep.

“you got this,” she mumbled to herself, knocking the door with shaky hands.

a happy scream of a child was made, one that she knew at heart. her face lit up at the instant yell, already recognizing that it was no other than her adorable daughter, seo-ji.

“mommy’s here! mommy’s here!” the little kid screamed at the other end.

little shakes of the doorknob were heard before it opened to who she expected; her daughter and of course, her ex-husband, park sunghoon.

she felt her heart slightly shatter at the sight of him, anxiety taking over inch by inch.

“hey y/n,” he awkwardly said. her head nodded in response — “hey sunghoon.”

there was quick tension between them, both truthfully not knowing what to say after coming to terms of the divorce.

they still loved each other, longed for each other in fact.

“mommy!” their baby girl intruded, arms opening wide at the sight of her caretaker.

y/n’s face instantly lit up at her little girl, embracing the sweet hug she offered. “hey princess, how was your day with daddy?” she exclaimed with kisses around her daughter’s cheeks.

seo-ji giggled at the act with an utter — “mommy, stop!!”

the mom smiled at her, noticing her light dimples on display inherited from her father.

“it was good! daddy couldn’t stop talking about you and him though!!”

her sudden callout made y/n look at her ex-husband, finding him in a small blushing state.

“aish seo-ji, you said my secret was safe with you!!” he quickly exclaimed to avert her gaze, hands immediately finding their way to his daughter — tickling her all around.

y/n’s eyes softened at the sight, lips automatically upturning to a sweet smile. she missed this, the feeling of being a happy family.

when the giggles from seo-ji soon drowned out, she ran to go get her stuff from the apartment, leaving the two divorcees alone with each other.

they both quickly became awkward and tense like earlier. their hesitant glances towards one another were evidence that their relationship was on good terms only for their daughter, and perhaps more.

but for the time being, everything and anything was uncomfortable between them.

“so.. heard from jake that you have a date tonight?” y/n suddenly blurted, trying to break the ice.

the male’s head shot up. “hm? oh yeah..,” he paused — “sunoo just set it up for me, and practically begged me to go so…,” his voice weakened at the end with an awkward chuckle spurted out.

she nodded at his reasoning in return— “that’s good..,” she slightly trailed off at the end.

“and you?” he squeaked.

y/n gave a small laugh with a shake on her head. “oh no.. my life revolves around our little girl now. she will always have my full attention.” her eyes shifted from sunghoon to her daughter in the background, hearing the rushed talks from seo-ji as she tried to swiftly gather her belongings.

“she’s my life,” she murmured with a smile she didn’t know she had.

as her gaze stayed on their little girl, sunghoon kept his on her. his eyes sparkled with love that he still had for her — love that had never been resolved.

he missed her and her warmth. just everything about her, really.

but the divorce between them was still fresh, giving them fresh wounds to heal from — wounds that had been cut open from their constant fights and arguments.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

“sunghoon, please.” y/n sighed in a groggy expression.

“i’m tired too, can’t you see that? you can’t be the only one acting tired here.” he reverted back with a slight eye roll.

“i’ve been watching her all day, you were barely home.”

“you think i’d rather be out, doing work?” he spat. “i’d much rather stay home with our little girl, but does it look like i have a choice? i’m trying to provide for us.”

the girl groaned. “i’m trying to let seo-ji have a good life, you think that she can do that with only me?”

sunghoon clicked his tongue in annoyance as he slightly walked away. his hands were firmly on his hips as he uttered, “did you not just hear me? i want the best for my daughter too, i want to be there too. you’re the one who gets to be with her, i don’t.”

she sighed at his words, heart breaking down each time she let it ring in her ears. she was glad her baby was staying with min-su and her partner, heeseung for the night. the couple came to pick her up towards the end of the day, giving her and sunghoon a moment to say things.

and with their raised voices and constant arguing, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for them. otherwise, it would’ve woken her sweet girl.

“sunghoon..,”

she watched him roll his watery eyes. “what?” he croaked in a weakened tone, voice cracking with every strength he had to hold back his breakdown.

she didn’t continue, letting his eyes meet hers so they could speak their worries through the dreaded gaze.

“this isn’t working..,”

he sighed at the painful truth. “i know… it’s not.”

the two were sat a few feet away from each other as they came to terms of their situation. constant miscommunication and bottled feelings drifted their relationship apart.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“okay, mommy, ready!” seo-ji yelled, quickly clasping onto her mom’s hands. “bye daddy!”

y/n formed a half smile towards her old lover. “let me know when you’ll pick her up,” she mumbled.

sunghoon gave soft kisses towards his daughter before the two walked away — giving him memories of when he’d kiss his used-to-be girl goodbye whenever she left anywhere.

a faint sigh left his throat as he stumbled back into his apartment.

“i should get ready..,” he said to himself, walking away to his planned outfit.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“hey baby, what are you doing?” ji-woo sweetly uttered to her friend’s daughter.

“i’m trying to draw you, auntie ji-woo!” seo-ji yelled back.

a few giggles went around as min-su uttered, “ooh! me next!”

“okay! wait! i’m almost done!”

y/n’s little girl beamed an eye smile, causing ji-woo to say — “she has your eyes.”

“yeah, but she has her dad’s cute smile.” y/n responded, letting her gaze linger on seo-ji’s adorned features.

“so.. you heard about sunghoon right?” dae mumbled with a lip bite.

she quickly glanced at jungwon’s boyfriend before looking back at her daughter, who peered her head up at her dad’s name.

“daddy?” seo-ji whispered.

y/n smiled and nodded. “mhm, daddy’s going out with a friend tonight, that’s why you’re with me!” she gave a soft ruffle to her little girl’s wavy hair — inherited from her mom, of course.

“how long will he be gone? i miss him.”

“you miss him? but i’m with you! how could you miss him when mommy is right here?” y/n pouted, hiding her grin.

“your mommy’s sad now, seo-ji! what are you gonna do!” yelled min-su with a slight gasp.

“oh no!” dae beamed.

“noo! i’m sorry!” seo-ji quickly exclaimed, jumping on her feet to comfort her mom. “help me, auntie min-su and uncle dae! ..mommy??” she poked her mom’s arm.

y/n peeked down at her and found her bulged, puppy eyes melting her heart instantly.

“i’m sorry! i like you just as much as i like daddy!”

“like? you don’t.. love?” the mom teased with a plastered grin.

“oh my gosh, your daughter’s trying to apologize to you!” dae chimed in, playfully scoffing.

y/n huffed out mounds of laughter in her stomach before forgiving her empathetic daughter. she tucked a few hair strands behind her ears, placing soft kisses on her forehead while murmuring, “i forgive you, seo-ji. are you hungry?”

the little girl furiously nodded her head as min-su uttered — “me too!” — followed by ji-woo and dae to chime in as well, causing y/n to laugh with a healing heart.

her daughter and her friends were all she needed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

seo-ji remained in the dining room area, eating with rolled up sleeves and a tied hair done by her mom.

y/n and her three friends were near but stayed closer to the living room, carefully hearing for the little girl just in case something happened.

“she eats just like you,” min-su said with a slight snort.

her words caused a wide chuckle to erupt out of her friend. “seo-ji’s been with me a lot so i wouldn’t be surprised if she ate just like me.” y/n murmured back with her eyes staring at her daughter.

“are you really okay with the whole sunghoon thing though?”

she glanced at ji-woo who said it, but only nodded.

“nothing much i can do about it, he’s moving on.”

her heart tore a little, ripping open another wound in her chest that was barely healing. she didn’t like how every sentence she spewed left a bitter taste in her mouth, but what else could she do?

“i’m really sorry for how things turned out..,” one of her friends sympathetically said to her.

“it’s okay.. my little girl is all i need.” she murmured, glancing at seo-ji who was just about done.

“mommy! i’m done!”

just as y/n was about to get up, ji-woo stood first.

“don’t worry girl, i’ll get her.”

before the mom could protest, her friend had already rushed to seo-ji. a small smile formed on her face, feeling grateful for all three.

“come on, seo-ji, let’s wash your hands!”

“auntie ji-woo, where’s uncle jake? he’s always here.”

the two walked away to the bathroom, giving ji-woo the chance to give her reasoning that no uncles except dae would join for tonight.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a few hours in, and seo-ji was wrapped in y/n’s arms now.

the little girl was settling into her nap time, eyes closing in an instant with the comforting warmth her mom radiated.

y/n continued to tuck a few wavy hair strands away from her daughter’s face, gaze fixated on every gorgeous feature she inherited from her and sunghoon combined.

“i never thought i’d actually see you become a mom.” ji-woo confirmed with a proud smile.

“we’re proud of you,” dae added in.

“you used to always hate kids, but now here you are, having one of your own in your arms.” min-su softly uttered, careful to not wake her niece.

everyone’s eyes gathered on the little girl who was softly snoring in her sleep.

y/n’s eyes were softened the most.

she did, in fact, hate kids, but she loved and cherished her daughter — her daughter, who she never imagined to have.

“it feels like we’ve seen you grown up,” ji-woo continued her sad talk. “remember when you always told us that you and sunghoon would be the last to have kids out of all of us?”

the four broke out into laughter as they thought back to their years of being in college.

“yeah..,” y/n’s heart sank as she remembered how good her and sunghoon used to be. “we were so sure of ourselves that we’d have kids after you all had yours too. we were so bad with handling kids before we had our little girl.”

she smiled back at the memory before hearing dae intrude — “now look at you, you were the first to have a kid.”

“me and heeseung next,” min-su prompted, causing hushed laughter to fill the air.

y/n beamed a wide grin afterwards, standing up to settle her baby down in the bedroom.

after doing it with ease, she walked back out and found dae specifically sitting where she had told sunghoon she was pregnant.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

“gorgeous, what happened??” sunghoon bursted out the door, heavy breaths of air leaving his lungs.

he clenched onto his chest with his eyes sewed shut, desperately gasping for oxygen as his girlfriend stayed sitting on the couch in silence.

“y/n? you okay?” he said in a softer tone. “what’s wrong?”

“sunghoon..,” she whimpered.

her head turned to meet his gaze, and almost immediately, her reddened eyes that were puffed from her tears worried the poor boy.

“hey, hey, why are you crying?” he attempted to comfort, arms immediately bringing her into his embrace.

“hoonie…,” she quietly called again.

sunghoon pulled away with a comforting hand placed on her cheek.

“what’s wrong, pretty?”

“i’m..,” y/n sighed with a heavy heart, feeling a lump in her throat as she uttered, “i’m pregnant.”

the male paused every muscle movement in his body. “w..what? you’re what?” he said in denial.

“i’m pregnant,” she repeated, fingers fidgeting around little picks of skin.

it now added up for sunghoon — all of why she was suddenly moody, why her period was delayed, why she kept talking about feeling sick — the girl he loved was pregnant.

a gasp of air left him as he grinned ear to ear, heart feeling full with the thought of a baby on the way.

“you’re pregnant,” he reiterated with an upbeat tone. “you’re really pregnant.” he quickly stood on his feet before yelping in joy. tears were quick to fill his eyes as he felt like someone who had just won the lottery.

as her boyfriend continued to celebrate, y/n stayed sitting, chewing on her lips in fear.

“sunghoon.. please sit..,”

the boy quickly obliged, though his excitement still seeped through him in every way possible.

slowly, her eyes trailed up to meet his. and almost instantly, her heart fluttered at how handsome he looked — but it shattered within seconds of the news she was gonna deliver to him.

“i don’t know if i want this…,” she cracked out.

“o..oh…,” hoon blinked with a dry throat. “you don’t want to keep the baby?”

y/n quickly shook her head, tears already filling her eyes for the worst outcome.

but his hands placed itself on hers, letting his fingers cling around to reassure while he continued — “it’s your decision, gorgeous, i won’t force you.”

she shot her head up at him, and sunghoon only pushed his lips together to form a confirming smile.

“having a baby with you is what i want, but just not right now. we’re too young, and we’re both barely starting life and-“

her constant blabbering was shut up by a quick peck on the lips from her boyfriend. “we are young, y/n, but this decision is entirely up to you. i want this with you, and i want to be a dad but if you decide that you don’t want to yet, then that’s okay.”

sunghoon’s thumb rubbed little strokes on her crying cheeks as he spoke with his caring eyes.

he wanted the baby, but he wanted y/n more.

“can i think about this first?” she uttered with sparkling eyes.

his thick brows knitted together to convey how she could even question a thing like that. “of course you can, pretty girl. think about it, and let me know.”

the boy placed a sweet and comforting kiss on his girl’s forehead before pulling her into a hug.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

what broke y/n’s heart the most was how the stress of raising a child never bothered to pop into their head until later — when the continuous struggles got to the soon-married couple.

all they wanted was to be a family, and all they wanted was to have their daughter have loving parents who were in a loving relationship.

and of course they had their moments of joy when everything felt perfect for a while.

like when sunghoon would sleep closely next to seo-ji when she was an infant after watching her all day, and his body would be facing toward his baby girl. then y/n would come home, find them softly snoring, and laugh silently to herself when catching onto her baby’s wavy hair contrasting with hoon’s messy hair that fell to the front of his face.

or when seo-ji would wake up in some mornings with a sudden, personal preference on which parent she wanted — it mainly being y/n. and their little girl would cling onto her, making sunghoon pout in return of how his daughter had most of his features but would much rather be with her mom. little complaints would leave his mouth, but he secretly loved to see his small family together.

or, when seo-ji was still one, and sunghoon remained persistent in going ice skating so the three went to an ice rink. their baby would be dressed in warm clothing with mini earmuffs and gloves wrapped around her hands. and hoon would carefully glide the little girl around, letting her get used to the constant slippery surface while y/n personally sat the ice skating out and recorded instead.

or even, when they’d go to gatherings planned by their friends and everyone would instantly go to seo-ji, leaving the exhausted parents to intertwine their hands and watch how much their friends adored their child. little murmurs of — “us next?” would constantly be heard all around while uncle jay would try and snatch her away from everyone else.

nothing could beat those fond memories that were shared upon sunghoon, y/n, and their special little girl, seo-ji.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a sigh left y/n as she walked to her ex-husband’s apartment. days had gone by since she was last here to pick her daughter up, and now she’s dropping her off once again.

“be good okay? i know daddy probably misses you a lot,” she muttered, hands moving her daughter’s strands of hair.

“mhm! i will!”

a few knocks on the door were made before it creaked open to the handsome man, sunghoon.

“daddy!” seo-ji yelled, quickly detangling her hands from her mom’s to jump into hoon’s arms.

“seo-ji! how’s my little girl?” he left constant kisses around her cheeks, causing little laughter to burst out of her.

y/n beamed a smile at the sight in front of her. she knew they weren’t a family anymore, but it was somewhat healing to know that they could still share loving moments like this.

she heard her old partner yell out in joy, laughing with their daughter and giving wide grins that still secretly lit up her heart.

she still loved him.

“alright, i’m gonna take off, but be good, seo-ji. i’ll come pick you up some time soon, okay?” y/n mumbled.

her baby girl stood with a pout. “you’re leaving already?” she frowned. “you can’t! i don’t want you to! just stay a little longer in daddy’s house.”

y/n immediately chuckled at her daughter’s words. “i have to go, i have to meet auntie ji-woo and them soon.”

seo-ji’s eyes were quickly filled with tears as her bottom lip puffed out. “please mommy..,”

the mom’s heart shattered at her words but she only sighed.

“i’m sorry baby, i’ll come soon though okay?”

her daughter sighed as well before giving a tight hug around her mom.

sunghoon watched his two girls with soft eyes, heart slightly melting at this cherishing memory.

he loved the little things like this when they were still together.

and the one thing that always made him fall in love with y/n even more was how she always mentioned her hatred for kids, but when their daughter came into their life, she immediately loved her with no resentment.

everything about y/n was his weakness and it still showed because —

he still loved her.

“i’ll miss you,” seo-ji muffled through her sobs.

