#that man is gonna be your father figure starting now and those are his first words to you?

[clockwork-stars]

I know that it's not healthy parenting and all that but I love this page and quote

Source: Nightwing (1996) #101: Nightwing year one

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[loveindefinitely]

02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

[moriitis]

Hey! Happy holidays, moriitis!

This is an unusual curiosity, but... What do you think about Toby being a father?

I feel like he wouldn't like having a child, or maybe he would, I don't know... do you think he would be a good father? (Let's suppose that hypothetically you have a daughter)

Have a nice Christmas, I love you! 💗

Father!Toby Rogers HeadCanons. Fem!Reader.

FIRST, I wanna say how fucking weird it was reading this ask at 5 am because I shit you not, before I went to sleep THIS VERY THOUGHT crossed my mind and I told myself I was gonna write this today. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. No, on a real note, glad we are on the same wave length. I LOVE THIS and thank you for requesting it! Have the most happiest of holidays yourself! <3 AND NO I LOVE YOU.

Content/Warnings; abortion, mentions of miscarriages, blood, birth, children, babies.

If you had asked him what he did on a specific Wednesday two weeks ago, he'd have no idea. That was one of the downsides to being a proxy; the memory loss and foggy mind. But fuck, did he remember the morning you told him you were pregnant. His heart fell through his ass, his skin colour turning fifty shades paler than usual.

Admittedly, his first reaction was to laugh. He'd snort in your face and narrow his eyes suspiciously toward you.

"Weird fucking thing to say."

Would be one of the first things he would say. Because you pranked him so often that he simply didn't believe you and it was such a weird fucking thing to say? What a weird prank?

But when you didn't laugh, his lips pursed nervously and he shifted from one foot to the other. The silence was louder than anything as you both stared at each other. The seriousness on your face, this was going too far.

"You're on birth control... right?"

And before he knew it, you were tearing up and right there and then he wanted a hole to swallow him up and eat him. This was bad, no, worse than bad; this was really fucking serious.

Slender would fucking kill him, he'd kill him first and then kill you. This wasn't supposed to happen, shit, he shouldn't have been fucking with you in the first place and now you were fucking pregnant?!

He wanted to panic, he wanted to dart out the door and leave forever but he was tied to Slender. Not just as a proxy, but a slave; a mere worker.

It was the look on your face too, he couldn't leave you? What kind of man were he? Not that he had a particularly good role model for what being a man was like

God forbid he turned into that man.

"Okay."

He would start -

"Okay, okay, ooookay."

He was reassuring himself more than he were reassuring you and his hands reached out to grip firmly on your shoulders. This didn't have to happen, he could.. well, you could fall down some stairs or better yet, drink some alcohol? That'll get rid of a baby, right?

Those thoughts, those dirty, putrid thoughts. What was he thinking? He was disgusted in himself but he couldn't help it, he was panicking.

He couldn't be a father, he was not made to be a father. What if he turned into him? What if he were to.. god forbid it, lay his hands on the babe? He was a dangerous individual, why should the softness of a baby stop him?

Perhaps it was because it were.. his baby. A life growing inside of... you.

"I can't do it."

He admitted.

"I am not fit to be- I CANNOT be- Our life- What we do- No, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you but-"

He was rambling. He was afraid, he couldn't bare to look at you because what if he were to suddenly lay a hand on you?

Sitting down with Toby and talking to him was the best option. To clear your minds, to form a plan - to figure out what to do and whether you both wanted this baby.

Toby was honest, so brutally honest that frankly it made you burst into tears.

"It's not that I don't want it- it's that I-.. I can't."

His words hurt so much but he promised he'd be there to help you each step of the way. Fuck, he'd even get Jack in an attempt to try and help with the termination.

But word travelled fast and it sure travelled quick.

Slender's rage was not shouting or screaming; it was the eerie silence or disappointing faceless stare he would give you. It was the nausea that followed, the anxiety that riddled itself in your blood stream.

And just like that, Toby's whole life was gone. You had just.. simply disappeared. And it killed him, the unknowing of what happened to you. It killed him to think that he could've possibly killed you.

But you were not dead. Slender had come to an... agreement.

You were to stay a proxy but you were to terminate the child and with that, he sent you on the other side of the forest. In a cabin, alone and to deal with your emotions.

Jack had came to aid you with the termination.

But something inside of you told you that.. you wanted this child. That perhaps this child was a chance of hope, of normality. That maybe you could escape.

And you hated to bare such a burden on a child that was not yet born.

It took a lot of convincing from Jack, a lot of persuasion to keep the baby and to do regular visits to ensure it was growing healthy. You were to birth the baby alone, for Jack couldn't risk getting caught. But he taught you well, how to handle it and of course gave you lots of books.

It was risky, going against Slender. He would know something was up, especially since you had not come back as quickly as he had expected.

So Jack lied for you, he hated it but did it nevertheless. What was he going to lose?

He told Slender you were in a coma and that he needed to do regular checks to ensure you were alive.

Slender wouldn't know, fuck, Slender wasn't human - so the lie worked perfectly.

The pregnancy was rough. Unwelcoming. You vomited everything up, you were unable to gather firewood due to the fatigue - so on most nights you would be freezing alone.

A part of you didn't expect the baby to survive. That you would miscarriage.

But weeks slogged into months and you were bursting.

And you had to do this alone.

You didn't count how long you were in labour for, but it felt like for days.

So much blood, that something was wrong and you just knew it.

But you pushed through, with each book Jack had given you being an aid.

The baby was born during the night.

And she did not cry. Nor weep, nor whine.

Your heart dropped.

You were slumped on the cabin floor, blood pooling around your thighs and knees as you doubled over. There, on the towels beneath you, were the child. Pale, small.

If it weren't for the shock, you would've moved instantly. But you couldn't. All you could do was watch in disbelief, your head glazed in sweat.

But motherly instincts kicked in quick.

And you reached for the scissors, cutting the cord and making haste to save your daughters life.

Your daughter. A girl. You had no idea what the gender were but it were evident as you helplessly rubbed the babes back, hoping to clear some airways to hear that cry.

Relief washed over you, a cry that would've seen irritating for some; music to your ears.

You had a daughter - she was alive!

It took Jack a couple months until he passed by again, he was on his rounds locally and knew he needed to check up on you. A part of him expected to find you dead and half of him prepared himself to the smell of death as he itched closer toward the cabin. The smell of the rotting corpse either being you, the child or both.

But there was a new smell. A sweeter smell.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised when he discovered the cooing child in your arms but he were.

You had named her Lyla.

And you ached for Toby.

Jack couldn't vouch for the coma lie anymore and he knew that soon you were to be caught.

So, he did what he thought were best. He dragged Toby's sorry ass here. And it took a lot of convincing.

Toby succumbing to depression at the idea of losing you. Spending most days in bed, grieving.

So, when he walked into the cabin, he quite literally dropped to his knees, it was like everything inside him had been healed.

"You're alive-?!" Toby choked out. A part of him believed he were dreaming. His eyes scanned every fibre of your being, your hair, eyes, lips and.. the baby in your arms. His mouth hung agape and you couldn't help the stream of tears that came flooding down your cheeks. The brunette couldn't lie, he couldn't say that you looked well because you didn't. You looked.. so hungry, so weak and yet this beautiful child looked so healthy. "You- is that- am I?" All you could do was nod to his words as you approached him, Toby barely able to find the courage to look at the child in your arms. No, he had to make sure you were real first. His hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing over your cheekbones and there he smashed his lips against your own.

It took a lot of explaining and Toby was.. well, in shock for an hour or two as he tried to come to terms with it all. The idea that you did this.. alone. That you carried this child alone for months, that you gave birth alone. He should've been there, he would've been in a heartbeat!

But that voice in the back of his head reminded him of the words he spoke to you on the day that you announced you were pregnant. Oh, how they were not true.

Because as soon as he glanced at the baby, he knew in that moment that he wanted to be.. a father. Well, he wanted to try.

"She's beautiful.." he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought back the lump in his throat. Toby reached out but stopped himself. What if even a mere touch would make the baby disappear? What if.. somehow, he hurt her?! His expression pained as he hesitated, between wanting to love but being too afraid to do so. The both of you exchanged glances, your own look encouraging him silently. You trusted Toby, despite his nature, despite what he does; you knew he would never hurt her. And you relayed those very thoughts with a look alone as you gently urged the little bundle toward him. Toby wanted to decline but slowly, he took the baby within his own arms. He was awkward, freezing and sitting as still as he could, like she were made out of glass. It made you laugh. "You're not going to hurt her," you reassured with words this time. "But what if the day comes that I do?"

When Toby found out his daughters name were Lyla, he broke down into tears. He was crying so much that he kept calling himself 'such a little bitch' between each sob.

It was pretty funny.

But you didn't laugh, you just rubbed his shoulder reassuringly as he sobbed tears over his daughter.

Which prompted Lyla to whine softly.

And then Toby cried more because he thought he hurt her. Shit, this man was more hormonal than you were.

It took Toby many weeks to adjust to this new lifestyle and he tried his best to form a bond with his daughter. You had the pleasure of nine months to form a bond, Toby had no time to prepare at all.

But it was hard because every time he looked at her, his heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

She was too perfect, too beautiful and anxiety consumed him at the thought of losing her. He had just got you back!

And you were the two girls in his life he loved ever so dearly.

So, he insisted that he looked after her more. Despite the fact that every time he held her, he wanted to fucking die. He was too damn anxious for this shit.

Admittedly, as weeks turned into months, you were thankful for Toby's willingness to parent more often.

But it was hard at the start

It seemed Lyla hated Toby and it frustrated Toby each time she would cry whenever she were in his arms

She was clingy, and you understood both of their emotions.

So when Lyla was asleep, Toby would feel his emotions get the better of him too. He would be angry, but his anger turned more into sadness as he stormed off into the wilderness for some alone time.

And this happened often. Toby needed time and you understood this, a part of you feeling guilty for thrusting this parent role upon him so suddenly - especially after he expressed his discomfort with the idea of being a father.

But it was still early days.

And you were unsure on what happened that particular night but when Toby came back from his usual walks, he was a different man.

And when he gently scooped Lyla up into his arms, it seemed she noticed that too.

Perhaps it was the confidence? Or how calm he appeared?

Whatever it was, it seemed now they were inseparable.

The love in his gaze as he rocked Lyla gently in his arms, like he was holding his entire world and nothing was going to take that away from him.

Well, that was until Slender found out.

And it turned into a literal shit show.

The way Jack came storming into the cabin, bursting your little bubble you had created, your idea of a happy, normal family disappearing as quickly as you had dreamt it.

The panic on Toby's face as he knew.

And you knew.

You expected worse, but Slender was... forgiving.

You were unsure what was said, whether Jack had swayed his mind or perhaps if Toby promised some unspoken promise.

But the cabin you had given birth in was to become your home.

On one condition.

You were banished. No, you would not go back to society - especially not after the things you know and had seen, but you were to stay here until your death. Which would not be a peaceful death, but that day would come. For now, Lyla was fine and despite your worry about her future; Slender agreed that she would be fine.

You did not trust the entity's words. But you were thankful nevertheless.

"How the hell did you get so big?!" You heard Toby yell from the living room, Lyla's giggles followed. From the corner of your eye, Toby spun her around in the space of the living room. There was no denying that the scene warmed your heart, but also made you chew the bottom of your lip anxiously.

Toby always said that you worried about her too much and maybe you did, but fucking hell... if her ankle caught the table or her head on the wall! Rushing over, you quickly waved your arms out. "Whoaa, okay, hold on- she's gonna hurt herself or get sick-!" you quickly spoke, trying to pitch your voice a little louder than Lyla's giggles. Toby stopped momentarily, Lyla in his arms and he looked at you with a questioning look. "She's fine, see?" Toby held her out and she flopped in his arms, almost looking as if she were about to drop on the floor and instinctively you threw your hands out to catch her. The brunette could only chuckle as he bundled her up close to his chest. "You worry too much." Those same words again and you rolled your eyes, a soft crinkle of irritation evident in your brow. Lyla was.. fine and perhaps you did worry too much, but Toby didn't really understand the concept of.. gentle playing. Like the times he'd throw her in the air, it make you wanna vomit at the idea of her hitting her head on the roof, or god forbid - he drops her. She was too little for this roughness and deep down, she'd always be your little baby. But Lyla was nearly two and it broke your heart to admit that, as much as you enjoy watching her grow.

And she preferred playing with Toby than with you. Mostly because she was a carbon copy of Toby himself. From the nose to the hair colour. She had your eyes though, so screw you Toby.

Toby became the very man he promised himself he would become, the very father he wished he had himself.

Loving and caring. Lyla was most certainly Daddy's little girl and Toby wore that badge with pride.

If it weren't for the circumstances and for the fact that Toby does not own a wallet he'd have little pictures of his daughter nestled away inside the pocket of his wallet.

Despite the bumpy start, Lyla couldn't get enough of Toby and he ensured that every night he'd read her a bedtime story. He'd even fall asleep himself sometimes just beside her bed, other nights just wanting to sit close in case something were to happen.

Admittedly, a part of you worried that Toby was.. too attached to her.

But whenever they were together, Toby was healing something inside of him that he thought could never be healed.

And essentially, he was living a childhood he had always wished for through his own daughter.

Eventually, Lyla blossomed into a teenager and it was.... hell.

"I fucking hate this cabin, I hate being here! Why can't we be normal! What's with all this off the grid shit!" The voice yelled from down the hall. Oh, she wasn't wrong, Lyla had every right to be pissed but having to live with an angsty teenager that hated everyone and everything was a lot worse.

And Toby never, NEVER, did the punishments.

Just... strict words.

No, he couldn't trust himself, so let you deal with it.

But at times he would find himself taking Lyla outside for a walk to talk to her. To let her know that he was there if she wanted to talk.

And yes, Toby does 100% sneak her out to go to the nearest town.

All in all, Toby would be, against all odds, the best father he could offer. Though I do see him not wanting kids at all. I also HC that all the proxies are infertile anyway.

But if it were to play out, it'd probably be something like this. Toby would be the cool dad where you could just about get away with some stuff. Toby would also be one of those guys where he claims he hates the cat kid and then forms such a close bond with the cat kid.

Oh, and is this man protective of his children too. !

Very much refers to his children as 'sperm pet.' Or he pulls a Kratos and he's kinda like 'get 'ere, boy/girl.'

I RAMBLED TOO MUCH

I feel like I didn't really answer your question

I'm sorry. I will write more about this in the future though.

[lila-lou]

✨Little Soldier✨

Summary: Ben’s approach to parenting is all grit and discipline, just like the way his own father raised him. But with a little nudge from you, he starts to see that being a good dad is more than just teaching strength—it’s about showing love too.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, (Ben is mistreating your poor son)

Word Count: 9291

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

It was one of those crisp winter mornings where the air bit at your skin, but the sunlight danced across the snow, making everything shimmer like a dream. The backyard stretched wide, blanketed in white, untouched except for the paths Ben and your son, Logan, had carved into the snow as they trained. Ben stood tall and imposing in the center, the green jacket of his suit open just enough to let the cold sting his chest. He didn’t seem to feel it. Soldier Boy never did.

