#my pastel girl in a hard world

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, ��you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[cindol]

can I req jjk men as girl dad’s? Specifically nanami, toji, choso, or sukuna! :))

the jjk men as girl dads .

cw + — fluff, mamaguro!reader, heian era sukuna,

wc : 1307 words .

NANAMI KENTO .

the most girl dad ever. He’s lucky enough to get you pregnant and have three triplet daughters pop out.

He’s taught himself with YouTube and you how to do all of his daughters hair when you’re not available. If one of his daughter’s has trouble getting her hair done due to being whiney or something else he tries being negotiable.

“I know you hate it honey, but if you get through this I promise we can go to the park after with fuschia and yuki how about that hm?”

She’s whiney, but nods with a bratty look on face.“promise?”

“I promise.”

Nanami let’s his girls play with his face however much they please as long as it makes them happy and distracted. The thing that makes them stop is when you come through the front door with a gasp at your three daughters putting pastel chalk on his face.

“Girls! What are you doing to your poor daddy’s face?” you drop your bag rushing over while the girls are giggling with chalk in their hands while nanami sighs and chuckles at your worry.

Eventually they run off when you give a stern look while you use a napkin to clean up his face.“You really have such a hard time telling the girls no, baby.”

he has a soft smile on his face while you tend to his chalked up cheeks.“they’re my girls darling, I have to let them.”

CHOSO KAMO .

a better father than kenjaku could ever dream of. He knows what it’s like to have a father who looks at you like a bug, something less worthy so he treats his daughter Saiko the best he can with all his soul regardless of gender.

When she’s having trouble making friends in kindergarten he cheers her up with snacks and a goodnight bedtime.

He understands how emotions can be confusing for her too and in her late teens he’s fine with the mood swings and emo phase.

You just scoff when you’re taking her laundry basket after she slams the door. You’re walking down the stairs just baffled at your daughter’s recent behavior.“I never know with that girl I swear! It’s like your daughter just is in a permanent mood swing.”

choso chuckles.“give her a break baby. I think I remember you being like that when we were young don’t you?”

you hum, thinking about that time in your life with the laundry basket of jeans and white t’s on your hip.“guess you’re right there cho’. I use to be in a big phase of split dye as my hair color and you definitely couldn’t get enough of those pigtails.” you teased him at the end there making him nervously chuckle.

“Kenjaku would’ve had to drag me by the pigtails to get me to stop wearing them everyday. So give her sometime hm honey?”

You huffed, nodding.“ok but talk to her. She shares basically the same traits as you, she’ll listen better.”

Once it comes to it he takes Saiko mall shopping and gets to the route of the problem, boy troubles with her boyfriend.

“Boys are idiots sweetheart, take it from me and even ask your mother. There’s much fish in the sea in that highschool of yours.”

saiko sniffles but nods, choso wasn’t always the best when it came to girl advice but he made her smile and laugh.“Guess you’re right… He sniffs glue anyway.”

“I'm glad I haven’t met this ex of yours honey.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO .

He was glad when he had a male carbon copy of him and even happier to find out you were pregnant again for a third time.

This time he’d make sure he wouldn’t fuck it up and be there for his baby girl all the time. Even before she came into this world he was painting her room and decorating with you.

“Half and half toji?”

“Never know if she likes pink and blue baby, you can’t assume.”

He’s a protective dad in public grocery stores. He doesn’t just brush off some woman trying to touch his daughter Rina in her stroller just because she’s cute. He abruptly turns the stroller with a stank face making you nervously laugh but apologize to the poor lady.

“Toji! You can’t just be so rude to that poor lady for wanting to say hi.”

“Ain’t letting some random just touch my daughter. You’re crazy if you even think I would babe.”

It’s hard for him to be trustworthy to babysitters also. Even if your judgment is good he still chooses shiu to babysit his youngest daughter.

“Thought you wouldn’t even show.” he says it nonchalantly while handing shiu the giggling toddler.

“I’ve babysit two of your runts, I’m sure I can handle a third.” he makes a hiss when he feels rina tugging at one strand of his hair.“even someone as rough as this little girl so enjoy your night before she starts crying out for her papa.”

Toji’s brave enough when confronting another mother about her child’s bullying behavior towards Rina. He tries the passive route, a small “please teach your kid to be nice okay? Other kids are in the playground with me.”

When that doesn’t work and he’s met with an aggressive tone he matches the same energy.

“Ah great, nice to know where the damn kid learned to throw sand at someone. Nice speaking to ya”

toji doesn’t play about his daughter, at all.

GOJO SATORU .

He didn’t voice to the world about his daughter since he wanted her protected from the jujutsu world but megumi and you know exactly how much excitement was inside him from news of your pregnancy.

He’s glad when she doesn’t have any jujutsu powers or the six eyes, just a pretty face, her natural hair color with some white streaks in her hair.

When she’s a toddler he loved bonding time with her. Any free day he has off he’ll spend it with various mall shopping activities of getting lollipops and annoying nanami when he runs into him.

Seeing Megumi and her together also makes him grin. Be it that megumi is just watching tv and she happens to be on his lap but it still gets him happy.

Megumi just sighs at his sensei’s weird behavior while clicking through channels.“Jeez, you’re strange.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN .

The news that you were pregnant with his seed was good news. He didn’t show his excitement but a toothy grin with a hum was enough to know he was happy at the news.

Sukuna has never been one to care for labels. Any woman or man is just a meal on his platter when it comes down to it and any seed of his is automatically good.

Sukuna didn’t show it outside but he cares deeply for his daughter reira. He’ll let her crawl on his two available hands while his others are crossed, bite on his arms, anything that pleases her.

His favorite thing to do when it came to you and reira was have a small family outing with uraume coming along as preparation. He always picked a secluded area in a forest, sitting on the pink and white cloth with you and reira while uraume prepared wine and sandwiches to be splayed out for the three of you.

Sukuna doesn’t allow any disrespectful words about his daughter. Any maiden or butler whining or complaining near him makes him whip them into shape.

“If you really find caring for my offspring to be such an inconvenience perhaps I should have you removed.” and they all knew what he meant when he said removed in the tone he did.

[vinjinssunglasses]

Hi dear how are you I hope you are doing well! Can you write a hc about yamazaki shingen in which he loves one of his wife(yn) but yn is and independent , smart and strong will woman who doesn't like her situation! And he only knows her children his own!

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✧ character; yamazaki shingen

✧ summary; all your life, you’ve been mistreated. Until you met Shingen, who showed you compassion. However, in this clan you’re just a pawn. To them, you’re not human. Shingen only claims his children as his like the others do, brainwashed by his upbringing. You hate your situation, and admist the tears you tell him how you really feel.

✧ tags; hurt/comfort, angst, tragedy, communication

✧ w/c; 3.4k

✧ a/n; tysm for req ^^ help this took so long. shingen crying btw?! uhhbye ily guys <33

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You head towards your favourite place in this forsaken place, the only area you could feel calm under its gaze — the fountain. Its splashes of water calm you, letting you take a deep breath as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You flipped a coin inside, wishing upon the stars to give you a stroke of luck. Even though you did this everyday, everything always seemed to get worse. Cleaning up for others beyond your own will, while questioning authority will only get you tied in tighter shackles than before, is it really worth the risk? Despite your protests, you were always forced into submission.

As if the world despised and damned your very existence, cursed your name in spite, life seemed to only get worse from here. Letting out a disappointed sigh, you hear the familiar laughing and gossiping in the background. As soon as you turned around, you instantly regretted it. Those other ‘lowlifes’ were laughing at your situation, accompanied by a few low-rankers of the Yamazaki clan.

Don’t they ever get enough?

Nobody here liked you, they all wished upon a more wealthy clan to take the spot as Gun’s mother. They only knew you as Gun’s mother anyway.

They yelled and threw curse words at your name, while you rightfully walked past them, ignoring their usual antics. It was like this everyday, it was just something you were forced to get used to. You know better than to let them go like this, however your protests don’t improve the situation. And they’re starting to get tired of reprimanding your behaviour.

“Go back to your lethargic husband then, huh? We all know Shintaro—.” What? The rage hit you, sharp and blinding. Before you had even realised, your hands shot out, tangling in her hair before yanking her forward, forcing her to look into your eyes.

“What? What did you say?” The girl’s laughter cut off, dissolving as you slapped her, the sound ringing in the silence.

“Talk about me all you like. But I won’t sit here annd listen to you insult my husband, understood?”

Her eyes widened, darting between you and your clenched fists, body trembling as she dared not spare another word. Her defiance crumbled under the weight of your hard, breath catching in her throat as she nodded obediently.

Then you heard it, the familiar shout of your name, cutting through the noise, sharp and unyielding. You loosened your grip on her, turning to the tall figure walking towards you. Quickly picking up those girls were creating false accusations against you, claiming you started to pick a fight, you could only sigh and await your punishment.

Here it comes, the bitterness sinking deeper.

“Come with me.”

You clicked your tongue in a subtle gesture of disapproval, following along unwillingly. The distant chatter of the girls fading away eased you a little, yet you were still stern. He fanned himself, choosing his words carefully as though to not provoke you up further. The trees are starting to blossom into a lovely pastel pink, and the sun is starting to set later than it should. Summer is one of the only things you look forward to. Its burning rays distract you from the thoughts that often keep you awake at night.

“What happened?” His tone unusually kind, as if offering a branch of support.

“Whatever they said about me.” A curt reply passed your lips, as you upheld your serious frown.

“Still, there was no need to—“ He stopped himself, adjusting his glasses as though rethinking his approach. Shintaro parted his lips, as if to say something, before speaking: “I have an offer for you.”

His gaze narrowed slightly, and you raised an eyebrow and you came to a halt. Shintaro scanned the area for any potential spies, then leaned closer, breathe warm against your ear.

“Betray Shingen with me. It’s a simple process, and I guarantee you a happier life.”

“What?” This bastard is also a traitor? Recently, there has been a slow yet steady rise of people disliking the current leader, and the vice president’s support of this sentiment increases the danger. For a moment, you were paralysed. Is this some sort of a rebellion? “I’m not going to do that.”

Shintaro sighed, almost as though he expected your refusal. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Don’t speak another word of this.” You spat, your mind whirling as you turned sharply, making your waytowards your chambers. Each step felt like nails stabbing into your feet, and you dragged your torn self.

‘Rebel against Shingen’ Those words replayed in your mind like a broken record, making your mind dizzy. Lost in thought, you collided into someone. Mumbling a rushed apology, you tried to push past, only to feel a clamped hand around your wrist.

“I was looking for you! Shingen’s kid are playing In the garden when he should be training, so can you-” Shingen’s kids? Those words struck like a slap. Am I just a babysitter to these people?

“Get off me!” You pushed them away onto the floor, tearing up at the eyes. Once having fought for your independence, you believed your life had a purpose other than the cruel expectations set upon you as a birthing machine, a housewife. Your beliefs are all worthless, mercilessly proven by how now you were drifting upon a place that left no room for your wants and needs.

Where did all of this mess began? Was it the day you were born that life was fated to become like this? Nurtured to be obedient and quiet, yet you never want your voice to be silenced. It didn’t matter how much you tried to scream, yell, protest, it was if you were deafened to arrogant ears. Your teenage years were the worst point, you were described as reckless and selfish to the yakuza rules. All these emotions stirred inside to create a mixture of depressive episode and lashes of anger, all to make someone listen to you even once.

It wasn’t your best bet to resort to violence. But it worked. Even though you were allowed to personally train as a woman, you were just as capable as a man at heart. Secretly watching how your older brothers took over aikido, you begged for them to train you behind your clan’s backs. When they found out, they almost disowned you. Where else were you to go? Wandering the streets, with all these tattoos? Nobody would talk you in as the mess you were.

Shingen.. The leader of a clan known for its ability to make even the strongest, well-known clans to sink to their knees. Although he was seem ruthless by his uptight exterior, he was the first to ever appreciate you. The only man to ever carry you in his arms, bury his face into your neck, and treat you so lovingly. You hated yourself for the little you were worth, but he truly made you feel like the only person in the world.

It feels like your world is collapsing atop you, nobody there to pull you out of the way of a boulder. Deep breaths, deep breathes… For all your life you’ve bottled up all your emotions, so why is it so difficult now? As soon as you pushed open that door, you practically collapsed onto that bed, sinking into the warm sheets.

That following week came the dreaded family event, where other clans came to congratulate the birthdat of Gun. He was just a little boy by now, 10 years old. That little boy deserved the world, to be happy and play kendama all day as he wished. Though his life was already planned for him — the day he was to take over all the gangs in the area, the day he’d give up all his dreams and surrender himself. Just two years ago, would he cling to your skirt and hold your hand tightly when you spoke to unfamiliar people. How do they expect an innocent soul like his to ruthlessly murder like his father?

Life isn’t fair on him, nor on you. Coexisting in this selfish world, only you stood by his side. You wanted the best for him, for him to do anything he wanted. Against your will, he were to be a street fighter, fated to inheriting that name, ‘Machine Gun’.

You make sure to apply extra concealer to cover the dark circles and the tear stains from the night before. Shingen came from behind you and kissed your neck, biting your earlobe teasingly, his tall stature curling around you.

“Are you okay, baby?” It’s best if he doesn’t know anyway, right?. Around you, he seems to never stop smiling, unable to keep his loving gaze off of you. it’s be a shame to wipe that all away with your own burdens.

“Im alright, Shingen.” I smile, resting my free hand upon his head, stroking through the silky-smooth strands.

“We have to get going,” Shingen softly spoke, taking your hand in his. Before leaving, he pressed a delicate kiss on the back of your hand, reminding you how much he values you.

It’s 5 o’clock, and Shingens swarmed with the other ladies from different clans. Although jealous, they must be going through the tough traditions we must uphold — to marry and have sex with the man who upholds the most power. In this case, your beloved. That was how your twisted romance started — from the unfairness placed upon you and thousands of other undeserving women. You were lucky to have given birth to your son. Ever so often, you think about what could’ve happened in stead. What if Shingen never opened his heart to you, fallen so deeply in love with you?

Taking a glass of wine, you finished it in one gulp, hoping to shove these thoughts to the back of your mind. Shingens still the same man he was when he first met you — cold, unbothered with a sharp, scrutinising glare. The same one that you found yourself shamefully attracted to. Unbothered, he sighed, absentmindedly making conversations, eyes drifting away from theirs as if something is occupying his mind.

Before you could even stand, you hear the familiar shout of your name. Applauding joyfully with a half-finished wine glass in her hand, hiccuping while congratulating you

“It’s been a couple years,” She smiled, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. You scowled while stiffly trying to make some distance in between you two. “How’s his son?”

“His..?” You muttered, confused. “He’s doing well, he’s a quick learner. The Kojima’s have said he’s mastered Aikido by now.”

Keeping up appearances was something you were always taught to follow. It was engraved in you, impossible to unlearn after being beaten for forgetting.

“Right, right. He’ll grow up just to be like his father. Shingen-nim has been raising him well.” One thing you hated about Shingen was that he was not present in his child’s life often. When Gun cried in the middle of the night, it was put upon you to rock him to sleep once more; despite the aches of your back. Breastfeeding, playing with him, changing his diapers — your responsibility. The only thing the Yamazaki clan did for you was train him to be a killing machine, it was his sole purpose for his birth in the first place.

“Yes. He’s a good father.” Your eyebrows furrowed, yet you had to keep that polite, strained smile on your face.

“He looks just like him, doesn’t he? Reverse eyes, fighting skills—“

“Apologies, it seems I have something to do right now. Is it okay if I get back to you?” Your fists clenched at your sides, voice straining to keep its elegance.

“Oh well, if it’s that important then it cannot be helped.” She took another drink of her wine, waving you goodbye while you stormed off. Fighting skills and reverse eyes… If it wasn’t for that, would she even care? Was she purposely ignoring all the resemblance I have to my own child? He’s the splitting image of me for crying out loud?! Holding your head in your hands, you quickly realised this would be a bad look.

Your son was sitting next to his nephew, Haruto. Gun loved playing games and having fun, while on the other hand Haruto was interested in strategies and books. Whenever you saw him, he was always knee-deep in another tale. Although they were opposites, they always got along. Such a shame that Gun won’t have much time to play with him when he got older. Their bond was like brothers, if you saw Gun you would also see Haruto. As if they were attached at the hip. He’d even watch him practicing martial arts, and Gun would rest his head upon his shoulder while Haruto read. The warm, spring breeze hitting their faces while he basked in the sun’s rays.

Unlike Gun, you felt isolated — nobody to truly let out your emotions to. Everyone was enjoying the evening while you were torn in the corner. Where’s your happy ending? That son, your blood and tears in one being, wasn’t even socially considered yours. And Shingen didn’t seem to mind your discretisation. Sitting here, bathing him his own luxuries, on top of the world like he’d always had been. Raised to be head, nobody had ever put him in his place.