“i’ll miss you too, seo-ji.” y/n pulled away, wiping the tears from her sweet girl as she placed a soft kiss on her cheeks. “have fun with dad though, he misses you a lot too.”

she glanced up to hoon with a half smile. “okay i have to go because if i’m any later, uncle dae will be scolding me! here’s her backpack.”

the girl raised the bag and allowed sunghoon to take it, letting his fingers softly graze against hers.

there was a flicker — a spark, almost, at their little touch.

something was obviously still alive between the two when they glanced up at each other, eyes quickly shifting back and forth with their unresolved tension.

a linger was made present in the air, both not wanting to break the locked gaze but needing to anyway.

y/n walked away after saying one last goodbye to her daughter, feeling heavily burdened at the weighed pressure in her heart; while sunghoon closed the door behind him, mind and heart painfully filled with the memory of his ex-wife, and the mere thought of how much he loved her.

they knew they couldn’t though.

they shouldn’t, for the sake of their daughter, seo-ji.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

a/n: i just wanted to say as well, that i see the requested oneshots in my inbox, and i will try my best to write them! but it may take me a while, so please be patient with me <3 also someone tell me if this oneshot came out okay bc i wrote this at 3am with tired eyes..

[gojomamashouse]

Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

��No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there’s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

[winterarmyy]

You know what I have been itching to write these days? A people pleaser reader with emotional withdrawal. Like…

All this time Bucky’s been so sweet and doting and she absolutely loves it. I mean it’s new, she’s not used to the princess treatment at all but Bucky makes it feel as if it is only natural for her to feel the butterflies in her chest every second he is near. In past relationships, she was always the one putting in all the effort, bending over backward to meet her partner's needs and keeping the peace. She was the one making sacrifices for the walking red flag she fell in love with. It became second nature to her; she was the caretaker, the fixer, the one who made sure everything was okay, even if it meant neglecting her own feelings.

But with Bucky, it's different. He is the embodiment of a green forest itself. 

Imagine that one day when Bucky came home after a rough mission, he was clearly not okay. She noticed immediately how his eyes, usually bright and full of warmth when he greeted her, were different this time. The usual sparkle, the affectionate heart eyes were replaced by something darker, more distant. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his brows were furrowed in a way that told her something was wrong. When he walked through the door, there was no familiar rush to scoop her up in his arms, no playful toss onto the bed, and no smothering her with kisses. 

Instead, Bucky barely acknowledged her, walking right past her. He made a beeline to their bedroom, before she could say anything or follow him. She heard the bathroom door slam shut, the sound sharp enough to make her flinch. She tried to stay calm, telling herself it might have been just a loose screw, but deep down, she knew better. Bucky wasn’t feeling his best.

While he was in the shower, she decided to do something to help ease whatever burden was weighing on him. She brewed a pot of warm tea, the kind he always said helped calm his nerves, and prepared a plate of his favourite sweet snacks. She carefully placed them on the kitchen counter, hoping they’d bring him some comfort. But when she went back to their room, her heart sank a little further. Bucky was dressing, his expression still harsh and rigid, the gentleness was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn’t bear the silence between them, the coldness that seemed to have seeped into their usually warm and loving space. So she tried to break it, her voice soft and tentative as she asked, “Are you okay?” Bucky didn’t reply, his back still turned to her as he tugged on his shirt. The tension in the room was cutting, but she tried again, her tone gentle, almost coaxing, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right? I’m here for you.”

But Bucky was resolved to stay in his grumpy shell. When he finally spoke, his voice was deeper, rougher, and laced with an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “Y/N, please just stop, okay? I don’t need you hovering over me like I'm a damn child. Just leave me alone.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. He didn’t shout, not like her exes used to, but the harshness in his tone was enough to scare her. A familiar fear crept up, the kind that made her feel like she might lose him at any moment, just like she had lost others before. Her mind spiraled into self-deprecation, the old voices in her head whispering that she was being annoying, that she needed to know her place, that he was right to push her away. She had overstepped, hadn’t she? She should have known better.

“Okay,” she whispered, the word barely audible as it left her lips. Her eyes, once filled with concern and care, shifted to something else; something colder, almost devoid of any emotion. Bucky noticed the change, but his chaotic mind, swirling with anger and frustration, couldn’t process it fully. So, all he did was watch as she turned and walked out of the room, leaving him alone.

Just as he had asked her to.

Imagine how she shuts herself down from that moment on, as if she went into auto-pilot. She still goes to work, sleep and eat properly, all her daily routine was the same but she completely left Bucky alone. She does not necessarily avoid him, but she didn’t reach for him either. She’d let him touch her, kiss her, but she would never touch him herself, she didn’t seek for him, she didn’t make eye contact unless necessary, and even if he’s close by she’d act as if he is not there and continue doing what she was doing.

It took Bucky a few days to return to his senses. And this dumbass boy thought that she was okay; all because she didn’t avoid him, or glared at him, or yell at him when he apologized. It took him a week after to notice she actually never covered from that night. It was in the little things; the way she no longer met his gaze with the same warmth, how she seemed distant even when she was sitting right beside him, how her smiles never quite reached her eyes anymore. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks: she had never been okay.

Panic began to well up inside him, gnawing at his insides. He had to fix this, had to make things right. So, he gently sat her down, taking her hands in his. “What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly, fear lacing his words. But when she looked at him, her eyes were dull, empty; so different from the vibrant, loving gaze he was used to.

“Nothing’s wrong, what do you mean?” she replied, her tone flat and devoid of emotion. It was those words, so calm yet so cold, almost robotic. Like she was programmed to reply him as such. And that, shattered whatever composure Bucky had left.

Imagine how hurtful it was to see her like this, he’d grovel like he had never before. But deep down, knowing no amount of ‘sorry’ and sweet words will fix this. So from that day onwards, he’d show how much he loved her through his actions.

He became more attentive than usual to her every need, trying to anticipate what would make her life a little easier, a little brighter. He’d wake up early to make her favourite breakfast, he’d kiss her good morning and good night, but never initiates anything more.

He’d whisper “I love you.” every chance he got. He’d quietly  take on more of the household chores. He’d brush his fingers through her hair as they watched TV together, offering the comfort without expecting anything in return. He was gentle, never pushing her to talk or to be anything other than what she was in that moment.

He’d leave little gestures of love for her to find later; a favourite snack left on her desk, or a small bouquet of flowers on her pillow. He’d  play the songs they used to dance to in the living room, silently inviting her to join him if she felt like it.

But more than anything, Bucky showed his love through patience. He didn’t rush her, didn’t demand that she snap back to who she was before.

And by time, he'd noticed the slight changes. He’d notice how, when he reached out to touch her, she didn’t just tolerate it anymore; she started to lean into his touch, just a little. Her eyes, too, started to change. Where they had once been dull and empty, he began to see the slightest flicker of emotion return.

Sometimes, when he surprised her with a small act of kindness; a cup of tea waiting for her, a blanket draped over her shoulders; her eyes would soften. Bucky also noticed how she began to respond to his presence. When he sat beside her, she would subtly shift closer. She’d linger just a little longer in his embrace when they hugged, and sometimes, she’d even reach out first, tentatively placing a hand on his arm or leaning her head against his shoulder.

These small gestures were like lifelines to Bucky. That she will come back to him, if not now then later. So in the end, he let her heal at her own pace, silently vowing to be there for her, even if it took forever for her to trust him again. 

And yeah, that’s the urge... to write or to read so...

no pressure tags: @sweetiebarnes , @bucksangel , @littlemiss-yeehaw , @flowersforbucky , @dearest-bucky, @sergeantbarnessdoll , @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , @buckets-and-trees , @buckys-wintersoldier , @bucks-babe , @ellemj , @buckyalpine , @lovelybarnes , @navybrat817 , @targaryenvampireslayer , @jobean12-blog , @all1e23 , @jessybarnes , @buckgasms , @nickfowlerrr , @espinosaurusrexex , @delaber , @buckylattes

[atlasthegreatest]

A Nigth to Remember / Sam Carpenter x Precott! Male Reader

Sam Carpenter finally stops being the caretaker and starts being taken care of by Y/n Prescott— the man who makes her feel more carefree and happy. Meanwhile, Tara feels a surge of jealousy for not being the center of her sister’s attention.

Word count:

A/n: Jealous Tara. Slight make-out scene. Fluff and more fluff. And a slight participation of “A Night Out” reader.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

Sam Carpenter sat in front of her mirror, smoothing down her hair and nervously checking her reflection for the hundredth time. Tonight was special. She hadn’t been on a real date in a while—especially not one planned by Y/n—Sidney Prescott’s oldest son— who had stolen her breath the moment they met. Tonight, she was stepping into something new, something exciting, and she couldn’t help but feel both giddy and anxious.

Just as she stood up to leave her room, Tara appeared at the door, arms crossed, an exaggerated frown on her face.

“Going somewhere, Miss Carpenter?” Tara teased, though there was an undeniable edge of envy in her voice.

Sam rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her dress. “Yes, Tara, I have a date.”

“Oh, I know,” Tara grumbled, her arms tightening around her body. “It’s just… why do you get to go out with him? You’ve been talking about him all week. It’s disgusting.”

A laugh escaped Sam as she grabbed her purse. “Tara, don’t be jealous. It’s just one date.”

Tara’s boyfriend, who had been lounging on the couch in the living room, overheard the conversation and chimed in. “Aww, Tara, are you jealous that your sister’s going out with someone else? You’ve got me,” he joked, a playful smirk on his face.

Tara shot him a look. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her boyfriend only laughed harder.

Sam gave them both a parting wave and made her way downstairs, where Y/n was waiting. He stood by his car, dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a bouquet that took Sam completely by surprise.

“Wow,” she said, feeling her heart race. “You really went all out.”

Y/n smiled that easy, confident smile of his. “Only the best for you, Sam.”

As the evening unfolded, it became clear that Y/n wasn’t holding back. They dined at one of the city’s finest restaurants, a candlelit table in the corner offering a cozy atmosphere as soft music played in the background. The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, laughter breaking out over shared stories and memories.

Y/n made sure Sam never had to lift a finger—he poured her wine, ordered for her, and even pulled out her chair like a true gentleman. By the time they finished dessert, Sam was feeling thoroughly spoiled and more relaxed than she had in a long time.

After dinner, Y/n took her on a moonlit walk by the river, the cool night air swirling around them. He bought her ice cream, even though they were both too full, just because Sam mentioned offhand how much she loved it.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” Sam said as they sat on a bench overlooking the water. She was touched by how thoughtful he had been throughout the night.

Y/n shrugged, his smile soft. “I wanted to. You deserve to be treated like this.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, she leaned against him, letting the warmth of his presence chase away the chill of the night.

Meanwhile, back at home, Tara sat on the couch, her arms still crossed in a defensive posture. Her boyfriend sat next to her, still grinning.

“You know, you really are jealous,” he teased, nudging her lightly. “It’s kinda cute.”

“I am not jealous,” Tara shot back, though the blush rising in her cheeks betrayed her. “I just… It’s weird seeing Sam like that, okay? She’s my big sister. She’s supposed to be tough, not all… soft and dreamy-eyed.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, throwing an arm around her. “Maybe you’re just used to being the center of attention, huh?”

Tara’s eyes narrowed at him, but she couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Don’t push it.”

He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a playful kiss to her temple. “Come on, Tara, admit it—you miss her.”

Tara sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But still… it’s weird.”

“Relax, she’ll be back soon, and you can interrogate her all about her fancy date. I’m sure you’ll get all the details,” her boyfriend teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tara rolled her eyes but secretly she couldn’t wait to hear everything. Maybe she was a little jealous, but more than anything, she wanted to know that Sam was happy—and by the looks of it, she was.

————————-

Later that night, when Sam returned home, her cheeks were still flushed from the evening’s excitement. As soon as she stepped inside, Tara was right there, practically jumping up from the couch.

“Well? How was it?” Tara demanded, her arms now unfolding as she gave her sister an expectant look.

Sam grinned, eyes twinkling. “It was… amazing.”

Tara crossed her arms again, her lips pressed into a pout. “Ugh, you’re unbearable.”

Sam laughed and reached out to ruffle Tara’s hair. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

As Tara sulked, her boyfriend nudged her again, grinning. “Told you she’d love it.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

But even as she pretended to be annoyed, Sam could see the small smile pulling at the corners of Tara’s lips. Beneath the teasing and the jealousy, she knew Tara was happy for her.

And that made the night even more perfect.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Tara’s obvious attempt to hide her curiosity. Tara’s faux annoyance melted into genuine interest, and Sam could feel her sister’s attention locked on her. It was something Sam loved about her—no matter how much she acted jealous, Tara always cared deeply.

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you details,” Sam said, sitting down beside Tara. “But you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it.”

Tara’s eyes lit up as she scooted closer. “No promises, but spill!”

Sam recounted the evening—about how Y/n had taken her to a beautiful restaurant, how he had been attentive and charming the entire time, and how the night had ended with a walk by the river. Tara hung onto every word, occasionally interrupting with a “Wait, he did that?” or “You’re seriously telling me he got you ice cream after dinner?”

When Sam mentioned how Y/n pulled out her chair, Tara made a face. “Okay, now I’m really jealous. I have to fight for attention and here you are getting treated like a princess.”

Her boyfriend, who had been listening with amusement, chimed in again. “Come on, Tara, don’t act like I haven’t taken you out. Remember last week when we—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tara interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But he didn’t get me flowers and ice cream. That’s a whole other level.”

Sam shook her head, laughing at their banter. It was always like this—Tara’s teasing was a shield for the way she felt, but underneath it all was the warmth of sisterhood that they both cherished.

“So… what’s the deal with him?” Tara asked, her voice softening as she leaned in, genuinely curious now. “Is it serious?”

Sam felt a flutter in her stomach, unsure how to answer. She had felt a connection with Y/n, no doubt about that, but it was still so new. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I think I like him, but… you know how things are. Life’s complicated.”

Tara frowned slightly. “Yeah, I get it. But Sam, you deserve to be happy. Don’t overthink it.”

Her boyfriend chimed in with a chuckle, “Says the queen of overthinking.”

Tara shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

Sam smiled, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. It was nice to have Tara’s support, even when it came with a side of good-natured jealousy. She leaned back on the couch, letting the warmth of the room and the company of her loved ones wrap around her like a blanket.

But Tara wasn’t done yet.

“So, what about me? Do I get to meet him or what? I need to see if he passes the test.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The test?”

“Duh! I have to make sure he’s good enough for you. And don’t think I’ll go easy on him just because he’s Sidney Prescott’s son.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Her boyfriend leaned in, nudging Tara again. “You’re just mad because you wanted to be spoiled like that.”

Tara sighed dramatically, throwing her arms up. “Maybe! I want the fancy dinner and the ice cream, okay? Is that so wrong?”

Sam and Tara’s boyfriend both laughed, but Sam could see the sincerity in her sister’s eyes. Tara’s protectiveness wasn’t just about jealousy; it was about making sure Sam was taken care of. It was something that had always been mutual between them. Tara might tease, but Sam knew she’d be the first one in line to defend her.

“Fine,” Sam said with a playful sigh. “You can meet him. But you better behave.”

Tara grinned triumphantly. “Oh, I’ll behave. Just enough to scare him.”

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow. “Scare him? You? Nah, I think he’ll be more worried about you stealing Sam’s spotlight.”

Tara smirked. “He should be. I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

Sam shook her head, chuckling. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle both of us.”

As the night wore on, the three of them continued to talk and joke, with Tara stealing glances at Sam as if she were trying to unravel the mystery of her sister’s new romance. Beneath the teasing and the banter, there was something deeper—a sense that Sam was finally opening a new chapter in her life, and Tara, despite her jealousy, was right there beside her, ready to cheer her on.

Before long, the living room quieted, and Tara’s boyfriend stretched his arms, stifling a yawn. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night. Besides, Sam’s got more dates to plan with Mr. Perfect.”

Tara groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Now I’m going to have to hear about this all week.”

Sam grinned, leaning over to give her sister a quick hug. “You’ll live, Tara.”