Logan, just eight years old, was across from him, his small fists raised in a stance that mimicked his father’s. His breath came out in quick, visible bursts, more from effort than the cold. He kept glancing toward his feet, unsure of himself, while Ben paced a tight circle around him.

“Come on, kid”, Ben said, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. “You think anyone’s gonna wait for you to figure it out? Eyes up. Watch your opponent. Always”.

You knelt nearby in the snow, your four-year-old daughter, Lila, bundled up in her puffy coat and mittens, happily building the base of a snowman. Her little hands moved clumsily, her giggles breaking the quiet each time the snow didn’t quite cooperate. You helped her pack the snow tighter, gently guiding her hands and brushing her hair away from her flushed cheeks as you did.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Logan glancing over. Logan’s gaze lingered on you and Lila for just a heartbeat longer than it should have, his eyes filled with something unspoken. He wanted that—building a snowman, laughing, playing without a care in the world. He wanted to feel the warmth of your praise, the way you smiled at Lila when she held up a misshapen clump of snow as if it were a masterpiece. But he couldn’t. Not right now. Not when his dad was watching.

He straightened his stance, forcing the longing down into the pit of his stomach. He was a man, or at least, he was supposed to be. That’s what Dad always said. “You’re not a little kid anymore, Logan. You’ve got to be strong, got to take care of the people you love”. So even though his arms ached and the cold bit at his cheeks, Logan clenched his fists and focused on his father.

Ben noticed the hesitation, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What’s with the looking around, huh? You think your enemies are gonna stop because you’re distracted?”. He stepped forward and lightly tapped Logan on the forehead with two fingers. “This? This is your weapon. If you don’t keep it sharp, you’re dead, kid. Now, eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”, Logan muttered, his small voice barely audible. He squared his shoulders, his knuckles raw from the cold.

Ben circled him again, his boots crunching against the snow. “Better. Now, hit me like you mean it. Don’t pull your punches just because I’m your old man”.

Logan hesitated for a split second, stealing one more glance at you and Lila. Lila was giggling again, her tiny voice ringing out like a bell as she held up two sticks she’d found for the snowman’s arms. You caught Logan’s glance once more, and your heart clenched. He looked so torn, so much older than his eight years in that moment.

But Logan turned back to his dad, his small frame trembling as he stepped forward and threw another punch. It landed on Ben’s open palm with a dull thud. Ben caught his wrist, holding him in place.

“That all you got?”, Ben asked, his voice calm but challenging.

Logan sighed quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. He hesitated, lowering his gaze to the snow before muttering, “I’ve got my laser eyes, Dad… do I really need to learn how to fight? I could just… laser an enemy”.

Ben froze for a moment, his grip still on Logan’s wrist. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t amusement. It was that half-smile he wore when he was about to make a point, the kind that sent a chill down your spine as much as the cold air did.

“Your laser eyes?”, Ben repeated, letting go of Logan’s wrist. He straightened to his full height, towering over the boy like a general over a recruit. “That’s what you’re gonna rely on? Some flashy power you barely know how to control?”.

Logan’s shoulders sank slightly under the weight of his father’s words, but Ben wasn’t done.

“Let me tell you something, kid”, Ben continued, stepping closer. “You think some bad guy’s gonna just stand there and let you zap him? Powers don’t mean squat if you don’t know how to fight. If you don’t have the guts to stand your ground when things get real. You run outta juice, you get caught off guard, and guess what? You’re toast”.

Logan flinched, his face turning red, though whether from the cold or his father’s words, it was hard to tell. He looked down at his fists, the little tremor in his hands betraying the frustration he was trying to hide.

“But—”, Logan started, only for Ben to cut him off.

“No buts, Logan”. Ben’s voice softened slightly, though the steel remained. “You’re my son. You fight, and you fight smart. Lasers or not, you’ve got to learn how to handle yourself. You’ve got to be ready for the worst. Because trust me, one day, someone’s gonna come at you, and they’re gonna be faster, smarter, and meaner than you ever thought possible”.

Ben crouched down now, meeting Logan’s eyes. His tone shifted, quieter but no less intense. “And when that day comes, you don’t want to be the kid who only knows how to hide behind a fancy power. You want to be the kid who looks them in the eye and says, ‘Come on, give me your best shot’. You hear me?”.

Logan stared at him, his small frame trembling not just from the cold but from the weight of what his father was saying. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, sir”, he whispered, his voice steadier this time.

Ben clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, a rare moment of affection. “Good. Now hit me again. Harder this time”.

You watched from where you knelt with Lila, your heart aching for your son. He was trying so hard, carrying a weight far too heavy for someone so young. But there was a flicker of something in his expression now—determination, maybe, or even pride.

Logan set his jaw, stepping forward again. His small fist swung upward, and this time, the impact against Ben’s hand was louder, sharper. Ben grinned, nodding approvingly.

“That’s my boy”, he said. “Now we’re getting somewhere".

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Lila tugging at your sleeve, her little hands holding a snowball. “Mommy, can we throw this at Daddy?”, she asked, her mischievous grin spreading wide across her face.

You watched for a few more minutes, letting Logan and Ben have their moment. Logan’s punches were getting stronger, his stance more confident. Ben’s rare but genuine nods of approval lit up Logan’s face, even as his small fists grew red and raw from the cold. It was a scene that tugged at your heart—intense, yes, but filled with love in its own complicated way.

But enough was enough. Everyone needed a break, even Soldier Boy.

You silently scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly in your gloved hands. Lila watched you with wide, sparkling eyes, her grin spreading as she realized what you were about to do. “Shh”, you whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. She mimicked the gesture, though her giggles threatened to give you away.

Ben’s back was turned as he adjusted Logan’s footing, his deep voice still carrying instructions. He had no idea what was coming. You took careful aim, pulled your arm back, and let the snowball fly.

It hit Ben squarely on the back of the head.

For a split second, the world froze. Logan’s mouth dropped open, his eyes darting to you in shock. Lila’s laughter erupted, high and bright, as she clapped her mittened hands together. Ben straightened slowly, turning to face you with an expression that was equal parts surprise and challenge. A few snowflakes clung to his hair, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Really?”, Ben said, his tone low and dangerous, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “You think you can take me on, sweetheart?”.

You shrugged innocently, already packing another snowball. “Well, someone had to remind you to have a little fun”.

Ben’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that”.

Before you could react, Ben scooped up a massive handful of snow and hurled it in your direction. You ducked, narrowly avoiding the incoming projectile, and tossed your snowball back, catching him on the shoulder. Logan burst into laughter, his previous tension melting away as he watched the two of you go at it.

“Oh, it’s on now!”, you shouted, grabbing another handful of snow.

“Logan!”, Ben called out, already forming another snowball. “You with me or her?”.

Logan hesitated for half a second before grinning mischievously. “Her!”, he declared, running toward you. Lila squealed with delight, abandoning the snowman to join your side, her tiny hands struggling to form a snowball of her own.

Ben feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “Fucking traitors! All of you!”.

What followed was pure chaos. Snowballs flew in every direction, laughter ringing out across the yard. Ben, true to form, didn’t hold back, though he made sure to go easy on the humans, meaning you. Logan and Lila worked together, pelting him relentlessly, while you managed to land a few well-aimed shots of your own.

By the time the battle ended, all of you were breathless and rosy-cheeked, the tension from earlier completely forgotten. Ben stood in the middle of the yard, dusting snow off his jacket, while Logan and Lila collapsed into the snow, giggling uncontrollably.

You started walking toward Ben, a triumphant smile on your face as you prepared to rub in the fact that you and the kids had clearly won the impromptu snowball fight. But before you could get too close, Ben’s grin shifted into something sly and mischievous—a look you recognized all too well.

“Don’t even think about it”, you warned, holding up your hands.

He didn’t say a word. Instead, with one quick, fluid motion Ben effortlessly pushed you backward into the towering pile of snow that had been stacked from the snow fort construction. You landed with a muffled thud in the cold, soft powder, your breath leaving you in a surprised gasp.

“Ben!”, you yelled, sitting up and brushing snow out of your hair, your cheeks flushing from the chill and the sheer audacity of the man. He stood over you, grinning like a smug teenager, his hands on his hips as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Never let your guard down. I thought I taught you better than that”, he drawled, shrugging one shoulder.

You narrowed your eyes, a mixture of irritation and amusement bubbling to the surface. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Soldier Boy”.

“Big talk for someone sitting in a snowbank”, he teased, holding out a hand as if to help you up.

For a moment, you considered taking his offer. But then you saw the smirk on his face and knew better. Instead, you grabbed another handful of snow and flung it straight at his chest, catching him off guard. He stumbled back slightly, laughing as he brushed the snow off.

“That’s it”, Ben said, stepping forward with mock menace in his stride. “Now you´re done”.

Ben’s grin turned wicked as he shook the snow from his hair and stepped forward. Before you could even think to scramble away, he reached down, his strong hands gripping your waist with ease. “You started this”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Now you’ve got to pay for it”.

“Ben, don’t you dare—”, you started, but the rest of your words were lost in a squeal as he hoisted you up and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You pounded lightly on his back, laughter spilling out of you despite yourself.

“Too late for mercy now”, he said, his tone full of mock authority. “This is what happens when you challenge the champ”.

As you protested, he started toward the house, his boots crunching through the snow. Behind you, Logan and Lila dissolved into giggles, rolling in the snow as they started making snow angels, entirely unbothered by the fact that their parents were still in the middle of their antics.

“Ben, you’re getting me soaked!”, you protested, but your words were muffled by your laughter. Snow clung to your coat, melting quickly in the warmth of the house as he carried you through the door and kicked it shut behind him.

“That’s the least of your worries”, he shot back, his voice full of mischief.

He strode into the living room, his boots leaving a trail of melting snow, and without hesitation, he dropped you onto the couch. The plush cushions sank under your weight, and before you could react, he was hovering over you, bracing himself on his hands on either side of your head.

“See?”, he teased, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath despite the cold water dripping from both of you. “You can’t win against me. I’m unstoppable”.

You glared up at him, though the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth betrayed your true feelings. You reached up and grabbed his jacket, tugging him slightly forward. “You’re soaking the couch, genius”, you said, though the laughter in your voice was impossible to hide.

“So are you”, he shot back, leaning closer, droplets of melted snow falling from his collar and onto your skin.

The two of you were practically nose to nose now, water pooling under both of you.

Ben’s smirk softened into something more heated as his fingers toyed with the edge of your jacket. His voice dropped, rough and low, as he muttered, “You know, I fucking hate winter”.

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath from laughing. “Oh yeah? Could’ve fooled me, the way you were having a field day out there”.

His hands slid to the edges of your jacket, slowly pushing it open as he hovered over you. “Nah”, he said, a big smirk on his face again. “I hate all these damn clothes. Hiding this”. His gaze raked over you as his fingers began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his touch confident and deliberate, yet surprisingly gentle. “Hiding your perfect little tits”.

Your breath caught, your cheeks flushing warmer than they already were from the snow. “Ben”, you started, half in protest, though your voice lacked conviction. His boldness always caught you off guard, even after all this time.

“What?”, he said, mock innocence dripping from his words as his hands worked their way lower. His green eyes locked with yours, full of mischief and intent. “You start a fight, sweetheart, you gotta be ready for the consequences”.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, even as you felt his calloused fingers graze your skin beneath your shirt. “Is this how you settle scores now?”.

Ben leaned closer, his lips brushing against your jawline, his breath warm against your chilled skin. “When it’s with you? Damn right it is”.

Before either of you could go further, the sound of the kids’ muffled giggles echoed through the window. Ben froze, glancing toward the frost-covered glass, then back at you, his grin faltering for just a moment before it returned full force.

“Saved by the brats”, he murmured, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. He leaned back, giving you space to sit up as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “Guess you get a pass this time”.

You laughed, buttoning your shirt back up as you pushed his chest playfully. “You’re impossible”.

Lila, hands pressed to the glass. “Eww, Mommy and Daddy you´re gross!”, she teased, sticking her tongue out dramatically, while Logan laughed and shook his head, clearly trying to act like he wasn’t entertained but failing miserably.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Lila’s exaggerated expression, her hands still pressed against the window as she made a show of grossing herself out. Logan, on the other hand, was doing his best to look serious, though the laughter that bubbled up from his chest betrayed his attempt to remain mature.

“Eww, Mommy and Daddy always kissing!”, Lila mumbled with a playful scrunch of her nose, her voice full of mock disgust. She stuck her tongue out again, clearly enjoying the attention.

Logan, trying his best to be the older, wiser sibling, crossed his arms and shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “You guys are so embarrassing”, he said, though the way his eyes sparkled showed he didn’t actually mind one bit.

Ben, standing beside you, glanced at you and then back at the kids. His grin softened, and he leaned down toward you, speaking in a voice only you could hear. “They don’t have a clue, do they?”, he said with a quiet chuckle.

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully at the scene unfolding in front of you. “Not a single one”.

Lila, clearly not done yet, leaned closer to the window, still giving you both the dramatic “eww” face. “You’re gonna make us barf!”, she announced loudly, her face scrunching as though it was all just too much to bear.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh at his daughter’s antics. “What are you two up to, huh?”, he called through the window. “Making fun of your parents? You should be building that snowman”.

Lila, always the instigator, puffed out her chest proudly. “We already did!”, she declared. “But now we’re watching you guys because it’s funny!”.

As Lila stood there, still making faces at you and Ben, Logan saw the perfect opportunity to sneak away. Without warning, he grabbed his younger sister by the hand, pulling her away from the window with a quick tug.

“C’mon, Lila!”, Logan urged, his voice filled with excitement. “Let’s finish the snowman! Dad and Mom are being all gross again!”.

Lila let out a reluctant giggle but quickly followed, her mittens flapping as she tried to keep up with her brother. “Okay, okay, but only if we can give him a crown!”; she shouted, already planning the next addition to their snow creation.

Ben watched them go with a fond smile before his gaze shifted back to you. His grin softened as he stood beside you, his arms crossing in that familiar, relaxed way. “You okay?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, with an undercurrent of concern.

You sighed, keeping your eyes on the kids as they ran back into the snow, their laughter a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the moment. “I think you need to ease up with him, Ben”, you mumbled, your voice soft but steady. “You’re demanding too much from him. He’s just 8”.

Ben didn’t respond right away. His gaze followed Logan and Lila for a moment, his jaw working as though weighing your words. You could see him considering it, but you knew how hard it was for him to let go of the lessons, the expectations he had for Logan. It had been instilled in him—toughness, strength, independence. But Logan was still a child, and there was only so much he could handle before it became too much.

Ben turned to you, his expression slightly guarded but not entirely dismissive. “I’m not asking him to be something he’s not”, he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t get soft. The world isn’t gonna treat him like a kid forever”.

You crossed your arms, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you looked at him. “He is a kid, Ben”, you said, your voice rising a little, frustration creeping in. “Let him be one. You can’t push him to grow up this fast. You can’t always expect him to be your mini-me, a smaller version of you. He’s Logan, not Soldier Boy”.