That rebellion Shintaro mentioned.. Your eyes shift to Shintaro’s overwhelming presence in the crowd, creating chatter amongst the women. If they couldn’t have Shingen, they’d atleast marry another powerful man like him. This all makes you wonder, is the rebellion valid? Again, you’re giving yourself a headache, it’s best not to think about it.

The night carries on, and you find yourself sitting, alone with the company of the depressive thoughts to fight to shove them away. That conversation replays in your head like a broken record. He’s your son too, right? You birthed and raised him all by yourself.

Shingen excused himself from the idle chatter and came to sit next to you, lacing your hands in his.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. What was the lady from that clan talking about?” He asked, unable to suppress a smile when he’s with you. Softly gazing into your eyes, a sharp contrast from the same stern eyes that he used at those women striking conversation.

“Jonggun. She was asking how he were getting along.” You answer honestly, while his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. “I told her he’s mastered Aikido.”

“Of course, he’s a Yamazaki through and through,” Shingen spoke, taking a deep breath while using that steady authority he always used, with a hint of gentleness. “I expect no less, my bloodline is pure.”

Those careless words pierced through your chest like a sharp blade. All this constant stress made your headache even more, and you poured another glass of the wine resting on the table.

“Pure..” You muttered, those words buttering your tongue, voice drowned out by the hum of chatter. Taking a glance at his face, he remained unfazed, looking down upon your soft fingers against his scarred, calloused ones. He never noticed how you felt. Never read the emotion building up onto your voice, causing your face to contort into one of frustration. Then again, you’re in public, you’ve been taught to remain calm and collected.

“The children will carry on my legacy.”*

“Your legacy, you say..?” You repeated once more, this time loud enough for his ears to catch on. Setting the glass down with more force then necessary, creating a loud thump that diverted eyes and conversations.

“I’m feeling unwell, please excuse me.” Walking through these damned hallways once more, the echo of gasps seemed to fade away. You almost couldn’t bare to see his face any longer. Undoing the laces and ties of your kimono, you threw it onto the floor in a fit of fury . The undergarments lay scattered upon the floor while you buried your head into your pillow. The makeup slid off your face, staining the pillow and smudging your mascara. Whether it had been minutes or hours, you didn’t know. After a while, you eventually calmed down, sniffling while staring at your blank ceiling. Only then did you hear the door sliding open.

He called your name, and you instantly rolled over, turning away from him.

“Are you alright? What’s the matter?” He sat onto the bed, you weren’t ready to confront him with this yet. The years you’ve endured this pain. The mistreatment. You were ashamed for yourself. Gathering all your courage, you spoke:

“What you said back then. Before I excused myself.” Shingen raised an eyebrow. “You always say that.” You spat, voice trembling, bubbling over with the suppressed tears.

“Our children. Our legacy. They’re my children too. My tainted blood runs through their veins just as much as yours. But you never say that, do you? Not does anyone. Nobody acknowledges my very existence, they only talk to talk about your son, your achievements. You don’t bat an eye — no, you don’t even care how I feel.” You swallowed throat right, tears streaming down your face. “Or maybe it’s my fault, I..”

The words tumbled out your mouth now, chest tight, spilling with the words you’ve always wanted to say. “How come the world only cares about you? I was the one who changed his diapers, I was the only one who was acruallly present in his life. Were you even there when he took his first steps? Or learnt how to say ‘mama’? I’m just the perfect vessel to continue your perfect bloodline.”

The room was deadly silent. Shingen held his head in his hands, lips parting yet remained silent. He took a deep breathe, as if fully processing it all.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You let out a chocked sob. “Pretending everything’s fine, being fucked over constantly, I..”

Shingen breath hitched, the silence between you becoming unbearable. Finally he spoke, low and ashamed.

“I haven’t been completely blind to all of this. I know they haven’t been as accepting of you as they should. You’re a strong woman, yet I’ve let things go too far. There’s only so much in person can take.” Voice barely above a whisper, laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard, he felt too ashamed to even look at you. “The things they’ve said behind my back are unacceptable. I’ve seen how they deduce your worth to nothing…” Shingen could barely piece himself together to finish that sentence, struggling to string together words.

“They’re my family; I was raised this way.. This ignorant mindset of mine passed down from generations, it’s almost apart of me. It’s no excuse for what I’ve let you go through. You’re right — I should’ve been there but I wasn’t.” For the first time ever, you watched a tear glisten down his cheeks. “I should’ve been there. Not just for you, for our son.”

“Why must you make me stay in a household where I’m never good enough? I can’t live like this forever.”

Shingen didn’t have an answer. He sniffled, as if weighing all the years he refused to reflect on. The silence was think and oppressive, and neither of you wanted to spare a word. Finally, he raised his gaze, coming to terms with himself.

“It’s time things changed. From now own, I want you to tel me what you want. I’ll do anything, even if it’s means shedding blood.”

You blinked, the words sinking in slowly.

Shingen reached to cup your face, with the familiar feel of his firm yet gentle touch.

“This clan has always been my legacy to take over. Ever since I was young, I’ve been subjected to vigorous training to be the man that I am today. But if it costs me my beloved and our own child, it’s time I choose differently. For you, for us, for him.”

The you pulled yourself into him, pressing your tear-streaked face against his kimono while he wrapped you in his arms. You choked back your words, your sobs muffled against his increasing heartbeat. The tension within you. unwinded slowly while his words lingered in the air. Shingen sighed, uncontrollably smiling while he sobbed.

Shingen’s hand found its way back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair, his relieved breaths a soothing sigh against your temple. As he held you, his face twistes into one you’ve never witnessed before — remorse. After years, he saw himself break, quiet trembling sobs escaping his lips. His grip around tightened, as if he were afraid to be alone.

It was his first apology. A start to a new era.

[dustteller]

Something I haven't seen people talk about with the new spiderverse movie is just how puertorrican Miles and Rio are.

For background, I'm puertorrican from the island, and I just watched Across the Spiderverse in a theater here, and let me tell you, the people in the theater freaked out whenever these little details came on. It is so clear to all of us how much care went into portraying every single detail.

You guys don't understand how important all of this is to me.

At the party, when everyone started greeting miles in spanish? I've had all those phrases said to me. All of those people had my accent. They weren't a different flavor of hispanic just because finding some puertorricans was too hard. They were all so very puertorrican that it almost hurt.

But even that can be a bit easier to portray. Sure, they all had puertorrican accents, but everything they said is pretty run of the mill for hispanic people. And then I saw the food. I remember the asopao most clearly, because it was just on screen for a few seconds, and my friend started whisper screaming "Pasteles, pasteles!!" into my ear. It was such a tiny thing, but the food was ours, and not cuban, and not dominican. We never get to see our food done right, because no one cares. People just use dominican food and go "close enough."

And when Miles and his parents are talking about spiderman and Rio says that Spiderman is puertorrican?? That's such a puertorrican thing to do. People here are so incredibly proud of our island and our people that I personally know so many people that have gone to see Lin Manuel Miranda shows while having zero interest in musical theater because he's one of us. It makes so much sense that Rio would celebrate that, and when Miles immediately tries to deflect by saying spuderman sounds more dominican? That's peak comedy. Everyone in the theater burst out laughing, and that joke works precisely because the movie doesn't treat us as interchangeable.

And finally, Rio herself. The way all the characters move is so incredibly unique and mesmerizing, but Rio? My girl feels with her mouth. Her expressions were so spot on, with the lips making up so much of the emotions. Puertorricans use our lips a lot when expressing how we feel, and its such a tiny, inconsequential detail, but it means the world to me. So many people in the creative team cared so much for all these little details to make their way in. They really didn't have to, but they did, and I just really appreciate that.

Also, fun fact, I watched it in english with spanish subs (the subs are for the spanish dubbed version, not a direct translation), and when Rio says "I bet she doesn't even know spanish" about Gwen, in spanish it's "I bet she doesn't even know where Puerto Rico is" and that was very funny and I laughed my ass off when I noticed that's what they translated it as.

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not Me?

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader (Angst)

I’m back with the angst everyone! I think I am planning on making this a multiple series…because I have a few ideas! Please let me know what you all think! I love hearing from you :) Anyways, onto the story!

Part II

I stared in the oven, watching the strawberry cake slowly come to a rise. I looked at the time and saw that there were only 10 minutes left before I could take it out, so I took this opportunity to start filling my mochi. I grabbed the rice dough and flattened it out, grabbing my freshly made whipped cream and Zunda.

I loaded up the dough with zunda, adding the whipped cream right after. Carefully, I folded the dough up into a cute little ball, setting it down on a plate next to me. One by one, I arranged them in a neat row on the plate, their green pastel colors and smooth surfaces creating an inviting display that begged to be sampled.

There were exactly 10 balls, all for a special someone.

Just as you finished, you heard the back door of your shop open up. You looked over to see Utahime. I smiled in her direction, greeting her.

”Hey Hime! What brings you here?” You asked, hearing the ding of your oven go off.

“I wanted to see if that idiot was over here bugging you.” She said, looking around for Toru. I smiled softly at the mention of his name, seeing her give me a look of disgust.

”Ugh, out of all the boys you could have fallen for, why did it have to be him? Can’t I persuade you to fall in love with someone else? Literally anyone else.” She said, looking at all the sweets I made. I turned the oven off, grabbing the cake and placing it on the counter to cool off.

“Oh come on, Hime. He’s not that bad. He’s actually very sweet once you get past his cocky facade." I defended, my voice softening as I thought about the moments of genuine kindness I had witnessed from him.

”Are you sure we’re talking about the same Gojo Satoru?” She asked, grabbing a cupcake from the plate.

”Cut him some slack, Hime. Hes got so much pressure on him, it only makes sense for him to act the way he does. I know I would’ve gone absolutely insane if I were in his position.” You said, snatching the cupcake from her hand as she was about to eat it.

”Hey! I wanted to eat that.” She whined, making you roll your eyes at her.

”these are for my customers.” You said, placing the cupcake back on the plate.

“Besides, I already made a plate for you next to the fridge.” You said with a smile, placing the cupcakes in a box for pickup. Hime looked over to the fridge to see a pile of various treats, making her eyes sparkle and mouth salivate.

”Y/n, you are literally the best person in the whole wide world!” She said, grabbing a strawberry muffin.

“I know.” You said, going back to check on your cake.

As Hime stuffed her face with the muffin, she looked over to see the kikufuku neatly displayed on a plate.

“Y/n, when are you going to ask him?” She said with her mouth stuffed. You looked over to her with a confused face.

”What are you talking about?”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

”Oh come on, Y/n. When are you going to finally confess your feelings to Gojo??”

You looked back down at your cake, a frown making its way to your face.

”I…I don’t know, Hime.” You said.

”If you don’t do it soon, it could be too late. Y/n, I am only telling you this because I know how much you love Gojo…even though I find it hard to believe that a sweet girl such as yourself finds someone like him irresistible.” She said, walking up to you. She placed a hand on your shoulder, making you face her.

”What if…what if he doesn’t see me that way? What if I confess to him, only for him to reject me and ruin our friendship? I don’t want that…” You said, looking into her eyes.

She scoffed.

”If Gojo doesn’t see how lucky he is to have someone like you fall in love with him, he’s more of an idiot than I thought.” She said, trying to hype you up.

”You two are inseparable. I swear, anytime I see Gojo without you, its like his whole day is ruined. But the moment you show up, its as if he saw a miracle appear right before his eyes. You quite literally make his day better, Y/n.” She said sternly.

”You really think so?” You asked, starting to feel hopeful.

“Absolutely! There is no way anyone could deny that. Honestly, its kind of sickening how cute you two are together. It almost makes me jealous because you're my best friend.” She said, making you laugh.

”Hime, I never you took you as the jealous type~” You teased, making her smirk.

”Shut up. All I am saying is when you two do become a couple, you better still make time for me. I don’t care if Gojo gets mad, I will steal you away if you don’t hang out with me for a long time.” She said

”you’re starting to sound like Shoko, now. She told me the same thing not too long ago” You snorted.

”well she’s right. We had you first. Gojo was the last to have you, so by common knowledge, your besties get your time first before him.” She said, making you smile at her.

”Oh, Hime. If Toru and I do actually become a thing, I promise you I will never abandon you two. Honestly, if it weren't for you girls, I would have never gotten this close to Toru. After all, chicks before dicks.” You joked, copying what Shoko said the other day.

She chuckled, hearing the back door open once more.

”Sup bitches.” Shoko said, making you both shake your heads at her.

”Nice of you to show up, Shoko. Y/n is about to confess to Gojo of her undying love for him.” Hime teased,making you tense up.

”What?! When did I say that?!” You asked, whipping your head around towards the two of them.

”Fina-fucking-Lly. It’s been like five years and you two still haven’t gotten anywhere. I feel like I’m going insane just watching the two of you, especially with the sexual tension going on between you two.” Shoko said, making your face heat up.

”S-Shut up Shoko! You have no idea what you are talking about.”

”So how are you going to confess to him?” She asked, smirking at your face.

”Easy, she is going to go straight up to him with the kikufuku in her hands and look him I straight in the eyes. Then, she will hold onto him desperately and confess her love for him.” Hime said, teasing you a bit.

”Oh, Toru~ I love you so much I can’t think straight! I need you so bad in my life~” Shoko continued, mimicking your voice.

”Then come here baby and lets make love alllll night~” Hime said with a deepened voice, mimicking Toru.

”I do not sound like that, Shoko.” You said, making them both laugh.

“Plus…a part of me still has a bad feeling. I don’t know if he thinks of me that way.” You said, your grip on the counter tightening.

Shoko and Hime suddenly stopped and walked towards you.

”Hey, look at me.” Shoko said, forcing you to look in her direction.

”It’s going to be alright. I already told you last time, there is no way he thinks of you as just a friend. He literally talks about you all the time that even I get tired of hearing about you.” She said.

”Yeah, and the way his eyes light up even more just by the simple mention of your name? Its so obvious he likes you.” Hime followed.

”But…maybe that is just him being…well himself.” You said, trying to come up with excuses.

”Y/n, there is no doubt in my mind that he is head over heels for you just as you are for him.” Shoko responded.

Suddenly, you heard the bell ring from the main entrance of your bakery shop.

”Y/n! Come out here, I need to ask you something.” You heard a familiar voice yell. You felt your heart race at the sound of his warm voice. Your body tensed up even more as you felt your body basically freeze.

”What are you waiting for!?” Shoko asked. Hime grabbed the Mochi you made for Toru and placed them in your hands.

“Go out there and tell him! This is the perfect chance!” They both saiid, pushing you out to the front.

You tried to go back in, but they locked the door, forcing you to stay out there.

“Y/n?” You heard his voice once more, making you freeze again.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, one of his eyebrows rising.

You slowly turned around, finally coming face to face with the tall white haired man.

He looked down at you, his confused face slowly turning into one of happiness as he saw the kikufuku in your hands.

”Is that…what I think it is?” He asked, almost salivating at the sight of it. He loved your baking, no matter what it was. But when you made him his favorite snack, it was something different.

”Uh, yeah! I did. I figured you’d want some since it had been a while since the last time I made it.” You said, walking around the counter, making your way towards him.

You placed the dish in his hands, feeling his fingers brush against yours. You quickly pulled your hands back, almost dropping the dish. Thankfully, Toru had quick reactions and caught it before it fell.

”woah there, no need to be so nervous! You know I love your baking!” He said, instantly stuffing his mouth with one of the mochi balls.

”Mmmm. They are perfect! You even made them with the perfect amount of filling!” He said, making your heart flutter at his reaction.

”I remember you complaining about another shop putting too much in. I wanted to make sure it was just right for you.” You said sheepishly.

”You mean you actually listened to me?” He asked, chuckling at you.

”Of course. I do actually care about what you say, you know.” You replied, looking up at him.

”Oh I’m touched.” He teased, setting the plate down on a nearby table.

“So what was it that you wanted to ask me?” You asked

Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed after you asked. It was weird.

He looked down at you and fidgeted with his hands, making you look up at him with concern.

”Toru?”

“Y/n…do you know what it feels like to…love someone?” He asked, making you blink your eyes up at him.

”Well…I mean…yes…yes I do.” You said, making him look you in the eyes.

”Then maybe you can help me.” he said, making you look up at him confused.

”help you?”

He sat down at the table near him, you following suit.

”There is…this girl. And every time I am around her, I feel nervous. It’s like my hands get clammy and I feel my heart skip a beat just from the mention of her name.” He said.

After he said that, you started to feel your heart race again, heat rising to your face. Was he…was he talking about you?

”Just looking at her makes me feel all tingly inside…and I always long to be around her…” He finished.