Tara hugged her back, albeit begrudgingly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off being pampered by your prince charming.”

“I could never forget you,” Sam said softly, squeezing Tara’s shoulder.

Tara smiled, her jealousy melting into genuine affection. As Sam stood to head to bed, she heard Tara whisper to her boyfriend, “I hope he treats her right. She deserves it.”

And in that moment, Sam knew—no matter what happened with Y/n, no matter where her life took her—she would always have Tara by her side, teasing, protecting, and loving her in her unique way.

————————

Tara paced back and forth in the living room, her fingers drumming against her sides. Tonight was the night she was finally meeting Y/n Prescott, the guy who had completely swept Sam off her feet. And even though Sam had been gushing about how sweet and caring he was, Tara wasn’t sold yet.

Her boyfriend, lounging casually on the couch, watched her with amusement. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Tara shot him a glare. “I’m not pacing. I’m… preparing.”

He snorted. “Right. Preparing to grill this guy like he’s applying for a job.”

“Damn right,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “Nobody gets to just waltz in and date Sam without passing my test.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her protective big-sister act. “You do realize Sam’s a grown woman, right? She can handle herself.”

“I know that,” Tara said defensively. “But someone’s gotta make sure he’s not just all charm and no substance.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Tara’s stomach flipped. She glanced at her boyfriend, who gave her a mischievous grin. “Moment of truth.”

Tara inhaled deeply and marched to the door, pulling it open to reveal Y/n standing there. He was tall— very tall, well-dressed, and handsome in a polished, put-together way. He held a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand, and his other was casually interlocked with Sam’s. Tara’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight—this was the guy who had Sam all googly-eyed?

Beside Y/n, Sam was practically glowing. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling as she stood next to him.

“Hey,” Sam said, a bit too cheerfully. “Y/n, this is my sister, Tara. And that,” she nodded toward the living room, “is her boyfriend.”

Y/n extended a hand to Tara first, his smile polite and calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tara. Sam talks about you all the time.”

Tara squinted at him, sizing him up as she took his hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you, too. You’ve set some high expectations, you know.”

Y/n chuckled lightly. “I hope I can live up to them.”

Tara raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped aside, letting Y/n and Sam come in. Her boyfriend stood up, offering Y/n a nod and a casual handshake. “Nice to meet you, man. Good luck—you’ll need it,” he joked.

Y/n laughed, clearly understanding the lighthearted warning but not intimidated by it. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

As they moved into the living room, Tara watched carefully. Her eyes flicked between Sam and Y/n, looking for any sign that this guy wasn’t as perfect as Sam had been making him out to be. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.

Sam settled onto the couch next to Y/n, and immediately, Y/n’s hand found hers again, lacing their fingers together. It was a small, almost unconscious gesture, but Tara noticed the way Sam’s face softened. Y/n didn’t say much, but the way he looked at Sam—the quiet adoration in his eyes—made Tara pause. There was no pretense, no show. He genuinely cared for her.

Still, Tara wasn’t going to let her guard down just yet.

“So, Y/n,” Tara started, leaning forward a bit, “what exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Sam groaned, shooting Tara a glare. “Tara, seriously?”

But Y/n just smiled. “My intentions?” He glanced at Sam before turning his attention back to Tara, his expression sincere. “I like Sam—a lot. I care about her, and I just want to make her happy. That’s all.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed again, but she couldn’t find anything in his words to pick apart. He was too calm, too composed.

As the conversation flowed, Y/n continued to be attentive to Sam in the smallest, most genuine ways. He listened when she spoke, leaning in slightly as if hanging on every word. When Sam laughed, he’d smile softly, clearly enjoying just seeing her happy. And when Sam shifted on the couch, Y/n instinctively reached for her hand again, pulling it into his lap as though it was second nature.

At one point, when Sam mentioned being cold,Y/n didn’t hesitate—he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without a word. The simple, thoughtful gesture caught Tara off guard. Sam smiled, her cheeks tinged pink as she snuggled into the jacket, glancing at Y/n with that same dreamy look Tara had teased her about.

Tara’s boyfriend, watching the scene unfold, leaned toward her and whispered, “Come on, Tara, admit it. He’s a good guy.”

Tara huffed, not ready to give in just yet. “Maybe. I’m still watching.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

For the rest of the evening, Y/n continued to win over Tara’s boyfriend with easy conversation, discussing movies and music, while Sam remained comfortably tucked beside him, a soft smile on her face. And as much as Tara hated to admit it, she couldn’t find a single reason to dislike him. He wasn’t just some charming smooth-talker. He was thoughtful, caring, and—most annoyingly—genuine.

By the time Y/n stood to leave, Tara had begrudgingly decided that maybe—maybe—he wasn’t so bad.

“Well,” Tara said, crossing her arms as she walked them to the door, “you’re not terrible.”

Y/n chuckled, taking it as the highest form of praise. “I’ll take that.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Tara, but there was an underlying gratitude in her expression. Tara might not have said it outright, but Sam could tell that her little sister had warmed up to Y/n, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

As Y/n opened the door to step out, he turned back to Sam, his hand reaching for hers once again. He pulled her in for a gentle, affectionate kiss on the forehead, making Sam’s heart flutter visibly in front of them.

Tara watched the whole thing, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she was used to being Sam’s protector, used to being the one to keep an eye out for her. But seeing someone else care for her so deeply—seeing Sam genuinely happy—was something she couldn’t ignore.

After Y/n and Sam said their goodbyes, Tara stood at the door, arms still crossed, watching them walk off into the night. Her boyfriend came up beside her, nudging her lightly.

“So,” he said with a smirk, “still jealous?”

Tara sighed dramatically but smiled. “Fine. He’s okay. But if he breaks her heart, I’m breaking his face.”

Her boyfriend laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

As they stood there, Tara felt a sense of peace wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, Sam had finally found someone who would treat her the way she deserved. Tara still wasn’t going to make it easy for Y/n, but for the first time, she could relax a little. Her sister was in good hands.

Bonus chapter:

It had been a long day and Tara was in no mood for anything but lounging on the couch and watching something mind-numbing on TV. Her boyfriend was on his way with snacks, and she was looking forward to unwinding. She had just slipped into her sweats when she noticed something odd— Sam's door was closed.

Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal, but Sam had mentioned that she'd be out for most of the day. Plus, she hadn't heard the front door open, so when did Sam come home? And more importantly, why was the door closed? Suspicious, Tara moved down the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she approached.

Maybe Sam was just resting or getting ready for a night out with Y/n. But something felt off. Tara paused, her ear pressed against the door. She couldn't hear much, just muffled voices. A normal person might have left it alone, but Tara was anything but normal when it came to protect her sister. She knocked, lightly at first.

"Sam?" she called out, her voice curious but casual.

There as no immediate answer. Instead, she heard a quick shuffle, followed by hushed voices. Tara's suspicion greww, her patience wearing thin.

"Sam, what are you doing in there?"

Still no response. Okay, something was definitely up.

Without thinking, Tara pushed the door open. And what she saw next was not what she had been expecting.

There, in the dimly lit room, she found Sam and Y/n-- Sam pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around his neck, and Y/n leaning into her, his hands firmly on her waist. They were kissing, deeply, passionately, and entirely unaware of Tara's presence.

Tara froze, her eyes widening, her brain struggling to catch up to what she was seeing. She was used to seeing Sam as her tough, no-nonsense sister, but this-- this was a side of her she had never expected to witness. And Y/n? Well, he looked way too comfortable with his hands on her sister for her liking.

The shock turned quickly to panic, and Tara let out an awkward, horrified, "OH, MY GOD."

Both Sam and Y/n jerked apart like they had been electrocuted. Sam's face turned beet red, her hair messy from their, well, activities, and Y/n looked like a deer caught in headlights, his hands slowly releasing their grip on Sam as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Tara!" Sam yelped, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "W-what the hell?"

Tara's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. She was still standing there, her brain short-circuiting. She had seen her sister and Y/n holding hands and kissing before, but this—this was a whole other level. Her protective instincts flared up, even though she knew logically that Sam as an adult and perfectly capable of making her own choices.

Y/n, meanwhile, awkwardly stepped back, trying to straighten his shirt while offering Tara a sheepish smile. "Uh, hey, Tara."

"Hey, Tara?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Hey, Tara?! What the— what the hell are you two doing?"

Sam groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. "It's not what it looks like."

Tara's eyes widened. "Really? Because it looks like you were—" She gestured wildly between them. "—this close to doing stuff I really, really don't want to think about right now!"

Y/n scratched the back of his neck, looking genuinely mortified. "We weren't...I mean, it's not..."

Tara shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "You shut up. You don't get to speak right now."

Sam's face was still red, but her irritation with Tara was starting to bubble to the surface. "Okay, can you please stop acting like I'm a teenager sneaking around? I'm a grown woman, Tara. And don't talk like that to Y/n."

Tara shook her head, still in disbelief. " Grown woman or not, I didn't need to see that!" She then looked at Y/n with narrowed eyes. "And you—what, you think just because you're all nice and charming, you can just... just—"

Y/n held his hands up in surrender. "Tara, seriously, I didn't mean--"

"Didn't mean what? Make out with my sister against the wall like some... like some teenage boy who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Sam groaned again, this time more in frustration than embarrassment. "Tara, stop! You're being ridiculous. We were just... kissing. It's a normal thing that couples do."

"Normal?!" Tara's voice cracked as she pointed between them again. "That was not just kissing, Sam! That was... I don't even know what was, but I was not ready for it!"

Her boyfriend, having just walked through the front door, came down the hall and appeared behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What did I just walk into?"

Tara spun around, flustered and still trying to process everything. "I walked in on them—" she gestured wildly again toward Sam and Y/n, "—practically attacking each other."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Tara, it wasn't an attack."

Y/n, still looking like he wanted to disappear, shot Tara's boyfriend a pleading look. "This is...very awkward."

Tara's boyfriend snickered, shaking his head. "Man, you've got guts. Making out with Sam while Tara's home? You're braver than I thought."

Tara shot her boyfriend a glare, but he just grinned at her, completely unfazed. "What? I mean, he's got some nerve, I'll give him that."

Tara huffed and crossed her arms, turning her glare back to Y/n. "I can't believe this. I thought you were all nice and gentlemanly. Turns out you're just like the rest of them."

Sam's patience finally snapped. "Okay, enough. I don't need you playing the overprotective sister right now. I'm fine. Y/n's fine. We're both consenting adults. You don't need to freak out every time we're affectionate."

Tara blinked, her mouth opening to argue, but Sam's words stopped her, It wasn't that she didn't trust Y/n—it was just... weird. Seeing her big sister, her tough, guarded, independent sister, in such a vulnerable, intimate moment threw her off. She wasn't used to it, and it made her feel protective in a way that was probably unnecessary.

Tara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just... I wasn't ready for this, okay? You're my sister, and I'm still getting used to you having someone like— like him around."

Sam's face softened, her irritation fading. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Tara's arm. "I get it. I felt the same when you started going out with your boyfriend. But I'm happy, Tara. Y/n makes me happy."

Tara looked at Y/n, who was still standing awkwardly in the corner, his face a mixture of embarrassment and concern. Despite everything, she could see it in his eyes-- the care, the respect, and the genuine affection he had for Sam. It wasn't an act. He did love her.

Tara sighed again, her posture relaxing. "Fine. But next time, lock the door, for crying out loud."

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Noted."

Sam smiled softly at Tara. "Thanks."

Tara grumbled, not entirely over the shock, but willing to back off-- for now. "Yeah, yeah. Just... be more careful. I don't need to be scarred for life."

“Noted.”

[a-mint-bear]

Taking Care of Him

Male Yandere x Reader

Jacob is recovering from surgery, but the stubborn idiot can't seem to understand that he needs to be resting, not trying to run around and be his usual overly-helpful self. You're going to make get some rest, whether he likes it or not.

[previous Jacob posts and stories here]

"No, no, love..." He tried to keep you from pushing him back to the bedroom, unsuccessfully. "I wasn't trying to-"

______________________

You'd never gotten so annoyed with him before, to the point you were starting to get pissed off.

You shushed him, getting him back into bed and glaring at him. He shrank from you, looking guilty, but looking even more desperate.

Reminding him he was still recovering, you said that you would take care of dinner.

"But..." he started to whine. The look you gave him shut him up real quick. You never thought his eager-to-please nature would backfire like this, but you tried not to hold it against him.

The day you found him, you were supposed to go over to Jacob's place for dinner. He wanted to cook for you, as usual, and was a tiny bit critical that you didn't own a wok, or even a garlic press. And rather than making him lug that stuff over to your place, a nice dinner made by your boyfriend at his place was sounding pretty good.

______________________

Something seemed off when Jacob hadn't sent his usual dozen text messages that morning to tell you how excited he was to see you later. You felt a little nervous all day before you said "fuck it" and took off from work early to go see what was up.

He wasn't answering the door, but you were pretty sure he was home. His house key was the second thing he ever gave you, after his collar of course, so you were grateful for his tendency to jump milestones for once.

He was curled up on his couch with a high fever, clutching his side. The doctor told you later that his appendix was close to bursting when you found him. He was really out of it by the time the ambulance got to his house.

Jacob seemed so helpless, so it startled everyone when he almost punched the EMT that tried to check his pulse. You suspected he only missed because he was feeling disoriented. He clutched at his collar, it seemed to you that he thought someone was trying to take it off. No one held it against him, given his state.

He looked even more helpless laying there in his hospital bed post-surgery. You wondered if there was anyone you should call, but according to the nurse, his emergency contact was you. Not that that was surprising, in a way. It was perfectly on-brand for Jacob.

He was thrilled when you told him he'd be staying at your place while he recovered. He didn't need a full-time caretaker, but it made you feel better that you'd be around if something happened. As for Jacob, the thought of being with you every day for a couple of weeks? Sleeping together in your bed night after night? He couldn't wait!

______________________

Usually, Jacob pretty much always wanted your attention. You'd expected him to play up how helpless he was and use it as an "excuse" so you would spend more time with him. Not that you'd have to be convinced, but it was still cute to see him want you around so much.

But for him, who loved having you depend on him, it seemed like he had a hard time being taken care of. You could tell it hurt for him to do much just a few days after surgery, but you kept catching him up and about, trying to cook or clean or even just get the mail, even though you told him you would do it.

The only thing that seemed to make him actually rest and recover was making him think you were upset with him. And while you were getting annoyed, sure, you weren't actually trying to make him feel bad. But every time you came to check on him and found him doing something that was obviously strenuous, you had to put him in his place.

And not in a fun way.

You knew Jacob. You could be sweet and loving and tell him over and over how he could never be a burden. But it was only a band-aid. He only felt assured of your feelings when you showed him.

But in his current condition, you would have to... switch up your tactics.

When you got home from work near the end of the first week, he was actually in your bed for once. But he looked miserable, really looking like a sad little puppy dog. It would've been cute if it weren't so sad to see him like that.

"Oh." he brightened up. "Hi sweetheart. Welcome home."

He was trying to seem like his usual self, but you could tell he was still feeling rough. Between an appendectomy and all his other feelings, he was a lot more subdued.

You needed to see if your hunch was right.

______________________

Jacob had watched you running around for him for the last week, taking care of him and making sure he was comfortable.

It was the worst.

He loved staying at your place, and waking up next you every morning, being able to look at you and see you whenever he wanted...

But he was getting restless. You were back from work and he'd been doing just as you told him: Getting some rest so he could get better. But it was hard. Too much. It felt like it was too much and he couldn't tell you why.

You told him that you asked for tomorrow off so you could spend some time with him and get some chores done. Everything felt... wrong. His face felt hot, almost like... shame? He didn't feel that a lot. He didn't like it.

He stared down at the bed, clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap. A nervous habit of his from when he was a kid. You asked him if he was okay with that.

"Of... of course!" He smiled, hoping you didn't notice his panic. "I love spending time with you, love."

But it didn't feel like the right thing to say.