“I’m just trying to prepare him. If he’s not tough enough, the world will eat him alive. You know that as well as I do”.

You shook your head, exhaling slowly, trying to rein in your emotions. “I know, but there’s a balance. You can teach him those things, Ben, but not at the cost of his childhood. He’s just 8”. You softened your tone, meeting his gaze directly. “I just… I just don’t want him to resent you. I don’t want him to think he has to be something he’s not to earn your approval”.

Ben was quiet for a moment, and you could see the internal battle in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, chewing on the words for a second before letting out a long breath.

Ben’s silence lingered, his jaw tightening as your words sank in. You could see the tension ripple through him, the way his shoulders stiffened and his gaze faltered. You hesitated, carefully choosing your next words, not wanting to push him too far but needing him to understand.

“You should know it best, Ben”, you mumbled softly, almost afraid of how he’d react. Your voice wavered, but you held his gaze. “You know what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough, no matter how hard you try. You’ve told me… how your dad was with you”.

The words hit him like a physical blow, and you saw it immediately. His confident, almost cocky exterior faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, he looked away, his eyes drifting toward the snow-covered yard where Logan and Lila were playing.

“Don’t”, he finally muttered, his voice rough, strained. “Don’t bring him into this”.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Ben”, you said gently, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. “I’m just saying… you know how it feels to grow up under that kind of pressure. Always trying to live up to someone else’s expectations, never feeling like you’re enough. You’ve told me you hated it. And I know you never want Logan to feel that way”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound filled with frustration—but not at you. At himself. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he finally looked back at you, his green eyes clouded with something between regret and resolve.

“I don’t”, he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want him to feel like that. Ever”.

“Then let him breathe, Ben”, you urged, your voice soft but steady. “He’s just a kid. He needs to know he’s enough as he is. That he doesn’t have to be the toughest or the strongest to make you proud. He just has to be Logan”.

Ben rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers dragging down to rest at his chin. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as he processed your words. “You think I’m turning into him, don’t you?”, he asked quietly, almost to himself.

You shook your head firmly. “No, I don’t. You’re not your dad, Ben. You’re already so much more than he ever was. But sometimes… sometimes I think you’re carrying his shadow. And it’s time to let it go. For Logan. For you”.

Ben let out a slow exhale, his shoulders relaxing just slightly as your words settled between you. You leaned up and kissed his cheek gently, the warmth of the moment cutting through the tension that had lingered in the air. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could tell he was listening, really listening, and that was enough for now.

“I’m going to get the kids”, you said softly, brushing your hand along his arm before stepping toward the door.

He nodded once, his gaze following you for a moment before shifting back to the snowy yard, where Logan and Lila were laughing together as they finished up their snowman.

“Alright, you two!”, you called, standing in the door, your voice cutting through their laughter. “Time to come inside! Wash your hands, and then we’re going to bake some cookies”.

Lila’s face lit up, and she immediately clapped her mittened hands together. “Cookies!”, she squealed, already abandoning the snowman and running toward you with excitement. “Can we make the ones with the sprinkles?”.

“Of course, sweetheart”, you said, catching her as she barreled into you. “But first, upstairs. Wash up”.

Logan, however, lingered behind, his small figure standing just a few feet from the snowman. His expression shifted slightly, the bright enthusiasm dimming as he avoided your eyes. You could tell something was on his mind.

“Logan”, you called gently, holding the door open as Lila darted inside. “Come on, sweetie. Time to wash up”.

He trudged toward you slowly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. When he finally reached you, he hesitated once more, his small boots crunching in the snow, but he kept his gaze low, his face unreadable. You crouched down to his level, brushing some of the snow off his coat. You tilted your head slightly, trying to meet his eyes.

“Logan, sweetie”, you said gently, “Do you not want to bake cookies? It’s okay if you don’t feel like it”.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away again. This time, they landed where Ben still stood, his broad figure shadowed by the light from the living room. Ben had turned slightly, his gaze now fixed on the two of you at the door, his expression unreadable but clearly focused.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his small hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Then, he shook his head firmly. “It’s… it’s women’s stuff”, he muttered, his tone wavering. Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly, his small boots stomping against the hardwood floor as he headed for the stairs.

“Logan”, you called after him gently, but he didn’t stop. You caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared up the staircase—the tight set of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together like he was fighting something back. And then you saw it: the tears gathering in his eyes.

Your heart sank as you realized what was really going on. Logan usually loved baking cookies, that much you knew. He had always lit up at the chance to mix dough, sprinkle sugar, and get his hands messy in the process. But he wouldn’t admit that in front of Ben, not after what he thought his dad believed about “women’s stuff”. And Logan sure as hell wasn’t going to let Ben see him cry.

You sighed, glancing back at Ben, his expression unreadable. He had been watching the entire exchange, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. For a moment, you thought he might come, might say something, but he stayed frozen in place, his eyes following Logan’s retreat.

Without saying a word, you stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you and heading upstairs. As much as you wanted to comfort Logan, you also knew that Ben needed to face this moment, to see the impact of his words—not just through your eyes, but his own.

You found Logan in his room, curled up on the edge of his bed, his back to the door. His small shoulders trembled slightly, though he tried to keep quiet. It broke your heart to see him like that, trying so hard to hold everything in.

“Logan?”, you said softly, stepping into the room. You sat down on the edge of the bed, careful to give him space. “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to hide it from me”.

“I’m not upset”, he muttered, his voice muffled. “I don’t care. I hate baking cookies”.

You reached out gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay if you do care. And it’s okay if you love baking cookies, Logan. That doesn’t make you less of anything”.

He didn’t respond at first, but after a long pause, he whispered, “Dad thinks it does”.

Those words hit you hard, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. “Your dad doesn’t think that, sweetie. He just… sometimes he says things without thinking. But that doesn’t mean he’s right”.

Logan finally turned to look at you, his tear-streaked face breaking your heart all over again. “He’ll think I’m weak”, he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want him to think I’m weak”.

You pulled him into a gentle hug, holding him close as his small frame shook against you. “Logan, you’re not weak”, you said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And being strong doesn’t mean hiding the things you love. It means being brave enough to be yourself”.

At that moment, you heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open slightly, and you looked up to see Ben standing in the doorway. He hesitated, his expression soft but conflicted as his eyes landed on Logan. He didn’t say anything right away, but the regret on his face was clear.

“Logan”, Ben finally said, his voice quieter than usual. He stepped into the room, his broad figure filling the small space as he crouched down next to the bed.

Logan’s reaction was immediate and almost frantic. He pulled away from your embrace, turning his back to both you and Ben as he roughly wiped at his face with his small fists. His movements were sharp and deliberate, as though he was trying to erase the evidence of his tears before anyone could say a word.

“I’m fine”, he muttered, his voice tight and trembling. “I wasn’t crying”.

You glanced at Ben, whose face tightened at the sight. You could see the regret and guilt pooling in his eyes, the weight of his own words and lessons crashing down on him as he watched his son fight so hard to suppress his emotions.

Ben cleared his throat, his voice softer than usual. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. It’s okay—”.

“I said I’m fine!”, Logan snapped, spinning around to glare at him. His eyes were red and glassy, but his jaw was set in defiance. “Women cry. That’s what you always say. So I’m not crying”.

Ben froze, visibly taken aback by the raw honesty in Logan’s voice. For a moment, he just stared, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond but no words coming out. It was like he was looking into a mirror of himself, the echoes of his father’s harsh lessons staring back at him in his own son’s tear-streaked face.

You saw the way Ben’s shoulders sagged, his defenses crumbling as Logan’s words hit him harder than any punch ever could. He finally sat down on the floor next to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, making sure he was on Logan’s level.

Your heart aching as you watched Logan’s small figure tremble with frustration, hurt, and confusion. You couldn’t take it anymore. Turning to Ben, your voice came sharp and firm, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

“Fix this, Ben”, you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. Your eyes locked on his, stern and unwavering. “That’s my baby boy, and I will not let him feel like this because of something you’ve said”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew you were right, and the weight of the situation was already pressing down on him. You took a deep breath, your own emotions threatening to spill over, and with one last look at both of them, you turned on your heel and left the room. Your own eyes were glassy, tears threatening to fall as you closed the door softly behind you.

In the quiet of the hallway, you leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. Hearing Logan say those words, seeing the pain etched on his small face—it was almost too much to bear. But you trusted Ben to handle it. He had to handle it.

Inside the room, Ben remained seated on the floor, his gaze fixed on Logan, who was still turned away from him. The boy’s small hands clenched into fists at his sides, his head bowed low as he tried to mask the occasional sniffle that escaped him.

“Logan”, Ben started softly, his voice steady but carrying a rare gentleness that was almost foreign. “Can I tell you something? Something about me?”.

Logan didn’t respond, but Ben noticed the slight twitch of his shoulders, the way his posture stiffened just enough to show he was listening. Ben took that as his cue to continue.

“When I was your age”, Ben began, leaning forward slightly, “My dad used to say the same things to me. He’d tell me that crying made me weak. That showing how I felt was… wrong. And I believed him. I thought if I ever let myself cry, or feel scared, or be anything other than ‘tough’, I was a failure”.

Logan shifted slightly but still didn’t turn around. Ben kept going, his voice growing heavier with emotion.

“And you know what? For a long time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself feel anything, really. I just kept it all inside, like I was supposed to. But it didn’t make me stronger, Logan. It made me angry. It made me feel alone. Like I had to handle everything by myself, and no one else could ever understand”.

Finally, Logan turned, his tear-streaked face filled with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You?”, he asked, his voice cracking. “You felt like that?”.

Ben nodded, his eyes meeting Logan’s with an honesty that he rarely let anyone see. “Yeah, kid. I did. And it wasn’t until I met your mom—until I had you and Lila—that I realized how wrong my dad was. Being tough doesn’t mean keeping everything inside. It doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care or don’t hurt. Being tough means letting yourself feel all of it and still finding the strength to keep going”.

Logan sniffled, his fists unclenching as he wiped at his eyes again. “But you said—”.

Ben let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident. “I know what I said”, he repeated, his voice carrying that gruff edge that always came with vulnerability. “And yeah, I messed up. I say a lot of dumb shit, Logan. Your mom would probably tell you I’ve got a talent for it”.

That earned a small, almost involuntary laugh from Logan, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Ben’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, the faintest hint of relief flickering in his eyes.

“But here’s the thing”, Ben continued, his voice softening again as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I don’t want you to grow up thinking you’ve got to be me. Hell, I don’t even like half the crap I’ve done. You’re better than that. Better than me”.

Logan stared at him, his tear-streaked face a mix of surprise and confusion. “But you’re… you’re, like, the strongest guy ever. You’re not scared of anything”.

Ben chuckled, the sound low and rough as he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not scared of anything, huh?”. He smirked, shaking his head. “Kid, I’m scared as shit of your mom”.

Logan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession. “What? Mom?”.

“Yeah, your mom”, Ben said, his tone a mix of humor and honesty. “You think I’m out there facing down bad guys like it’s no big deal? That’s nothing compared to when she gives me the look”. He mimicked an exaggerated version of your stern glare, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Logan giggled, the tension melting further as he watched his dad pretend to shrink under an invisible scolding. “Really?”.

“Oh yeah”, Ben said, nodding seriously. “One time I forgot to take the trash out. She didn’t even yell—she just stood there, arms crossed, staring me down like I’d committed a fucking war crime”. He mock-shuddered. “I’d rather face supervillains".

Logan laughed harder this time, wiping his face again, though the tears were gone now, replaced by a small, genuine smile.

Ben leaned closer, his expression softening. “Look, kid, being scared isn’t a bad thing. It just means you care about something—or someone. Like how I’m scared of messing up with you and your sister. And yeah, I’m scared of your mom sometimes, but only because she’s got this way of making me want to be better, even when I screw up”.

Logan tilted his head, considering his dad’s words. “So… it’s okay to be scared?”.

Ben nodded firmly. “Scared, nervous, happy, mad—it’s all part of being human. What matters is what you do with it. And right now?”. He gave Logan a lopsided grin. “We’re gonna take those feelings, roll up our sleeves, and bake the best cookies this house has ever seen. You in?”.

Logan hesitated for a second before nodding, his smile growing. “I’m in”.

Ben stood, holding out a hand to help Logan up. “Good. But fair warning—your mom’s probably waiting outside that door to see if I fixed this. And if she’s still mad at me, I might need you to tell her I did a good job. Deal?”.

Logan laughed, taking his dad’s hand and standing up. “Deal”.

When the door opened, you were standing there in the hallway, arms crossed but a soft smile on your face. Ben gave you a sheepish grin, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, boss. Mission accomplished”.

You shook your head, stepping aside to let them pass. “For now”, you said teasingly, though the gratitude in your eyes said everything you didn’t.

As the three of you headed downstairs, Logan walked between you and Ben, his small hand brushing against yours.

An hour later, the kitchen was alive with laughter and the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. Logan and Lila sat at the table, surrounded by bowls of frosting and sprinkles, each focused on decorating their creations. Logan was surprisingly precise, carefully piping designs onto a gingerbread man, while Lila was happily dumping an entire handful of rainbow sprinkles onto one cookie, creating a chaotic masterpiece.

You leaned against Ben, his warmth a steady comfort as you watched the kids. His arm slid lazily around your shoulders, and he let out a soft sigh, one that carried a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

“You did good today, Soldier Boy”, you murmured, grinning up at him. Standing on your tiptoes, you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing the faint stubble there.

Ben smirked, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, well”, he started, clearly about to respond with one of his usual witty comebacks, when—

“Ewww!”, Lila groaned dramatically from the table, dragging out the word as she scrunched her nose and waved her hands like she was fending off a swarm of bees. “Mommy and Daddy are being gross again!”.

Logan snickered, not looking up from his cookie but clearly amused by his sister’s reaction. “Told you they do that all the time”, he said with a teasing grin. “It’s so embarrassing”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you with an exaggerated look of mock offense. “Didn’t realize we were raising such critics”, he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Ben shook his head, smirking as he turned toward the kids. “Alright, listen up, you two. You keep calling us gross, and I’m eating all these cookies myself. No sprinkles, no frosting, just plain cookies. How’s that for embarrassing?”.

“Daddy, nooo!”, Lila shrieked, clutching one of her sprinkle-covered cookies protectively to her chest. “You can’t! These are mine!”.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he took a deliberate step toward the table, his eyes locked on one of Lila’s chaotic sprinkle-covered cookies. “Oh, really?”, he drawled, his tone teasing and slow. “You think you can stop me, little miss sprinkle queen?”.

Lila gasped dramatically. “Daddy, no!”, she squealed, scooting back in her chair and holding up a hand to block him. “You can’t take this one! It’s perfect!”.

“Perfect, huh?”, Ben quirked an eyebrow, inching closer, his large frame towering over the table. “Let me see. Gotta make sure it’s up to regulation”.

“It’s mine!”, Lila shouted, jumping out of her chair and running around to the other side of the table, her plate wobbling in her hands. “Go eat Logan’s cookies instead!”.

“Hey!”, Logan said, finally looking up from his carefully decorated gingerbread man. “Don’t drag me into this! My cookies are art”.