”Is…is that what it feels like to…be in love? Feeling like you want to be around that person all the time? Feeling excited every day because you get to see them?” He asked, making you smile a bit. You nodded your head.

”Yes…it is. At least, to me it is. After all, that’s how I feel about y-“ You started, but quickly shut up, not ready to confess to him just yet.

“Hmmm.” He said, lost in thought.

”Toru? Are you okay?” You asked, feeling hopeful. He looked deep into your eyes and a small smile slowly formed.

”Yeah…I am. I…I never thought it possible, but I think I may have feelings for her.” He said, mumbling a bit.

”Oh?” You asked, hoping this was the part where he confessed everything to you.

”You remember Osaka? The girl who just moved here and joined us?” He began, making you come out of your senses. Osaka moved in from a small village hundreds of miles from here. It had been almost a year since then and it was needless to say that her and Toru hit it off really well…but you figured it was just him being nice to her…

”Yes…why?” You asked, not liking where this was going.

”Well…because I think…I think I might like her…” He said, a small smile making its way towards his face. However, while he was thinking of Osaka and feeling his heart beat faster, you felt yours shatter.

“You…like…Osaka?” You asked, tears starting to fill up in your eyes. He looked up at you, not noticing the water beginning to form in your eyes.

”I…I think so…no. I know so! I mean, just hearing her voice…it makes me crazy. I’ve never felt this way before. It feels…nice.” He said, getting lost in his mind.

”I see.” You said, swallowing hard. It hurt so bad. It felt as if you were swallowing nails and sharp razors down.

”I think I am gonna go and talk to her…see what she says.” He said, confidence filling up inside of him.

”T-talk to her about what?” You asked, your voice breaking a bit.

”Talk to her about how I feel, silly. I mean, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. I don’t think anyone could love me as much as she does.” He said.

”I do…” You thought as he said those words. He quickly got up, pride and excitement filling up inside of him.

”I’m gonna go do it! I’m gonna go tell her everything. tell her how I feel for her! How much I long for her!” He said, quickly leaving.

“Thanks for the talk, Y/n! You really are a good friend!” He said, quickly leaving. You just sat there, staring at the plate of Kikufuku you made for him. Tears piled up in your eyes and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You quickly got up and ran to the back, letting it all out. Shoko and Hime ran towards you and caught you in their arms as you fell towards them.

”Y/n! What happened?” Shoko asked with worry.

”I knew it…I was such an idiot for thinking he would ever love me.” You sobbed quietly.

”W-What?” Hime asked, confused.

”He…He doesn’’t…He doesn’t…fuck!” You whispered as you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate

“Breathe, Y/n. Hey look at me. Breathe.” Shoko said, breathing in and out with you, trying to get you under control.

After a few minutes of that, you were able to get yourself under control…however, you still felt awful. You felt like life just got sucked out of you. Shoko and Hime were by your side the entire time, hugging you as you calmed down.

”He…He said he fell in love…but with someone else.” You whispered, broken from the memory replaying in your head.

”Who?” Hime asked, baffled that Toru would pick someone else over you.

”Osaka…”

”Osaka?? You mean that new girl who just joined us?? There is no way-“

”It’s true, Shoko. You think I would make something like that up??” You asked, staring at her through your watery eyes.

”Y/n…I am so sorry.” Hime said, completely in disbelief.

”I didn’t think he would be that much of an idiot.” She said, hugging you tightly.

“I can’t believe it…he constantly talks about you during our missions. It doesn't make any sense.” Shoko said, hugging you as well.

”And he constantly flirted around with you, too!” Hime said.

You were completely heartbroken, feeling nothing but emptiness. However, Shoko and Hime were livid. Satoru Gojo had hurt their best friend…and what worse is he was totally leading her on!

“Come on.” Shoko said, pulling you up to your feet.

Hime went out to the front and closed the shop early.

”What are you doing?” You asked softly.

”We are all going out. We need to get your mind off of he who shall not be named.” Shoko said, turning everything off in the kitchen and bringing you your jacket.

”I don’t know Shoko. I’d rather just go home.” You said.

”That’s okay. We can go to my place and just hang out. We can have a girls night and watch movies, eat all sorts of food, all that fun stuff!” She suggested. However, you shook your head. You pushed yourself away from her, grabbing your keys.

”No Shoko…I…I just need to be alone…please.” You said, not wanting to argue. Shoko looked at you with worry. She didn’t want to leave you alone, not like this especially.

”Y/n, we-“

”Please, Shoko. I need you to understand…I…I need to be alone for right now.” You spoke, opening the back door and walking out.

Shoko tried to go after you, but she stopped in her footsteps. She knew you wanted to be alone, but she didn't want to leave you alone. But she also knew that you needed it to collect your own thoughts.

Hime came back and asked Shoko where you went. She explained everything and Hime understood.

”Let’s give her a couple of hours, then we will go to her place.” She suggested, making Shoko nod.

——

You drove towards you house, tears falling down your eyes as quiet sobs slipped from your mouth. You never imagined heartbreak could be this bad…you never imagined the day where you would get your heart absolutely crushed. It hurt so much to the point where you felt pains in your chest. It stung so bad, almost like someone was snipping each string in your heart.

thoughts of Toru and Osaka began to pop up in your head, along with questions.

What did she have that you didn’t? Was it her face? Her hair? Her personality? Her strength? Her charisma? What was it??

All of these questions rushed through your head, yet you could never come up with a proper answer…not unless you asked Toru himself…though that was the last thing you wanted to do. For the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting nothing to do with him. You didn’t want to hear his name, his voice, nor did you want to see him. It would just hurt too much.

You noticed the weather beginning to change. Clouds began to circle above you, getting ready to start dropping rain.

Damn it!

You tried to get your emotions under control, but no matter what you did, the tears wouldn’t stop. The heartache wouldn’t stop.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, thus rain began to fall…and hard.

———-

You finally made it back to your house. You quickly ran inside and ran to your bedroom. You flopped onto your bed and let it all go.

The rain outside just fell harder and faster, causing people to rush either to their cars or back to their homes.

Your puppy ran up to you and began to lick your face, noticing something was wrong.

You looked down at him, seeing him look up at you with a tilted head.

You patted your bed, inviting him to come cuddle with you.

He snuck his way under your arm, snuggling up to you. You began to hold onto him tightly. The warmth and softness of his fur felt good against your skin, causing you to slowly drift away to sleep.

though, while you felt yourself succumb to the sleepiness, one thing lingered in your mind as you closed your eyes.

”Why her…and not me…”

_____________________

Part II??

Taglist?

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Somewhere Only We Know ♡

♡ Pairings: artist!boyfriend!hyunjin x fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff

♡ Summary: Things have been hard for you lately so you retreat to your boyfriend's apartment where you find all of the love and reassurance a girl could ask for.

♡ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: None really but reader's been going through a lot so she is indeed a little sad tonight.

♡ A/N: This is a request from @jehhskz who I promised to write a literary hug for so I really hope I lived up to my promise. Thanks so much for the request you beautiful human.

The night hangs quietly over Hyunjin’s loft, the fresh earthy post rain air gradually filling the space. Seated at his desk facing the open window, Hyunjin hums along to the music flowing from the record player tucked in a nearby corner. Before him on the desk sits an open sketchbook, textured canvas paper coated in a gradient of pastels that mirror the night sky.

And seated on the floor between his legs, wrapped up cozy and warm in his favorite blanket, is you. Working with his pastels typically dictates that Hyunjin use two hands but tonight he makes due with one, the other preoccupied with more important things like playing with your hair or tracing the contours of your face.

With your head resting against his inner thigh he can only reach one side of your face but that’s more than enough room for him to silently praise those beautiful features that take up more space in his mind than you know. The tips of his fingers are delicate, each brush of them across your skin so deliberate that it’s almost as if you’re one of his paintings. 

Lately it seems that the whole world’s caving in on you. The pressures of life have begun to take their toll and it’s all so much…too much. What you’ve needed more than anything is a safe place to be, somewhere to get away from it all, and Hyunjin couldn’t be happier to be that for you. “Jinnie…” you say—the first thing you’ve said in at least an hour—and the scratching of a midnight blue pastel against paper comes to a halt. In an instant everything around him disappears. There’s only you.

Hyunjin reaches around, cupping your chin, and tilts your head up towards him. You lock eyes, him looking down and you looking up. His eyes are the moon, yours are the sea, and, oh, how he moves you. “Need something, sweetie?” he asks, strands of dark hair falling loose from the hair band keeping it out of his face. You shake your head, the tiny hairs on your arm standing up as he strokes the side of your neck. “No, it’s just…do you ever wanna…I don’t know, run away?”

Hyunjin gasps, pretending to be on the verge of tears, “She said I’m so boring I make her wanna run away.”

“You’re such a drama queen” you giggle, rolling your eyes, “It’s not that. I mean, I do want to run away but not from you. From…” Your chest tightens at the thought of what troubles you, stopping your words short.

Hyunjin leans down to kiss you on the forehead, grounding you in this moment with him. His way of reminding you that you are safe here. “From everything else? Just drop it all and run as fast as you can to escape it? I feel that way all the time. Way more than I’d like to honestly.” 

“So how do you get over it?” you ask, relieved to finally have someone who gets it. “Hmm,” he sighs, glancing out at the endless night and back down at you, “Someone once told me that when we feel bad things that’s just our hearts telling us that something’s not right. So we shouldn’t just get over it. We should pay attention to it.”

You shudder at the concept, paying more attention to what you’re feeling is the last thing you want to do. “But every time I think about it I get so upset. I feel weak.”

Hyunjin’s expression sours the second the word “weak” leaves your lips. Sitting back in his chair, he holds his arms out to you, “Come sit.” Staying snug in your blanket burrito, you make your way onto his lap, quickly adjusting to your new spot. Hyunjin laces his arms around you, holding you close to him like something too valuable to let sit unprotected.

“Never say that again” he says, empathetic but unwilling to let you doubt yourself, “You are not weak. You’re human. Life sucks sometimes and you don’t have to force yourself to be okay with it. Not for anyone.”

Fidgeting with a loose thread in the blanket’s stitching, you fight your hardest to choke back the tears that inevitably come streaming down your cheeks. Life may be overwhelming but this—being loved by him even when you’re falling apart—is overwhelming in its own way.

Hyunjin pulls the sleeves down on his sweatshirt, using the smooth cotton to wipe away your tears as they fall. “So, where are we running to?”

“What do you mean?” you sniffle, blinking through the tears. 

Hyunjin looks at you like his reasoning’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You wanna go so let’s go. Right now. We don’t even have to tell anyone. Let’s just…fuck it…let’s go.” 

“You can’t just go, Jinnie. You have that thing tomorrow and—” 

Hyunjin kisses you, wiping your brain clean of any thoughts of pushing him away. His lips play a game of catch and release with yours. Drowning you in their soft embrace, letting you come up for air, and dragging you back down again. “What’d I say to you when I asked you to be my girlfriend?” 

“You said, ‘It’s me and you’” you recall, as if you could ever forget. 

“Me and you and you and me and me and you” Hyunjin says faster each time until you’re giggling through what’s left of your tears, “We’re in this together. You’re stuck with me.” 

He lingers closely enough to your face that you could steal a kiss of your own if you wanted to and you do. Your body rushes with so much heat that you let the blanket fall away, exposing you to a light breeze. Hyunjin pulls you over so that you’re stadling him, his arms locking around your waist.

“Take me wherever you want,” you whisper, “As long as I’m with you I don’t care.” It gives him butterflies to hear you say that and you notice his cheeks begin to go all rosy on you. It’s the cutest thing. Hyunjin plants his feet firmly on the ground, lifting you up without warning, and carrying you towards the bed. You cling to him for dear life, only letting go once he has you safely on the bed. Even then the two of you can’t quite untangle from each other. Not that either of you try. 

“Cuddle tonight and prison break in the morning, deal?” he asks, lit up with all the possibilities of where you could escape to together.

You yawn, settling into the fluffy mattress, eyelids growing heavy, “Deal.”

Hyunjin pulls you in, your head nestled against his chest, and strokes your hair as he hums along to the music once more. You drift off to sleep in no time. Comforted, loved, protected, and safe in the knowledge that tomorrow won’t be like the others have been because you’ve finally let him in. Finally let yourself trust that it truly is you and him. 

And him and you and you and him and…

[svt-rosalie]

*person one* can’t stop watching *person two* with a fond smile on their face even though ( hint Rosie & Coups 🤭 )

. . . ♡ ROSIE ! ? 🍒 DRABBLE ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ �� ❪ requested, fluff! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2024 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

content warning / this sucks, fluffy seungcheol and rosalie, rosie gets upset, bad grammar, angel you requested this so long ago and i had no ideas until now :’( sorry

let's become the same light, the same shadow

in whatever place, i'll hold you

shadow, seventeen

The stadium was filled, to the brim. If you were to walk to out on the stage you couldn’t even hear your own footsteps that’s how loud it was. Carats from around the world had come to see this 2 nights only event were buzzing with anticipation.

It made Rosalie anxious — the girl was holding a solo concert/showcase in Seoul, South Korea in promotion of her new full album ‘Seoul Searching’. She has never performed by herself for such a large amount of people.

“Ugh, I can’t get my hands to stop shaking Unnie. I’m so nervous.” The young girl spoke to her makeup artist, Minji. You could clearly hear how upset and nervous the poor girl was based on her tone of voice. . . and the pout on her face.

Minji slightly chuckled only pushing Rosie to pout even more, “First of all, stop pouting you’re going to ruin your makeup. Second of all, there’s nothing to be nervous about — you’ve performed for this amount of people how many times? You are going to do amazing.” The older girl stated in a firm but reassuring voice.

The pout did disappear from Rosie’s face but not in her tone.

“Yeah, but I’ve never performed without 13 other people on stage and apparently all of them have schedules so they can’t come tonight.” She sighed clearly upset, and if she wasn’t getting her final touches of makeup she would’ve started crying at this point.

Minji finished putting a shimmer of eyeshadow on Rosalie’s eyelids and stepped back.

“That’s more of a reason for you to do your absolute best tonight. Your brothers aren’t here to see you perform but you and I both know that they will be watching clips and videos taken by the managers and fans so you have to show them everything that you’ve been working so hard on.” Minji pulled the younger girl into a tender yet loving hug, being careful not to ruin her makeup and hair, “Show the world who Rosalie is.”

Said girl smiled brightly and nodded her head. Even though her favorite people couldn’t be here for her showcase for support she would work extra hard to make sure they saw the best version of her.

An hour and half later Rosalie is having the time of her life on stage, her nerves she once couldn’t shake are now no where to be found and she’s smiling from ear to ear.

Somehow she hadn’t notice her eldest member watching her from the 2 level of the arena as she performed her song ‘New Dance’ and apparently Carats’s didn’t notice either, way to invested on capturing every moment of the concert, which is kinda of surprising seeing as how he was decked out in pastel colored clothing (as all the other petals were), was screaming the fan chants and everything in between.

The moment they noticed was when the camera man decided to finally out the man on the big screen and show Seungcheol smiling proudly at the youngest member. Carats started to scream even louder and point to the leader to show Rosalie that he was here. (She had spoken in her earlier ment that she was upset that the boys couldn’t be here due to schedules but knew they were cheering her on from afar).

The loud screams gained Rosalie’s attention as she turned to the big screen and saw the best surprise in the world.

“OH MY GOSH!” was screamed into the mic by Rosalie on accident. She couldn’t contain herself but remembered that she was in the middle of a song and continued to singing, though she contained to sing as she ran to the side of the stage Seungcheol was on, waving and sending hearts his way.

Cheol sent hearts her way back, while mouthing that he was proud of her. He didn’t know if she could make out what he was saying or not but either way, he couldn’t have been happier that he could see her perform on stage.

He was so going to brag to the other members tonight when he got home.

click here to join rosie’s taglist!

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @vlbi @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie

[starry-eyes-love]

Nursing

Masterlist

Pairings | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader, No Outbreak, AU, One-shot

Summary | Your six week old daughter, Isabell, is fussy and won’t settle down enough to nurse from you.  Joel, being your soft and understanding husband (and an experienced father) soothes you and shows you how to relax. Who knew seeing Joel sing to Isabell, and whispering soft praises into your ear would help calm your fears at being a mom. 

Word Count: 2.7 K

A/N:  This is a super cute, soft, and fluffy story.  This one has been living in my head for a long time because well, being a mom sometimes is super hard. And no one talks about the difficulties with feeding your little one.  I just wanted a cute fluffy story with Joel being the best husband in the world. Enjoy :)  

Warnings | soft!Joel, fluffy!Joel, fluffy story, descriptions of struggles with feeding (nursing), Joel reassures you and tells you how great of a mom you are, age gap (but no specific age stated), slight body description but nothing too specific (reader just had a baby 6 weeks prior), Joel sings a lullaby, original character reference (Isabell, your daughter), this is just super fluffy so enjoy!