Growing up, he was never taught how to take care of himself, or even how to appreciate others doing things for you. Once he'd started living on his own, he learned how to do everything for himself. He didn't have friends or anyone to do nice things for, and he never really thought about doing things for anyone else.

Until he met you.

The first time he did something nice for you, it changed... something in him. You were taking a shower after a long day at work. He thought it might make him look good to make dinner for you, make him look more domestic in your eyes, your perfect guy. He made due with your... sparce ingredients and managed to pull off a nice meal.

When you saw what he did, he knew you'd love it. Love him. Want him to be around more. Make him yours. But when you actually tried the food and thanked him with a warm smile, he felt something he'd never felt before.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been genuinely praised by someone. It felt so... good. He rode the high for days, and ever since, he'd made doing things for you a huge part of your relationship. He wasn't a people pleaser, he only wanted to please you. No one else mattered.

When he could tell you knew something was up, he struggled against himself. What if he hurt you with what he was feeling? What if you resented him? What if you decided he wasn't worth the trouble? The thought tore him up inside.

But the way you looked at him...

"This... Laying here while you're doing everything for me... I know it's not for forever, but... I like..."

He took a deep breath, clenching his hands together even tighter. So tightly he was shaking. Everything felt so numb.

"I like being there for you, doing things to make you happy. I-if I'm not taking care of you... what if..."

You steadied his shaking hands, the warmth of your touch making him feel so small.

"What if you get sick of me?" For the first time since you met him, he wouldn't look you in the eye. "What if one day I can't take care of you and you... don't need me anymore?"

His eyes went wide when you suddenly grabbed him by his collar and sharply yanked him close.

He couldn't stop the startled moan when you kissed him. He noticed the care you took in not putting pressure on his stitches as you leaned into him, but you weren't gentle.

You kissed his neck, just above his collar. When he whimpered, squirming from the intense sensation, you wove your fingers into his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck to you again. The sharp sting in his scalp shot straight to his gut, every inch of him felt amazingly, wonderfully warm. You peppered the skin of his neck and chest with love bites and mark after mark, his gasps soon transformed into needy gasps and panting. He was overwhelmed, all his painful thoughts were consumed by you you you.

Softly muttering his name against his skin, he was losing himself to the sensation. He couldn't keep clenching his hands when you pinned them to the bed, keeping him from returning the favor when he reached for you. He should've felt ashamed at how selfish he wanted to be, how much he wanted you to make him feel good even now when you stopped him. But all of his shame and guilt washed away with every kiss. Every sweet word. Every loving and harsh touch alike.

Nothing else mattered but this feeling. You. You made everything in his life make sense, and he just wanted to be worthy of you.

When you pulled away, he wanted so badly to let you know how much you meant to him. How much he needed you. How he was nothing if he couldn't be yours. But all those gnawing thoughts in the dark corners of his mind seemed so quiet now.

You held his face in your hands, making him look at you. Your gaze on him was intense.

You told him.

I don't love you for the things you do for me, Jacob.

I love you because you're you.

Since he'd met you, he'd cried in front of you a few times. When he was worried and desperate and needed you to be his. When he was insecure and needy and hopeless... you always pulled him out of it, and it made him feel like he was yours.

But this felt different. Something broke inside. He was already so exposed and vulnerable, he couldn't stop this from tearing its way out of him. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he curled into himself, sobbing.

You stayed. You were going to do everything you could to make sure he knew you weren't going anywhere, to let him know he could count on you too.

______________________

His eyes were puffy as he hugged you from behind, wrapped around you like a koala, still sniffling. Somehow, you'd made the clingiest man alive even clingier. But no complaints from you.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was a little hoarse, but he wouldn't let you leave to get him water. "I didn't think I'd... get like that."

You told him there was no reason to be sorry. You offered him a compromise, if it would help start to make things better. If he was honest about when he was feeling cruddy and needed a break, he could help you around the house. With very light chores only. And if he could stick to it honestly until he was cleared by his doctor, you would reward him.

"Oh?" He smiled against the skin of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against his body. "What kind of reward?"

He was back to his whiny, needy self when you pulled away. You couldn't help but laugh at his exaggerated distress at being left "alone and unwanted", pouting like a sad little puppy dog. It was fixed easily enough with another kiss. So easy to please.

The kind of reward his doctor didn't recommend for another week or two at the least. And you'd make him wait until his stitches were removed if he acted like a brat.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love."

______________________

more Jacob for y'all, less yandere, more emotional confessions ✌️

i remember the winter i broke my arm. in my family, if someone was doing something, you got up and helped them, you didn't just sit there and get waited on

so when i kept trying to help my mom with chores with my arm in a sling, just a day after i'd slipped on the ice, i remember her getting so mad at me. like she couldn't figure out why i got so nervous sitting there doing nothing lol

Jacob needs to be needed, because if he's not, you might not want him anymore.

i've never had my appendix removed (or had major surgery for that matter) so timelines for recovery may be off, the internet is of differing opinions on how soon you can do stuff after

i don't think Jacob has a particular nickname for the reader, sweetheart and love are common for him, but if i tried to think of a different nickname for every yandere to use i'd go insane lol

[seaslugfanclub]

Hello! I just wanna say I really like your Disney Villain writings, they are funny and really cute! Can I request where the Disney villains are fighting over who is Y/N’s favorite villain? I thought it would be funny

Oooh great idea! This one was so much fun to write! (Can you tell that Honest John’s my favorite?)

No, I’m their favorite!!

————————————

No one knows how the conversation subject was brought up, but it more than ruined the villians weekly poker night. Curses filled the air and sidekicks where used as meat shields.

“I’m easily (Y/N)’s favorite person out of all of us, no- this entire park!! No one is better friends than Gaston!!” The Frenchman boasted, loose hair’s flying around his face. “They regularly compliment my physique, and they sneak me in special hair products!! There’s no room for argument!”

“Oh please frenchie, (Y/N) isn’t as daft as the other cast members. They have taste for more refined gentlemen. Like yours truly.” Captain Hook scoffed, ignoring the glares from the other villians. “Might I remind you how they gifted me the entire trilogy of ‘The History of Piracy’? Or how much they enjoy my culinary skills? They have supper with me every Tuesday.” Hook affirmed, more than confident he had bested the competition.

That was quickly interrupted by a swift *bonk* on Hooks head, Jafar looming over the ex- pirate with his staff in hand.

“While I agree with (Y/N)’s taste, it surely isn’t a cowardly captain.”

“Why you-” Hook started, only to be bonked on the head again.

“Why me? Well that’s easy, I’m a very persuasive individual. I’m able to… ‘charm’ those in upper management to give (Y/N) longer breaks, or keep any unsavory park guests from harassing our dear caretaker. (Y/N) obviously favors someone who makes their job easier.”

“Your joking right? Didn’t I see (Y/N) yell at you for 30 minutes straight because you were eyeing that princess Jasmine?” Hades chimes in, finally deciding to butt into the conversation after watching the other villians argue from the sidelines. Jafar stopped speaking, averting his eyes and mumbling.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. But c’mon guys, you know it’s ya boy here who’s (Y/N)’s number one pal.” Hades points his thumbs towards himself.

“I was one of the first people here who (Y/N) met, we knew each from day uno. I can’t count the amount of times that they’ve kept my shit-ass sun god of a brother from bugging me. And they even made the most adorable altar for me, with pomegranates and the whole works!!”

“Oh, so gauche. If it wasn’t for my expertise (Y/N) wouldn’t be half as stylish as they are. Not to mention our ‘girls nights’. I’ve opened an entire new world of skincare for them!” Cruella hissed. (Actually remembering she had to pick up (Y/N) that special cream made from horseshoe crabs)

A threadbare glove raised amidst the crowd, Honest John appearing from seemingly nowhere

“Im sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s myself who’s won (Y/N) heart. They’ve fallen for my effortless charm lock, stock, and barrel! I mean, I’ve been their nap partner countless a times, they quite enjoy cozying up to my fur.” John preened, smiling back at the memories of warm afternoons snuggled up next to (Y/N).

“Fur!? Why you little- I’ll skin you-”

“Just wait till (Y/N)-”

The poker room devolved into full out brawl, nearby cast members rushing into the room in attempt to break up the crowd. All the while, in an empty back room (Y/N) was sharing a sandwich with their guest.

“Y’know what, Ratigan?” They said between bites. “Your my best friend.”

The rat stared up at them, finishing his bite,

“…. Ew.”

[tigertale]

A/N: Fantasy AU ahead, like, those fantastic middle aged themed worlds with magic, bards n' all? Anyway, I'm such a messy writer I'm sorry

A/N2: I wrote this before chapter 7 and finished the smut recently, although the end is messy :(

• F!Reader; Malleus

•〔　！ 〕 Smut; Virgin Malleus/Reader; Creampie; Grammatical errors; Not proofread

•6.8k words

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Lilia's words only made the man by his side groan. They were both beings of the night. Period. No need to explain just how uncomfortable he was. No matter how mesmerizing the colorful flowers aligned by each windowsill looked, nor how the sun brightened the streets and further empathized each of the bystanders' smiles, he couldn't stand them. They were everything that he wasn't, the exact opposite of what he had known and experienced his entire life, of what he needed the most; a new beginning, joyful laughters and an undying happiness paired with the feeling of fullness.

"The longer I stay here, the more repulsive they become." The soldier sighed at his words and disapprovingly shook his head from side to side, although it looked more like he was annoyed by the prince than anything else. But the dragon couldn't see it as he tried to avoid the petals flying around while spitting the one that had already gotten into his mouth. He wasn't one to curse, but the heavy sweet smell of the pollen filled street tickling his nose threatened him to do so.

"Malleus, we came here to observe the tradition of humans. Having a new outlook on life can only benefit you." The fae said as he stopped next to a merchant who handed two ice-cream cones after he had given them 2 silver coins. The dragon was soon to become the next king of Briar Valley and all Faes as whole. But with the secluded life he had had to live through, Lilia could only wonder if so few experiences in life could properly let him have a peaceful reign. "You need to see more whilst you're still young." He then handed one of the ice-cream cones to the prince who reluctantly took it.

"I do not see how prying into the mortals' life and customs will help my impending rule." This once again made his caretaker sigh as he shook his head from side to side. This would prove to be more difficult than what he expected if he didn't soon find anything that could possibly catch the attention of the boy. A surprised huff was taken out of him as he was suddenly stopped by a kid who collided with him.

The man merely smiled as he pushed all of his hair, some locks dyed in a blood red, onto one of his shoulders and knelt down. He reminded him of the young child he had taken under his care not long ago — he had actually taken him when he was a newborn, and he was already around six, which wasn't exactly a "long time ago", and with a deep chuckle, he took the child from under his armpits and set him on his feet before dusting him off. While the kid was still confused, he continued to make sure that he wasn't hurt by the fall, his father like instincts pushing him to do so —although he didn't mind as he still kept a smile up as to not scare the child. "Where were you running at so fast? It's dangerous to run around in a crowd." The kid nodded but was clearly excited and impatient as he was fidgeting more than one his age was supposed to.

"It'll start soon!" He rocked on the back of his feet as he was trying not to peek above the man's shoulders to see if the oh so expected event of the year had started. "The Battle of the Spring Queen!"

Lilia perked up at that. He let the kid go without further questions, only giving a playful "be careful" and his ice cream in exchange of the promise that he shouldn't run in the streets anymore or at least be more attentive, before getting up and dusting his clothes off.

"I thought humans were pacifists as of today. Why would Queens fight?" The fae laughed at that under the annoyed gaze of his younger fellow. Oh, he sure had missed a lot, hidden in this castle of his! Maybe that he should ask Maleficia for permission to take Malleus out more often. He eventually calmed down as he removed the tears threatening to fall from the sudden laughter that took over him.

"Of course it's no battle per say." He hummed as Malleus was patiently waiting for the rest of the answer while passing his tongue over the cool dessert. It wasn't often that he received ice cream, and one from Lilia was cherished even more, so he tried not to eat it in one go out of excitement. "Each year for spring, they hold a dance contest of sorts, where the winner becomes the Spring Queen for a year."

"Just dancing?" Humans were fighting by dancing now? They were more peculiar than he had given them credit for.

"Of course I said dancing, but it's not something that simple." When they arrived at the town center, Lilia easily pushed through the crowd with his small size to reach the front as the prince struggled to follow him. At Lilia's request, he had hidden his horns to avoid a mayhem among these mortals, but right now he wished he hadn't because the annoyed looks he received were slowly boiling his blood with how much they annoyed him. "I've heard that it can take years to perfect it. And— Ah! Just on time!"

The dragon fae eventually arrived beside his caretaker and looked unimpressed at the rows of women standing in the middle of the town center. They had all formed many circles, the smallest inside and the others extending to be bigger the farther it was from the center, around a maypole and all had a ribbon in their hand. The white dresses they all wore nearly made him cringe, it was all too bright and the sun rays bouncing back on them and into his eyes tenfold this sentiment. Even the crown of flower resting on their head and the embroidered fabric attached to it and hiding their face from the onlookers was almost too much. Should he just go back? But then Lilia would be disappointed in him and he feared the distress it would bring him more than anything.

A voice loudly announced from within the public the start of the competition and the musicians started playing a folk tune right after, hurdy-gurdy, tabors and flutes becoming one. Lilia pushed the tip of his elbow against Malleus' arm to catch his attention at the same time. "That's what we came to see." The women all lifted their hands up, wrists decorated with a mix of flowers that the dragon had a hard time trying to recognise, before slowly turning on themselves with the soft and sluggish tempo of the melody. "This is one of the few traditions humans inherited from us."

Slowly picking up speed, they followed suit. They each took a step to the side as they continued to turn on themselves. Each row was rotating to different sides which created an eye-catching show as the fabrics all flew around the more the rhythm grew to be frenetic.

The pace of the song eventually arrived to the point where it was hard catching up to it, and soon enough someone fell. She looked rather frail as her face was finally unveiled from when her flower crown had flown away. Stumbling, falling on one another they all smiled, their no longer hidden bright eyes only making the public even more excited. The orchestra suddenly stopped, and so did the women. But it picked up just as fast and they all spinned to the other side with linked arms. "Oh this is the moment. I forgot to ask, Malleus, do you want to join them?"

He looked at him incredulously as more women fell to the point that the remaining upright had to jump over the bodies to continue. But he didn't get to answer as he was pushed forward, more men following behind him. Lilia was surprised by the sudden rush and merely managed to take Malleus' ice cream as he was soon too far for him to hear him. He didn't expect something like this to happen, hopefully he'll manage his way out of this predicament he had accidentally found his way in. Or he could partake in it which would please him more than the other option.

The dragon looked back to his caretaker, but before he could react, someone had taken him by the crook of his arm and twirled with him closer to the center of the dance which only further widened the distance between them. He couldn't back out now, he was surrounded by the town folks, dizzy and the dance had also become more complex and he knew he would bump into someone if he decided to walk out of the dance.

One moment they were linked to one another, the next his partner had left him as a new one jumped into his arm now hopping and spinning with him. And just as fast, she left him and he was once again handed over to someone else.

He didn't like it, being passed around like, what he could compare as, a mere toy. Swirling on the same spot with little to no rest as he felt the ice cream he had eaten slowly climbing its way up his throat. He couldn't see it from how blurry and loud everything was, but there were only a few people left standing, enough duo that he could count them with only a hand. He was strong on his feet, due to his fae nature, unlike all the others who would fall from the sheer speed their new partners came at them with. He was the center of the attention, everyone watching carefully how this stranger had imposed himself as the one anchor needed for the winner.

He broke out of his haze for a mere second as he had finally locked eyes with Lilia who still had his dessert in hand. But he could only make out a few words from his stretched lips "It feels like we'll have a surprise this year. Aren't you lucky fufufu~" before his new partner brought him back to the current situation at hand. Much to his surprise, unlike all the others that had a deathly and uncaring grip on his shoulder and arm, she turned out to be more conscious about his uneasiness.