Ben burst out laughing, glancing over at Logan with mock offense. “Art, huh? Let me be the judge of that”. He reached out as if to grab one of Logan’s cookies, but Logan quickly pulled his plate away, holding it up high.

“Back off, Dad!”, Logan said with a grin, using his other hand to block him. “These are for Mom!”.

Ben stopped, placing his hands on his hips, his grin turning into a smirk. “Oh, for Mom, huh? Well, in that case…”. He lunged toward Lila, pretending to swipe for her plate.

Lila let out a delighted shriek, ducking under the table and crawling to the other side. “You’ll never catch me!”, she declared, her giggles filling the kitchen.

You leaned against the counter, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smile. “Ben”, you said, crossing your arms and giving him a mock stern look, “if you don’t leave their cookies alone, you’re not getting any of… mine”.

Ben froze mid-step, his hand still outstretched toward Lila’s plate, as your words hung in the air. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, is that right?”, he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Not getting any of… yours, huh?”.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “That’s exactly what I said”, you replied, the double meaning clear in your tone.

Before Ben could respond with one of his usual cheeky comebacks, Logan groaned loudly from his seat, his hands slapping the table. “I know you guys aren’t talking about cookies”, he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. “And for the record, I don’t want another baby sister, okay? One is enough”.

Ben blinked, taken completely off guard by Logan’s blunt statement. He let out a bark of laughter, leaning against the table for support as he pointed at Logan. “Kid, what the hell—where did that even come from?”.

“Logan!”, you gasped, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your chest. “What are you talking about?”.

Logan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if he’d just solved a great mystery. “You guys are always giving each other those looks, and Dad’s always making those weird jokes”. He waved his hand in Ben’s direction. “It’s not rocket science”.

Ben, still chuckling, wiped a hand over his face as he shook his head. “The kid’s too smart for his own good”, he muttered, grinning at you. “He’s onto us”.

“Logan”, you said, trying to suppress your laughter and keep a straight face, “You are way too young to be worrying about this kind of thing”.

Logan kept his arms crossed, his gaze shifting between you and Ben as his face took on that serious, almost grown-up expression he liked to wear when he was deep in thought. “I’m just saying”, he said slowly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge, “you don’t need another kid. We’re good like this”,

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes slightly. There was something unspoken in his words, a flicker of uncertainty behind the bravado. He wasn’t just teasing—this was something else. But you knew better than to press him here, not in front of Ben, not when Logan was so guarded.

“Of course we’re good like this”, you said gently, leaning forward and resting your arms on the table. “But would another sibling be that bad?”.

Logan shrugged, his lips pressing together in that tight, nervous way he had when he didn’t want to say what he was really thinking. “I don’t know”m he mumbled, his eyes dropping to his cookie. “I just think… things are fine the way they are”.

Ben, still standing beside you, raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at you, clearly noticing the shift in Logan’s tone, but didn’t push either. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the counter.

Logan’s words struck a chord, and you could see the layers of concern in his small face—concerns he didn’t know how to voice yet. You gave Logan a warm smile, reaching over to ruffle his hair gently.

“You’re right, buddy”, you said softly. “Things are perfect just the way they are”.

Logan relaxed slightly at your reassurance, nodding as he returned his attention to his cookie. Ben gave you a questioning look, his eyebrow raised as if he were silently asking, What’s that about? You shook your head slightly, a silent later passing between you.

Because there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that had been tugging at the back of your mind. You were late. Only a few days, but still. You were never late.

You hadn’t said anything to Ben yet because you weren’t ready to make it real, not until you were sure. But as Logan’s words played over in your head, you felt a swirl of emotions: uncertainty, anticipation, and a hint of fear.

Ben’s voice broke into your thoughts. “Alright, Logan”, he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “You better not be hogging all the good cookies over there. I need to taste-test those”.

Logan rolled his eyes, his small smirk returning as he pushed one of his neatly decorated cookies toward his dad. “Here, take one. But don’t mess up my frosting”.

Ben grinned, plucking the cookie off the plate with exaggerated care. “Wouldn’t dream of it, champ”.

When the kitchen filled with laughter again, you let yourself lean into the moment, deciding to hold off on the conversation for now.

As the evening wore on, the warmth of the kitchen turned into the quiet hum of nighttime. Lila had curled up on the couch under a blanket, clutching a small stuffed animal in one hand and a half-eaten cookie in the other. Her eyelids had grown heavy, and eventually, she’d surrendered to sleep, her soft snores filling the cozy space.

Ben glanced over from where he was tidying up the counter, his face softening as he took in the sight of his little girl. “Looks like the Sprinkle Queen’s out for the count”, he said, his voice low.

You smiled, drying your hands on a towel. “She had a big day. All those sprinkles wore her out”.

Ben crossed the room, scooping Lila into his arms with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times before. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but settled quickly against his chest, her tiny hand clutching at his shirt.

“I’ll take her up”, he said, his voice quiet but firm, as though it wasn’t up for discussion. You nodded, watching as he carried her out of the room, the sight of his broad figure cradling her so gently always tugging at your heart.

Logan appeared in the doorway then, his steps hesitant as he glanced between you and the direction his dad had gone. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing a little taller as if to remind you—and himself—that he didn’t need the same kind of care his little sister did.

“I don’t need anyone to bring me to bed”, Logan said, his voice firm but lacking the usual bite of defiance. “I can do it myself”.

You gave him a small smile, stepping closer. “I know you can, sweetheart”, you said softly. “You’ve been doing great. But you let me help when Dad’s not here. Maybe you can let him help tonight?”.

Logan hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor before looking back up at you. “Dad’s never… he doesn’t usually…”. He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

You crouched down, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. “Sometimes he doesn’t know how to ask”, you said gently. “But he’d love to, Logan. If you’re okay with it”.

Logan frowned, his small brows furrowing as he thought it over. Then he gave a small, almost reluctant nod. “Okay”, he mumbled, glancing toward the stairs. “But only if he doesn’t make a big deal about it”.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. “Deal”.

By the time Ben returned, Logan was waiting at the foot of the stairs, his arms still crossed but his posture less tense.

Ben appeared at the top of the stairs, his heavy steps softening as he noticed Logan standing there, arms crossed in that telltale way that meant he was trying to appear tougher than he felt. Ben paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his son waiting for him, and his face softened in a way that only you seemed to notice.

“Looks like someone’s still up”, Ben said, his tone light but without the teasing edge he sometimes used. He walked down the last few steps, his movements slower, less hurried, as though giving Logan time to decide what he wanted.

Logan glanced at you briefly, then back at his dad. “I’m ready for bed”, he said, his voice neutral, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

Ben nodded, his hands settling on his hips as he studied his son for a moment. “Alright”, he said, his tone casual. “Let’s get you tucked in, then”.

Logan didn’t move at first, glancing at the floor like he was waiting for Ben to say more. When nothing else came, he gave a small nod and started up the stairs, his pace slower than usual. Ben followed closely behind, casting a quick glance at you as he passed. You gave him an encouraging smile, silently urging him to let this moment be what Logan needed.

When they reached Logan’s room, Ben paused in the doorway, watching as Logan climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to his chest. Logan fidgeted with the edge of the fabric, his small hands gripping it tightly.

Ben stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Logan burrowed into his bed, the blanket clutched tightly to his chest. He let out a quiet sigh, stepping forward and crouching down beside the bed, his movements uncharacteristically gentle.

“You all set, champ?”, Ben asked, his voice low and steady.

Logan nodded, but his hands still fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the kind that Ben hadn’t seen in a while. Without thinking too much about it, Ben reached out and grabbed the blanket, pulling it up snugly around Logan’s shoulders.

“Gotta make sure you’re tucked in properly”, Ben said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. “Don’t want you freezing in the middle of the night”.

Logan giggled softly, his small voice breaking the quiet of the room. “Dad, I’m not gonna freeze”.

“Oh, you think so?”, Ben said, raising an eyebrow as he tugged the blanket even tighter around Logan, practically swaddling him. “What if a snowstorm hits? What if you wake up and there’s frost on your nose? Gotta be prepared”.

Logan laughed harder now, his small hands pushing at the blanket as he squirmed. “Dad! Stop, it’s too tight!”.

“Nope”, Ben said with mock seriousness, sitting back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect. You’re like a little burrito now. Nothing’s getting to you”.

“Dad!”, Logan squealed, his laughter breaking through the last of his earlier hesitation. He wiggled under the tightly tucked blanket, his face lighting up with a joy that reminded Ben of when he was younger, back before Ben had decided he was too big for things like this.

Ben grinned, leaning forward and ruffling Logan’s hair. “There we go”, he said softly. “That’s better. Haven’t heard you laugh like that in a while”.

Logan’s giggles faded into a warm smile, his eyes meeting his dad’s with a rare openness. “Thanks, Dad”.

Ben’s expression softened, and he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off Logan’s forehead. “Anytime, kiddo. You know that”.

He stood slowly and glanced toward the door before he turned back to Logan, his voice low and serious now.

“Alright, get some sleep. Sweet dreams, champ”.

“Goodnight, Dad”, Logan murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.

Ben hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s head, something he hadn’t done in years. Logan didn’t pull away, instead letting his eyes flutter closed as he sank deeper into his blankets.

———————————

A/N: Not that much of Christmas, but it’s snowy and cold. So let’s just count it, lol. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Sarah, Tommy, Emily, and JB unknowingly banding together for the win. Joel is his own warning. Inappropriate (or entirely appropriate?) use of a massager. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eight | Main Masterlist

“Girl, you’ve got it baaad,” Emily teased, watching you eye your phone every five seconds. The pair of you were getting drinks at your favorite watering hole the Saturday before your first full week of officially teaching.

“I can’t help it, Em. He’s got this, like, hold over me or something,” you replied sheepishly, one hand tucking your phone away in your back pocket. You were starting to annoy yourself with how often you checked for texts from Joel.

“You’re in love, that’s what happens.” Emily shrugged and sipped at her fruity mixed drink. “How’d the holidays go?”

Your expression lit up as you told Emily about your first major holidays with the Millers. Having spent some holidays with them while you were still away at school, your dad already fit into their family dynamic seamlessly. You were a happy and much-loved addition to the festivities and there was plenty of laughter among the adults at how badly Tommy botched dinner for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Why Joel and your dad ever let him try again after the wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner was beyond you. Thankfully, your dad saved the day both times with his unparalleled grilling skills.

“So, it’s safe to say that JB’s still happy about you and Joel being together?” Emily asked after your own laughter at recounting the mess died down.

“Is he ever,” you replied with a shake of your head. “He loves to rib Joel on making an honest woman out of me. Joel takes it in stride, but I’m kinda afraid that it’ll scare him off if my dad keeps it up.”

“Oh, please! That man is clearly head over fuckin’ heels for you. Hell, he’s already told you and JB that he loves you, he’s not goin’ anywhere!” After taking another sip of her drink, Emily shot you a pointed look. “When the hell am I gonna meet Joel, anyway? I feel like you’re actively hiding him from me.”

You stilled.

Were you doing that? You didn’t think so, not at first, but… If you were honest with yourself, there was an element of truth to Emily’s accusation.

“Shit, Em. I’m not doing it purposefully, I swear,” you replied beseechingly, pausing to figure out how to properly explain things. Finding a scratch in the tabletop suddenly fascinating, you stared at it while continuing. “I just have to share him so much already, between Sarah and my dad, even his brother – not that I begrudge him spending time with any of them, especially Sarah! It’s just… when I have time with him, I want to keep him to myself. You know what I mean?”

God, that made you sound so selfish. You looked up to find Emily grinning at you.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen you so in love. It looks good on you.” Emily clinked her now empty glass against your half-full one. “Just promise me that I’ll get to meet him soon. We could do a double date or something, so it doesn’t take away too much of your precious alone time.”

Over another round of drinks, you made plans for a few Fridays from now, quietly hoping Joel wouldn’t mind.

Heading home, you longed to see Joel, but it was late, and he was spending time with Sarah. He went to great lengths to make sure his daughter did not feel left out or neglected while the two of you explored your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of them to hang out. You loved that about him and knew how important that quality time was for Sarah. Besides, you planned to head over there tomorrow to get a little quality time of your own ahead of the busy week ahead.

In the morning, you slept in and lazed around the house for a while, taking the opportunity to relax and ease into your day while your dad puttered around until mid-day. You hadn’t heard from Joel, but that didn’t bother you – he knew you planned to come over. Around one o’clock, you headed over to the Millers, picking up some pizza and beer on the way.  

Pulling up in front of the house, you found your usual spot in the driveway taken by your dad’s truck while Tommy’s truck blocked the remaining space. With a huff you parked along the curb. You would have ordered more pizza if you knew everyone would be here.

“Howdy boys,” you greeted as you walked in. “I come bearing pizza and beer, though I fear we’ll need lots more with this crew.”

Only one set of eyes turned away from the football game playing on TV as they all greet you in return. Getting up from his beloved corner spot on the couch, Joel took the pizza and beer from your hands and placed them on the coffee table before pulling you into the kitchen for a proper greeting.

“Hi darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Joel murmured, his voice already raspy from yelling at the TV. He pulled you close until your bodies were flush together and kissed you deeply. Like a magnet, your fingers threaded through his messy curls, tugging gently as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Mmm, I missed you, too, handsome. Didn’t know you were having company.”

Joel flashed his big cow eyes at you, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. “’M sorry, baby. I didn’t know they were coming by to watch the game ‘til they got here. Apparently, my TV is the best, so here they are. Hope that’s ok. I’ll kick ‘em right the hell out if you want me to.”

The thought did cross your mind.

“Nah, enjoy the game with the boys. I’ll sit with you guys for a bit then hang with Sarah until they leave.” Still wrapped in each other’s arms, you nuzzled the tanned skin of Joel’s neck and he hummed.

“You gonna stay over?”

You shouldn’t, not on a school night – your first as a bona fide teacher – but you had so little time together. “Sure. Just don’t keep me up too late, Mister. Those kids are exhausting, and I need my energy for the first day.”

“Miller! Stop neckin’ with my daughter and get your ass out here!” your dad’s voice bellowed through the house, causing the two of you to spring apart.

“Jesus, Dad,” you sighed, pecking Joel on the lips one last time before following him out to the living room. When would the game be over?

Surprisingly, you enjoyed the time watching the game with everyone. Even Sarah came down to join you all at half-time, book in hand, and sat between you and Joel reading. It was a lovely afternoon and a lovelier night as Joel held you in his arms, whispering words of praise into your hair until you fell into a deep slumber.

Your first week of teaching passed in a blur. After a month of assisting the prior teacher before his official retirement, the students knew you and respected your authority, setting the stage for an overall lovely experience. You started off with earth science lessons and most of the kids were engaged and eager to learn. Of course, you had a few little challenges with difficult students testing their boundaries, but you felt good about the way you handled each situation.

You stayed later after the students were dismissed, using the time to organize the room to your liking and get the lesson plans in order. Sarah perched at one of the long wooden tables working on her homework while you completed your tasks. The pattern offered you and Sarah some quality time together and the young girl found great enjoyment in putting you on the spot, especially when her dad was the topic at hand.