“Oh, I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair.  “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby. 

You sat in the room that was washed with soft pastel colors, the warmth of the June sunrise gently creeping in through the half shaded window. It was early, the world not fully awake to start the day yet. You wished for a few more hours of sleep, something that you haven’t seen much of these past 6 weeks. You sat gently rocking back and forth in an old sewing rocker, one that was handed down through the generations of your family. The gentle creaks that it provided soothed you. It reminded you of the days when you were little, when you were the one that was fussy and needed to be gently rocked back and forth. Now, many years later and an adult woman, it was your turn to try to soothe the fussy child in your arms, Isabell, your daughter.

The tiny bundle of joy that you held in your arms was the reason for the lack of sleep that you and Joel had received these past six weeks. And right now, she was struggling to calm and soothe herself yet again.  She was exceptionally fussy at the moment, struggling to nurse, and she was letting the entire world know how frustrated she was. 

Sighing at your daughter you softly said, “You know little one, for someone so small you sure do fuss a lot. You’re just like your daddy, always fussing, aren't you?” With that statement your daughter opened her eyes and looked up at you, tears streaming down her little chubby cheeks.  You gently touched her head, full of hair that was dark and curly, just like her father. She was a blessing, a hard blessing at that. 

Joel and you had been married for eight years, trying to have a baby for the last six. You two didn’t think that it would happen, especially after all the tests were done. They couldn’t figure out what was causing your infertility issues.  Then somehow by some miracle, Joel convinced you to go on vacation with just him for two weeks.  It was everything that you two needed, a nice and calm relaxing vacation; one where you had conceived your daughter by the end. 

Joel and you had gone back and forth over names for months after you found out you were pregnant.  The two of you couldn’t decide on a girl's name. Every name that the two of you came up with just didn’t feel right.  You didn’t want to know the sex of the baby ahead of time, you wanted it to be a surprise.  

Joel was hell bent on wanting a boy, swearing up and down that you were pregnant with a boy.  Then when your baby came out, after 18 hours of hard labor, you watched your husband absolutely melt at the news that he gave you a little girl. You’ve never seen your husband cry so much in his life, tears of joy as he held his little girl for the first time.  When she was all dried off, he handed her to you while he kissed you gently on your head, saying that God fulfilled his promise to him.  At the time you raised your eyebrows at your husband, as Joel wasn’t a religious man.  But it was within that moment that the name Isabell came into existence.  Isabell, name meaning God’s promise. Both of you felt like her name fit the entire situation perfectly.  She was your miracle from above, one that you thought you two would never be able to have.

You were so lost in thought, remembering your daughter's birth as you continued to gently rock back and forth, not noticing Joel standing in the doorway. After a moment you heard him say, “I don't fuss darlin’. If anyone fusses, it's you baby.”  He was leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and letting out yet another yawn. His curly hair was unruly and messy, looking like he just woke up. He had on black sweatpants with a gray T-shirt, with faded words of ‘Miller Construction’ on the front of it. It was the same shirt he had on when you first met, when he proposed to you, and when you conceived your daughter. Now instead of being new, it was worn but had a ton of memories associated with it. And it was your favorite shirt to steal to sleep in. It was then that you realized you weren't the only one not getting enough sleep recently, especially at the worn out look on your husband's face.

Your husband, the amazing and caring man that he was, helped you out as much as possible with tending to your daughter. He was an experienced father, two girls that he still cared for. Sarah, his oldest, was biologically his and now was 16. Ellie, who was his adopted daughter, was now 14. 

In Joel's eyes, Ellie was just as much his daughter as Sarah was. Ellie's parents, his best friends, had died in a car accident when Ellie was 10. Joel had immediately taken her in, looking after her, and had requested to be her legal guardian. He was originally Ellie’s godfather, was present when she was born, and loved her like she was his own. A year after her parents had died, after all the adoption red tape was finally finished, Ellie Williams officially became Ellie Williams Miller, his daughter. It was Ellie's decision to take his last name on adoption day, still keeping her original last name with it.

“No Joel. I don't fuss, but you do, a lot.” You said, teasing your husband gently.  

Being a new mother was hard, it wasn’t like the storybooks that you remember reading as a child.  No story talked about the lack of sleep, the emotional ups and downs, the worry of not knowing what to do, and the anxiety of being home alone with a brand new baby that you didn’t know personally as your husband worked long hours. Intimacy wasn’t present at all for either of you, exhaustion being the biggest culprit.  

‘No sex for six weeks’ the doctor had told you on discharge day from the hospital. At first you were upset at that order, but now, six weeks later, you have no idea how you would have had sex anyways.  

Your body was a complete mess, bleeding for the majority of the past six weeks, something that was normal after delivery. Your hormones were chaotic, and you still looked pregnant as your womb slowly shrank back down to normal size.  Sex was the furthest thing from your mind, and your husband’s too. But now by the end of the six weeks, you finally were settling into a routine. Life was 100% different, that was for sure, but you were finally finding comfort in it.

You were shook from your thoughts once again by the baby in your arms starting to cry, upset at the world about something.  “Shhh, it’s okay honey” you said, picking her up and patting her gently on her back. After a few pats she immediately started screaming and crying loudly.  Tears started to gather at your waterline, frustration at not being able to soothe her.

“Gimme her,” Joel said gently, stepping forward after seeing you get upset.  You got up from the rocker willingly and handed him your daughter, tears streaming down your face.  

“Aw now come on baby girl, what’s the matter?” he said, gently bouncing Isabell in his arms.  It was in that moment that she let out a wail, telling her father, and the world, that she was upset.

Joel looked over at you and said, “Breathe mama, it’s okay” as he tended to his fussy daughter.

“I don’t get it Joel, I’ve tried everything. I keep thinking that she is hungry, but she won't nurse.”  You said, crying right along with your daughter.

“Do ya have a fresh bottle for her darlin’?” he asked, rubbing gentle circles on his daughter's back, trying to soothe her as she continued to cry.  You went to warm up a bottle of breast milk.  

The first two weeks of feeding Isabell was hard, she wouldn’t always stay latched as you tried to nurse her.  The doctor had told you to get a bottle that mirrored a human nipple, to try to get her to eat as she struggled eating in the first few weeks of life. You took her struggle personally, feeling like you were failing as her mother.  But your doctor, and Joel, had both reassured you that this struggle was very common for babies in the first few weeks of life. 

That’s why everyone said nursing was so difficult. Not only did it physically hurt to have her feed from you every three hours for the first six weeks of her life.  But the hardest struggle was whether she would be able to stay latched on. For you, nursing was something that you wanted to do but this constant struggle was making it hard, and making you very upset.  You just wanted to feed your baby, and not feel like a big fat failure as her mother.  That was something the storybooks never seemed to mention. Oh the joys of motherhood. 

As you handed Joel a bottle of warmed up breast milk, you watched him try to soothe his daughter. Joel was an experienced father, and always knew just what to say or do.

“Oh I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair.  “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby. 

When he got Isabell to quiet down enough to feed her, he gently placed the bottle by her mouth, encouraging her to latch. She slowly accepted the nipple, quieting once she got some milk in her tummy. All you could hear now was the gentle creaks of the chair, and her gentle suckling noises as she was fed.

“There you go baby, just like that.” Joel said, rocking his daughter as he fed her from the bottle of your breast milk, gently singing the lullaby now outloud.

“Bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby bye.  Daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, my bye-o-baby bye.”

As you sat there and watched your husband feed his daughter, you started to cry, but this time it was tears of joy.  Joel was the most tender and loving man you had ever seen. So patient and understanding, and so soothing, not only to your baby girl but also to you.  “Ya wanna try to nurse her again baby?” Joel said quietly, looking up at you sitting in the corner, arms hugging yourself.

“No you got her to eat and-”

“C’mon darlin’, let's see if she'll nurse again” he said, standing and gently walking down the hall to your shared bedroom.  You quietly followed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teenagers in the room down the hall.  You had no idea how those two girls could sleep through all of the wailing your daughter just did, but teenagers could sleep anywhere. 

Once you got into your shared bedroom, Joel motioned towards your side of the bed and said, “Take off your top darlin’, and sit down.  Don’t sit against the headboard though, I’ll give her to ya once you’re situated.”  

You raised an eyebrow at Joel, wondering what he had planned for you, but you followed his instructions without question.  You learned quickly with Joel that when he gave you parenting advice, especially with a newborn, that you should listen to him.  He raised Sarah by himself, since she was a newborn as her mother had died a week after giving birth to his daughter.  You didn’t know much of that story, something that Joel never wanted to talk about, so you didn’t press him. You couldn’t imagine being a young single dad, alone with his first daughter, trying to raise her by himself after he just lost his wife.

“Ok, I’m all set” you said, while looking over at Joel who was swaying side-to-side gently, holding Isabell.  

“Ok little one,” he said, speaking to his daughter. “You need to eat from your mama, cause your mama is only trying to help you. I love feeding you baby girl, but mama needs to nurse you right now, ok? Daddy will stay right here though, so no fussin’.”

Joel slowly handed Isabell to you after taking the bottle out of her mouth.  She immediately started to fuss. You tried to silence her by getting her to latch onto you right away, but once again, she wouldn’t latch on, so you couldn't nurse her. You were just about ready to give up when you felt your husband grab you by the waist and pull you backwards, situating you hard against his chest.

Joel had removed his shirt before he sat down behind you, his back was now against the headboard. He wrapped one of his arms around your side gently, holding Isabell’s head as he whispered in your ear.  “Baby, ya gotta relax, you’re so tense. C’mon mama, breathe.”  Joel was slowly kissing you on your neck and bare shoulder, attempting to get you to relax.  

“You’re an amazing mom,” Joel said, whispering in your ear.  “It’s okay to be scared, honey. Hell, I'm still scared, even with raising Sarah. But that’s normal with being a parent. But this honey, ya gotta relax and trust in your instincts. Isabell knows what she needs, baby. She knows how to nurse, she wants to nurse. But ya gotta relax so she can. She’s hungry mama, and she needs your milk. So give her what she needs.”

Joel was gently holding Isabell’s head at your nipple, trying to encourage her to latch. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. When you exhaled you tried forcing yourself to relax, to trust the guidance from your husband. As soon as you relaxed, you felt your daughter latch on where she finally started to nurse.  When you opened your eyes, you looked down at her and saw her feeding from you. She had the most beautiful big eyes that you’ve ever seen. You sighed a content sigh, especially when you heard her make the cutest little suckling noises that she did. 

“She looks just like you with those big eyes,” Joel said, holding you close to his chest and kissing you tenderly on the cheek. You were silently crying, emotions taking over you once again. You felt Joel wrap his arms around your waist and slowly massaged your belly, while gently brushing away the tears from your cheek. 

“You carried her right here for nine months,” Joel said, laying his large palm over the lower part of your belly.  “You gave me the best present in the world, another beautiful baby to love. So stop your fussin’, thinking that you’re not a good mom. Baby, your body has already done miracles. And I'm damn proud to be your husband, and the man that gave you her, our little miracle.” 

You looked back at your husband, at the tenderness that he was giving you, lip quivering slightly.  Joel leaned forward, gently kissing you on the mouth. You parted your lips and allowed his tongue to have access to your mouth. He gently massaged his tongue with yours; slow, delicate, and in no rush to advance it into something else. His kiss said everything to you, that he was proud of you as a mother, wife, and person. But most of all, this kiss told you that you were his true soulmate, and that he loved you unconditionally. When he pulled back, he gently wiped the tears from your eyes once again. He pecked your forehead before leaning back against the headboard and taking you with him.

You sat there, your bare back to his bare chest, breathing together in unison, as your daughter quietly nursed from you.  You couldn’t believe that 12 years ago, a simple ‘hello, what can I get you’ in a coffee shop would lead to having a family with the man behind you.  It’s been a long and hard road, but one that was worth it in the end.

End story

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

[punkpandapatrixk]

✨THAT GIRL ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘I know everything has its time and you cannot compete with destiny, is what I say. What I thought I wanted when I was younger, it wasn’t my time to have. I wanted to work with Calvin Klein—I did the fashion shows but I never did the ads. So it took me 34 years to do an ad. And, I said, “Okay. It’s okay. That’s my time.”’ – Naomi Campbell

Hey, Gorgeous~♥︎

Why do I get the feeling your fabulous era is coming fast? There’s this thing with Divine Timing, you know. As you work daily on yourself to become a vibrational match to your D E S T I N Y✨ the time will come when the world is ready to witness your S P A R K L E S✨

Your Light is needed by this world, in whatever capacity you feel a resonance with and in whatever fashion you find most exciting! We each have our divine time to be seen and heard. We can’t rush the caterpillar to grow into a butterfly, right? Often, there’s a painstaking process there. So what to do in the meantime? Become THAT GIRL you’ve always known yourself to be🌷

Who are you at the core of your being, Girl? Basically, if you nurture aspects of yourself that feel natural to you, you’ll discover that the key to your Destiny has always been in your hand. You just need to explore your potentials, experiment with yourself, test your limits and expand your horizon until you find the DOOR that’s the right fit for your key🚪🗝️

Live for yourself. Do whatever you wanna do and find yourself in the midst of novelty and temptation. So that you find your UNIQUE strength from within.

All in Divine Timing. Your fabulous era is coming~🦋

SONG: ♥︎Lonely in Gorgeous♥︎ by Tommy february6

SERIES: Paradise Kiss (2005)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – That Happy-Go-Lucky Girl

VIBE: Hot Summer by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 8 of Pentacles Rx

ADMIT IT. You loathe the idea of ‘hard work’. Gosh, the world is full of wonders and humanity has found a way to invent boredom and be depressed! You are definitely a Faery Soul. You have a unique, more sensitive point of view which causes the whole notion of ‘hard work’ to get over your head. Why work and not just play? Why is it so impossible for people to embrace lightheartedness and just, BE, happy? You just want to dip yourself in pastel glitter all day long.

For one, you’re definitely a rebel—whatever your style may be. You have so little regard for rules if you’re being honest. If anything, you make your own rules after careful testing and experimentation. That’s what you do with fashion as well. Fashion is fickle, but style is forever. And to you, there can be more than one style that you can call your own. You don’t like to limit yourself when it comes to things you can do, try or wear.

You can be like a chameleon and you love that fluidity/flexibility of yours. But on top of that, you’re also transformative. You’re a highly creative soul who has a penchant for reinventing your personal brand over and over again. You’re the brazen type that can rock ANY style and people still say, ‘That’s totally THAT GIRL’S style no matter what she does/wears!’ You possess a really strong, magnetic, energy signature.

path of least resistance – 8 of Wands Rx

Your aenergy is reminding me of famous rebels of Harajuku. Harajuku is a tiny, tiny, tiny patch of the entire fabric of Japanese society, but the creative souls who dwell there exude such POWERFUL aura. Exactly because they have a rebellious energetic signature that they express rather unapologetically😊

These are the rebels who know they’re meant to carve out a lifestyle of their own in the midst of Japan’s disgusting policy of conformity. The 8 of Wands in reverse here is literally representing the notion of a koi fish that swims upstream to become a dragon… or something like that. This is a Kafkaesque energy! You go the other way, baby—don’t follow the crowd because even they don’t know where they’ll end up!

The more you try to conform and follow what everyone else is doing, the more miserable and unlucky you become! Because doing so is against the policy of your Faery Soul’s authenticity. Whatever line of occupation you are interested in—genuinely interested in—I just know you’re meant to do your ‘job’ playfully, creatively, lightheartedly, passionately, and BEAUTIFULLY. Whatever you do, it’s pointless if you’re not surrounded by BEAUTY.

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – King of Swords Rx

Ay ay, don’t use too much logic, babe. You’re magic🧚🏻‍♀️Your intuition is more reliable than your intellect, trust yourself on this one. You possess this peculiar type of intelligence that is fuelled by passion from your heart. That said, your gut instinct is also that much stronger than your capacity for cognitive calculation. Hope that makes sense. You are essentially an otherworldly being. Though you may often feel like you’re a chaotic pile of confusion because of that.

Actually, you have spidey senses that help you notice a lot of things all at once and you don’t always know how to explain that. You just, absorb so much information from visual cues, auditory cues, and other invisible cues you pick up from the collective or aether. There’s always so much going on inside you because of this. But you’re just processing all of that information, so don’t worry, you’re not as chaotic as you think😆This is a SUPERPOWER!