It didn't stop her from forcing him into the dance, continuing to twirl with him, but when her veil lifted with the wind sweeping it away from her face, he could make out an apologetic smile. "Sorry for forcing you into this." She said more to herself than for him, knowing that he wouldn't have heard it as her voice was drowned out by the music, but he did, thanks to his keen ears. The music came to a sudden stop right after. And she used this chance to come closer to him, pushing her chest against his as she tiptoed so her lips could reach him right under the shell of his ear. The closeness didn't faze him enough not to notice that there were only two pairs left. His and another couple staring daggers at him. "This one will be the last part, please keep up with me a little longer."

And seemingly entranced by whatever power she had bewitched him with, he listened, immediately following her when the music started again. As if his body had learnt the dance, more than likely against his will, he easily matched her movements. Unlike before when he was just being pushed around, he was now the one gripping her hand hard enough not to hurt her but to make sure she didn't fall or lose balance, and he made sure to turn at the same time with her.

She was concentrated, not noticing the sudden change of demeanor of her partner, as she looked at her feet to make sure that she got it right. If she was to fall now, it would be all over. She had worked hard to come this far and she wouldn't let victory slip through her fingers so easily. And at long last, the same booming voice that announced the beginning of the contest ringed far above the music. This time, marking the end of it.

The two standing slowly came to a stop, regaining both of their senses as they mindlessly looked at their feet. It was… the end. It came faster than what they had expected. Or was it because they had lost themselves in the heat of the competition? When they remembered the situation they were in they looked around for the duo they were competing against. And here they were, bickering on the ground, too caught up in their anger and accusations to get back on their feet.

Malleus turned back to his own partner when he heard her laughing. She took the flower crown and removed it from her head, shaking her head to put her hair back in place, before looking up at him. Oh. She was…

He couldn't even finish his thoughts that someone came and took her hand, throwing it up as they announced her as the new queen. Clapping and shouting became louder the closer the public approached him and the woman was still gripping his hand, but it only brought back the previous headache racking the back of his head.

Thankfully for him, he was whisked away by the very person who put him in this predicament in the first place. He didn't even bother to hide his pout as Lilia wore a bright smile, taking him farther away from the public's eyes. "Did you enjoy it?" And Malleus could barely believe his words. If he had enjoyed it? Did he look like he had enjoyed it at all?

Once they were far enough, he had begrudgingly walked to a driveway where he could hide as he was vexed by Lilia's question. "I want to go back." And Lilia sighed at the tone his prince had taken. He had hoped for him to become a little more aware about his duties as a prince, but it seemed like it didn't work his way this time. Thus, while a hand was pushed against his hips, he snapped his fingers, bringing them both to the inn they were staying at.

"Malleus." The soldier started as he circled the bed to sit on the cushions decorating the windowsill. Although he wanted to sit on it, he ended up slumping onto them with yet another aggravated sigh. "You didn't learn anything from it, did you?"

As an answer, and seemingly vexed, said Malleus crossed his arms, still standing before the door as his own way to protest his displeasure with the entire situation. "I don't believe that there was something to understand from such an unpleasant event." The entire thing was reckless, ungrateful, and overall displeasing to him. The noise, the heat, the light, he would have never imagined someone liking such things if he hadn't witnessed it first hand.

"These people are under the care of faes. All of the previous rulers cared way beyond Briar Valley's borders." He moved his fingers, summoning a kettle brimming with hot water and the teacup by the bedside. With another fickle, the hot water was poured inside the cup where a dry teabag was patiently waiting to be of use again. "And as the heir, it is your duty to understand what will fall under your charges. Their customs are different yet similar to ours, neglecting that can quite easily create a rift that will bring to a new war." He took a sip of his cup once it was ready, a small grimace appearing on his face at the bitter taste. He immediately brought a few more suspicious ingredients that he put into his cup.

"You have much more to learn about this world, and I hope that you will learn something before we leave."

At that, he disappeared, the slowly dying greenish sparks the only proof that he was here just a moment ago. And Malleus was confused to say the least. He understood his words, yet, he found them hard to decipher. He surely had learnt everything at the castle with the most proficient teachers of this age, he couldn't think of anything left to explore. What a mystery, he would have to work on it fast if he wanted to talk to Lilia again. His caretaker had always been one to teach through actions rather than words, and when Malleus was at fault and too stubborn to open himself, he had found out that leaving him to think about what he did wrong would work the best. Although what truly scared Malleus wasn't the scolding but the fact that Lilia just refused to talk to him as he was one of the very rare people he could feel at ease with.

And the only person he could turn to as of now was the mysterious Queen of the Spring.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

She was still by the town center thankfully. Although this time she was draped in a modest but fitting white dress, the only decoration were flowers that seemed to have been haphazardly thrown on her by who he could only suppose were the many men praising her beauty by her sides. Surely when he thought about meeting her again, he expected her to be praised as a Queen, but the crowd of men surrounding her, craving for her attention as marriage proposals were thrown here and there for her to take, was definitely not what he had in mind. And by the look on her face, a tight smile as she uneasily looked around for an escape, she wasn't enjoying the situation as much as him.

But by some miracle, as he was thinking that he should maybe go back to the inn as she was not in the position to help him, she locked eyes with him. Her pupils dilated and stars dancing in her eyes as she recognised him in an instant. She stood up, walking down and forcing her way through the people still waiting to have a good look at her, a few apologies thrown at those who she feared she could have hurt, and excitedly marched towards him.

"I– I've been looking everywhere for you!" She started right off the bat, her cheeks definitely hotter than they should be as she tried not to stare at him too much. Even if it wasn't her fault, he was pretty handsome to look at after all, especially compared to the folks here.

He hummed, not fazed one bit by the shy look she wore. "Is that so?" He merely said, not knowing how to react to the information she gave him. It was unexpected indeed, for her to look for him despite how irrelevant their meeting had been. (But could he really think that when he was the one that came to see her, thinking of her as his only anchor in this unfamiliar place?)

She buried her head in between her shoulders, fingers playing with each other as an attempt to calm the awkwardness she felt from his answer. "Of course, you're the reason I've won after all." And when he repeated her sentence with a curious but surprised tone, she could only try and add more context to what she had said. "You saw the one we were against at the end right? They're two nobles and like, their families have always worked with one another so they could win the title of the Spring Queen each year. And I kind of found it unfair so I tried to go up against them, and like, if it wasn't for you, and you're really strong by the way, I would have never won because most people here are too scared to go against them you know? And I am too, it's even surprising that I'm still standing here right now because I expected them to just come and snatch my head off for my impertinence or whatever excuse they'd created but no! So like…"

If she was hot before, well her embarrassment had now reached a whole other level where she had became a furnace. Of all times she could have let her stupid habit of ranting take over, it had to be with the pretty man whom she had danced with. "I'm uuh… I'm sorry for rambling…" She had always been scolded by her family for it, even the kids that would hang around her had innocently commented negatively about it. And she was trying really hard to get rid of this habit, she could even swear on her pride if needed!

"It's okay, although I don't think that talking about such things out in the open is good for you." Ah he was right! What if those nobles were actually looking to take their revenge on her? But there was no place where she would be free of danger. These guys were everywhere and—

"Then you wouldn't mind coming to my house, right?" A humm left his mouth as an approval, more fascinated by the fact that she was continuously embarrassing herself yet was self-conscious about her own attitude.

She moved to the side, a meek "this way" leaving her lips as she led the way to her small abode. And her house, farther away from the town where everyone had gathered, was… Would comparing it to a pet home be offensive? Because compared to the castle back home, this was akin to comparing an ant to a dog. And when she opened the door, he was somehow even more surprised. The house seemed to have only two rooms. The kitchen, dining room and bedroom all welcomed him at once which made him assume that the door at the back led to what must be the smallest bathroom he could ever imagine.

Still, what truly was unexpected was how cozy it seemed. Unlike the walls made out of cobblestones back in the Fort he lived at, which only made the atmosphere colder than it was already, the various plants and colors around was a sheer contrast to what he was used to. And it bothered him.

As he sat down on the drawn out and only chair in the house, he mused at the different shades coloring the walls. "What are those?" She came next to him as he pointed at the paintings above her bed. She smiled softly at the question.

"Before I left, my family gifted me those." The colors were clashing and unsightly. And despite the fact that it was made by someone close to her, he couldn't find it in himself to somehow change his views. They were still childlike and clumsy at best. So he merely hummed, not caring about voicing his… not distaste, but he definitely didn't have the best opinion on those. "Anyways, do you want some tea?"

She moved to the counter by the sink, pulling out a small wooden box from the mess decorating what would be considered the kitchen. "Actually I would much rather go for coffee." She stopped dead in her tracks. Coffee? People like her couldn't afford such things. She truly wondered who that man was.

Still, she slowly turned to him, an apologetic look on her face as an awkward smile hung on her lips. "I'm sorry I don't have coffee." She watched as he pondered a bit, fingers resting against his chin with closed eyes, before he looked back at her and told her tea was fine. She let out a quiet relieved sigh as she went back to the herbs sitting in the box before her, taking the most expensive flavour to give him before moving to heat some water on the stove.

His eyes were fixated on the intricate design decorating her back, the shape of a flower drawn with all the threads interwoven through one another and letting him see a star that seemed to be a birthmark in the middle of her spine. And his gaze slowly moved lower and lower, the need to be satiated growing the more he looked at the small parcel of skin showing between the bottom of her rather short dress and her white thigh high stockings. Why did he suddenly feel his body yearning for her? He didn't know and didn't want to. He was tempted, entranced, to move closer and pass a hand under the skirt of her dress. He wasn't used to seeing such loose and short clothing, having been mostly in company of nobles, they were posh and well-dressed with layer and layers of fabric hiding their skin. Even the soldier or the few villagers he had seen across Briar Valley were covered from head to toe with little to no skin showing. Maybe that was why he was hypnotized by her, wondering for the very first time what was hiding under someone's clothes as his draconic instincts were teasing him into taking actions.

Malleus somehow managed to keep calm as she approached after a while, a cup of tea and some low-cost biscuits to eat with the soft drink. "Here, I don't know what you like so I made some Earl Grey tea." He smiled kindly, or at least tried to as only a small almost unseen smile appeared, before switching his attention back to the drink sitting before him to take his mind off the impulsions of his dragon side. Partaking into the carnal desire and losing the purity that was only meant to be given to his future wife? He knew better than that. And while he was debating with himself, she quickly ran to the counter in the kitchen and back to him. "Ah wait!" She bent forward, her short dress hiking up and flashing him a good amount of the small panties she wore, a cube of sugar hanging in between her fingers as she plopped it in the drink so soften it up.

Fuck, he actually didn't know better than that, because right before he could properly think, his hand had moved to cup one of her buttcheeks. She froze, and so did he, as an awkward silence stretched between them, one that seemingly wasn't registered by him as his fingers flexed around her flesh, earning a small and surprised squeak out of her. She turned back to look at him, the top of her body allowing her to turn enough for him to see her flushed cheeks as she peeked over her shoulder. "I-Is there a problem?" And she cringed at the question she asked. But he didn't care, nor did he answer back as he got up, towering her while his hands slid along her body, assessing each curve and bumps under his long fingers, before stopping under her breast.

She was pinned on the table, unable to get back up as the man was pressing his chest to her back, his hot breath tickling her neck as she felt the tip of his fingers tentatively pressing the fat of her chest. She didn't know how to react, should she push him back? She should, as she had yet to marry and had to keep herself away from any sexual activities that could "taint" her according to the religious man who had blessed her and the many other women of the village. She hadn't respected that rule as she had… already explored her own body a few times already. But partaking into something greater than merely playing with herself? While the fear of being accused of hysteria taunted her, she was still heavily tempted by this stranger's, more than vulgar, invitation.

And against her better judgment, she softly placed her hand atop his, slowly guiding it as her breath hitched when she felt his cold skin touching hers above the low-cut of her dress to the top of her larynx. His eyes dilated, pressing his hand around her throat at the same time, trying to assess all the small reactions she would have which further drove this unknown feeling devouring him to a new point. He wasn't one to fight back his urge, far from it, he was more often than not indulging it which would always make Lilia shake his head out of disappointment. So without much thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand moving her head to the side for him to graze her skin with his pointy teeth, as he quickly brought her to the bed by the corner of the room. He fell on it ungraciously, her body now trapped in-between the bed and the erection he was rutting against her backside in near oblivion, each of his grunts feeling like honey soothing her mind.

His fingers started exploring her, tormenting and harassing every bit of skin showing, even tearing new holes in the pristine white dress she wore to access more of her. She felt herself drifting away when two of his sharp nails eventually found themselves back to one of her breasts, pinching it as he continued to press the hard-on still confined in his pants along her clothed slit. And as if to make things worse, he had finally started to nibble on the junction between her neck and shoulder, the lewd sound of his lips and tongue playing with her skin driving her further down this hole he had opened. What if she was fucked silly after all? She wouldn't mind if it was this handsome stranger whose lust was oozing and overwhelming her senses. But it seemed that after a short while he grew bored, instead moving away from her, just enough for him to turn her around so she could face him, settling by leaning above her as his hands rested above her ass.

She was now laying on her back, his body still towering her as he decided to press a delicate kiss on her lips, quite unexpected especially when one would consider how rough and impatient he had been until now, as if he had finally taken over the instincts that were pleading for him to drill into her hole and make her his for the night. And she reciprocated, moving her hands behind his head to grasp a handful of his hair and bring him closer. She wanted to feel him more closely, to have him imprint his lips on hers so that she could never forget him, who would surely defile her in a few moments. And hopefully, what a childish wish it was, he would understand her feelings and return the affection back. She didn't know who he was, not even his name which she had forgotten to ask, but she knew that this wise man eating her lips would be better than any of the men who were crying out to tie the knot with her. Because unlike them, he had proven how capable he could take care of her, how he was an immovable pillar when needed. And she only needed this. No fancy gifts from someone who she knew would cheat behind her back.

Whoever this man was, she craved him. He could do anything to her, she knew not why and didn't want to, and she would be on cloud nine as long as he would give her the slightest bit of attention.

But he didn't understand those hidden messages she tried to pass over to him through their languid kiss. Because when he felt her gripping the dark locks sitting around the base of his horns, he quickly lost himself back into those dangerous impulses of his. The dragon in him needed to put an heir or two inside her warm and welcoming womb before the feeling disappeared.

He broke the kiss, listening to the delightful panting leaving her mouth as his mouth traveled farther down along her collarbone. At the same time, his hands had moved from the small of her back to her legs parted on each of his sides, passing them under her bunched up dress and stopping once a finger had passed under the band of her underwear. And his hard-on, more prominent than ever, was once again grinding against her clothed slit, snatching loud whines out of her. Her breath momentarily hitched when she felt a hand leave her thigh, only to feel it scrambling with the belt stopping him from clearing his most urgent need. The occasional and unexpected knocking of a finger or two against her clit made her mewl, and urged him to move even more messily as it only annoyed him how much he was struggling with the leather tied around his waist.

At long last, he freed himself from the clothing confining him away from her. He hissed at the cold air that contrasted with the heat of his length which prompted her to look downward. But he immediately pressed his lips against hers, once again, which stopped her from seeing it, tongue entering her mouth and creating a mess of drool pooling on both of their chins, a strong hand moving to the back of her neck as he removed her undergarments. He did ponder a few seconds, should he let the stockings hugging her tights on? But he quickly shook this thought away, a deep groan rumbling all the way down from his throat as he ripped the fragile layer of clothing off her legs, leaving only a few stray of white fabric to cover her skin.

Her breath hitched when she felt him, surprised by the sheer size of his warm hard-on resting right in-between her legs. She was supposed to…? Not that she was a prude or anything, but she truly stopped a second to think if she was really ready to take something like this inside her. It was only normal for him to have a size proportional to his height but it definitely looked bigger than what she had heard from the women gossiping early in the morning at the corner of the marketplace. He didn't wait and immediately went to slowly rub his length along her still clothed cunt, earning small gasps and whines from her as she pitifully tried to hide them behind her hand. But he didn't care about them, not when he could feel the warmth she was producing, so heavy and impossibly addicting, which shrouded his mind more than it actually was.