“JB keeps telling dad he needs to marry you,” Sarah blurted randomly Friday afternoon. “Do you want to?”

Staring at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say, you merely shrugged. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you getting married? You only started dating a few months ago!

Tilting her head to the side with a little smirk, Sarah replied, “That’s not a ‘no’.”

She was getting to be as bad as your dad and Tommy.

“You could be my stepmom! I always wanted one since I didn’t get to have a regular mom.”

Despite Sarah’s cheerfulness at the idea, your heart ached for all the real mom-related experiences she didn’t get to have. You knew exactly how that felt. If marrying Joel wasn’t already something you hoped for in the future, it would be after hearing Sarah expressing her desire for a stepmom, for you as a stepmom.

Sarah kept talking, while you lost yourself in thought.

Would you be a good stepmom?

God, you hoped so.

You never had one, JB chose to never get too serious with anyone after your mom, but you heard enough horror stories from your friends about their own stepmoms through the years. It sounded like a thankless job. But all the people you knew with stepparents had both birth parents still in their lives, so maybe your experience would be different.

The late bell chimed, drawing you out of your ever-spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, nugget. Let’s get you home,” you said, pushing thoughts of marriage and step parenthood to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“If you’re not gonna marry my dad, could you at least move in with us? It would be so great if you lived with us!”

Jesus fucking Christ in a handbasket. This kid sure knew how to keep you on your toes.

Leaning over the bar top with hunched shoulders and an aching back, Joel picked at the label on the beer bottle. He didn’t often visit the bar after work, not since Sarah came into his life, but he finally had some extra money and felt like treating himself. You stopped letting him pay you months ago, when the two of you became more to each other than just babysitter and boss, and he stashed that money away each week, saving it for what he didn’t know.

At his side, Tommy carried on about some chick he met a few weeks ago. A pretty attorney who was way out of his league and already turned him down twice. Like a dog with a bone, Tommy showed no signs of giving up yet.

“You better be careful, brother. She may get a restraining order against you if you don’t take it easy,” Joel said, voice a rich rumble.

Tommy waved him off with a chortle. “Oh please. She’s loving it. Chicks like that like being pursued.”

“If you say so.” Joel didn’t know this woman or what she liked, but he knew for a fact that you would hate it if a guy relentlessly pursued you after turning him down, not once, but twice. He smiled at the thought of you kicking a guy like that in the fucking balls to prove that you were very much not interested.

He full on laughed at the thought of you kicking his little brother in the balls, causing Tommy to glance sideways at him.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” Joel grumbled, clearing his throat. Thoughts of you continued to invade his mind, just like they always did. You were always on his mind, and he loved it. If only you were always in his bed… Joel cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. How do you know if it’s too early to ask a girl to move in?”

Tommy groaned. “Why you always askin’ me this shit? How am I supposed to know? I have less actual relationship experience than you do.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask, huh? JB? Don’t imagine that’d go over too well,” Joel replied with a defeated shrug, but Tommy conceded the point.

“You need more friends, man.” Clearing his throat, Tommy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, the way I see it, you love her, and she loves you, everyone knows it, and JB and Sarah are both happy for the two of you. Moving in together seems like the logical next step, right?”

Joel nodded, still uncertain.

“Only the two of you can know if the pace is right. Seems to me like you both waited long enough for the right one to come along. You’ve both been through some shit, why waste any more time?”

Damn, when did his little brother become so insightful?

“Alright, I get your point. Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask?” As secure as he was in your love for each other, Joel still floundered a bit at each new step in the relationship department.

“I dunno, brother. You’re just gonna have to grow a pair and find out.”

“Fuckin’ grow a pair,” Joel grumbled, punching Tommy in the arm, hard.

The pair bickered through another round, like brothers do, before calling it an evening. Eager to see you and Sarah, Joel didn’t want to waste away the evening in the bar with Tommy. As they walked out to their trucks, Tommy stopped Joel with a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, brother. In all seriousness, I think she’ll say yes, so just ask, ok?”

Joel nodded his thanks and confirmed plans for watching the game at his place on Sunday, before climbing into his truck. The trip home didn’t take long, and for that Joel was grateful. His back ached after a busy week of hard labor followed by an hour sitting hunched over the bar. He’d kill for a massage.

The house was quiet when he walked in, no sign of you or Sarah on the ground floor. Kicking off his work boots and dropping the truck keys onto the hook near the door, Joel slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Light flooded into the hall from Sarah’s bedroom, the sound of giggles and low voices echoing in the air. He moved slowly, quietly, until he could just peek around the door jamb. You sat on Sarah’s bed, the little girl perched in front of you, as you braided her wiry curls.

The sight melted Joel’s insides into a gooey puddle.

This. This was exactly what he wanted to come home to everyday.

He had to ask you to move in.

Just as he straightened up with a silent groan, ready to enter the room, Sarah’s sweet little voice left him frozen in place.

“I think you’d make the best stepmom.”

“This again,” you griped playfully. “You do, huh? Why?”

Was this something Sarah brought up before? Joel held his breath, waiting for Sarah’s response.

“Because you love my dad and you love me, you’re always kind even when things go wrong, you’re smart, and you like spending time with me. But most of all, because you do the things a mom does even though you’re not my mom and you don’t have to.”

He caught your gasp even though you tried to hide it from Sarah. You were as affected by Sarah’s heartfelt, innocent confession as he was. His adorable, sweet little girl knew you’d make a great stepmom and he agreed with all her reasons. If possible, he fell further in love with you in that moment after seeing you through his daughter’s eyes.

“Well, you’re right, nugget. I do love you and your dad, and I hope that one day, when the time is right, I can be your stepmom. Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, ok? I’ll still love you to pieces even without the official title.”

You choked out the words, on the verge of tears, and Joel felt his own eyes begin to water. Unable to bear it any longer, he swept through the doorway and pulled you both against his chest in a big bear hug. His precious girls. He loved you both more than words could express.

“Daddy! You’re squeezing too tight! Imma burst!” Sarah shrieked with laughter as he tossed her onto the bed and began tickling her with one hand, his other still holding your close.

“Did you…” Your eyes searched his, a hint of worry hiding in their depths, and Joel grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I heard it all,” Joel confirmed, confidence bolstered knowing you wanted to marry him at some point. Conveying every feeling held in his heart through his eyes, he added, “Move in with us. Please.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, searching for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, darlin’.”

The three of you celebrated with ice cream after you agreed to move in with them before putting Sarah to bed. By then, Joel’s back ached something fierce and you offered to use the message gun he forgot he had.

“Lay face down on the bed, my love,” you directed, watching with adoration as he tugged the shirt over his head, jeans hanging low on his hips. The muscles rippled in his arms and back as he settled on the soft mattress. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Joel murmured, huffing when you climbed over him to straddle his ass.

Turning on the massage gun, you put it on the middle setting and pressed the ball against the flesh of his traps. Even through the device, you could feel how tight those muscles were. It must be where he held his tension. Over the next half hour, you worked the massager over his back, soaking in the grunts that bordered on pain and relief. Somewhere along the way, the groans turned pleasurable, and Joel rolled onto his back, leaving you to straddle his thighs as the bulge in his jeans grew.

Joel’s hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, but you batted his hand away with a mischievous grin. With wide, wondrous eyes, he watched you adjust the setting on the massager and run it along the seam of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, cock twitching with interest at the vibration. “Don’t stop.”

Hands gripping your hips, he bucked up into the delightful buzz of the massager, a steady stream of moans falling from his lips as the vibrations spread from his balls upwards to the head of his cock. Fuck, if it felt that good through his jeans, how good would it feel directly on his cock?

“Do you want me to increase the speed setting?” you purred, pressing the massager harder against him.

“Oh God, fuck. Yes… ungh. Please.” The words fell from his lips in a series of whimpers as you adjusted the settings. Within moments, he moaned a bit too loudly and came in his pants. You didn’t let up on the pressure though, the vibration drawing out his orgasm until every last drop of his load was blown and his body nearly convulsed with the overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he watched you switch off the massager and run your fingers along the large wet spot on his jeans, his cock twitching tiredly in response.

“That was fucking sexy,” you murmured, enthralled with the mess you just made of him.

“Yeah? Lemme see that thing. Think it’s my turn now, pretty girl.”

Tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

[sukunas-wife]

Can I please get a Sukuna family scenario where maybe they see future Yuji... Maybe when he's all grown up. It's fine if you don't want to do it

Baby Yuji to Grown Yuji 😭😭 I’m not sure it’ll be good but yeah! I’ll try for you 🥺🤍

-

Yuji left the Palace when he turned 19, the way you cried when you held his face for the last time smothering him in kisses 🥹 He was your baby boy, your first child, sure his sister and brother were still in the house but you loved him deeply. He clung to your side more and never failed to run to your side in trouble. If Sukuna wasn’t there to dry your eyes, there was Yuji to hug you and tell you “It’ll be okay mom, we can fix it! We just gotta.. we gotta.. I don’t know but we’ll figure it out!” That bright smile he had since he was 2, it was the last time you’d see it for who knows how long. You sniffled feeling Megumi pressed himself into your side hugging you, you smiled rubbing his back when he buried his face into your stomach. Nobara was being fiesty saying “who’s gonna miss him anyways! It’s good he’s leaving he was so loud anyways! A real nuisance if anything.”

Still she started to tear up, Sukuna pulled her into his side. The tears fell freely while she held on tight to his shirt.

The house was quieter, as Megumi and Nobara bickered; it was never as lively as when Yuji was home. The years passed slowly before one morning Sukuna came in with Uraume, dropping into his throne you came to see him. He held his hand out to Uraume who gave him a letter, “This is for you.”

Confused, you took the letter, opened it and read it. Sukuna watched and panicked when you started to cry. He stood up coming over to you snatch the letter away to see who had told you what

“Hey mom

It’s Yuji, your favourite son :)

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming home soon. It’s been a long time but I think I’m ready! Tell dad to save a fight for me when I get home! I know I can take him now!

I hope this letter actually gets there, maybe I’ll get there first..

Oh! Will you make those sweet and savoury noodles I used to love? I tried but it always tasted burnt or rubbery. Don’t tell Gumi and Noba I’m coming home! I want it to be a surprise! But I should be home in time for the first day of winter. I miss the snowy hills. I can't imagine Megumi going out and messing with all the snow. He always hated the cold unless he changed. Let's go for a walk when I get back! I miss those milk buns and tea you used to make,

Make sure to tell dad I’ll be home so he better be there! He can’t run now.

Signed, your son Yuji”

Sukuna let out a hearty laugh, “Brat really thinks he can take his old man huh? I’ll prove to him he can’t.” The smirk on Sukuna’s face eased you, you smiled the last tears falling.. “Ryo.. What day is it?” He looked confused before Uraume spoke up, “it’s the first day of winter Lady Y/n.” Almost as if on Cue there was a knocking on the palace doors, Sukuna grinned before making his way to his throne gesturing you to get out the room, you didn’t want to because that’s your baby boy but you definitely wanted to have feel better noodles after he got out in his place by his dad. So you left, Megumi and Nobara were both respectively in their own rooms. Odds are Nobara was planning her attire for the festival the city held every year and Megumi.. well he’s probably resting after having trained with his father all day.

——

Sukuna motioned for Uraume to open the doors, they did.

“So Brat, you really think you can take me on now?” The smug look on Sukuna’s face almost faltered when he saw Yuji had similar markings to his own human form. Yuji smiled brightly, a feature Sukuna would’ve lacked if he wasn’t smiling as bright with how his son entered the room confident. “I think it’s time someone gave you a run for your money.” Yuji was confident, and that might have been his downfall, 7 years may have seemed like a long time. But for Sukuna those 7 years were a breeze. Yuji may have been off training but Sukuna had been training his own kids with their own unique techniques. Smacking his hands on the throne's arms, he stood up, “Uraume.” “Yes Lord Sukuna.” He quickly set up a barrier to the throne room.

“Alright Brat, I’ll go easy on you, I think you’ve forgotten who gave you your malevolent shrine.” Yuji laughed, “You gave it to me, but I perfected it.”

Yuji had indeed not perfected the Malevolent Shrine. Here he laid in an all too familiar position, face down in the red liquid blowing bubbles while his 3/400 pound dad sat on his back holding him in place critiquing him on his flaws. Explaining what he could do better, and how he could improve before he lifted his head, “Okay okay I get it, King of Curses geez cut me some slack I’m your son.” Sukuna laughed standing up off his son before offering a hand when Yuji sat up, his legs crossed, hand rubbing the back of his head. Opening his eyes he saw his dads stretch out, for a second he remembered that same when he fell into a pit of snow one winter and looking up he saw his dad stretching his hand out with an unamused expression that turned to a smirk when Yuji tried to shuffle away. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt pulling him up like he was nothing.

Yuji smiled with closed eyes, taking his dads hand, being pulled straight into a bone crushing hug. While Sukuna crushed him his domain disappeared, “Welcome Home Yuji.” Sukuna put him down, patting his shoulder with a heavy hand, Yuji standing rigid as he smiled, body shook slightly under the weight of his dads heavy pats. He was proud of his son's improvement, but overall he was glad to have his son back home.

Looking around Yuji asked “Where’s mom?” Sukuna’s head cocked to the side, “Your letter got here a few minutes before you did, when you knocked she went off to kitchen. I was doing her a favour by keeping you busy for so long. Yuji sniffed and his stomach growled, the savoury smell of his favourite food coming through the palace, “m hungry.”

Sukuna smiled, crossing his arms over his chest nodding with his head, “Let’s go find your mother then.”

——-

“Mom?” You smiled over your shoulder “Hey sweetie.” Megumi rested his head on your shoulder hugging you. He was watching how you were cutting spring onions. His stomach growled when he spoke up, “We haven’t had these noodles since Yuji was here, I thought you forgot how to make them..” he was looking at the bowls of savoury noodles steaming topped with sesame seeds. One, two, three, four, five… six? “You and Nobara never asked and when I did make em I had to force your dad finish the pot with me when you two made excuses not to eat.” You laughed lightly, bringing a hand up to rub his head.

He huffed through his nose, “It reminds us of him..” you turned to see the top of his head, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You started to sprinkle the spring onions over the middles, “You act like he’s dead Gumi,” kissing the top of his head, “Go get Nobara tell her she doesn’t have a choice. Drag her back if you have to.” He let out a curt laugh, “alright but if you hear her screaming.” You smiled nodding with your head, “Go Gumi.” He stretched standing back up straight, “I’ll be back then.”

Just as he left through the other door Yuji and Sukuna came in laughing from the opposite door. “So he was looking up at me with this ugly face. I almost felt bad for him but I told him “Know your place fool and shhhhk” Yuji made a slicing motion, Sukuna looked proud. “Mom!” Yuji’s face perked up when he saw you, he ran over to hug you “missed you…” For a second his voice was shaky and there was a crack in his resolve. You teared up hugging him back and not letting go. He leaned down and pressed his cheek against your shoulder, eyes closed, the same way he used to sleep on your shoulder as a kid. His grip didn’t loosen when you rubbed your hand up and down his back, “missed you too baby.” Sukuna behind Yuji’s back made a gagging motion before he looked over at the noodle bowl pulling on a noodle to eat. “Cmon I think your dads hungry and Gumi went to get Nobara.”