You just need time to learn to accept this superpower and use it to your advantage. Didn’t Peter Parker also go through some hardships in the beginning? Before he knew how to use his new mutant powers? Yeah, something like that. Go do your weird shit and be a maverick. That’s how you become a vibrational match to your SPARKLY DESTINY🌟

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻💗

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Enchantment

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – That NU IT Girl

VIBE: LA chA TA by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 10 of Wands Rx

With you, there’s a strong energy of a debutante girl who kinda just popped out of nowhere, springing forth from obscurity. The reality though, is that you worked really hard to grow into this new IT GIRL in town. Your hustle tends to be unseen by others. I’m guessing you have significant placements in the 8th House and 12th House; or those energies ruled by Scorpio/Pluto and Pisces/Neptune.

I think you genuinely like it that way though. Keep ‘em guessing, is your motto. It’s entertaining to you when people can’t figure out how you’re, YOU. Let the mystery of your growth keep ‘em speculating. You love it when people can’t stop talking about you. You don’t even mind the gossip. As long as all attention is on you~ You’ve got the whole world wrapped around your fingers~

You gravitate towards luxury and you love trends. It’s like, following trends is the only way you feel like you still belong to the Human Race. Unless you do so, you feel left out because you’re a real hustler HAHAH You tend to isolate yourself to study and work on building your empire. Though you may seem shallow to those who just know you on a surface level, I think pretending to be normal like this exhausts the living shit out of you.

path of least resistance – IX The Hermit Rx

You’re probably more spiritually attuned than you let out. Especially if you have significant 8th House/Scorpio or 12th House/Pisces qualities to you. Because of this, you tend to be a hermit, enjoying doing your own thing at your pace. Your inner world is more interesting than the outer world full of shallow and stupid people. You can’t stand that their ambitions are so tiny LMAO

However, it does seem like you can sometimes get obsessive with your studies or work. This is giving me that vibe of someone who’s become so comfortable in the darkness they get blinded once the curtains are lifted. You remind me of Sherlock Holmes played by Robert Downey Jr. A smart, calculating, strategizing weirdo who isn’t that great at social settings🤣

Of all the Piles, you seem the least in need of this kind of reading—because you already have a strong sense of self. You seem to me like you have your identity established already. You’re clear about your likes and interests and these aren’t going to change easily. I think this is partly why you can be into trends—all for you to feel like you’re less boring. Hahah I don’t think you’re boring; you’re timeless, babe✨

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – 7 of Wands

With your heightened sense of class and timelessness, you could be prone to envy and jealousy, right? You’re essentially someone who’s incredibly blessed, on top of that, you’re hard working. It’s only natural so much good fortune is bestowed upon you. You’re a go-getter. You aren’t afraid to claim your prizes. And I think you should honour and protect this with your life.

Having said that, I still get this feeling that your Higher Self wants you to share your burdens with someone trustworthy. If you could surround yourself with a tiny inner circle of Soul Friends, that’d be more than enough. It’s good to have a few friends you can count on. But if your trust has been broken and your faith wounded, this could take some time to heal, so that’s also understandable.

The most important thing is that you never settle for less in your friendships and even business relationships. You don’t have to ask for much; you just need to ask for what’s true. I have a feeling when you’re older you will be blessed with amazing rendezvous with a bunch of your Soul Family. Until then, enjoy shining on your own terms. You’re IT~

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻🧡

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Prosperity

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Faith

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – That Transcendent Alien Girl

VIBE: NU ABO by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 5 of Pentacles Rx

As per usual, Pile 3 often carries an alien vibe—in this case, almost robotic. You’re futuristic and avantgarde in the way you think, do or say things. With two Major Arcana, I can’t help but mention that you’re likely a Starseed or a Lightworker. Being one usually means you’ve had to face many oppositions in Life to get you all prepped up for your Destiny! What are you gonna do about it? Refuse your tasks and let the whole rotten world kill your Light? Hell nah.

What’s incredibly interesting about you is your morality. You have a super strong sense for justice and you carry yourself with high standards of morality. It’s just…because you’re an alien, what is moral to you might not always agree with the convention. You’re the type of person who notices how justice in this world is totally broken. I’m not even talking about a nation’s justice system—I’m talking about the general sense of what’s right and wrong for reward and punishment.

You’re the type that on the inside could be like Genghis Khan, Joseph Stalin or the Joker and Harley Quinn. You aren’t afraid to blow a damage to someone or a situation that’s been unfair. Your being chaotic, destructive, or simply disruptive as a punishment, is what’s JUST in your book of morality. I’m reminded of the story of the German Revenge Mother, so yeah… That’s real justice because this world’s moral compass looks terribly like a joke to you.

‘I am the punishment of God... If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.’ – Genghis Khan

path of least resistance – I The Magician Rx

Because your energetic signature is very alien, you’re a born eccentric. No matter what you do, you’re just…abnormal. Different. Depending who sees you, you’re either an inspiration or an eyesore. You can’t help it. You stand out too much. Those who see you as an inspiration though, usually feel so because your example (or your stories) gives them a sense of validation.

You clearly don’t belong; but you’re carefully doing your own thing; carving out your very own existence; establishing your place in the world through sharing and flaunting your unique talents. THAT is incredibly validating for other rebels, eccentrics, and outcasts who are similar in vibe to you. You are a powerful creator—a Magician—whether or not you’re aware of this at present.

Have you ever had this crazy feeling on the inside, that sometimes, you’ve felt like your moods affect the local weather near you? Or maybe you’ve caused electricity to go haywire when your emotions are heightened? Have you felt like your hands sometimes cause batteries to run out faster? Do you get electric shocks a lot even when the thing you’re touching shouldn’t be a natural conductor for electricity? Wood or even plastic?

Bitch, you possess a crazy amount of creator energy in you. Sometimes it leaks as sparks of insanity in the physical realm because that amount of potent energy needs to be moved. Remember: energy can’t be created or destroyed; it can only be moved or transferred. You were born with this insanity because you’re an alien. You’re more than capable of handling it. All of that is just needing you to learn to channel IT properly into passionate pursuits that can benefit Humanity~♥︎

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – VI The Lovers

I know you get shy sometimes. Thinking that your dreams and visions are too cringe or too wild, too crazy. But you wouldn’t even be able to perceive those visions if you weren’t capable of manifesting them. So, there’s a reason for that. And more likely than not, you’re meant to see it through that those visions become Reality. As for the cringe part…

Aish, your imaginations just need polishing. They’ll get better as you refine your senses and develop your tastes. Your Reality is bound to be more high-quality eventually LMAO Trust yourself for that! All great artists also started out quite pathetic if you compare their masterpieces to their pre-debut, or even debut, works. The manifestation of your desires is also a form of Art like that.

The more you merge with your Higher Self the more this will make sense. In the meantime, what you’re meant to be focusing on is your Lower and Higher Selves integration. The Human and the Spirit, ah I mean, the Human and the Alien merging as one navigating existence in this Earth Matrix😉

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻💙

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Ritual

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Beauty

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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[shenachigans]

"STEPMOM"'S FUN | Wanda Maximoff

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

CW: smut, fluff at the end (not my forte), Wanda has a cock, unprotected sex, roleplay (stepmom Wanda), mommy kink, bottom female afab reader

SUMMARY: Your “stepmom” rails you in your childhood bedroom

A/N: My smuts are rusty… Not me adding fluff to make this a bit longer, whoops.

WORDS: 1,431

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

“M-Mommy s’too much— Mmph!” Oh, how Wanda, your stepmother, would kill to hear your adorable moans all to herself. Your sweet body for her to tower over. Your plump lips to devour. Your cunt to abuse with her love for you. Wanda wants you all to herself. She wants to show the world you belong to her if not for your relationship. Wanda was your stepmother, and you were her stepdaughter. But marrying your grieving mother was the only thing she could do to keep you by her side, to have authority over, to care for you, to fuck you in your small childhood bed in your dimly-lit pastel pink room. 

“Shh… You can take it. You always do, Detka. Mgh… Fuck… D-Don’t you wanna make Mommy proud of her little baby?” Despite your teary, fucked out face, you smiled at Wanda’s stutter because it showed how good you made her feel. It shows that she loves stuffing your tight, little cunt with her girthy cock. She had only pushed the tip in, and she’s having trouble bottoming out (as usual). Not because she didn’t prep you enough, but because you are a greedy little baby, always wanting to squeeze Mommy’s special milk with your pussy. Wanda sensually rubbed your trembling thighs to ease you into welcoming her full length, whispering how a good girl you were for her to let her fuck you to oblivion. “Easy, moya lyubov…” 

Wanda’s heart swells when you helplessly whimper as you try to relax your walls while she pushes more of her cock into you. A harsh thrust, making your Mommy bottom out, had you yelping, which was cut off when her hand covered your mouth shut, your pool of tears breaking from the stimulation. “We don’t want to wake the boys now, do we?” Her hand swallowed your sobs and moans as you shook your head, not wanting to get caught even if the risk of it made you clench around Wanda, making her groan. Wanda settled with a moderate pace to get you worked up, releasing her hand from your mouth to place her hands on your waist, digging her nails into your skin to create crescents. Wanda found your pathetic attempt at keeping your moans quiet adorable. You were trying so hard to please your mommy, and she couldn’t help but fasten her pace, her tip hitting your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. As much as you both wanted to release, you wanted to savor each other's touch for as long as possible. 

“Is my baby close? Hm? Wanna come all over Mommy’s cock?” Wanda purred, pressing her body onto yours, tits rubbing against each other, forearms digging on the bed to support her weight. She swore she almost came at the sight of your blown pupils in the dark bedroom. You were so drunk from her cock that it made her heart swell with pride. “S-So close, Mommy. Wanna cum… Please? Pretty, please? Wanna have Mommy’s special milk!” Wanda chuckled at your begging. She loves how you’re so desperate for her, and she doesn’t want her baby to be denied of her high, even though she loves seeing you cry and squirm when you’re being punished for being a bad girl.

Content with you asking permission, she wraps your legs around her waist and buries her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your addicting scent. The new angle lets her pound into your spongey spot, making you see stars. You wrap your arms around her neck to pull her closer to let her rut against your fluttering walls with need, the need to fill your womb with her thick ropes of cum. “Cum for me, Detka. Show me how you love Mommy,” Wanda commanded with a grunt, her own high chasing right behind yours. Your high-pitched moans were muffled by Wanda’s shoulder as you bit into her skin, not wanting to wake the twins as your orgasm came crashing like a wave. Not long after, Wanda came inside you with a grunt of satisfaction against your shoulder. Ropes of her thick cum painting your walls white and filling your womb with her special milk, an indication that you were hers and she was yours. 

Wanda lays limp on top of you as you both regain your breaths. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she pulls out, scratching an overstimulated whine out of you before rolling off to the side of the bed. “Feel so full,” you sighed contently, placing your head on Wanda’s chest, running your fingers across the purple mark building on her shoulder. “M’sorry for the mark, Mommy…” Her eyes found yours, and hers wrinkled with contentment, while yours was from worry. Her hand gently stroked your head, fingers threading through your hair, as she kissed your forehead before looking into your doe eyes once more. “I love wearing your marks, Krasivaya.” A chuckle escapes your lips before snuggling into her. 

“I swear, you have wild imaginations, Wands. Who would’ve thought you wanted to roleplay a stepmother in bed.” She hummed at your comment. “Your pink room is too cute to let my fantasy go. Besides, I love it when you call me Mommy, and I know you do too. I just hope your parents and the twins didn’t hear the moans reserved for me.” A playful shove of her face made her laugh. It wasn’t long before you joined her. “I love you, Wands. Or should I say, Mommy?” Wanda seductively bit her lip. “I love you too, Y/n/n, my little baby,” she smiled and pressed her lips onto yours for a searing kiss. 

The next morning…

“Mom, Mama, did you hear the noise last night?” Tommy mindlessly asked while Billy nodded along as they ate their breakfast, breaking the ice. Your parents tried to stifle their giggles when you and Wanda froze. You almost spat your milk on the table. Almost. <They heard us…> Wanda sucked in a breath, speaking in your head, and you nodded. The twins innocently watched as you two silently communicated. Thank goodness that Billy couldn’t read your thoughts because the last thing you wanted was for Billy to read his maman’s loud, horny thoughts about his mom. <Your thoughts are really loud… Y’know that, Detka?> You groaned but quickly regained your composure when you felt your parents’ curious eyes burn holes at the side of your head.

Yes, right. Back to your children’s question. Act completely normal. Wanda definitely did not fuck you in your childhood bedroom in your parents' house last night while roleplaying a twisted fantasy of a stepmother fucking their stepdaughter. “Uh… Birds? I think you heard birds, my little goofballs.” You almost smacked the back of Wanda’s head when she snorted at your pathetic excuse. An expression of betrayal washed your features when your parents started to giggle along with your wife. “Traitors,” you gasped. The poor twins just looked at the adults with confused expressions. “But, Mama, the noises didn’t sound like birds. It sounded like someone was in pain,” Billy elaborated. You wanted to cry now. Were you that loud last night? God, they were only eight. You didn’t want Billy and Tommy to lose their innocence on something like this. Your moans were never a problem back at your place since your room was soundproof. The traitors weren’t exactly helping as they laughed even more. 

Wanda spoke, trying to help you with the twins’ curiosity. “Your mama meant that she fell off the bed last night because we couldn't fit that tiny thing, and she cried because she was in pain. She just didn’t want to be embarrassed, right, Y/n?” She looked at you, expecting to play along and agree, but she only received a scowl. Wanda was sure you were close to bursting into tears with how glossy your eyes were. Your embarrassed glare didn’t help ease the laughter. The twins grew more confused but caught the laughing disease and started laughing along with the traitors while you were left to dig a six-foot hole underground. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, Maximoff.” Wanda’s giggles died down, and her face grew pale, an incredulous look on her face. “Y-You can’t do that, L/N-Maximoff!” You hummed, “Yes, I can, and you’re not gonna change my mind.” Thus, Wanda kept begging you to say otherwise the whole day, but you didn’t back down. When nightfall came, Wanda Maximoff did indeed sleep on the stiff couch, grumbling away while the twins giggled at her antics. 

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[l4brvtality]

Hello i was asking if you could do Platonic Judgement day x fem reader?

When reader is a lot younger than the rest of them and they have a family bond like siblings or parental views and she is new talent and with all that comes some fame and when out (wherever you like) Reader gets attention from an old man as she walks to the toilets alone? Its okay if you dont want to xx

Silhouette - Pastel Ghost

parings - Platonic!The Judgment Day x Wrestler! Reader - Kinda Rhea x Reader in a way

Warnings - Angst , implications of Feeling lightheaded , weird old man , R! getting knocked into a wall , reader passes out, thats all tell me if I missed some!!

please do not read this if you have suffered trauma from any of these things!!

Word Count - 0.5k

You and The Judgment Day had grown closer as you began wrestler. Damian and Rhea , training you and teaching you new moves that hadnt yet been introduced to you. And although you were a couple years younger than the youngest member of, which was Dominik, you all had a family/sibling dynamic.

You had started yiur wresting career at the 2019 royal rumble , being competiter #15. Although not many people knew you at the time , your career had grown throughout the years. And with the help of The Judgment Day, a fandom grew lager and larger until eventually you got your title shot. 

It was you versus becky lynch for the smackdown women’s championship. You had fought hard and long to get the title shot as none of the other wrestlers made it easier for you. Becky didnt go easy on you either. But image the suprise when you had pinned her, making you the new smack down women’s champion.

Your rise also grew more in 2023. At first not many paid attention to you as far as visuals and talent. But soon enough people started noticing the talent you had not only for promos , but in the ring. This made you a fan favorite around the world. Soon your merch was selling out. You started meeting many fans around the world as you Traveled, and people started recognizing you more and more as time went on. You felt like you were on top of earth. This was your dream after all.

Right now , you were getting ready to go out to a restaurant with The Judgment Day. After all , they are your best friends. You heard the doorbell ring , as you put on the last piece of jewelry for your outfit. You quickly headed downstairs , grabbing your phone and keys as you unlocked the door, met with Dominik , standing outside the door waiting for you. You quickly gave him a hug as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Hey , you ready?” He asked

“Yup let’s go,” you replied with a smile.

You opened the door of the truck as you were met with the faces of the 3 wrestlers. 

“Hi guys!” You smiled at them.

They all responded with a “hi” as they all gave you separate hugs. Which was hard due to being in the car , but you made it work. Finn drove as you,  Dominik and Damian , and Rhea played game pigeon together in the group chat.

When you guys arrived at the restaurant, the wait hadn’t been long , as a couple minutes of waiting, a waiter had seat you guys at a booth nearby. As you all sat down , a waited came by , introducing themselves and taking our drink orders. After a couple minutes of waiting , the waited came back  with drinks on a trey. We decided on what to order as the waiter took our order.

After ordering , I decided to go wash my hands in the bathroom. As I walked to the bathroom , you didn’t notice a man following nearby. And when you did you hadn’t thought much about it. Maybe he had to go to the bathroom too , you thought. But your thoughts were rushed away when he had followed you into the girls bathroom. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Rhea , as she sat at a good enough view of the bathroom , that she could see the man getting into the bathroom. 