He went back to what he was doing a moment ago, this time passing a finger on the underside of her panties as he pulled it to the side to allow the tip of his cock to press against between her walls, grinding and spreading out her cum along his length. Right when he stopped at her entrance, ready to plunge in, she weakly grasped each side of his face with moist hands which caught his attention. Breath heavy, eyes teary, and cheeks burning, she still took the time to ask one simple question that she had been dying to ask since she met him… "Y-Your name… What's your name?"

"Malleus."

And he slid inside her before she could say anything, pace hard and fast from the get go as he couldn't get a grasp of the insatiable need to fuck her. A loud gasp resonated in the room at the first thrust before a string of whines followed, she could hardly keep up with him, hanging on for dear life by wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her fingers drew deep lacerations on his back. She didn't know what motivated him to be so harsh against her poor body, handling it so carelessly that she feared that she'd break, and they were only beginning.

But these actions didn't spurt out of nowhere. He had been hungry, unknowingly keeping it in the needs to mate as he had never been confronted to it directly, his caretaker having deemed that he had no need to indulge them so young —the Draconia family surprisingly didn't indulge much into sexual activities unless when they were with their significant other, which lead them to believe he didn't have to learn about his impulses. Yet this woman he had found himself dancing with, acting so gently with him, unlike those who would do so out of fear or excessive admiration, had managed to grab his attention. And the dress they had given her to go with her new title as the Spring Queen, how small it was, hugging her body in a way that made him imagine just how she would look without it, how could it not fill him with inappropriate thoughts? How could it not tease the dragon inside him?

His fangs, elongated the more the seconds passed, the more his cock thrusted back inside her as he felt her walls closing around him, the more he heard her small pleas, pressed against the skin of her neck tentatively as his mind was clear enough that he knew that he at least shouldn't mark her. It didn't stop him from teasing her, loving the way she would tense up whenever she felt his teeth pressing a little too hard on her skin.

With each thrusts, she felt herself breaking, her body reacting not only to the length racking her insides up, she could feel the telltale signs how her orgasm building up although she knew that it had yet to properly overcome her mind, but also the strangely long teeth against her neck and the sharp end of his nails playing with the tips of her breasts, the pain only further inviting her down the sin she was partaking in. Her voice rung inside the small house through the form of short and high pitched whines that aroused him the more he heard them.

With one unexpected motion, he turned her body over pressing her upper body down with one hand, fingers tightly clasped around her neck and playing with her breath. Her breath staggered, definitely taken aback by the sudden change of position, and she almost gagged when he went back inside her, fucking seemingly harder than before. Her senses tingled, blurring out any clear perception of what was happening and emphasizing the heat pooling between her leg with each of his thrusts.

She was on cloud nine, feeling her legs trembling as she neared her end, and his pace stuttered when he felt her walls clenching around his cock almost viciously, prompting him closer to his own release despite the frustration within his body having yet to disappear. He went to a sudden stop, her confusion only lasting a mere second as his cum filled her up right after with his groans resonating around her. She whined back, his lips instinctively pressing against her neck to sooth her, having a hard time keeping up with the amount of cum overflowing inside her and dripping out on her thighs in the appearances of pearly white drops.

Eventually, she huffed tiredly, her mind finally starting to clear, and soon she would realise that he had came inside her. Possibly impregnating her with the sheer amount he had pounded inside her. But before she could think about it, he carefully took her hips with his hands, moving her to a new angle as he draw his cock back, leaving the rest of his semence to finally flow out. He pressed the tip of his dick between her folds once again, this time a small smirk on his face as he looked at her fucked out face.

"Darling. I'm not finished."

Her eyes widened, but she couldn't say anything that he was already back inside her. She didn't know how someone could have such stamina, and she wondered for a moment if he was human —which he wasn't but any hints he had given that he was fae had been drowned out by her pleasure. Yet, her mind quickly felt like mud, preparing herself for a long night.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

Lilia stared incredulously at the way Malleus was fiddling with his breakfast the next morning, his mood visibly brighter than before. It was… troubling to say the least. The boy was easy to read, hiding his emotions has seemingly always been a problem for him who was easily swayed, and after he had so coldly scolded him, he didn't expect to see him in a good mood. So when the boy turned towards him with a contemplative look; "Those children of man sure hold many qualities." he was surprised to say the least.

What happened for him to change his mind so fast? He could only wonder.

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #55: Feeding

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker

happy 2 year anniversary to kane & jim~! hard to believe it's been 2 whole years since i started writing...

wrote while listening to melodies of refresh by tenno gabni

-

Kane woke and looked to the door. Just like every morning the past week, it was a normal door. No silver. No lock.

He changed and washed his face, creeping upstairs with the hesitancy of someone who knew he wasn’t allowed, despite knowing full-well that he was: Jim had made that clear. He felt too quiet, his ankles free of chains.

It was early morning, early enough that the sun hadn’t risen yet–that terrifying tell-tale glow didn’t shine from behind the curtains. Jim wouldn’t be awake for hours, resting upstairs while Kane slunk around in the dark, in his own house.

Kane couldn’t fathom how much trust that must have required. He still couldn’t believe he’d earned that much.

The fact that Jim was still feeding him his own blood was a miracle in itself. He’d given a time limit of one month. One month for Kane to get used to freedom, to going out on his own, traversing society like a normal person after years as a prisoner. An adjustment period, Jim had called it, his mercies never-ending in the face of Kane’s fear of running to and from the border on his own.

There was no way Kane could ever repay it, not in a thousand years. But he at least had to try.

He turned the knob on the stove. It was something familiar, having owned a stove himself for heating up the contents of blood-packs in his time before he came to own Jim. Human stoves, like their food itself, were more complicated: four burners instead of one, all with dials offering various degrees besides just ‘on’ or ‘off’.

And it was something he hadn’t done since before.

The circle of flames flickered to life, blue and hot and threatening.

He quickly turned it back off, luckily managing to control his strength and not break the delicate knob.

Deep breaths, Jim had said, more times than Kane could count now. Look at me. You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe here, remember?

Kane took a deep breath in, playing Jim’s soothing affirmations through his head, exhaling slowly. That’s it, there you go, the memory of Jim’s voice encouraged. You’re alright. No hurting.

After a few more of those, he turned the burner on again. The flames flicked back to life, and Kane watched them silently.

-

Jim woke, shook off the nerves, and marked another day off his calendar. Seven days down, twenty-one more to go, and then no one will take his blood ever again.

He could stop it now, if he wanted to. He knew he could. Kane hung on his every word like he was some kind of divine prophet. But once he stops, Kane has to start getting blood from vampire territory, and he’d have to talk to his parents to get the money to buy it… and it was too obvious he wasn’t ready.

Jim knew that feeling, going from years of captivity and isolation to suddenly being a person again. He knew how hard it was, even with support. There was no reason for Kane to have to rush into it immediately. The guy could barely go outside at night on his own he was so afraid, and he was a vampire. No, a month’s time would do him well.

Still. He couldn’t help but count the days until it was over.

As he stepped into his slippers and headed downstairs, he stopped in his tracks, hearing someone futzing around in the kitchen.

It was going to take Jim a while to get used to that, Kane roaming freely in his house. At night, even. He knew he could ask Kane to leave once he finds his bearings, but… despite the deep-seated terror, he knew he was safer with Kane here than without. Kane brought Laken home, after all. If any vampire came for him, Kane would save him, too. At least, he hoped so.

He continued down. “Kane?”

“Good morning!” came the cheery reply. That set Jim’s nerves at ease, at least. Right. Kane was friendly, now.

“Morning. You sleep okay?” Jim asked. As he made his way through the living room toward the kitchen, he noticed a distinctly… delicious smell. That couldn’t be right.

“Better! And you?” Kane appeared in the doorway, a big, fanged grin lighting up his face. It was a sight Jim had already long gotten used to by now, one that brought him pride instead of fear.

He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. Hey, are you, uh… cooking?”

Kane held out a hand. “I am! Please come sit?”

Now he was smiling, too. “Haha, okay.”

Jim took his hand and let Kane lead him to the kitchen table, where a plate full of blueberry pancakes sat. They looked a bit off–undercooked, a little torn up–but the fact that they were there at all was astounding.

He sat down. “How did you even do this? You don’t cook.”

“I watched you,” Kane admitted sheepishly. “In the mornings. I really wanted to make you something, and I didn’t want to waste food by just guessing and doing it wrong, so I started paying close attention, and this seemed like the easiest thing to copy… are they okay?”

“Well, let’s see!” Jim cut into one– definitely undercooked. It oozed out around his knife, but Liz’s failed attempts at cooking had given him ample practice in this field. He popped it in his mouth without a care. “It’s great, Kane. Especially for your first time ever cooking anything. Thank you.”

Kane brightened up even further at the praise, sitting in the chair adjacent. “I know it’s not the same at all, but I wanted to feed you too, somehow. Like you feed me. I was wondering… if you could teach me to cook?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” Kane insisted. “I really, really do. But I don’t want to impose! I can always ask Laken.”

Jim cut away the less-done bits of the pancake he was working on, scooping up another bite. “Alright, if you’re really sure. Yeah, I can teach you. Doesn’t human food smell, like, really bad to vampires, though? Like it’s rotten or whatever?”

“I’ll manage.” Kane bore no obvious worry of the issue. Clearly, a bad smell was not something that registered to him as a concern any longer. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Jim had finished his breakfast and was about to get up that Kane spoke again, the smile fading from his face. “There was something else, actually.”

“Oh?” Jim put his plate and utensils back down.

Kane got down from his seat to kneel on the floor.

“Kane, buddy,” Jim said softly, sliding into that placating tone he always used when trying to calm the vampire down from one of his panics, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. It’s– it’s to show respect. Please.” As Kane looked up at him with those intense red eyes, Jim could see no fear at all.

“Well, okay then, I guess. What’s up?” he asked.

“I want to thank you. For everything,” Kane spoke carefully, as though each word was precious. Rehearsed. “For taking me away from the hunters. For not hurting me, even though you could have, even though you had every reason to. For helping me calm down when I panic. For feeding me, your own blood, even though it’s so hard for you, just so I wouldn’t starve. For giving me clothes and bedding and music and happiness again. You gave me my life back, but I owe you so much more than just my life. Because without you, I wasn’t dead, I was– I was there. And you saved me.”

Tears welled up in Kane’s eyes as he stared up reverent, overcome with emotion. “And I was thinking about all the times I’ve apologized to you, I was too afraid to do it right. I was just– I really was sorry, I’ve been sorry for a long, long time, but in those moments, I’ve always just been focused on not being hurt… but you would never hurt me. I see that now. Jim, I am so, truly sorry for hurting you. For every single time I hurt you, big and small, for those five years and since, I am so, so sorry. I was unimaginably cruel to you, and no one deserves that, but especially not you. I know that back then I told you the opposite, but I was wrong. You deserve to be happy! And I took that from you.”

Kane placed a hand over his heart. “And I swear to you, I will make it my life’s mission to give you back that happiness. I am loyal to you, Jim. Forever.”

He put his hand down. “That–that’s all. Thank you for listening.”

Jim sat in silence for a moment, absorbing it all. Wasn’t this why he’d originally taken Kane in? Wasn’t that the excuse he’d used– he wanted Kane fear-free enough to have an actual discussion about back then, without him devolving into a terrified, sobbing mess? He could do that, now. How long had he been waiting to hear Kane admit that he hadn’t deserved it after all? Fifteen years?

Oh, he was so unprepared for this conversation. He needed all kinds of psyching-up before they could have that talk.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kane added quietly. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Right. Yeah,” Jim said, snapping out of it. Just because Kane was ready didn’t mean it had to be now. It could be any time, when he was ready, too. “That’s… wow. Hey, it’s okay,” he tried, far more comfortable comforting Kane than the other way around. He grabbed a tissue, handing it to him. “I mean, not the–not what you did. I mean it’s okay now. Um, thanks, is what I mean, I guess. For really apologizing.”

Kane wiped his eyes. “It’s the absolute least I could do. Everything I have is something you’ve given to me. Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Good.” His sincerity brought a smile to Jim’s face. “You know, maybe cooking isn’t the best idea if you’re afraid of burns? It’s not gonna happen every time, but even I get myself once in a while. Just thought I should warn you.”

“You give me blood,” Kane pointed out. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. “Plus, you’ll be there. Right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” Jim patted him on the shoulder.

Kane smiled back up at him. “Then I’ll be okay.”

-

taglist in reblogs

[triptychgardener]

Hello sorry if this is a bother but I am asking in good faith where is the reading for transmasc nepeta. I’m asking this cuz of your last ask (the June one) and I see aradia Dirk and Jane. Thoes all I have seen post and analysis about. But I have not really seen anything about nepeta.

Okay so first thing you gotta understand is that gender in Homestuck, for lack of a better way to say it, can be understood in how characters reflect and relate to each other. That being said to understand Nepeta's gender, we gotta understand the gender of at the very least one other person.

Dave.

And more specifically.

Davepeta, Homestuck's very own first(ish) trans character.

Davepeta is noted to be a sort of platonic ideal of existence for both Dave and Nepeta. Somehow, through a strange series of cosmic coincidences, these two end up making an odd sort of parallel. Both having a strange relationship to a man who loves him some goddamn horses. The whole Akwete Purrmusk thing. I mean, Dave canonically engaged in semi-nonironic furry roleplay with Nepeta offscreen, and given what we know about what becoming a furry in Homestuck means, it's not a leap to describe this as their ideal form.

But, although we don't see a lot of Nepeta's character arc, we do see a lot of Dave's. He struggles his whole life under an incredibly oppressive masculine force (both of Bro and, indirectly, Lord English), and once the game is over ends up deconstructing and largely rejecting that.

So when Davesprite, who's also probably been thinking about this for even longer, bereft of purpose or identity, finds a kindred soul in a spunky catgirl... well the rest is Davepeta.

And similarly, there are points in the story where Nepeta acts kind of uncomfortable with how others see her as exclusively something to be protected. The whole "Dear, sweet, precious Nepeta" grates on her early on, as Equius uses it as an excuse to control her actions. The whole of moiraillegience as it is originally explained (i.e. one party helps to calm down an especially brutal and violent person from outbursts of anger, and in turn that person will protect the more docile, even-tempered soul from external harm) even kind of FEELS like the way heterosexual relationships are portrayed in a lot of conservative spaces, where women are nuturers and caretakers while men are protectors. And Nepeta is supposed to, in this situation, be the person who helps Equius manage his emotions, which she feels some consternation at!

Now, over the course of Hivebent, their relationship appears to evolve and get a bit more balanced, but it still carries these overtones of "I will protect you, and you will handle my outbursts." Notably, when Equius goes to seek the Highb100d, and leaves Nepeta behind.

And of course not after roleplaying as each other.

Which. I mean come on.

But notably, Nepeta doesn't just stay put! She doesn't really want to be protected all the time! And when push comes to shove, she leaps out to defend, or at the very least avenge, her best friend.

And then, we don't really see Nepeta for a while!

Until we get to the end of the comic.

During their whole "date", Nepeta seems a little uncomfortable with Jasprose's affections. She may be a bit flattered, but Jasprose also fully admits later that she was frankly looking for any girl she could fall in love with after the tragic death of her girlfriend and possible more tragic untimely resurrection.

But then the pivotal handshake happens, and we get to see who is perhaps the most happy being in all of Homestuck.

Then we get into some of the only actual discussion of gender in Homestuck. We don't get much besides that, for both of their lives, Dave and Nepeta both felt something was missing. Something felt wrong that they couldn't quite place that made them both miserable. I don't think it's a massive stretch to say this could be gender dysphoria.

And when they combine, they feel the fullness of the gendered experience they were missing, melded together like a two-piece puzzle.