He didn’t move, he just hummed and you patted his back, “yuuu” you cooed at him before he stood up, “Alright, I’m starved! I’ll help take em out.” You swatted his hand away, “We don’t pay the kitchen help to just sit around. You go sit down.” The kitchen staff started to get everything ready, Sukuna pulled you into his side hugging you with both arms into his left side. “He looks so much like you Ryo…” Sukuna nodded chest puffing up, “Brat’s a damn menace too, wait till he tells you about what he did to a group or sorcerers who tried to wrongly attack him.”

You looked up at Sukuna worried, and he rolled his eyes, “That’s OUR son, I’ll be damned if I ever thought he couldn’t handle his own.”

He squeezed your shoulder nodding with his head, following his lead you both came to see Megumi and Nobara harassing Yuji. Megumi was ignoring him entirely facing away but you could see the soft smile. Nobara was pinching his cheeks forcefully, moving his face around and through it all Yuji was smiling brightly, his eyes closed, “I missed you both too.” Nobara looked shocked and she let him go, she looked away, “Yeah..” you didn’t miss how she closed her eyes with a smug smile.

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

Some these won’t tag 🥹 I’m sorry 🤍🤍

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Secretly in love with Joel, you have been helping Joel raise Sarah until her mother comes back around and becomes jealous of the relationship you have with Joel.]

Angst fluff

Note: sorry if your name is Cindy, couldn’t think of a name for Sarah’s mother lol

It had been a few years now since you had been babysitting Sarah, a few years now since a simple crush on her father turned into feelings deeper than you could comprehend. Joel Miller was always a respectful man, appreciative of your time and help in being there for his daughter. Sarah and you did have a close bond, one that he watched grow before his eyes until the unexpected happened..

A little over a month ago, Sarah’s mother Cindy started coming around. It was a surprise to all, especially you. She was nice to you at first but you felt something was off whenever she was around yet you could never put your finger on it.

That evening Joel ordered pizza for everyone, you had just finished Sarah with a project as her mother spoke to Joel in the kitchen.

“I love a good Hawaiian pizza,” Cindy reached for one of the two slices in the box that were Hawaiian before Joel unexpectedly stopped her.

“Uh, actually those are for y/n-“ you happened to walk into the kitchen at this very awkward moment. Cindy raising a brow at Joel in obvious disapproval.

“It’s her favorite pizza, whenever I order I always get those two for her”

“Oh, isn’t that cute” Cindy spoke sarcastically.

“You can have one, I don’t mind” you quickly interjected.

“No, I’d rather not” she grabbed another plain slice from the box and sat down at the table as Sarah looked at you uncomfortably. Trying to ignore the obvious tension you grabbed your slice and sat down as Sarah sat beside you.

Joel quickly changed the subject talking about how nice the weather would be that weekend and going to the park.

“Ready to lose another game of volleyball, dad?” Sarah teased her father.

“Oh you’re beating him now at sports?” Cindy asked with curiosity.

“No, y/n actually beats him at everything-“

“Hey, hey, don’t let it get to her head, I let her win” Joel winked at you as you and Sarah laughed. None of you noticing Cindy’s expression looking back and forth between you and Joel. Jealousy oozing from her as she watched just how well you clicked with Sarah and especially Joel. Cindy may have been gone for some time but now she was back and she didn’t want anyone taking her place.

“You two sure have become close huh?” Cindy asked referring to you and Joel.

“Yeah, it’s been a few years now-“

“People must think you two are a couple” she interrupted making Joel practically choke on his drink.

“Oh no” you quickly responded with a shake of your head, you could feel the warmth on your cheeks from slight embarrassment. Of course secretly you fantasized about being Joels girl but you knew that would never happen.

Your feelings for Joel always remained hidden.

“Could’ve fooled me” Cindy uttered under her breath. Her attitude started to make you slightly uncomfortable you felt it was best to leave.

“I should go”

“Already? I thought you were gonna watch a movie with us like we usually do?” Sarah showed disappointment in you having to leave, only irritating Cindy more.

“Maybe another time, I’m a little tired and I have a slight headache-“

“You alright, I’ll give ya a ride home” Joel stood up as Cindy rolled her eyes, something you only seemed to catch.

“No-uh..it’s okay. Maybe air is what I need” you stood up and pushed your chair in. Sarah sighed before giving you a hug. Joel knew you for some time now, so he knew when something wasn’t exactly right with you yet he didn’t mention it in front of anyone.

“Let me walk you to the door at least” he insisted. You smiled and agreed before walking to the front door, Cindy watching with the corner of her eye as Joel held the door open with his foot while standing outside with you.

“Hey” Joel’s voice making you stop and turn.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just figure I’d leave you three alone. I’m sure she wants her time with you and Sarah-“

“Her time don’t take away from yours, you know how much Sarah cares about you-“ a slight hesitation in his eyes. He knew Sarah wasn’t the only one who cared.

“Yeah” you responded softly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” you smiled before walking off.

When Joel returned inside Sarah sat on the couch watching tv while Cindy began picking up the dinner table.

“You’ve let Sarah get too close to that damn girl,” she spoke without looking up at him, she knew he wouldn’t like what she had to say.

“She’s been great with Sarah for a few years now, she’s a lot of the reason why our daughter is the way she is now.” Cindy laughed sarcastically.

“Oh please Joel, what are you fucking her? Is that why you’re so defensive with her?”

“When Sarah needed a mother y/n was there, she helped us both-“

“I’m her mother” Cindy grew serious rather quickly as she slammed the plate down. Sarah looking up from the living room wondering what her mother was getting upset about.

“She is all Sarah knows and she’s grown to…she’s grown to love her” Joel explained. Cindy knew she needed to compose herself to get Joel’s attention and so she took a deep breath and tried expressing herself another way.

“It’s not healthy confusing her like that, I was gone for a while but I’m here and I’m here to stay. She doesn’t need another mother” Joel stood silent.

“Sarah has grown attached to someone who will eventually have her own children, her own life, what are you doing by allowing this attachment with some random woman?” Joel brushed his hand over his facial hair, he didn’t like what was being said but a part of him knew she was right.

“I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow” Cindy could tell Joel wasn’t happy with this decision but she was happy to get her way.

The next morning you worked your early shift at the store before getting ready to meet with Joel and Sarah until you got a strange text.

“Change of plans, call you later” you read out loud. Joel never changed plans with you, much less like this.

The day went on and you never got a call from Joel and so you decided to head to the park anyway, you enjoyed a nice walk in the evening. Once you got there you could hear familiar laughter until a volleyball rolled by your foot.

“Oh hey! I thought my dad said you worked late today?” Sarah ran towards you out of breath.

“I-“

“Sarah don’t delay the game!” Joel yelled out to her as he made his way to where you both stood. Cindy stood on the other end silently watching.

“Go on, honey. Keep playing with your mother” Sarah looked at you both strangely before grabbing the ball and walking off.

“You didn’t have to lie to me, Joel or lie to her” you whispered as he looked behind him making sure Sarah wasn’t near by.

“You don’t tell me what I do with my daughter” he spoke coldly turning back to you, Joel had never spoken to you this way before.

“Joel-“

“It was nice while it lasted but ya shouldn’t come around anymore” his tone was blunt, a knife to your heart. It hurt him almost as much as it hurt you, but he felt this way was the only way to truly keep you away.

“For Sarah’s own good” he continued.

You had no words. From one day to the next Joel changed in a way you never expected.

Attempting to speak you felt a knot in your throat and looked away.

“I was right” you whispered before looking up at Cindy.

“Well, I hope she stays around this time. Take care” tears building up in your eyes you quickly turned and walked away. A slight glimpse of guilt in Joel’s eyes as you left until Cindy called out for him. She noticed how he looked back at you as you left, she knew this hurt him, she knew this would hurt Sarah.

“Why’d she leave? She could’ve played this last game with us” Sarah asked with confusion.

“She had to go, honey”

“But she just walked in”

“Sarah, forget about that damn woman. She’s no one to you” Cindy suddenly spoke harshly making Joel look back at her.

“Cindy”

“What Joel? It’s better you just tell her the truth-“

“You told her to leave, dad?” Sarah frustratedly threw the ball the floor and walked out to the truck no longer wanting to play.

“Thanks, thanks a lot” Joel turned to Cindy who rolled her eyes.

“You gotta do something about that bratty behavior of hers” her mother responded to Joel who now looked defensive.

“Sarah’s never had a behavior problem…until now”

“Oh so it’s my fault? Not that bitch-“

“Hey” Joel yelled rather loudly making a few people close by look at him, his defensive demeanor over you only pissing her off more. Cindy sucked her teeth and walked away.

The next few days Joel noticed a very different change in Sarah’s attitude towards her mother yet she wouldn’t tell him a word.

One day while Joel was at work Cindy forgot Sarah was getting home from school early. Going into Joel’s room she looked through his drawers for whatever she could find before ultimately coming across his emergency cash. Grabbing the cash she stashed it in her bra before Sarah entered the room startling her.

“Mom-what are you doing?” Sarah asked as Cindy quickly stood up awkwardly.

“Oh nothing, I’ll put it back by the end of the week. He’ll never know-“

“But dads been saving that for a while now and-“

“I said I’d put it back” she responded with more aggression in her tone.

“I..I just don’t think you should take it without asking at least” Sarah insisted.

“Listen I am your mother, it’s not the other way around now mind your business and go to your room” Cindy walked past her leaving the house angrily. Sarah knew she had to tell her father but afraid he wouldn’t believe her she didn’t say a word.

That evening you were surprised to see a call from Joel’s daughter. You sighed watching the phone ring, feeling guilty not answering until it finally stopped. Passing by a park that was close to your job you looked up and saw Cindy sitting on a bench with a few others, something seemed strange, she hadn’t noticed you watching. You quietly watched as she handed cash to a man while being given a brown bag in return. The man she seemed to be speaking to was known in the neighborhood for drugs but it couldn’t be…there must’ve been a misunderstanding.

During your shift you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw or the fact that Sarah had been calling you. Lost in your thoughts you weren’t paying attention to much around you until Sarah surprised you by the register.

“Sarah? What are you doing here?! Your father is going to-“

“I was calling you, it’s about my mom. Please I need you to talk to my dad” she looked at you with concerned eyes.

“What about your mom?”

“She’s- she’s stealing from my dad-“

“Sarah you can’t say these things without-“

“I know she is! I saw her take his money but I haven’t told him. I don’t think he’ll believe me” it all made sense now, the money she took from Joel, the drugs you saw her buy…you couldn’t believe it yet you felt it wasn’t your place.

“You know your dad would believe you Sarah…besides, your father doesn’t want me around anymore anyways-“

“It’s her fault! She’s trying to control everything, you think my dad actually wants you gone?!” She practically yelled.

“Alright, ok, ok…um my shift ends in fifteen minutes, wait for me and I’ll go with you.” Sarah sighed in relief waiting for you to accompany her home. Your stomach turning at the thought of how this would go down.

Anxiously beside Sarah you entered her house to find Joel and Cindy both standing by the dinner table.

“Oh of course” Cindy scoffed.

“Where the hell were you?” Joel spoke angrily as you and Sarah hesitantly made your way closer.

“Dad I-“

“She was with that little friend of yours, Joel. I knew this would happen” Cindy sighed, her tone reeking of sarcasm.

“You don’t ever take off without letting me know where you are, you understand?”

Joel stared down at Sarah.

“Or me, you know, your mother” Cindy raised her brows standing beside Joel with her hand on her hip.

“Dad can we talk in private?”

“I thought you’d never ask, I don’t know why you bought her here to begin with” Cindy narrowed her eyes on you.

“Actually, it’s just between my dad and I and…y/n” Cindy’s eyes widened with insult.

“Sarah-“

“No dad, you don’t understand”

“Anything you could say to your father you are to say in front of me, what I say goes” Sarah not noticing Joel look back at Cindy with a look of disapproval. He didn’t like Cindy forcing Sarah to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“Dad she stole your money” Sarah suddenly blurt out taking you by surprise. Joel turned back to Cindy who laughed nervously as you stood silent and watched.

“You’re gonna believe this little twit?”

“Hey” Joel now fully facing Cindy not liking her attitude.

“You watch how you speak of my daughter” he spoke low yet his tone was intense.

“She’s a liar Joel! You’ve let her become brainwashed by this woman!”

“Sarah’s not lying Joel” you suddenly spoke making Joel turn to you.

“What the hell would you know-“ Cindy snapped at you before you cut her off with the truth.

“I saw you at the park today” you hesitated to say more of what you saw especially in front of Sarah but something must’ve clicked in Joel’s head. Turning to Cindy he shook his head, scoffing sarcastically.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” No one knew what Joel was speaking of, no one but Cindy and him.

“I’m not doing anything!” She yelled defensively.

“I let you into my daughter’s life and this is what you do? What is it, ran through your savings so decided to come see what you could get from us-“

“She’s my daughter too” Cindy spoke angrily.

“No. The only mother Sarah’s ever had has been y/n and she’s done a damn good job of it” his words taking you by surprise. You looked over at him in shock, he could feel you looking at him.

“Oh to hell with all of you” Cindy grabbed her bag and angrily walked out loudly slamming the door shut. The three of you stood in silence until Sarah happily turned to you and hugged you with excitement.

“Please don’t ever leave us again” you laughed as she squeezed you. Somehow the true actions of her mother didn’t phase her knowing she had you there. Joel watched with a smile as his daughter hugged you before she turned to him.

“Well aren’t you gonna hug her dad?”

Joel looked at you awkwardly, clearing his throat as Sarah held back a playful smile.

“Course I am” he whispered as he slowly walked towards you. The feel of his arm wrapping around your waist as he gently pulled you in, your heart skipping a beat feeling him so close. Your arms closing around him as you felt him take a deep breath against you before you looked up at him and slowly pulled away.

“Joel I’m so sorry-“

“You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for, darlin’. If anyone should apologize it’s me” he whispered. The door bell ringing Sarah could see it was her uncle and ran to the door.

“I should go-“

“Don’t” Joel unexpectedly grabbed your hand.

There was so much he had to say, so much he needed to say but it couldn’t be done in that moment. Sarah asked if you could tuck her in that night with Joel, it had been a while since you had done so.

“Alright honey, you sleep good tonight alright?” Joel leaned in kissing Sarah on the forehead.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite” you teased making her laugh before leaning in and kissing her goodnight. Joel watched how much of a natural you were to all of this, you always were. Looking back at Sarah as you left the room you felt Joel’s eyes on you as you closed the door.

“Well, today turned out very different from what I expected” you spoke awkwardly trying to distract from the silence.

“I should’ve known” he cleared his throat leaning back against the wall.

“Wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and in the process coulda hurt Sarah…and I know I hurt you”

“Joel, don’t worry. It’s ok-“

“No, no it ain’t” he quickly interjected.

“I let someone who’s shown me multiple times that they can’t be trusted come in and hurt the woman that’s all along-“ he moved towards you slowly closing the distance between you. You stood still unsure of what to do or if you should do anything at all.