Before you could turn around to see the man, he spoke first.

“Hey , im a big fan I was wondering if I could have an autograph, or maybe your number,” he spoke

You turned to look at the man and realized he was old. I mean he looked like he was in his 60s at-least.

“I can give you an autograph — but not my num-,” I was cut off when he slammed me into a wall. I felt the pain hit my back as I tried getting up , with no luck. 

“Just give me your number its not that hard,” he yelled at you. You wished this could end , why was he doing this and how were you going to get out of this? You could stand , and he was towering over you.

You heard the mans scream as a loud thump echoed in the bathroom. You looked up , your hair mostly in your face as you saw the silhouette of someone. You moved your hair out of your face as you relished it was Rhea. 

“Honey , are you alright,” She spoke. You could she was panicking just by the sound of her breathing.

“I-I cant get up..” you spoke. Still shocked by the events that had occurred in just an hour of being here. Rheas mind stopped for a moment. She wanted to kill this guy. But she knew you and your safety was more important.

“I want to leave Rhea … p-please,” You said again. You felt the tears pricking your eyes as your breathing got heavier. The atmosphere of the bathroom making you feel scared thinking about what took place.

Rhea car-fully picked you up , bridal style as she led you over to the boys. Once they got a view of you and Rhea, they had felt like it had been a punch to their heart. They stopped their conversation as they went to stand up , getting a better look at you.

“Lass what happened?” Finna spoke. He was getting more worried by the second and to be completely honest, so was the rest of the group.

Tried answering, but nothing could come out your mother but silent sobs. Rhea explained what happened, but about halfway though, you had already passed out in Rheas arms.

[pygmi-cygni]

Mi Luz - Miguel x reader fluff fic

Content warnings - diabetes-inducing fluff, no smut, kissing, emotional constipation

Summary: Miguel has been struggling with stress, and a soft little somebody can't seem to leave his head. Pining, crush, cute cute cute big man

slow burn for two seconds cause I have no self control

Reader is afab, no y/n, described with having large eyes but that's it

love you sweet thing, enjoy ☆

It was hard to be the king of everything.

That's somewhat what he thought of himself, sitting at the top of his tall but lonely throne, scrutinizing his subjects. Miguel didn't choose this life, it chose him. The bitterness that came with the weight of the world sat thick in his mouth, twisting his lips into a snarl and his brow into a scowl. No surprise that the Spiders around him didn't meet his eye unless to cower in fear.

It didn't bother him. He liked being alone, enjoyed the quiet of his lair - except when his pesky assistant ruined his brooding with her obnoxiously loud voice-

"aw Migs, I thought we were besties..." her pixelated pout hung in front of his eyes.

never shoulda taken you out of the drafts, he muttered, but there was no venom behind the words.

Miguel wasn't a recluse, he was just...busy. Too busy to chat, to 'hang out,' as his younger employees begged. He had shit to do, people to save. Friendship didn't fit in his schedule.

So he stalked through the halls as little as possible, shouldering past cliques and couples holding hands. He didn't need that shit.

Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit. Not a lot. Just a smidge. An itsy bitsy amount, if you'll pardon the pun. Hardly worthwhile. Nothing to write home about. Just something that churned in the back of his mind every waking moment of his day came up once in a while.

The irony didn't escape him, how aura sensitivity seemed to be bestowed on the least sensitive man out there. The radiating emotion and color bouncing off of everyone that passed gave him a headache. Miguel had no spidey sense to speak of, no superhuman reflexes, but the minute someone's mood changed, his ears were pricking. Not that he cared.

He didn't care that his chest ached when the sour green of fear laced the aura of his visitors. It was like a switch; he'd walk into the room, and the once shining gold and pastel hues would darken to a nervous blue, thrumming with panic. Some could pass it off, putting on a brave smile for him, but he could see. Miguel could see every shift in hue that betrayed just how little HQ liked him.

But it didn't bother him. He was king of the world.

Miguel's fangs dug into his lower gums as he ground his teeth through the debrief. It had been a shitshow; a group of rookies too unfamiliar with the terrain to do anything other than Fuck It Up. Four of them, Spider-girl 2045, Huntsman, and the twins, Recluse and Widow. All young and stupid.

Currently, all four were talking over each other, auras flashing like disco balls as they bickered over who had the right story.

"I friggin told you, Wid, that's not the right street, it was definitely 45th-"

"Oh, suck my webshooter, that wasn't even the right universe-"

"Would somebody please figure it the fuck out before I send you all back to the void!"

A meek silence followed his outburst.

Miguel was heaving, red eyes glaring down at the comedy of errors beneath him. The kids stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled around them in a sludgy grey haze.

Shit. He did it again, he was trying to be better but they were so fucking annoying and it was loud and his head hurt-

"Go home," he seethed quietly, "figure it out, and come back when your heads are out of your asses."

Not waiting for another scathing word, the Spiders scattered.

With a bone rattling sigh, Miguel collapsed onto his desk frustratedly. Why was he like this? His temper was so strong, no matter how hard he tried to reign it in. Peter had a toddler for chrissakes and hardly ever raised his voice.

LYLA hovered over his shoulder, a knowing look on her face. He nudged his face further into the desk, shutting out her abrasive glow.

"Go 'way," he muttered, teeth scraping the plasticene surface. As always, she ignored him.

"You need help, Miguel. I mean it, hey don't-" her voice went stern as he reached to disable her.

"I don't wanna hear this again," he growled, fumbling for the controls.

"Well, I'm sure these kids don't wanna be screamed at again either, and your feelings are not more important than theirs."

His carmine eyes simmered with rage as he halted. She was right, of course she was right but god why did it hurt-

Shame licked his ribs and he ducked his chin.

LYLA took the opportunity.

"With the new universes we just discovered, there'll be a whole batch of new recruits. Is this really how you wanna run this? Christ, Migs, it's almost better to be independent than deal with you."

At his huff, she crossed her arms. Prancing to the front of his chair, she tapped his nose.

"You can fix it, if you really want to. But who cares if they're saving the world when the world they live in has people like you?"

She blinked out of existence, as a shameful blush reddened his cheeks.

Fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty new spiders would be arriving today at noon on the dot. Miguel could already feel the migraine coming on as he discussed logistics with Jess and Peter. Training, tours, watches, all the work was piling in his mind.

"Miguel?"

Jess' sharp tone brought him out of his reverie. She looked expectant, a stack of files outstretched. "Did you hear what I just said?"

His blank stare triggered an eye roll. "These Spiders need Multiverse tracking, so you'll take them to the Center at 2:30, yeah?"

Miguel acquiesced gruffly and snatched the files, Meeting adjourned, he waited for his office to be clear again.

Peter hung back, aura churning with conflict.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey big guy....up for a chat?" Peter's eyes were bright but wary, and Miguel shot him a weary look.

"I don't have time to chat, Parker, we've been over this," he bit out.

"It's important."

"I don't care, write me an email-"

"Huntsman is AWOL."

Miguel blinked, fiery words fizzling on his tongue. Impossible. He'd just seen him an hour ago, how could that be? Sighing impatiently, he began searching for the small boy on his wall of screens.

"Miguel."

"What."

"You scared him pretty bad, dude. I know you don't like to here this, and I'll try to keep the hippy-dippy to a minimum, but dude," Peter breathed, eyes worried. Miguel struggled to make eye contact, hating the rare sincerity of his tone.

"I mean..." Peter faltered, gesturing to the door. "Voidspace is no joke. Especially some of those kids, where they've come from...you gotta fix your stuff. That's not cool. Jess and I have been-"

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Don't look at me like that," Peter scolded. "You know I'm right."

Miguel seethed out his nose, hands clenching and unclenching around his tablet. god, if only other people saw feelings the way he did, maybe they'd leave him alone.

"I," he spat, "am aware that my temper is...volatile. But-"

"No buts," Jess said from behind him. He whirled. The tension was strangling the air from the room. He needed a break. There was so much to do...

"How you talked to the recruits today was unacceptable. Don't act like you're above consequence," She said in response to his growl. "That behavior is appalling. We can find someone else to do this, you know."

His anger dissipated. She wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

"If it meant helping the success of the next generation, I would."

Miguel, for once in a long time, felt the sting of tears in his throat. Sensing the shift, Peter gave him an awkward shoulder pat and retreated.

"We care about you, man," he said gently, "but you gotta work this out."

With that, the door slammed shut, and Miguel was alone.

Again.

☆ ☆ ☆

He thumbed the corner of his sweatshirt, damp from his workout. Peter's conversation rattled around his brain. He didn't think he'd been that harsh. He never meant-

He never meant to hurt anyone.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? No matter how hard he tried, someone always got hurt. His tongue was too sharp, his claws too fast.

Her form, small, clutched in his arms, deteriorating into pixels as she sobbed-

No.

He wasn't doing this again. Miguel stared at himself until he was sure the mirror would crack. They deserved better. He deserved better. It was cowardly, the way he hid from emotion.

Was that what it was?

Was he afraid? Afraid to reach out for it to snap back in his face? It seemed so childish, like there should be something more than the fear of other people keeping him at bay. Gabi was gone. There was no changing that. He knew that in his head, but his heart?

The roiling stew of his emotions made his chest tight. He couldn't do this, not right now.

Maybe tomorrow.

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Miguel was steadily working, a slight burn in his red-rimmed eyes the only indication that he was tired. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins, keeping his back rigid and muscles taut.

Another anomaly, another fight, another file. click-click-click went his keyboard, rhythmic in the the empty office.

Almost empty, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye, a soft shine radiated from the doorway. Biting back a sigh, he leveled his tired glare with the figure, mentally preparing himself for one of Peter's scoldings. But as the figure drew closer, he realized he didn't recognize the shimmery white aura or the person attached to it.

"Miguel O'Hara?"

A soft, lilting voice carried from the base of his tower. Miguel blinked, not recognizing the voice either.

"Yes?" He responded gruffly, wracking his brain for who the fuck could be visiting him at this time of night -

"Um...Can...Can you roll down? O-or something? I'm sorry, I just can't really see..." the sweet voice faltered and he rolled his eyes.

Maybe, if they'd waited till a reasonable hour to visit him, his chair would be in a more reasonable position. But nooo.....

Regardless, he began the slow descent from his perch. As he grew closer to the ground, the pearlescent light grew more in focus. Miguel came to the conclusion that he definitely did not know you.

Your expression was patient and soft, standing with your hands folded and dressed in a comfortable sweater. You must be new; most seasoned Spiders wore suits out of convenience. A file was grasped loosely in front of you.

"I'm supposed to be working in the office next door, and it seems I wasn't given a keycard?" Your owlish gaze turned hopeful, and he was taken aback by your gentle gaze.

Miguel had never seen someone with such large eyes. Round and long-lashed, they exuded warmth and an innocence that reminded him of her

No.

Stop it.

"Uh, yeah, hang on a second," He fumbled for his watch and pushed past you, not waiting for you to follow.

His mind was reeling, trying to recall if he was supposed to know who you were. Jess had mentioned an assistant, but he figured it would be someone less....soft. More experienced, that is. Besides, he didn't trust you. No way was he just shoving the fate of the universe in your hands, even though your eyes were nice and you didn't cower when he spoke-

Stop. It.

He exhaled loudly, trying to expel the thoughts with it. You stood next to him, ever patient. Your halo, he found, was still that shimmering white. It was a soft light, not glaring and oppressive like the colors of his teammates. It soothed his headache rather than aggravated it.

Realizing he was staring dumbly at the locked door, he sighed again and slid the keycard across the pad.

Error.

Miguel blinked. He had the master card, it applied to every door, what the hell? Trying again, he felt impatience coiling in his chest. What....

Peter. Peter had borrowed his card to let Mayday out of a lab she'd snuck into. He promised he'd return it by today, but knowing him....

"I can't fucking believe this," Miguel muttered venomously, "he takes the most valuable piece of tech I have and fucking forgets to return it, that irresponsible piece of...shouldn't even be a father, gotta be kidding-"

"Miguel?"

He froze, having forgotten you were there. Humiliation tinged his cheeks. He'd done it again, fuck, he wasn't even trying-

"If it's too much trouble, I can just get my card tomorrow." Your voice was patient and placating.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of how to handle your response.

You were still glowing with a soft white light, tinged only by a slight pink hue. Sympathy. No fear, no ugly red anger or terror at his temper. your eyes. you looked him in the eye. you smiled at him. you wanted to help-

His throat, too choked up with confusion and pity and ugh that he merely grunted and ducked back into his office, leaving your soft gaze behind.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, it drove him crazy. Your patience. Your light. He could feel you from yards away, your glow that was always warm, always kind. Your card arrived safely, and there wasn't another mishap between you two.

Every day, you'd pitter-patter into his office on soft feet and explain the schedule to him, then go through the mission briefs with a gentle tone that didn't falter, even if he grouched about the conferences overriding his lunch break.

He didn't think he'd need an assistant. He could do it himself, had been forever. But you...helped. Your organization was impeccable, finding reason and structure where his brain only saw chaos. Miguel was terrible with time management, but you'd give him a gentle reminder that it was time for a break, or that the work was done and his brooding could be saved for tomorrow.

Go home, Miguel, you whispered kindly, tucking a bag of dessert into his large palms. I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, he'd see you sooner. He liked to think about you. It didn't feel like daydreaming, because you worked together and therefore thinking about you was thinking about work, technically. It puzzled him, how your patience never wavered. You'd heard the stories, comforted victims of his wrath. But your light only burned brighter with him, never dampened in contempt.

He noticed it first at a work party. Miguel hated these functions, found them boring and tedious. Chatting about mundane things while nursing cheap wine and a migraine? He'd pass.

Then, you arrived. Dressed in a soft purple sweater and a long skirt god he loved your sweaters, how warm and docile your eyes hidden shyly beneath your hair. He itched to walk over, but nerves rooted him to the spot. You were tucked against a wall, clearly uncomfortable, and as your gaze scanned the busy room...

you landed on him. And,

you glowed. radiantly, your nervous blue haze shimmered with a soft golden happiness, and you waved with a smile. Miguel swallowed thickly.

You were happy to see him. He, who never gave you more than two word sentences, who snapped and bickered and bit like a hissing cat, made your halo glow so bright it warmed his cheeks.

Nobody had ever felt that way about him. And it was so fucking stupid, the giddiness that made him dizzy. Decency was all it was. You were just being nice. And here he was, a blushing melting mess because you were happy to see him.

He looked forward to you even more after that. Slowly, he tried his best to bite his tongue, to keep the irritation from spewing. Instead, he tried fanning the flames with small talk, stumbling through conversation like a lovesick teenager.

He could tell you were surprised, but you welcomed the change. You would sit at the edge of his desk and talk about random occurrences, silly mundane things that still made his cheeks ache from smiling. How the slowly brightening halo of light around you made him adore you more, even if you had to sheepishly apologize when it got too bright.

don't be sorry, mi luz, he wanted to whisper, I love to see you shine.

Then, inevitably, you would pad back to your office and your light would be gone. Miguel would pout at the loss, missing the gentle glow that made his chest ache.

So he decided to do something about it.

You were revising a plan against the latest anomaly in sector AB-7. His tablet was clutched to you as you curled against his chair. The warmth emanating from your aura made him melt with adoration, eyes growing heavy-

"Migs?"

He hummed, still gazing. You'd picked up the nickname from his AI, and he wanted to curl up in your lap every time you said it.

"You look tired, I'll let you rest." You placed the tablet back on his desk and patted his shoulder god do it again please before turning-

"No."

He murmured it, not quite pleading. You stopped, tilting your head in confusion. "You...can stay. There's room down there, if you still wanna work," he added gruffly.

You didn't say anything, and he felt the words rush out. "It just- it just seems strange that you'd be working in a different office when you spend so much time here anyway, but don't worry about it, it's fine-"

"Migs," you said, so gentle it made his toes curl. "I'd love that."

And hence began the worst mistake of his productive career. Because now you'd made a home in the corner of his space, and your softness was always there, so inviting for him to marvel at. He'd lost hours of working just staring.

He learned everything he could about you. How you weren't cleared to fight, which is why you could afford do dress so comfortable. Fine by him, he'd blow a fuse if something happened to you. As long as he could keep you tucked in his little haven, safe for him to admire, he didn't give a fuck.

Jess would raise her eyebrows at your constant presence, but his heart rate was lower and he smiled. She'd never been more shocked.

He was doing better.

Miguel soon found himself focusing all of his spare attention on you. Buying you sweaters, letting you watch your favorites movies on his widescreen, doing anything to make your light glow a little brighter.