Now while the abovementioned "strong identities as a boy and a girl" might throw you off, I would point to what Victoria Lacroix said about this passage: note the lack of the word "respectively." I rest my case.

Now full disclosure, my personal headcanon for Nepeta is genderfluid transmasc. The whole affinity for roleplaying lends itself to a more shifting identity and I just think Nepeta, given more time, would love exploring the little nooks and crannies of gender.

This isn't going into the more complicated shit with Gender when it comes to Equius and Dirk and all that other stuff. Here's a quick summary so you can see exactly how my brain is broken.

Anyways, thanks for the question! I hope I answered my thoughts on the topic adequately! If other people have more to say about this, please feel free to add on!

[moonknixght]

Awkward conversations and.. Fishes? (Steven Grant x GN!Reader)

Summary: Curiosity to learn more about a gorgeous store clerk of a pet shop leads Steven to buying his first pet ever. Warnings: Fluff ?? and just embarrassingly long silences Word count: 1.1k A/N: Okay please imagine that Gus wasn't Steven's pet already 🙏 Might make a part 2 if I get ideas. Also first post woohoo!! Made this account solely so I could make my ideas a reality. I'm a little rusty at writing as of right now, so bare with me </3 Requests are open for stuff!! (please talk to me)

"And this little guy here, He's a feisty one, but he means no harm." Lifting up a perched budgie on your finger, who seemed to have distrustful look on it's face, You smile widely at the latest client that had stumbled upon your small shop. You've always been a passionate soul when it came to animals; from the age 8 when you first wanted to be a veterinarian, which you quickly backed out from after slight consideration as you realized that you would have to constantly put down animals and see them in absolute pain. The next choice was arts, which you did took a degree in, before landing on the final prospect of being a caretaker to injured animals. From there, you found yourself reverting back into your obsession, eventually starting a small shelter/pet-shop where you took in abandoned and wounded animals, healed them and put them back to find new owners. It would be a lie if you said that you didn't miss any of the animals that were taken by other people, but it was also a joy to see them go to homes where they would be given full attention and loved. Therefore, you found yourself rambling about all your beloved pets to whoever stepped into your little abode with any interest— which is what was happening right now. A guy, with almost perfect curly black hair and tan-kissed skin had walked in and began to mindlessly wander, often catching your eyes while he did so. You eventually walked up to him and offered your help, to which he seemed ever so grateful for, even though it was odd that he didn't know what animal he wanted to adopt. This man was Steven Grant. and only if you knew the panic the poor guy was going through. With Jake relentlessly pushing Steven to interact with the employee he's been eyeing through the glass doors of the pet-shop, Steven found himself awkwardly cruising through the different animals, who looked up at him with expectant eyes. Clearly, He needed a plan before walking into the shop, especially when you approached him with a confused look on your face. "Uh.. I-I'm not particularly fond of birds, love." Steven gave you a weak smile, he seemed like he was scared of possibly disappointing you. "Maybe the fishes?" 'Or the cats.' Jake added from somewhere in the headspace, obviously enjoying the shit-show. "Ah." You say allowing the bird back onto the bird perch, your eyes shifting towards a small section of the shop where you tucked away a rectangular aquarium with exactly one fish inhabiting it. "Well, The options are very limited with fishes." Steven was digging himself a deeper hole each time he enquired about the animals like he was actually going to get one— but don't get him wrong, he was genuinely finding your rambles about every creature there interesting. So interesting in fact, that he couldn't possibly leave without getting something. So, the most laziest pet to have would be a fish, according to him at least. You eventually lead him to the front of the tank, where you lightly bend (which Steven also mimicked) to meet eye-to-eye with a goldfish. But this wasn't any goldfish, it was a goldfish with exactly one fin. "He's your only luck if you're looking for fishes." "Does.. Does he have a name?" Steven asked, trying to keep the conversation going. How exactly was he going to take care of a goldfish anyways? Especially a goldfish that only had one fin? What if it dies? It'll ruin his entire day. Maybe his entire week.

 You tilt your head to think about it, before giving a soft shrug in response— which Steven admittedly found quite endearing. "Not really, He just came in like this I guess, Never thought to give him a name." 'A fish, Seriously?' "What about Gus?" Steven asked, turning a deaf ear to Jake's mocking comment. The goldfish paused for a second looking at the two observing it for a moment, before it continued to pace around again. It was almost like the little aquatic creature had approved of the name, but he wasn't planning on sounding like a total nutjob by expressing that out loud. "Hm, It surprisingly fits him." You say after a moment of silence. Though a second later, With a chuckle, You pick up conversation again. "You're pretty good at naming fishes, huh?"

"No! I just.. It came to me, I guess. Lil' fella looks like a Gus." "I agree."

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Steven desperately tried to revive the exchange. "D'you know that Gus means Majestic? It fits 'cause it's quite amazing that he can swim with just a fin." 'Way to make them swoon, Steven. Buen trabajo.' Steven was truly getting sick of the unnecessary commentary from Jake, but he couldn't quite tell the wanker to piss off just yet. You, on the other hand, seemed to be intrigued by this rather sudden splurge of knowledge. Honestly, You didn't mind this at all, actually finding some amusement in how he suddenly geeked out. "Huh, I didn't know that." You said with a pleasant smile. "That's interesting now that you put it that way." "Yeah..." Steven's voice was small; the fear that he might have come off as weird subsided with your smile, which he reciprocated almost immediately. "I'll take him then." Your eyes lit up. For some odd reason, you didn't exactly expect him to actually get anything— Let alone a damn fish. Actually, Even Steven didn't know that he would end up being the owner of a fish, it just happened. He's technically already named the fish, it's only right that he takes it.

"Right, A moment." You nod, excusing yourself to go get the equipment needed to pack Gus away and off to settle in his new home. You come back a moment later as Steven stepped by the counter, Gus in a small plastic baggy as you balanced a small tank to put the little guy in as well as some food for the strangers convenience. Handing it off to him carefully, you nodded as you glanced at the only goldfish your store has seen be taken away. Who would've guessed. "I'll be off then, Thanks, love!" "You're welcome, Take care Gus!" You cheerfully wave them off, watching as your customer for the night took off. You sigh contently, feeling unnaturally happy about the whole interaction. Strange. — 'You bought a fish but you didn't ask for their name?' Gods, He totally forgot amidst everything. Steven had made it back home, his lip curling into a subtle frown as Marc bought forth a very valid point. The male couldn't help but sigh out loud, swiftly punishing himself with a face palm as he realized his error. Maybe Steven didn't manage to catch their name or learn more about them but as he laid in his bed, he found himself recalling how beautiful that store clerk looked when they smiled. And besides, he made a new friend— a companion he was starting to adore quite alot.

[a-living-canvas]

Burnt matches

Whumpee  stirred open in his sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times as he sat up and looked at the person across the room. It's not Whumper this time…it's…

Whumpee 2!

Chained up, wearing a white shirt with eyes staring into space. The guy looked more like a ghost than a person. His shirt even had a blood stain…much more worse than Whumpee. Whumpee frowned, confused at his friend's state. Whumper separated them for the past few weeks and he never expected that they would meet like this. It's like seeing a different person now.

"Um, hello…dude?" 

Whumpee's voice echoing through the dark basement. Whumpee 2 just stayed silent, not even daring to move. What was he even scared about? It's not like Whumper is here. Whumpee moved the chain around his wrist, he tried to emit some sound to catch the guy's attention. But just like before, that creature just glued to the floor. 

Whumpee gave up. He leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. After that he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened by Whumper. Whumpee opened his eyes and to his surprise, Whumpee 2 crawled up and hugged Whumper's leg. He frowned, immediately annoyed while Whumper just smirked down at the guy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Just like how you treat an obedient dog.

Whumper chuckled upon seeing the frustrated look on Whumpee's face. "Aww, are you jealous that I'm being all loving with him rather than you? Maybe you should just submit to me…you will get all the attention too."

Whumper leaned down and stroked the guy's cheek gently. Whumpee looked at them in disgust as Whumper kissed the guy's forehead and squeezed his throat playfully. 

So pathetic, letting someone treat you like that. 

Whumpee swore to his life that he would never break because of someone like Whumper. He would stay strong until Caretaker came and saved him. That's his promise to her. But seeing Whumpee 2 like this broke his heart, what would Caretaker say if she saw him in that condition?

"What did you do to him? What did you do that made him change?" Whumpee asked, with a slight hint of anger in his voice.

Whumper hummed, "Oh, nothing much. Just touch him here and there…you know?"

Whumpee huffed out a sigh, "Touch him with what?"

Whumper squeezed Whumpee 2's cheeks, "With the whip, hammer, shock collar...you name it."

Whumpee swallowed hard, Whumper never hurt him using those things before. He only got a few cuts on his body, Whumper drowned him once, and a few kicks and punches every time he made a ruckus. 

"Oh, don't be so surprised that I treated you much better than him. He's the one who offered to take your punishments for you." Whumper said, looking down at Whumpee 2 with a smirk. 

"And now, look at him. He's just a broken doll now, only exists to please me. His dear master."

Whumpee too stunned to make any snarky remarks like always. His eyes glued to his friend. Whumper's right, he's nothing more than a lifeless body. He wanted to yell at Whumper for being the reason he lost his friend forever, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Whumper snickered as he walked out of the basement, locking the door before leaving the two alone. Whumpee looked at Whumpee 2 with his eyes full of…betrayal?

They locked eye contact with each other and Whumpee couldn't help but feel tears burning in his eyes. That's not Whumpee 2, he's a different person now. He used to be so annoying, so cheerful, always encouraging Whumpee to do stupid things. He's also the one who used to get mad at Whumpee when he nearly gave up until that asshole separated them two.

"Whumpee 2…" Whumpee started. "Why? Why did you took my punishments for me? Do you think I'm that weak?" 

Whumpee 2 just stayed silent. He opened his mouth slightly before closing them again. His gaze fell to the ground, not having enough strength to look at Whumpee. But Whumpee ended up feeling more anger towards him. Tears streamed down his face.

"Answer me you idiot! Who asked you to do that for me?! Why are you always like this? Always think about other people rather than yourself! Do you think I would be happy seeing you like this, huh?!"

Whumpee 2 still didn't move nor say anything. Whumpee wanted to yell at him again when he saw a tear rolled down his face. Whumpee could feel his heart shattered at the sight. He pushed his knees to his chest and buried his face on it. 

"Dummy…" Whumpee muttered with a broken voice.

[bekolxeram]

I had an idea of Buck finding out who Maurice was through Athena months ago. No one gave me that fic, I guess I'd better feed myself. I've never written any fic before, (You read that right, I don't mean for this fandom, I've never written any fic in my life) so I was planning for a short little humorous piece. Well, I'm around 2/3 of the way done, and it's already over 2.5k words long. I don't think I'll able to finish it in the very near future, and I still don't have an AO3 account, so I decide to share the first half of it with you? To give myself the motivation to keep writing?

I just want to get my ideas out there, I'll probably correct the grammar and refine the word choices when I finish the whole thing. Please enjoy and give me feedback. (Gently, it's my first time writing anything fictional outside of high school English exam)

The first time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at Chimney and Maddie’s hospital wedding.

Neither his sister nor his now brother-in-law had much luck in love. Murderous ex, surprise pregnancy, all sorts of trauma, mental health struggle, break up, make up, you name it, they had been through it all. Even on their wedding day, the universe decided to sprinkle in a little viral encephalitis as a last minute wedding gift. Any other couple would have taken all this as a sign of destiny’s disapproval of their relationship, but not Chimney and Maddie. Life kept trying to set them apart, but they chose to get back together, time and time again. Even when they were deep in delirium, when they had lost all sense of self, they always instinctively crawled back to one another, like it was in their very nature to love each other.

Buck agreed with his mother, getting married at a hospital was indeed appropriate. Plenty of newlyweds said their vows just for the sake of traditions, but when Maddie and Chimney pledged to their lives to each other, in sickness and in health, they had their entire relationship to back it up.

Buck was ecstatic, when Bobby pronounced them officially married. He envisioned how the day would be panning out quite differently, but he could not complain. Sure, he would prefer to have his date by his side, but as a firefighter himself, he understood the safety of the city was more important than his own feelings. If anything, on that day, he learned that life would not always let you have your dream wedding, or your dream date, but as long as you treasure and prioritize each other, everything would work out in the end.

Then Tommy walked into the hospital, still in his turnout gear, covered in soot, all apologetic.

Buck just knew he had to close their distance, taste the alluring flavor of smoke straight from his lips.

Tommy came, without stopping by to get changed or to wash up, because the wedding was important to Buck, because he promised to come. Buck once thought duty and romance was a question of either/or, but Tommy made enough of an effort to make them both work.

Buck knew very well how dirty his face must have been after making out aggressively with his date, but he did not care one bit. He had not been this happy for so long, he wanted everyone in the room to see how elated he was. He wanted to wear his happiness on his face.

He briefly congratulated the newlyweds. His sister, like the caretaker she was, pulled out a baby wipe for him to clean up his lower face. He tried his best to wipe off all the soot, then he took a piece a cake and started looking around the room for his date. He found Tommy having a conversation with the Wilsons.

“Hey,” Buck put his hand on Tommy’s lower back, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just what an entrance you two have made,” Hen said with a smirk. Karen was struggling to hide her chuckle.

“Look at him, can you blame me?” Buck gazed adoringly at Tommy, “I was planning to show him off on the dancefloor anyway.”

“You’re full of surprise, Evan, you know that?” Tommy smiled, the ocean blue in his eyes filled Buck’s heart with affection.

“I’m sure it went a lot better than the last time you tried kissing someone in front of me,” Hen interrupted, with a devilish grin.

“Huh?” Tommy reacted, puzzled.

“Maurice.” The Wilsons were fully giggling at this point.

“Oh no.” Tommy covered half of his face with one of his hands, seemingly embarrassed by Hen’s teasing, “You guys are never going to let me live this down, aren’t you?”

The conversation kept flowing, but Buck was deafened by the thousands of questions in his head.

Who’s Maurice? Why have I never heard of him? Why was Tommy trying to kiss him? In front of Hen too? Was he Tommy’s crush? Who rejected him? No, were they… together?

“Evan?” Tommy noticed Buck’s lapse in focus.

“Uh… yes… yes, Tommy?”

“The cake?” Tommy pointed at the piece of dessert in Buck’s hand.

“Sure… Of course.” Buck handed the plate over. He really wanted to find out more about this Maurice, but at the same time, he recognized the recency of his budding romance with Tommy. Tommy would get around to mentioning this mysterious figure from his past eventually, Buck thought, so he decided to let it go for now.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m starving.” Tommy explained, while shoving a sizable chunk of wedding cake into his mouth. “Mmm, this is so good. This is everything I’ve been waiting for.” This man loved his cake, even the soot and fatigue on his face could not hide the genuine joy radiating from his face, in all its crinkly, wrinkly glory.

“The cake huh? Is that all?” Buck asked, flirtatiously.

Tommy flirted back, with his signature deadpan expression but burning lust in his eyes, “Well, I have to refuel my body before engaging in whatever activities await us tonight.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat, probably from the sudden rush of blood down south. Yeah, Maurice could wait.

The second time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at the medal ceremony.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

Not only did none of them get fired, they were all given medals for borrowing LAFD property and leading a pre-authorized rescue mission off the coast of Mexico. None of that would have been possible without the pilot. Yes, all of them played their part in saving Bobby and Athena from the sinking cruise ship, but Tommy in particular put his career, even his own life at risk just to help a few old colleagues he had not seen for years, just because there might be people in need. Judge him all you want, but seeing Tommy on that stage, being awarded for his skills and heroism, Buck simply could not conceal the fondness and enamorment written all over his face. Bobby and Athena being alive and well, looking like a classic Hollywood power couple, was obviously the most important part, Buck told himself. Although, Tommy being appreciated for the absolute ace he was, while in his dress blue, came as a close second.