This was....different. he hadn't had this, not for a long while. It made him nervous, a little undercurrent of shyness beneath his desire to make you smile. You were never as forward with him, kind as ever but at a distance. He would take what he could get, though. As long as your light kept shining, he'd bask in its warmth.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, what a meeting. He'd zoned out halfway through, so astronomically exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of taking a nap on the old sofa you'd shoved into his office. you'd be right next to him, reading and playing with his hair, oh god if only the clock would move faster- Miguel almost lept out of his chair when the meeting concluded.

His feet quickened back towards his office, feeling your light trickle under the door.

Oh. uh oh. uh oh uh oh.

He stood frozen, staring at his desk. You had made yourself comfortable in his chair, napping with your chin tucked and hair mussed and he felt his chest grow tight god what is happening to him good christ-

Miguel swallowed roughly and peered down at your closed eyes. Your aura was a soft pink, content and sweet. He wanted to hold you so badly. God, that's what he'd been needing. To tuck you up in one of your devilishly soft sweaters and keep his little light all to himself.

It wasn't lust, his desire for touch. Lust felt too carnal, too vile for you. He would never defile you like that, wanting only to watch you shimmer and preen with happiness. Little light, mi luz, so soft...

His eyes were shining with adoration as he looked at you. He didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't care. But after a moment, he realized sleeping on his straight-backed chair would hurt your back. He needed to move you. Hold you on his lap, he was softer and warmer and god help him-

Taking a breath, Miguel slid his forearms under your curled form and lifted slowly, careful not to jostle you. Whatever love demon was inside keened with joy, and he wanted to weep. As he gently maneuvered you towards your comfortable armchair, he caught a shift in your body. Freezing again, he waited for you to finish squirming, finally settling with your head tucked in his neck.

And oh, mi luz

You were glowing warmer now, the faint blush shimmering gold against your hair. Miguel's lips quivered and he began to rock gently. His hands shook with care. He could feel the tranquility rolling off of you in heavy waves, making his eyes heavy and his heart full. You felt safe with him. Soft snuffling breaths against his collar and hands clutched loosely at his nape sent shivers down his back.

He was going to die. His chest burned with the need to shout, to scream with excitement. Finally finally, little soft light, all his to hold-

Miguel might have been squeezing too tight in his joy, because your brow pinched and you mewled in discomfort. He immediately hushed you, coaxing you back into golden sleep. Crooking his elbow so you laid comfortably over his shoulder.

"Sleep, mi luz, I have you. I have you," he cooed, nudging his nose into your jaw. You sighed contentedly and murmured a good night as he gently laid with you in the armchair. He buried his face in your hair, shivering with the warmth that enveloped him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever this was, he never wanted to leave. Miguel felt syrupy and languid, wrapped in a cocoon of something that felt divinely warm and safe and

"Migs?"

A rustle, and the lovely bundle in his arms blinked blearily at him. His lovestruck eyes shone down at his little love, and he smiled gently.

"Hi, dovey," he murmured, rubbing your back, "sleep well?"

You nodded and scooted up, seated fully against his chest. Your aura pulsed sluggishly, dripping like honey. Miguel was too busy sweetly nosing your cheek to notice the hues dancing around your head. still half-asleep, you purred happily, dozing gently against his warm neck. Miguel kept up, suckling gently behind your ear and across your lips and everywhere he could reach without waking you. He could do this for hours.

The warmth was beginning to singe his hair though, and he hissed gently.

"Mi luz," he whispered, trying as gently as possible to rouse you. You whined at the wake-up, doe eyes drowsy and unfocused.

"Your halo, mi sol," he whispered, pecking your cheek, "getting a little warm is all."

you blushed, quickly dampening the shining haze of love you had blanketed over the both of you. Miguel grunted and laid his head back again. You followed suit, curling against him as close as possible.

'love you,' your lips murmured into his skin.

'mi luz,' he said reverently, and his soft mouth soothed you back to sleep.

that's all folks! might do some lil drabbles off of this but idk yet. hope you enjoyed, requests are open, ilysm xox

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @migueloharasbbm @ridiculous-hibiscus @seeeuspaceecowboyyy @neeshsoodrippedout @llumetrii @iminloveweveryone

tags, comment to join

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,312

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: i know what you're thinking. 'JJ, what the hell are you doing?' The answer to that question, always, is 'I have no fucking idea'. But, this idea gripped my soul. Oops.]

01: YOU WORK A BUNCH THEN ONE DAY YOU DIE

"i don't want a sugar daddy but maybe like a sugar buddy. i just hit him up like, 'Hey how are you today?' and he replies, 'Doing great thanks for asking here's $7,000.'" -unknown

The life you lived was simple and boring. You were reminded of this fact as Nima rambled through a story about how her blind date last night had turned into a bar brawl which spiraled into a stint in the emergency room. Meanwhile, you had binged a show you'd already watched a dozen times on Netflix while shoveling popcorn down your throat. This worked perfectly for you though. You got to stay in your comfort zone while living vicariously through your best friend’s disasters. 

“Please tell me you won’t be seeing her again.” You chuckled.

Nima scoffed, “Hell no. She could not carry her own in that bar brawl. That’s why we ended up in the ER.” She scrunched her nose then shrugged. “But she’s fine now. The girl only needed like seven stitches.”

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. For the entire time you had known her, going on a decade now, Nima had never dated a normal woman. It was almost impressive how terrible her record was.

The Korean woman’s hair was dyed a solid bubble gum pink and tied up into two messy buns atop her head. Her clothes were a patchwork of pastel colors that showed off her toned midriff and long legs. The purse wrapped around her chest was shaped like a giant strawberry and the large headphones wrapped around her neck were equally as bright as the rest of her. Everything about Nima was a blur of chaos and energy and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Add that to her awful taste in women and it was the perfect recipe for her wild dating history. 

“Why did we come here?” You asked as your eyes scanned the menu of the coffee shop. The two of you were in the very long line waiting to reach the register, and you had to lean to the side to see around the broad man standing in front of you both. “It’s so overpriced.”

“I follow this girl on insta and she said they have the best lavender matcha latte.” Nima shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “It looked amazing.” She bumped her hip against yours. “What are you gonna get?”

“Will you yell at me if I say vanilla latte?”

“Yes!” Nima scoffed. “That’s so boring! Get one of their specialty drinks at least!”

“Like?”

Nima scanned the menu then pointed at something. “Get the cotton candy frappe!”

You chuckled and continued to scan the menu. There had to be a middle ground option between those two. The line continued to move and Nima had switched from her dating life to her newest project at work. She was an engineer currently working in construction. You were immensely proud of the success she had found in her passions. Honestly, a bit jealous as well. You were in the northern end of your twenties and you had still yet to find something you loved. It was like the world had hit pause on the momentum of your life post college. Time flew by, years passed, but nothing had changed.

The man in front of you reached the register and you realized you’d have to pick something soon. You heard him order something simple⏤ like you had planned. You didn’t pay him much mind until you noticed him patting his pockets growing more frantic with his motions as he realized he was missing something. Finally, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the angle you stood at, you could just barely see his profile, but it was enough to see his face was scrunched up in frustration. You glanced over at Nima, who was texting, then back to the man who was obviously having a terrible day.

“Sir?” The boy working the till questioned.

“Just⏤” The man huffed as if he were trying to wrap his mind around something. You assumed there was more going on than just a lack of money to buy some coffee. Not having the means to pay for something was probably just the icing on the cake for him. It wasn’t a situation you were unfamiliar with. 'Been there, done that'.

Quickly, you stepped up to stand beside him and fished out your card. “Add a, uh, cinnamon roll latte to that order please. I’ll pay.”

“Wait.” The man held his hand out to argue, but the guy at the register was already swiping your card. He wrote the orders out and motioned for Nima to step up next. The man stepped away from the register without tearing his eyes away from you. His stare was inquisitive and confused. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He had a southern drawl to his words that you didn’t hear often in this part of Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned his figure which looked even more broad when you stood in front of him. The man wore a worn out red flannel with old blue jeans and work boots. His hair was a bit messy, fluffed and slightly curled at the ends, in mostly shades of brown with a bit of silver peppered in. The silver was more prominent in the scruff along his jawline. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Even with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips drawn out in a frown, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “You looked like you were having a rough day. We all need a helping hand now and again.”

When Nima finished ordering you turned your focus on her, but she said she was running to the bathroom and disappeared. It left you standing alone next to the man waiting for the drinks to be made. Which would be fine if you didn't feel his gaze still burning into you. Awkwardly, you crossed your arms. You were overthinking it. Paranoid. He probably wasn’t even paying you any mind anymore. To reassure yourself, you glanced over at him only to realize you had not been paranoid. Your eyes locked with his soulful brown ones. Handsome brown eyed men were a menace to society. Nobody should have that much power with just a gaze. Panicked and embarrassed, you snapped your gaze forward once more.

“Thank you.” He said gruffly.

“Like I said,” You cleared your throat, “It’s no problem.”

“I’d love to pay you back.”

You turned to face him, letting out a small laugh, but he didn’t join in. The man just stared at you patiently. Your laughter died as you blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, really?” He nodded. “That seriously isn’t necessary. It was like five dollars.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle.”

“Listen, you seem stubborn, but I promise you I’m worse.” You joked and the corner of his lip curled up into an amused smile that was gone as quick as it came. You almost wondered if you imagined it. “Just… the next time you’re out and you see someone struggling, pay it forward. Deal?”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just stared, and it took all your willpower not to glance away again. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest. You mentally cursed when your dumb eyes traced the lines of his arms. No ogling the stranger. He nodded once. “You drive a hard bargain.” A small smile cracked his otherwise solemn features and this time it lingered long enough for you to actually acknowledge it. “But you got yourself a deal, darlin’.” Your cheeks burned again at the term of endearment. He paused before holding out a hand to you. “I’m Joel.”

You shook his hand, his much larger one enveloping yours entirely, and you offered him your own name. Silence settled between the two of you, but it only lasted a beat before your orders were called out. Joel’s long stride had him at the counter before you got there. He picked up your coffee first and offered it to you before taking his own.

“Thanks.” You chirped.

“I’m thankin’ you, remember?” Joel lifted his simple cup as a reminder. He gave you a slight nod. “It was nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Uh, you too! Hope your day gets better!” You gave him a small wave. 

Joel turned to leave and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail up and down his entire body. His jeans could not fit him more perfectly. Ogling the stranger was okay, you decided, as long as said stranger wasn’t watching you do it. As you shamelessly checked him out, you didn’t notice your friend drift back to you. “Nice.” You jumped in surprise. Nima was grinning at you in excitement. “Please tell me you got a number.”

“A number?” You scoffed. “Are you crazy??”

“I saw sparks!”

You rolled your eyes, “You literally see sparks everywhere, Nima.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe, but one of these days I’m gonna be right.” She argued. “Statistically, speaking.”

You changed the topic of conversation, which was always easy to do with Nima, and took a sip of your coffee. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the trip to this pretentious coffee shop hadn’t been a complete waste. How often did people get a chance to chat with a handsome, older southern gentleman?

The bakery you worked out was a small family owned business. The owner, a cute little old man named Henry Pack, was an old friend of your father’s and when you showed interest in work he hired you without hesitation. That was two years ago. The initial plan was for this to be temporary. A way to earn money so you could pay bills and save up to finish your degree. However, life had dished out hit after hit and suddenly your temporary plan had turned more permanent. 

Plus, the shop wasn’t doing well, it wasn’t getting the traffic it used to, and Henry was getting older and older. He needed the help and even if something else came up⏤ whether it be better paying or more enjoyable⏤ you didn’t think you’d be able to leave Henry behind. Not after all he had done for you. 

You wiped down the counter once more mostly out of boredom. The last customer had been in and out nearly an hour ago. Henry walked in from the back office and you glanced over at him. He was a short, portly man with ruddy cheeks and a kind smile. It hurt your heart how stressed he had been as of late.

“Have you noticed much foot traffic outside?” He asked, hopeful.

“A bit.” You nodded. “Lunch just ended. I’m sure that’s why we have a lull.”

“Right, right.” Henry replied as if trying to convince himself.

The older man knelt down to root around in the lower cabinets. You offered to find whatever it was he was looking for, knowing he had bad knees, but he brushed your hands away stating he was just fine. With a sigh, you thought now was the best time to bring up the question that had been plaguing you.

“Henry, I need to talk to you about maybe a… a raise?”

He glanced up from where he was knelt with a frown. “I told you, hon. I can’t afford to pay you more. No matter how much I wish I could.” Henry sighed. “Well, maybe if I…”

“Never mind.” You said quickly. It was clear that your question was distressing to Henry. It wasn’t his fault you weren’t making the kind of money you needed. He was barely scraping by as well with the costs of keeping this place open. Henry gave you a sad smile⏤ an apology. He finished what he was doing and wandered back to his office. You blew out a frustrated breath. Maybe you could pick up a new job. The problem was that you were already working a crazy amount of hours here at the bakery. If you were somehow able to become the first human alive who didn't require sleep then that could work.

You covered your face with your hands and leaned back against the counter. For most of your adult life, you only had yourself to rely on financially. It was fine. That was the hand life dealt you. Nima was constantly offering to pay for certain things, or trying to loan you money, but you always refused. Too prideful to take her money with no guarantee that you’d be able to pay her back or offer her anything in return. 

The sound of a bell chime startled you and you pushed off the counter quickly to try and regather your bearings. You cleared your throat and turned toward the door to offer the guest a smile. A greeting began to leave your lips, but it was cut short when you realized you recognized the man crossing the space to reach the register. It was the handsome coffee guy from a week ago.

“Well, you’re a familiar face.” You chuckled. “Joel, right?”

“Right.” He looked surprised that you remembered his name. Joel cleared his throat and came to stand in front of the register to face you. He had on a similar outfit to the last time you saw him. Flannel and jeans, but he seemed a bit more put together today. “Are you guys closed?”

“No. It’s just a… slow day.” All the days were slow actually. You straightened your apron, the only uniform item required for you to wear, and offered him a bright grin. “What can I get for you, sir?”

Joel glanced over the menu then the display case before nodding. “Muffins?”

“Okay.” You nodded when he gave you no further information. His eyes just snapped back to you. “What kind? How many?”

His eyes widened and he forced his gaze back to the display. “Just, uh, six of the blueberry?”

You bit back an amused chuckle and moved to start packing a box with his order. It was funny to you that this man had come into a bakery without an order in mind. After closing the box, you set it on the counter in front of him. “So, do you make a habit of popping into bakeries to order random things? Just passing by and thought ‘why not?’.”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel chuckled. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He gave it a small wave and nodded at you. “I have money with me today.”

“Very nice. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” He flipped it open and pulled out a card to hand to you. You hadn’t even told him how much the muffins would be. “I triple checked before leavin’ the house.” You handed him back the receipt with his card, and Joel put them away without making any move to leave. “How long have you worked here?”

You leaned against the counter. “About 2 years now. A family friend owns the shop.”

“Are you the one who,” Joel motioned to the display, “bakes?”

It was odd to you that the man sounded so nervous about having a simple, casual conversation. It was as if he was rusty at the skill and was attempting to stretch out those old muscles. With a small, amused smile, you shrugged. “Some of it. Henry is the main baker, he’s incredible, and I learned from him.”

“Is it somethin’ you enjoy?”

“Meh.” You answered honestly. “I’ve gotten decent at it, but I don’t necessarily love it. Just sort of fell into it.” Joel nodded and his pretty brown eyes darted around like he was looking for a new conversation topic. You threw him a bone. “What about you? What do you do?” You motioned to him and teased. “I’m guessing lumberjack.”

Joel chuckled, “Lumberjack?”

“Yeah.” You pushed off the counter to stand straight. “If I squinted I‘d mix you up with the Brawny guy.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you let out a mocking scoff. “You know? The paper towel lumberjack.”

You saw a flash of recognition in his eyes and a breathy laugh left him. Joel shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before, darlin’.” 

“Where are you from?” You blurted curiously. “There’s no way you picked up that drawl living in LA.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel replied. “Texas. I’m from Texas.”

“Ah. That fits. You’re like a cowboy then.”

Joel rested his hands on the counter, “Am I a lumberjack or a cowboy? I’m gonna need you to make up your mind here.”

“Hm, can I get three to five business days to decide?” 

“I suppose.” Joel nodded. 

The door chime rang out and you glanced over to see another person wander in. For the first time ever, you found yourself disappointed to see a paying customer. Joel cleared his throat, dragging your attention back to him, and you watched as he opened up his wallet again to pull out a crisp five dollar bill. You laughed with a shake of your head as he shoved it into the tip jar.

“It was nice to see you again.” Joel said.

“You too. Have a good day.”

Joel picked up the box of muffins and on his way out he called back, “I’ll be back to find out if I’m a lumberjack or cowboy, darlin’. So get to thinkin'.”

Your cheeks warmed in amusement and you wondered if he was actually serious or if that was just a teasing joke. The other customer reached the register, and you turned to greet them. The stress of thinking about your bills and work life had been briefly soothed by the distraction of talking to Joel. That was nice.

Shockingly, Joel hadn’t been joking. He came back a few days later, ordering something random and on the spot, then demanded to know if he was a cowboy or a lumberjack. You had convinced him to give you more time to think as you joked that you needed further evidence to assess. That had been the start of a habit. Joel would randomly come in just to chat every few days or so and buy a new baked good from you.

A few times, he had walked in while you were helping other customers, but he always waited until they were rung up and on their way out before initiating any conversation with you. It was during the fifth visit that you could tell he was nervous about something. After some time he had gotten more comfortable talking to you, but today it was almost like he had recessed back to that first time. 

“Are you workin’ this weekend?” Joel asked after ten minutes of small talk.

“Only on Sunday.” You admitted. “I’m picking up some extra shifts.”

“More shifts? Don’t you already work ‘em all?”

You chuckled. “Not all of them, but definitely most. But, hey, that’s life, right? You work a bunch and then one day you die.” Joel always seemed uncomfortable when you talked about your work schedule in any fashion. “Why do you ask?”

He had furrowed his brow at your working comment, but it quickly smoothed out as he shifted in place. It was cute to see a man as large and intimidating as he could be squirming over whatever topic he was trying to bring up. You stayed silent and let Joel mull it over. While he worked out whatever was on his mind, you could admire how well his plain t-shirt fit him. 

“Nothin’. Just curious is all, darlin’.” Joel finally coughed out and you bit back a frown.

“What about you?”

Joel shrugged. “Workin’ some. Stayin’ busy.”

Multiple conversations ago he had revealed that he worked as some kind of contractor. You didn’t know much about that job other than it had something to do with building houses? Maybe? When you asked for more details he had stayed pretty vague.

“I should head out.” Joel cleared his throat holding the box of cookies in his hands.

“Oh. Yeah.” You nodded. “Sure. It was nice to see you as always, Joel.”

Joel gave you a tight lipped smile before turning on his heel and beginning to leave. He was halfway to the door before he spun on his heel and marched back⏤ startling you. Joel set the box down on the counter, hands resting on the edge, and kept his eyes downcast.

“I have a…proposition.” He blurted. Joel’s eyes snapped up to meet yours and the weight in those warm brown eyes nearly knocked you to your knees. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harboring a small crush on this man. Despite him being nearly two decades older than you, if you garnered a guess, the attraction you felt to him was not affected. In fact, it probably made you a bit more attracted to him. You knew that a therapist would probably cry out ‘daddy issues’, but you also had a hard time believing anyone could not be attracted to this man.

That being said, a part of you⏤ a very small part that you were too scared to encourage⏤ was really hoping he could be asking you out to dinner or drinks. Was that silly and unrealistic? Probably. It didn’t extinguish that little flame of hope though. You shrugged. “Proposition?”

“I wanna take care of you.” Joel spoke firmly. As if by just bringing this topic up, he had shed his nerves and was focused solely on selling you whatever this proposition was. You narrowed your eyes confused at his wording. The man continued. “Help you out, darlin’.”

“With?”

“Anythin’ and everythin’.” Joel sighed. “You name it and it's yours.”

You let out a confused chuckle. It was like the tables had turned and now you were the one who felt nervous. You buried your hands into your apron pockets and tilted your head. “Not to sound dense, but, uh, what?” Joel didn’t immediately reply. He just stared at you and his eyes burned straight to your soul. A warmth churned in your belly. “I just need you to be specific about what you’re offering because it’s going to be really awkward if I’m misunderstanding you.”

“I’m offerin’ you a life of ease. You work too much, doing somethin’ you don’t even love, and even when you’re off I bet all you do is stress about havin’ to work more to afford rent and bills. Am I wrong?” Joel challenged. You twisted your lips not having a solid argument. He wasn’t wrong. “So… let me take care of you, darlin’.” The choice of his words, the sound of his accent, in his gruff voice sent chills down your spine. You swallowed the lump in your throat and squirmed under his heavy gaze. “I’d love nothin’ more.”

“Nothing more? I… I don’t think that’s usually how that works.” You mumbled softly. An almost sickening feeling filled your gut. No amount of attraction to Joel would soften the idea of him paying you for sex. That’s what he was asking right? Joel makes you comfortable, pays all your bills, and in return you fuck him? 

Joel must have noticed the shift in your mood because he held out a hand in surrender. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Not like that. I wouldn’t expect…” He winced. A bit of his nerves crept back into his features. “I wanna take care of you, and all I ask in return is that you allow me to do that. Offer some platonic company. Someone to talk to. Plus, occasionally, I’d need…a date. No strings there either. Work drags me to a bunch of real stupid conferences and outings. Having someone to talk to durin’ those things would be…nice.”

“That’s it?” You found it hard to fully trust that. As much as you had enjoyed your conversations with him, you still barely knew him. “You’d offer someone a little cash to chat with them?”

“Not just a little cash.” Joel said firmly. “Everything. Takin’ care of you isn’t somethin’ I’d want to half ass, darlin’.”

“That’s even less believable.” You said skeptically.

Joel nodded. “Fair. How about this,” He cleared his throat, “You said you’re off Saturday?” You nodded. “Let’s meet. Talk about this. No pressure. You can ask any and all questions you have.”

You chewed on your lower lip in thought. Saturday was two days away. “Can I think about that? Before I even agree to meet you.”

“Of course.” Joel nodded. He pulled a business card from his wallet and held it out for you to take. You reached out for it, and the brush of his fingers against your hands gave you goosebumps. “I want you to be comfortable. Call me if you’d like. Or… if you’d rather never see or contact me again I⏤ I get that too, darlin’.”

You stared down at the card, but realized it wasn’t a business card like you thought. It was the same size, but he had scribbled his name and cell phone number on it for you. Joel mumbled a quick good-bye before heading to the door again. You called out to him, looking up from the card, and he paused to glance over his shoulder.

“Why me?” You questioned. It seemed so random. Situations like this didn’t happen to people like you. They happened to people like Nima. People who were willing to step out of their comfort zone and put themselves out there. This couldn’t possibly have stemmed from this man forgetting his wallet one day and you being in the vicinity to fix that problem.

Joel’s lips curled up into a small smile and he shrugged. “I, uh, I like talkin’ to you, is all.”

The chime of the door as he left echoed through the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes glanced back down to the card where ten numbers stared up at you dauntingly. Just above it, written in a messy scrawl, was his first and last name. ‘Joel Miller’. It wasn’t until you read his name for the seventh time that you realized you were actually considering his offer.

[next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 16

Description: Miguel and Gabi have a much needed talk.

Part 17

Miguel and Gabi walk you back next door. He watches as you give her a tight hug, whispering platitudes in her ear before you let go. You then brush your lips across her forehead and giving him a small smile, then the door to your apartment is closed and Gabi starts to cry once more.

Miguel scoops her up, cradling her to his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, her tears wetting his shirt as she sobs. He misses holding her like this, when she was a baby she clung to him constantly, crying if he put her down for even a second. Then she grew older and became so curious about everything, she wanted to be on the ground, have the freedom to run and play and explore the world around her.

He’s proud of her for being so courageous, so adventurous it reminds him of a younger him, before he became Spiderman, before he lost his original universe and searched the multiverse desperately for a new one. But he’s forgotten that courage takes a lot of strength, and obviously Gabi has been running on empty for a while.

“Gabi, Mija, I’m sorry.” He says, settling on their couch and squeezing her tightly.

“Why are you sorry?” She asks, looking up at him with those big round eyes.

He can’t explain how much he loves his daughter; he’s tried a million times to verbalize the depth of his emotions and finds he always comes up short. So he’s come to the conclusion that it’s simple. He loves her beyond words.

“I didn’t notice you heard my call with your mother, and then I continued to fail to see how it hurt you, and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to feel all that sadness on your own.” He shifts her, so she’s facing him, and brushes back the hair from her face, it’s like his mother’s hair. He’ll have to call her, ask her how she’s doing, if she wants to see him and Gabi sometime soon.

She snuggles into him, her tears slowly drying. “It’s okay, Papá, I’m strong.”

He swallows hard, tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

“Mijo you shouldn’t have done that, you know your father; he gets angry.”

“But Mamá it’s not fair he shouldn’t treat you like that.”

“It’s better me than you or Gabriel, I’m strong Miguel, I can take it.”

He fears he’s going to wretch, and he takes a deep breath counting ten things he can see, he can feel, hear, smell, until his heart rate has slowed, and the nausea is gone.

“You are strong, but you are also little—”

She goes to protest, and he stops her with a playfully stern look that makes her giggle.

“You are my baby girl, my daughter, you are not alone, you will never be alone, you don’t have to be strong all by yourself, especially not when you’re sad.”

Gabi mulls over his words, fidgeting with the little watch he made for her. “But I want to be strong like you.”

“Mija, I am strong because of you. Because I love you so very much, and I want to make sure the world is safe for you.” He tells her, praying that she understands how earnestly he’s speaking.

She nods and wraps her arms around as much of his torso as she can. “I love you, Papá, and I promise I’ll tell you next time I’m sad.”

He returns her hug, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “I love you more than you can imagine, Mija.”

He makes a mental note to make sure Lyla saves this video file, adding it to the hundreds upon hundreds of clips he has saved of Gabi. He’ll never have enough, never get enough time with her, but here in this moment he feels like everything he’s done, everything he’s been through and suffered was worth it.

“I think Ms. Y/N saw my superpowers.” Gabi says hesitantly, her voice muffled by his chest.

He pulls back, scanning her face. “What?”

“I got mad, and I threw my doll, and now the wall is broken.” She says as she leads him into her room.

Miguel’s mind is turning, churning, roiling. You know he’s Spiderman, as of last night, but he hasn’t been able to go through it with you to explain what happened, or to tell you how Gabi might have developed a lesser version of his abilities and was just now coming into her powers.

He inspects the wall. It’s a small dent, but clearly in the shape of a doll. He can fix it, he’s picked up a number of skills during his time in the multiverse, but he isn’t sure how you’re going to react to the truth.

“What did Ms. Y/N say when this happened?” He asks carefully, running calculations in his head of how much damage control he was going to have to do. You’re a reader, he knows this. Maybe he’ll hack into your laptop and see what kind of books you like. Buy you a first edition of your favorite book, or see if there’s any erotica, you’re fond of that he can read and put to good use to distract you.

Gabi’s brushing her doll Carmen’s hair in rapid jerky strokes, something she did when she was nervous. “Nothing, she just kept playing with me. Well…she seemed a little…tomada por sorpresa.” Trsl: take/taken by surprise.

He smiled at her lapse into Spanish. Gabi spoke both languages fluently, but he noticed a year or so ago that she’d picked up a quirk from him. They both tended to fall back on his first language whenever they were nervous or overwhelmed with emotions.

“Ah, well, Ms. Y/N just found out I was Spiderman last night.” He’s taking a gamble, telling her this. He knows Gabi can keep a secret, she’s been keeping theirs since she was little, but now that you’re involved, he isn’t sure how she’s going to react.

Gabi nods. “Well, that’s okay because you’re going to get married, and married people have to keep each other’s secrets, that’s what Auntie Monica said.”

His half-sister would say something like that…

“She is right, married people do keep each other’s secrets, but Gabi, Ms. Y/N have only known each other for a little while now, not even half a year. Most people like to know each other for at least a year before they get married.”

Gabi sets down her doll and her lips tick to one side in thought. “Yeah, I guess you should wait until the year is done, because if you marry her, then they might move me out of her class. Kids don’t get to be in their mom’s classes, apparently, it’s called a conflict of interest, but I just think it’s because then they’ll be the favorite. But I’m already Ms. Y/N’s favorite, so I don’t think it’ll be any different.”

Miguel laughs, he doesn’t mean to, but that’s his daughter, thinking three steps ahead while still attempting to get what she wants.

“It’s true!” Gabi pouts. “She’s still wearing the necklace we gave her!”

Yes, you are, and he is so thankful for that fact.

“You’re right, Mija, she is.”

She gives him a smug, satisfied ‘I told you so’ smile and begins to clean up her toys. “I bet if you asked her on a date, she’d say yes.”

“I think Ms. Y/N would say yes, but her job is very important to her, so she wouldn’t agree to go out with me until the year was finished.”

“So, you’ll just have to go on secret dates like in the telenovelas, me and Tia Margo watch.” Gabi says, nodding her head knowingly, as if this had been his plan all along, and she was just now catching on.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a half exasperated, half amused smile on his face. “No more telenovelas for you, they’re giving you too many crazy ideas.”

Gabi throws herself into his lap dramatically. “No Papá, but I need them to live, they’re the only thing keeping my secret half-sister maybe actually my cousin alive.”

He laughs again and shakes his head, scooping her up and holding her above his head, making her giggle. “But I do not, for I am the evil tio and I want your half-sister maybe cousin gone, so I can steal her inheritance.”

“¡Monstruo!” Gabi gasps, her face an exaggerated look of horror and surprise. Trsl: You monster!

“Yes, I am an evil monster who says now it is time to go to bed, so you can wake up and have a good day at school tomorrow.”

Gabi wrinkles her nose, but nods, and he sets her back down. She throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “I love you, Papá.”

He hugs her back. “I love you too, Mija.”

If you haven't seen my answer to an ask, I will be going on vacay for 10 daysss, but I'll be back and will be picking this fic up once I return, so don't worry! I'm not abandoning it!!!!

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars

[rogueddie]

Eddie had thought that, like always, getting back from tour would be a fun affair. Ever since his and Steves little Robin started school, just three years ago, it had become a celebration. Steve and Robin always made sure he understood how they would always miss him so much that it hurt.

Still, he hadn't expected to find Robin sobbing. The distressed, lost look Steve gives him only makes it sting more.

"Baby, hey," Eddie says, voice hushed, practically joining her in Steves lap with how close he sits next to him. "Birdy?"

"She won't talk to me," Steve explains. "Its... she was so happy this morning."

Eddie turns his attention back to her. "Did something happen at school?"

She pulls back, suddenly. Eddie barely has time to notice that Steve's shoulder is left soaked with how much she'd been crying- she grabs Eddie's forearm tight, eyes wide.

"Are you and mama gonna get divorced?"

"I sure fucking hope not," Eddie says without thinking.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"You sleep in different rooms," she sniffles, drawing their attention back to her. "And you always go away, dad, like... like, all the time."

"I go away for work. You know how much I hate leaving. I checked that pretty little calendar you made me, every single day. You two mean the world to me, sweetheart."

"You have separated bedrooms. Kyle said that only divorced parents do that!"

"Kyle," Steve says the name like it's a curse. "I swear, I'm going to cause mayhem if Carol doesn't get that brat to behave himself."

"Steve-"

"What? This is the fourth time he's said something that's upset our girl!"

"He's a dumb kid." Eddie pulls Robin off Steve's lap, into his arms. He sticks out his tongue when Steve tries to complain. "Do you wanna know why me and mama have separate rooms?"

Robin nods, looking more confused than distressed. She slaps his shoulder when he tries to walk ahead, making him wait for Steve to get up so she can hold his hand whilst Eddie carries her to Steve's room.

"Ok, birdy. How would you describe mamas room?"

She hesitated, looking around. "Pretty?"

"Exactly. So pretty, all these pastels and whites. Very bright and happy, right?" He waits for her to nod, before walking them across the hall and into his room. "Would you say my room is pretty?"

"No!" Her face scrunches up. "It's all dark and scary!"

"You wouldn't want to be in here too much, would you?"

"No! I only come in here if you and mama are. It's not nice or pretty."

"Mama wouldn't like being in here too long either, would he?"

She looks to Steve, understanding slowly dawning on her face. "Mama doesn't like your room either, he told me."

"Robin!"

Eddie laughs, loudly, bouncing her so she laughs. "I know, baby. But, you know, I don't like mamas room either. It's all so bright and I like this; dark and scary."

"We take turns," Steve adds. "We get our own space, but we never sleep alone. Not if we can help it."

She's quiet as she thinks about it. "Ok. I don't think I understand it yet but... that makes sense. I need to think about it."

"Is that my cue to put you down?"

"Yeah! We can party later, this is more important."

As soon as he puts her down, she darts off into her room.

Steve snorts at how hard she slams the door. "She's just like Robs."

"Maybe we should've named her after El."

"Maybe. She'd be a better role model."

"I'm telling Robin you said that."

"Go on, she'll agree with me. Why do you think she refuses to babysit anymore?"

"Ah, can't handle a taste of her own medicine."

Steve hums, finally stepping closer, arms curling around Eddie's waist. "I missed you."

"Missed you more, big boy."