The way the rigid fabric splayed across the pilot’s strong muscular body, buttons holding on for dear life against his bulging pecs, pants just tight enough to accentuate the curvature of his glutes, a feature Buck found enticing in all genders. Buck was not alone in ogling the real life erotic fantasy in front of him, about that he was sure, but he took comfort in knowing he was the only one there who got to touch this body, to worship it, to savor every inch of it, to feel it against his own. He might have almost missed his own call to the stage because he was too busy gawking at his boyfriend.

He was looking forward to celebrate this moment with his loved ones, maybe a little foreplay in costume with Tommy too, until Gerrard showed up and ruined everything.

Upon spotting the former 118 captain, Tommy looked as if he had seen a ghost.

The second Gerrard made a limp wrist gesture at Tommy, insinuating a homophobic slur, Buck realized he was more than an ignorant old man. He barely skirted the edge of blatant bigotry just to abuse his targets while staying on the side of possible deniability. If he used merely 10% of his brain power allocated for creative insults, Los Angeles would be a much safer place.

Tommy was clearly upset after their unexpected encounter with Gerrard. He was forking the food on his plate, without eating any, then abruptly, he stood up, “I don’t feel like eating these right now. I’m gonna get some cake, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Buck gave him a forced smile and a small peck to his temple, then he sent his boyfriend to his beloved sweet treat.

“I’m worried about him,” Buck turned to Chimney, “I’ve never seen him like this before, being so… small.”

“Working under Gerrard was not exactly a fun time worth keeping in your memory” Chimney sighed. “Like most of us, it took Tommy a long time and a lot of soul searching to become who he is right now. He did have a fat head back in the days, but I can’t say I blame the guy. Sometimes you do things you’ll regret further down the road just to survive at the moment.”

“Yeah… he told me the 118 was a regressive place back then.”

“Gerrard isn’t just another asshole, he’s an asshole with power, particularly power over his people’s safety. Tommy almost died because of him.”

“I know… Gas explosion, right? He said you saved his life.”

“I guess I did, but hey, Gerrard only gave me one month of KP duty as a reward, so that was a plus,” Chimney snickered, sarcastically.

“He punished you for saving Tommy’s life?” Buck never fully grasped the injustice, mistreatment, and suffering his loved ones faced under Gerrard’s reign of terror. He made a mental note to thank Bobby later for his gentle fatherly guidance.

“That’s who he is, Buck. All power trip, no leadership. I’ve never seen Tommy so scared of somebody,” Chimney continues, “except maybe... Maurice.”

Maurice, this name again. Buck still knew close to nothing about this cryptic individual.

Tommy was very upfront about how abrasive his was in his youth. Having to desperately hide his true self from his abusive father, then intolerant military policy, and finally his homophobic superior, he had learned very early on that the best defense was a solid offense. He was cold, distant, downright rude to anyone and everyone who tried getting too close, to the truth, to his desire, to his heart. So if Tommy was reluctant to share the parts of his life that he was less than proud of, Buck would not try to pry… At least until Chimney told him how fearful Tommy was of Maurice.

“Who…” Just as Buck opened his mouth, his brother in law rose from his seat, grabbing the red wine filled glass with him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this wine to my wife.”

As soon as Chimney left, Tommy returned with a piece of cake in his hand and a subtle smile on his face.

“Heyy-” Tommy greeted Buck in his usual playful tone.

“Hey, feeling better?” Buck was relieved, sensing Tommy’s change of mood.

“Um…” Tommy looked down, seemingly pondering. Then he retook the seat he previously occupied, the one right next to Buck, and hooked one of his feet under his boyfriend’s chair. He gave the chair a swift, firm tug, and in the blink of an eye, the physical distance between them vanished.

“Now I am,” Tommy murmured with his deep, gravelly voice.

Just like that, the rest of the room ceased to exist for Buck. No Gerrard, no Maurice, only Tommy. Buck’s fingers slowly slid towards the strong, burly thigh leaning against his own, but Tommy stopped him on his track, by grabbing his inquisitive hand.

“This is not exactly... appropriate for work, don’t you think?”, Tommy said, without letting go of Buck. “People may have questions if they see us.” His grip tightened, just enough to reignite the fervent desire building up between them since the start of the day. “Hen and Karen asked me just now about my intentions with you, if they are…” He looked down at the shinny medal currently decorating his boyfriend’s chest, and used his free hand to adjust the ribbon, “honorable.”

“And what did you say?” Buck asked breathlessly, almost panting.

“I told them, we’re taking it very slow…” Tommy inched closer and closer. “You’re taking the lead, I’m just trying to keep up…” His lips ghosted over Buck’s cheek, then he whispered into his ear, “Where should we go now?”

Buck responded by simply dragging Tommy onto the station rooftop. With the “no visitors” sign blocking the stairs, it was the perfect place for some private pastime.

[jplupine]

Beast of Sunagakure: Bonus

Pairing: Gaara x AFAB Reader Word Count: ~2k Date Published: July 28, 2024 WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Monster!Gaara, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Scent Kink, Underwear Sniffing, Masturbation [Gaara]; Reader is AFAB but no gender is specified, Terms such as pussy/cock/etc. get used.

A/N: The art above was drawn by me! Gotta crop to make it Tumblr friendly </3 If you'd like to see the full image, you can follow the links here or read it on AO3.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus You can also read it on AO3!

  There wasn't much for Gaara to do when you were gone. It was quiet without you talking away about your day or trying to have a conversation with him. He'd grown to like hearing your voice, hanging on to every word even when he had pretended not to listen in the past.

  When you first started talking to him, he was tempted to tell you to shut up and leave him alone. It was from a mix of shame and believing you were just like the rest of his caretakers who came before you. The shame also ran deep; how could it not after what had happened?

  Your scent on that day several months ago had made his thoughts unclear and his blood burn through his veins. His instincts and logic were at war, and you touching him dulled the clarity of his thoughts even further. When you held his face so gently, your much smaller hands cradling him with care, and said his name, he snapped and tried to get to you through the cage.

  After you ran away and he came back to his senses, Gaara was utterly embarrassed. He couldn't even look at you for a long time without remembering that incident. He'd never done such a thing before and he didn't know how to handle it.

  And yet you acted as if it wasn't that big of a problem. You kept your distance still but never treated him less than for acting like a stupid animal in heat. It was both a relief and rubbed his shame in his face even more.

  Then you dropped your headscarf after cleaning his cage, not even noticing that it had fallen from your pocket while leaving. Gaara noticed and was going to leave it there for you to find the next morning. But the colorful fabric drew his attention and curiosity.

  Gaara picked it up to get a better look at the cactus flowers, the colors faded with age and being worn. Holding it in his hand, he picked up your scent on the garment. The smell of your sweat and shampoo permeated every fiber and made his heart beat faster.

  When you first arrived, your scent had been bitter with stress and fear. However, the scent on your headscarf lacked both of those things. It was predominantly earthy and sweet. He kept it to sleep with, justifying it by telling himself it was just an attempt to help lessen his loneliness. He rationalized it was nothing more than that and nothing less.

  But then you found it in his bed just a few days later. Gaara was ready for you to be angry, disgusted, and possibly even afraid. Instead, you encouraged it by giving him the headscarf and bringing another one later that night. You thought he stole it because of the flowers; he wasn't going to correct your wrong assumption.

  You started talking to him more after that. Gaara never responded to you, but you never stopped. It was mostly idle chatter about what you did in your time away littered with questions in the hopes that he would somehow answer or acknowledge you.

  You thought he wasn't paying attention, but that was far from the truth. Gaara even noticed when you started gaining weight, looking less frail as time went on. It was a combination of having more stable access to food and working your muscles when you cleaned his cage and hauled around his heavy meals. It was especially hard to not notice when you would bend over and your clothes looked tighter.

  It had him salivating and frustrated to see your ass as if you were presenting yourself to him and unable to touch you due to the chains. You never seemed to have a clue just how close to the edge you made him feel. Gaara, on the other hand, could not remain as calm as you.

  He started shoving your headscarves into his face to breathe in your scent while palming his cock late at night. Gaara would get off to fantasies about you while trying to hide it all from you. If you found out that he did this, surely you would finally react with disgust.

  Only a few months later, you both were stuck in a cave during a sandstorm with your hands wrapped around his dick. He would never forget it. The way you drooled to make stroking him easier and how you looked with his cum splattered on your chest were branded in his mind. The scent of your arousal made him take a chance that ended up with your arms wrapped around him and his cock sinking into your wet heat while his balls were slapping against your soft ass.

  Gaara lost himself in you because he thought he'd never have the opportunity to again. That thought is also why he stole your underwear when you weren't looking. The garment was covered in your scent and joined the headscarves he had stashed away.

  That, too, you eventually found and didn't react how he had thought you would. That encounter ended with you letting him keep the underwear you had been wearing that was soaked with your arousal.

  They were a constant reminder of you. Gaara was embarrassed by his impulsive actions, but it wasn't enough to stop him from touching himself while fisting your clothes close to his nose. Especially not now that you encouraged it.

  There wasn't much for Gaara to do when you were gone, and it was quiet with you not there to talk to him....but he found a way to occupy some of his time. Even now, with the stars dotting the sky as Gaara tried to sleep, your underwear tempted him. His mind had slipped into thinking of you again enough to make his dick hard.

  Digging out your underwear from the straw bedding, Gaara was in human form to make what he was about to do easier. Bringing the garment closer to his face, he breathed in your scent. His keen nose could still pick up your musk that made his skin tingle and feel hot.

  Memories of that night in the cave replayed in his mind. Your little gasps and moans. Your smaller body beneath his. Your skin so soft, even more so on your inner thighs. The memories made his cock ache.

  Gaara spread his legs with his knees in the air while reaching down with his free hand. His fingers circled the base of his cock before ghosting over his length. The touch was only meant to excite himself more before his hand went back down, traveling through his pubic hair to his balls.

  His grunt was muffled behind a clenched jaw when he cupped his balls and ever so lightly squeezed them the same way you had. They were heavy in his hand, and he remembered how they had been smeared in your juices that night. From your drool to your slick, you had left his balls a mess of your essence.

  Each time he breathed in, the scent of your pussy filled his nose. Gaara buried his face in your underwear while groaning and fondling his balls. His hand was bigger than yours and calloused. His palms would never be as soft as yours nor could he exactly match your touch.

  Gently squeezing again, Gaara made his cock twitch. His fingers slid back to his dick, wrapping around the base with a firm hold. His skin was burning hot as he could feel his own pulse in his hand. He remembered how your mouth closed around his fingers and wondered if you would ever be willing to do the same to his cock.

  Thinking of how your soft lips had pressed against his fingers as you gently sucked and lapped at his fingertips made him groan. His hand moved up to the tip, gently stroking as he thought of how that might feel on his cock. Gaara's breath shook thinking of how you might look up at him with your pretty eyes and his length on your tongue.

  Gaara's mind continued to build fantasies of you while touching himself. His head lolled back while drowning in your scent as his thighs tensed. It made his mouth water to think of you spread and crying out his name as he dragged his tongue over your pussy. He wanted to devour your essence and have it dripping from his chin, but so far, his stupid dick didn't have the patience to allow him to do so.

  The way it ached for you made him feel close to exploding if he didn't get relief. Gaara tried once but only made it as far as kissing your stomach before he couldn't take the tight throbbing anymore. Maybe next time he could go further and taste you from deep within while your thighs shivered around his head.

  His grip on his cock tightened as he imagined feeling your pussy clenching around his tongue. Being able to smell you on your underwear made his fantasy more real; almost as if you were there and hovering over him. Gaara then thought of you straddling his head, allowing your juices to drip onto his tongue as he moved his hand faster.

  His hips bucked, driving his cock further into his hand. He moaned and it was muffled by your underwear. Gaara thought of how your fingers would run through his hair and tug as you moaned, encouraging him to keep feasting.

  'Do you want to please me?'

  It was a question you had asked him before that was easy for him to answer. He would do whatever he could to please you. His blood sang for you even when he didn't use his body to worship at the altar of your flesh.

  While not your original intentions, you still managed to make Gaara a drooling dog at your beck and call. He only fell deeper and deeper into you with every second spent in your presence. When he heard your voice shake and moan. Got to see that exhausted smile you'd get after orgasming. The way your eyes shined when you looked at him and your skin glistened with sweat.

  He groaned into your underwear as his toes curled and his thighs tensed. His body was buzzing and his moan shifted into a low growl that vibrated his chest. Gaara rubbed his fingers over his slit, wetting them and smearing his leaking precum across his skin.

  He was getting close while drowning in your scent. He did this with shame before, but now knowing you not only encouraged it but also had similar thoughts about him, he did it without restraint. Gaara remembered every time you said his name, whether it was a whisper, a coo, or a pleasured cry. You flooded his mind as his cock twitched in his hand.

  It wasn't quite enough, so he uncovered his face to spit in his palm. Since he had been drooling from your scent, it was plenty enough to wet his hand and have it gliding over his tip and along his shaft. Gaara's head fell back with another moan while covering his nose again with the thin fabric.

  With his thighs shivering and his fingers bumping over the crown of his dick with the slick sounds of his thick saliva, he was finally able to peak. He felt his cock pulsing as he continued to stroke, spurts of cum splattering on his stomach and dripping from his hand. Gaara whined into your underwear as he milked himself to the last drop.

  Panting and cradling himself, Gaara basked in the feeling of his orgasm. His muscles relaxed and his head felt light. With his balls not so full, he hoped he could finally get some sleep and dream of you without you keeping him awake and aching. He was eager to see your pretty smile in the morning and hear whatever you wanted to say to him next, hoping you would say his name again while you were at it.

[the-empress-7]

My completely made-up tin-hat theory about the aquamarine ring is this -

Meghan was lent that aquamarine ring for her reception as something of Harry's mum (Diana) to wear for the big day, and also a sweet nod to something blue. I think William may have had a hand in this decision and it was mainly something nice he did for his brother. Meghan and her PR then ran with it and said she inherited the ring as Harry's wife. The products cycle around that was massive and may have put William and the BRF on high alert with the way Meghan was claiming to now own that ring. There may have been some difficulties getting that ring back from Meghan after that.

I've thought this because very soon after this, during the aus tour, there was an article (in the Times maybe?) that said William had banned Meghan from ever borrowing any BRF jewels. At the time I thought what was this decision based on? Apart from the wedding tiara Meghan had not been lent any other BRF jewels, except for Diana's aquamarine ring. So was there maybe some problem in getting that back from her?

Then she wore the blood diamond earings and made a big deal about how she owns them. And she wore them twice just to make a statement. So who was she making this statement for? The public didn't know the full story then. The staff didn't even know she was going to wear these, so why would she have travelled with those earings all the way to Australia? My guess was that she was showing the middle finger to whoever had said no to loaning her BRF or Diana jewels.

My guess is that because of Williams' position and him being the eldest son all her estate was inherited by William and not infact divided 50/50. When he turned 30, his sisters and brother (who had probably been the caretakers and keeping it at althorp) gave it to him.

Sometimes last year, karen Spencer said as much in her comments section on insta on a Diana related post.

Because of the provenance of her jewellery, it may have gone in bulkto William as part of the estate (ie , inheritance). Harry may have just inherited the money and trust fund. And some smaller keepsakes for sentimental reasons. He likely did not mind this earlier, but Meghan, once she got to know, took offence. But neither of them would say anything against the Spencers and what is likely a perfectly legally binding inheritance situation. .

Talk about stories that are a blast from the past! I think your aquamarine ring theory is pretty solid. If we know anything about Meghan, it's that if you give her an inch she will take a mile.

I do think William banning her from borrowing royal jewelry had to do with Tiara Gate and the appalling way she and Harry treated everyone as a result of it. Also remember that things went south very quickly after the wedding. By the time the Sucks left for ANZ, William had already started the process of kicking them out of the Royal Foundation. The stuff that we the public know, is just the tip of the iceberg.

If Meghan really did still have some of Diana's jewelry in her possession there is no way in hell that she wouldn't be wearing it all the damn time. Instead she is left cosplaying her outfits.