“All along you’ve been everything we’ve needed and more. I’ve seen you make Sarah happy in ways I just can’t”

“Joel, I just love her as if she’s been my own-“

“I love you” he blurt out making your eyes widen.

“W-what? Joel-“

“I’m serious” he pulled you in against him. It took everything in him to admit this, everything in him to tell you what you never thought you would hear.

“All along..it’s been you” his eyes taking in your lips as he spoke. You couldn’t believe the man you had been secretly in love with was saying words you only fantasized him to ever say.

“What a stupid old man I’ve been not realizing what I’ve had right in front of me”

“Joel” you laughed, a smirk on his lips. The man was aching to take your lips with his when Sarah suddenly stepped out of her room.

“Dad” you gasped softly a bit embarrassed yet Joel didn’t let go of you. A smile on Sarah’s face widening with what she saw.

“Yes, honey”

“N-nothing…never mind” Sarah quickly closed the door as Joel laughed looking down at you.

“I think she likes you” he whispered playfully.

“That was embarrassing, Joel” you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of your laughter only exciting him more.

“Why’d that embarrass you? Not like I was-“

“Like you were what?” You raised a brow before his hand brushed up your body, caressing the side of your neck, he leaned in and kissed you slowly. His lips felt better than what you imagined, his hands taking hold of you in different areas, one arm squeezing you harder against his pelvis before you pushed away with a smile.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Now that would be more embarrassing if Sarah came out during that” you playfully shoved his chest before he pulled you back in for more.

“What if-“ you began to whisper in between kisses.

“What if Cindy-“

“Don’t you worry about Cindy” he unexpectedly grabbed your face leaning his forehead on yours.

“She ain’t gonna be comin’ around trust me, I know the game she plays. Alright?” You nodded placing your hands on his arms. Joel led you the room kissing you more locking the door behind him.

“C’mere, I want some privacy with those lips” he whispered with a smirk before locking the door shut..

[moonsaver]

THANK YOU FOR READING MY RAMBLE ABOUT THIS SLUTTY MAN, I have love-hate relationship with Ratio :3 (YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AS ALWAYS)

BUT ALSO, ANOTHER RAMBLE HERE CAUSE YOU'RE MY FAVORITE WRITER!!

I don't know if you feel uncomfortable/weirded out with this, but if you do! Please do delete this if you want, it's your choice!!

Imagine a child, it can be one of those children in Penacony or other planets. But I pick the child from the Penacony! Walking up to Ratio and S/O, who is probably bickering as per usual or just enjoying one of another times (Secretly, since Ratio wants to be a secretive or this is same past-rebelious but now Professor S/O!)

As the child tugs on S/O, calling them pretty and hugs them. THEN PROCEEDED TO BE LIKE "kay now, you're my parent/mother/father"

LIKE:

"Hey miss/mister/mx! You look very pretty/handsome/unique! Will you be my parent?"

IMAGINE RATIO REACTION, *IF* THE KID IS GONNA BE LIKE

"oh, you're going to be my dad as well/other father/other parent!

OR THE OTHER WAY, HOGGING S/O ATTENTION. Clinging On S/O, regardless how many times S/O tries to get the kid back at their actual and real parents here, and would sometimes spend time hanging out with the kid while also trying to search for the kid parent

(AND ALSO I'M GOING TO SEND SOME RAMBLE ABOUT ROBIN (if you Dont mind!) MY BABY DESERVES THE BEST)

Hello anon! Always happy to answer brain rots and imagines and rambles hehe. Glad to see you back in my inbox!

Also, so cute hehe.

I imagine Dr. Ratio is actually pretty good with kids. The thing with kids is most of them love asking a shit ton of questions, the most ridiculous kinds at that. And you know those people who are so damn smart and knowledgeable in their field they start thinking about possibilities of ridiculous ideas as actually plausible? Veritas would kind of teeter on that when it comes to kids and their imagination. I just can't help but imagine kids crawling all over him while he has a rubber duck in his hand and explains like.. hawking radiation to a kid who's just staring blankly at him.

Honestly, kids would love him. Hes the strange, serious man who always bends down and tells you really confusing but fun stuff about things and seems to know everything. To them, hes the "actual adult".

I imagine, in the case a lost child approaches him or him with his s/o, his first instinct would be just to gauge the general state. He'll simply watch as you pick up the kid and coo at him and all the willy nilly stuff, just glancing over and checking for injuries, signs of anxiety or confusion, frustration, or fear. After he's done looking over, he'd try to ask the child about where their parents are when they perk up about how both of you are their parents now.

Well.. he doesn't know how to respond. You see his eyebrows raise slightly at the kid's remark, but he brushes it off, and starts telling the child all about your embarassing history if you were the rebellious professor!s/o. If you aren't, just about any silly memories he has of you are at the tip of his tongue, and that you really aren't suited for a parental figure. Even if you try and shut him up, he'll simply turn to the kid like, "do not let those who oppress you, silence you." Or something lol.

He doesn't mind the child being all over his s/o, telling them how pretty they are, asking them if they want to be their parent, and so on. Kids are silly, and illogical. It's in their nature to say anything that comes to mind. Of course.. he's slightly sour inside that your conversation was cut short, and now the child's hogging all your attention, but he vehemently pushes it down, simply resolving to search for their parents with you.

It's not soon before the both of you finally find them. Veritas gives them a stern, subtle warning about losing their child while you comfort them, bidding your farewell. It slightly annoys Veritas when the child clings to you, refusing to let go, and all his parents do is laugh it off, saying "they're just very social!" Or something. He has better things to be doing, really. He just walks off and lets you take care of things from there.

If you ask him if he's jealous, he won't say anything, and stare deadpan into your eyes before shrugging it off and changing the topic back to what you both were discussing before. Both of you can have more productive conversations, really.

Although.. his thoughts teeter a bit, and he shortly ponders over what kids with you would be like.. would he want children? Maybe one.. or two.. or even three..

Ugh, he's thinking too far ahead. He resigns to simply paying attention in the present, and listening to you ramble instead.

[cokou]

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 × 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. Your parents had a divorce, leading your mother to find someone else. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. STEP-CEST. porn w/ plot. Law is tempted. pure smut 😿😿. concerning themes. Modern setting. no use of devil fruits. lots of swear words. creampie. missionary. shit writing. Law thinks he's cool (he is.). ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. Do not transfer my works to any other platforms // this is my only account, CROSS POSTED TO AO3 UNDER NAME OF FLAR3YY!! Also MDNI, NSFW Content ahead <3 I hope no one has done this yet Oofs :) SORRY FOR BEING OFFLINE FOR A WEEK, HERE'S FOOD FOR YOU GUYS💝💝

—Recently, your mother and your father had gone through a divorce. Now leaving that shitty toxic household, your mother had decided to move into your grandma until she found a way to sort out life problems.

That's what she told you, introducing a man infront of you—, whom you believe was the 'man' she had found as a replacement for your 'father'. She explained that— he had helped her through times.

Your mother had also mentioned that you would be having a step-brother. You'd been born alone with no siblings, so she'd hope that you'd adapt into the feeling of having new 'sibling' into your life.

Time to time, your mother had been attached to the man— leading to you both moving houses to your now step father. There you had been met with larger surroundings, and larger rooms. And, of course, your new sibling, Law.

The first meeting for the both of you did not go as planned, with him shunning you and walking back into his room undoubtedly. It almost felt like he didn't want to spend his time with you.

The same thing had happened more unfortunately, with him turning his back into your face when you simply look at his direction. Leaving you worried and confused if he didn't like your presence in the household at all.

You'd been enrolled to the same school as your step-brother thinking that it would ease the intimidating space between the both of you. Yet, you thought it had only gotten worser. As you walk into the long hallways, you'd catch glimpses of Law with his friends, who was wearing a hat signatured 'penguin' on it, and one wearing an almost mushroom hat with sunglasses.

Obviously they'd look like the typical people who'd play tricks with people for fun. You'd also figure out some gossips of them absolutely being assholes for fun, and if you're gonna be honest? You found it hot. Especially Law! But come on, he's literally your brother, right? Sure.

But that naturally didn't stop you from sneeking glances of him around the house whenever he's shirtless, or if he's with his friends on the living room. God you thought you were being crazy for absolutely liking your step-brother. (You are)

Even if there was a thick conflict between you two, you'd still catch him giving you those 'im gonna kill you' or 'youre fucking hot' stares. You had to keep in mind that you two never communicate at all, except for the fact where your parents forces you two to get along, which either ends up getting backfired or Law getting irritated and storming off.

However, in these following weeks, you realized that you aren't kidding anymore. You'd always think you're going overboard if you LIKED Law. Of course you'd think that! He's your fucking brother.

But boy were your feelings playing with you, it's almost as if you can't sleep without thinking of him while riding a fucking dildo. It just gets worser when his friends decides to play tricks on you at the cafeteria when you're doing your own business!

You started to take shits into your hands, you think you'd solve the problem IF you get him to fucking like you too. Which, you came into the conclusion to fucking tease the shit outta him. Bending over to pick something simply infront of him, or the way your tongue licks the ice pop just right and taking it all in your mouth, or the way you absolutely wear skimpy clothing when you're with Law.

And for fucks sake it wasn't in vain, you catched him sneeking the most lustfull looks on you, it almost felt like he was undressing you with that intense stare of his, the way his eyes drill holes into your body as if you killed everyone around him. God, it felt so hot.

—Saturday morning, 11:56 AM.

It felt just like any ordinary day, waking up, eating, doing your chores, and could never go wrong with teasing Law. You decided that you'd wear the shortest mini skirt up on your closet with a pair of tights that you'd never thought you would wear, along with a top that barely held your tits from spilling out.

You two were left with an incredible amount of chores as your parents left for some vacation that for some reason didn't involve the two of you. You were dusting the upper bookshelf as the dusts flew over to your face making you sneeze. Just as you thought you got the hang of it, you felt a sharp slap up on your ass, you looked down and saw Law with the most shit eating grin ever.

"What do you think are you doing?! I could've fell!" You raised your voice at him as you felt your legs tremble from what just happened.

"Andd, I would've catched you anyway. Come down here." You've never heard his voice directly, so it took you by surprise as he spoke to you like you to weren't avoiding each other.

"The fuck got into you wearing that kinda clothes in here— ya?" His voice almost sounded serious with a hint of a teasing manner.

"So? I can't wear what i want now?" You pointed your index finger at him as you stepped back down from the ladder. You finally got the attention you'd been seeking for.

"What you wanted-, or wanted my attention— ya? Ya' think I haven't noticed, hm?" He looked at you with gnawing smirk on his face.

"Listen here, don't think I wear these for you! Who do you think you a—" He cutted you off with a sudden kiss as you felt your whole body melting into his touch,

"You want it don't you?" That simple question had gotten you nuts and you froze on the spot, you couldn't answer, nor even blink.

Fuck you'd been waiting for this, and now that you got it, it felt so fucking wrong snd incomplete. Had you just got yourself in big trouble? But for no reason at all it ate your mind, knowing this was all wrong, you couldn't bear it,

"yes." It finally escaped from your mouth.

"So I wasn't going the only one going crazy when you bent yourself infront of me like that, (Name)-Ya?" the way he said your name was stuck and eating your brain like the ameba everyone was worried about.

"Fuck, let's just get this shit done." You were looking down in disappointment that it had eaten you and made you say that. You truly felt embarrassed, but all that embarrassment— he found it cute.

He grabbed you, storming into his bedroom then throwing you into his bed. He climbed on top of you and started kissing you heavily, as in drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as it turned sloppy, the way hid tongue wrestled with yours, it was messy. And you loved it like that.

He worked his hands onto your tits, lifting the hem of your shirt just enough for your tits to be exposed to him, he detached himself from your lips onto your tits, sucking the nipples and pinching them. It made you spill out groans and sighs as he worked his tongue on your nipple buds.

His tattooed hands travelling your body, down to your hips as he throw your clothes onto the floor shamelessly.

"Admit it, you wanted this didn't ya?" He stopped midway for an answer.

"Yes," you whined.

"Yes what?"

"..Yes, i wanted this." You just wanna disappear right now.

He grinned, continuing his hands from travelling your body, he stops, then undoes his pants, you peeked over to see his bulge, and holy shit, you could tell it was huge.

He tossed his pants on the floor, his cock springing out, and damn you were right. It was huge. Law took your legs and placed it onto his shoulders.

"Wait— this feels wrong.." You stopped him in his tracks, making him look at you.

"I hope you didn't only realize now, ya— want me to stop or?" He seemed calm about this even happening.

"..i didn't say i want you to stop .." why do you do this to yourself? Because you love it yeah <3

"I'm sure it won't be that wrong if no one finds out, ya." With that he continued, spreading your legs over at his shoulders, making you squirm.

He started caressing your thighs, then rests his hands onto your core, playing with your clothed pussy. You gave out a shocked gasp,— then he balls his hands into a fist, ripping your tights.

You absolutely cannot believe you two are doing this, but absolutely loving it at the same time.

He pushes your panties to the side and attacking your clit with his mouth, making you moan. He continues sucking your clit, then lapping his tongue on your hole, he brought his digits to work and started to finger your pussy as he continuesly plays with your clit on his tongue.

Holy shit it feels so good, you felt yourself on the edge with your eyes rolling at the back of your skull and your chest heaving up and down from the ecstasy.

Just as you were about to come, he stopped.

"W-whyd you stop?" You looked at him with your tears threatening to spill.

"Because that wouldnt be too fun if you finish quickly." He detached his mouth from your clit, he gives his cock a few strokes and lines it up at your entrance.

"You still want this, ya?"

"Y-yes" shit at this point you felt yourself going crazy.

He gave you another gnawing smirk as he sharply enters your pussy, making you yelp and arch your back from the sudden stretch.

"Take it all, yeah? You wanted this you said—"

He gave you time to adjust, then slowly thrusts into you at a steady pace. You felt yourself burning at the feeling of him stretching you, basically tearing your insides apart.

He adjusts the pace into a faster one, earning wanton moans from you, you latched your arms onto his neck as you felt him go even faster, absolutely destroying you. You felt like an animal as moans and skin slapping filled the room.

You hadn't expected that he would guve in into your teasing, but hrll do you enjoy every bit of time he gave you. His thrusts now, becoming sloppy, he warns you that he's cumming soon. Him having a shit pull out game, he came deep inside you, you follow with your orgasm not too long later.

"Fuck— why'd you do that—" you panted as you felt his cum deep inside you.

"You'll love it either way—" He was cut off by the sound of the door opening, your parents were home. And you two were still messy on his bed.

"Shit, lets clean up or we're getting in trouble, i had fun with ya', (Name)-Ya." He carries you onto the bathroom.

—You two started talking more then, not too direct, not too shabby. It still felt wrong though.

©cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

[mlm-writer]

Daddy/Dearest (Wade Wilson x M!Reader)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Alien!Cis!M!Reader  Rating: Mature (lowest I can go with a Deadpool fic) Words: 1048 POV: Third Summary: You matched with Deadpool on the intergalactic dating app Starcrossed. After exchanging many dick pics, you decided to visit Earth for your first date... and blow the planet up if the date sucked. Note: Inspired by the song Party Tonight by Joe Hedourix and this prompt. Tags: first date, fluff, idk who Nick Fury really is tbh, 4th wall breaks, romcom and reader’s appearance is a little vague but at some point I started imagining Megamind

“Deadpool! Open up!” Wade groaned at the insistent knocking on his door. He tried to rub his eyes, only to find out that he was still wearing his mask. A quick look down revealed he had fallen asleep on the couch in his PJs. The knocking at his door stopped, so he rested his body on the couch. He had barely closed his eyes, when the door was knocked down. 

He raised his head with a groan, only to be incredibly surprised by his guest. “Wow, Nick Fury, I am not sure if I am even supposed to know who you are, because the writer has seen exactly one movie in which you had a cat, but he supposes you’re an important dude or whatever.” 

“Shut it, motherfucker,” the man wearing a black trenchcoat barked back at Wade. He clearly took note of the dirty white shirt with a butt on it and the blue chequered underwear Wade was wearing, but he did not comment on it. “Do you know the app Starcrossed?” 

Wade laughed, not reading the room that had been filled with armoured men and women because we are inclusive here and women can and will kick your ass if provoked. 

“That app with all the metas on it? Why? Did we match? I’m sorry if I did not reply, but you’re not really my type and you must have been an accidental swipe.” 

“Stop yapping! Does this guy look familiar to you?” From his pocket he unfolded a picture printed on an A4 paper. Wade leaned in and squinted at the picture. He did recognise the person on it. 

“Oh yes that’s my daddy - not my father - but like a sexual daddy you know. You should see his dick.” Nick looked like he was gonna lose it. Wade could tell, but he frankly did not give a shit. 

“Well, your ‘daddy’ is the leader of an alien race, whose armada is in orbit right now to drop him off for a ‘date’ with you. So get dressed, because whether we get blown up or not today is apparently up to you.” That was a lot to take in, but Wade was used to weird days and this was simply just another one of them. 

Now it was common to be nervous for a first date, but the fully armed SWAT team dropping Wade off was not helping. He tried making conversation with them, but they seemed to blame him for possible annihilation before dinner time. 

When he stepped out of the chopper, there was a masculine figure waiting in front of the former military base. He held a large bouquet of iridescent flowers. They seemed either fake or from an alien planet. “Wadey!” The figure called out, waving frantically with all hands that were not holding the bouquet. The inhuman coloured skin seemed to change colour wherever the late morning sun was directly shining on it. 

“Hi daddy,” Wade called back in the same cooing tone. He skipped over to his date. “Are those for me?” He mused, knowing the answer as his date handed them to him. 

“I heard flowers are quite common to bring to a Terran date, so I brought some rare flowers from my planet for you. I am afraid they will not survive as long as they would on my planet though. The sun here is weak.” Wade smelled the flowers. They smelled like butt. Could be worse. At least Wade was familiar with the smell of butt. Wade held the flowers close as he thanked the other for them. “Well then, shall we? Your government was so kind to help me set up an Earth-date.” 

The atmosphere was… weird. There was a very extensive brunch on a beautifully decorated table, but they were surrounded by people keeping them at gunpoint. “You don’t seem bothered by being held at gunpoint,” Wade noted as he rolled up his mask just far enough to shove a croissant into his mouth. 

“Likewise,” his date smirked back at him. He reached out and touched the edges of the mask. “Come on, I already know your dick and ass are covered in scars. Your face cannot possibly scare me.” Wade thought about it. Well, his identity was not really a secret right now anyway. They already knew where he lived. Wade lifted his mask off his face, trying to not show how insecure he was about his fucked up face. However, when he looked at the alien before him, he swore he could see a hunger in his eyes. “If these people were not around, I would fuck your face right now,” the man sighed dreamily, before continuing to clumsily trying to spread butter on a piece of toast. 

Wade reached out and decided to help him. Their fingers briefly touched and Wade saw the other man smile at the contact. It set his body on fire with desire. “I frankly don’t care about the audience, but after writing all those kinktober fics the writer can really use a break from blowjob scenes, so let’s keep this from being E-rated.”

Wade sat back down after buttering his date’s toast. He watched as the alien’s facial features reacted to the taste of Earth food. “Fascinating,” he spoke softly. Wade chatted with his date and those mesmerising eyes and charming smile kept drawing him in. At some point he was sure even Nick Fury could smell his arousal from wherever he was keeping an eye on the situation. There was no more food left, when his date rose from his seat and offered one of his hands. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Wade grabbed his mask and put it back on. “We’ll have to fight our way out of here if we want to do that.” A corona of blue light started surrounding the alien, a devilish smile appearing on his face. The sudden display of power got people loading their guns and Wade’s gun filling up with blood really quickly. 

“Do not worry, dearest, that can be arranged,” the most powerful being that had ever held him spoke, before he blasted a hole in the line of armed people, lighting the way to their future in a flurry of blue. “Let’s have a good time, dearest.”

[warping-realities]

Alpha Scent 

Hank wasn’t exactly thrilled. When his uncle said there was a job opening for the young guy fresh off the farm in the big city, Hank figured it’d be in the accounting or admin side of his company. What he never expected was that his uncle would have him start working as just another grunt laborer. Like he was one of the many immigrants he hired every day for that kind of job, and not his sister’s eldest son. His dad had warned him that his brother-in-law was one of those liberals who’d rather hire foreigners than a true-blood American. Even though Hank was from a small city in Mississippi and wasn’t exactly allergic to hard work, he thought this would be his shot to start a career in the business world, maybe even inherit his uncle’s company someday.

The only reason he hadn’t packed up and headed back to the small town near Columbus was because he was still holding out hope. His uncle had been cold ever since he showed up, looking at Hank like he was some unwanted guest. Hank only found out why later: his mom’s brother was a big-time fag. That should’ve been enough for Hank to turn tail and head back home. He was freaked out just thinking about what his father would say if he knew Hank was living under the same roof as a sodomite. But he hadn’t driven all the way out to this liberal, left-wing pit that was California to quit that easily. He had threatened to spill the beans about his uncle to his mom, the pious and super-religious Hank grandma. Even though his uncle was living in sin in Los Angeles, he had the old lady fooled, pretending to be a righteous man. At first, his uncle was shocked, then cursed Hank out, but in the end, he gave in, knowing he had no way out.

“Alright, Hank, I’m gonna give you a job you don’t deserve, but first, I need you to do one last thing for one of my most important clients in Beverly Hills: Lee Yutao.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Yeah, someone like you wouldn’t know Mr. Lee. He’s a famous perfumer, used to work for top designer brands, now runs his own niche perfume company. The man is a total recluse, barely leaves his house. He spends all his free time taking care of the gardens at his various mansions around the world.”

“Sounds pretty gay.”

“Yeah, but this is one gay guy you don’t wanna mess with, especially if you wanna keep your job.”

So there Hank was, standing in front of Lee Yutao’s massive mansion on top of Beverly Hills, wondering how someone could end up with something that big just by mixing scents. Didn’t seem fair, especially since it was some damn Chinese guy, taking what he felt should be American land. He thought that to himself, ignoring the fact that his great-grandfather had come to America just over 80 years ago, fleeing a collapsing Germany during World War II.

As he walked up to the gate, a metallic voice spoke to him through a hidden intercom.

“You’re late,” said the voice, speaking perfect English, but with a slight accent Hank couldn’t place.

“I’m here, aren’t I? You gonna let me in or what?”

“Head to the garden near the pool. Your job today is to organize the stones by the rose garden. And under no circumstances are you to touch any of the flowers.”

“Yeah, as if I need more work than I already got…” Hank muttered.

“Did you say something?”

“Just point me in the right direction,” Hank replied, as the huge gate opened and he stepped onto the property, full of himself but completely unaware he was walking right into the jaws of something way dangerous than he imagined.

Following the metallic voice’s instructions, Hank made his way into the massive garden and got to work. He knew there were cameras hidden in the bushes, so he gave it his all, even though he was pissed. His performance here was crucial to his future plans.

By the afternoon, he was ahead of schedule, still fuming about being stuck there but careful not to touch the precious flowers. Not because he cared about what the client wanted, but because he suspected there was a limit to how much his uncle would tolerate before he snapped and spilled the beans about his lifestyle. That’s when something really weird happened. While taking a quick break, a breeze hit him, carrying a strange smell—nothing like the roses around him. It was a heavy, almost animalistic scent, something Hank had never smelled before.

“What the hell is that?” He said out loud, dropping the shovel but getting no response. The smell wasn’t just messing with his nose—it was throwing off all his other senses. He followed the scent to a particular bush. There, among the roses, was a flower that looked no different from the rest, except it was the source of that odd odor.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Hank asked again, but if the metallic voice heard him, it chose to ignore him. Hank figured it didn’t matter—he had a job to finish, and he was getting out of there. But for some weird reason, his body was pushing him forward. Why was he doing something he was told not to do? Why did he grab the flower and bring his face close to it? The scent hit him like a truck, intoxicating and overwhelming. He quickly pulled back, feeling dizzy, but it didn’t help. The smell was on him—inside his nose, on his skin, all over him.

“I need to get this off me… I need to get it off…” he mumbled. That’s when the voice spoke again.

“I warned you not to touch them, but I understand. The temptation is real. If you want to get rid of my scent, follow the rose path to the pool.”

Dazed and confused, Hank didn’t even think about disobeying the voice. He staggered through the garden, now feeling like every flower was giving off that same smell, the smell that made him want to give in to pure, uncontrollable lust. It took everything he had not to stop right there and give in to his urges. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the pool, and without even thinking, he dove in. He thought the water would wash the smell—and the desire—away. But when he came up for air and stood, the smell was back.

“This can’t be…” Hank muttered, trying to splash water on his face, but it didn’t work. The metallic voice spoke again.

“Perfect! Full immersion guarantees the effect. Now, come to the main house. It’s time for us to have a more… in-depth conversation.”Hank, barely holding on, followed the voice’s instructions and made his way to the house.

Every step felt like a struggle as the desire still coursed through him. The house was huge and luxurious, decorated with such a refined taste that Hank, lost in confusion couldn’t even appreciate it. Each slow step down the hall felt like a personal torture.

“You’re almost there, boy,” the voice said. “Turn right at the end of the hall and enter the master suite.”

Hank stumbled toward a massive oil painting at the end of the hall, depicting an imposing Asian man, dressed like an ancient warrior with his chest exposed. This must’ve been the guy behind all of this, Hank thought—the owner of the mansion, Lee Yutao. Inside his clouded mind, Hank tried to feel anger toward the guy. But as another wave of that strange scent hit him, all the anger was swallowed up by an overwhelming urge. He wanted to be with that man. He needed to feel him, to touch him, to have him inside him…

Realizing what he was thinking, Hank’s last shred of self-awareness melted away, replaced by absolute terror. What the hell would he do when he met this man, who was presumably behind the big wooden door now opening in front of him?

To Hank's relief and disappointment, the gigantic room was empty. He stood in the doorway, waiting for further orders like a total doofus.

“Come on in, take a seat on the bed, and just chill. More instructions are coming up soon.”

The bed was actually this massive setup that could’ve filled an entire room in a regular-sized house. Hank plopped down right in the middle of it, his still-wet skin soaking the silky black sheets. In front of him was a TV monitor so huge it looked like a movie screen. As his lust-fogged brain struggled to figure out what was going on, the giant screen lit up in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. The constant swirl of colors made whatever little conscious thought Hank had left turn into mush. As drool dripped from the corner of his mouth and his eyes rolled back, a face emerged amidst the colorful chaos.

“Hey there, Hank. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but the pleasure will come for both of us. But not before some… enhancements. Your uncle and I have history together, and what you tried to do to him is just unacceptable. That’s why I’m pretty comfortable with what’s about to happen. If everything goes smoothly and I have enough faith in my work to believe it’ll, we’ll have one less awful creature in the world and one more real human being.” The Asian guy with striking features could’ve been talking to the walls, Hank’s reaction was so minimal. Even though a part of him was screaming in despair in the back of his intoxicated mind, it wasn’t enough to pull him out of the stupor he was in.

“Since I was really young, I’ve been totally into all kinds of scents, mixing them up to create something unique and fresh. I traveled the world testing different fragrances and essences; my work got recognized, and fame followed. But I got so caught up in my relentless quest for the perfect scent that I pushed my personal life to the back burner, becoming more introverted and isolated. When I finally decided I’d had enough of being alone and wanted to find the right person, a long string of disappointments followed. The people I got involved with were mostly after my fame or my cash, and the few who were genuinely into me loved the public figure and not the real me. This made me shut myself off from society; it seemed like I’d never find anyone who could pull me out of my shell.

That’s when I had this idea: if I can create the perfect scent, then I can also create the perfect partner. I just needed a base to work from, and thanks to your nasty behavior towards your uncle, I got what I needed. Goodbye, Hank!”

“…impossible…” Hank managed to mumble before being hit by a wave of Yutao’s perfume and collapsing onto the comfy sheets of the giant bed, while the man’s voice recited words that his brain couldn’t consciously grasp but that worked to completely change who Hank Zimmer was.

“…it all started during the tests for the recording of my next perfume commercial…”

Hank felt something solid beneath him, way different from the soft mattress he had just sunk into. He felt way more alert than just moments ago. Opening his eyes, he found himself in another place; there were lights aimed at him, tons of them, along with a bunch of people milling around behind them. The taste of tobacco dominated his taste buds, and he felt both more compact and heavier. He looked down and saw a muscular, tanned body that was definitely not his. What the hell is going on? he thought, but any attempt to verbalize something was blocked. Even though he was more awake, he had no control over his own body.

“Cut! Great job, Han! Awesome! I think you’re the perfect choice to be the face of Alpha Scent. But first, we need Mr. Lee’s approval. The final say is his.”

“Of course, I’m just really grateful for the opportunity.” Hank found himself responding in a smooth, melodic voice, even a bit delicate, while getting rid of the disgusting cigarette used in the recording. “When will I find out the result?”

“Oh, Mr. Lee himself will get in touch if you’re approved. He insists.”Hank was immersed in doubts, he didn't know what was happening, but just hearing Lee Yutao's name made him tremble.

The image dissolved, and Hank once again felt the softness of a mattress beneath him. He was lying on a bed that seemed way too small for his muscular, compact body. His fingers were typing away quickly on a smartphone.

“…I can definitely show you more… but there’s gonna be a price!” He typed with his hand without even thinking about it, then moved the phone and sent a provocative pic of his powerful exposed legs.

“Whoa, whoa, Mr. Zhang Hanqian, I thought the fact that I picked you to be the face of my masterpiece would be payment enough.” That was the response from who could only be Lee Yutao.

“I never mix business with pleasure, Mr. Lee; the price I’m asking for is different. Few have had the chance to see you in person, and to get all this here, the payment is a date.”The man sharing Hank's body tiped before sitting in the modest apartment room and sending a recorded video in front of the mirror to the man he was trying to seduce.

That was Hank's chance to see who he was sharing his consciousness with, and what he saw made him scream at the top of his lungs, even though no one could hear. Sitting in a comfy chair in front of the mirror, completely naked, was a young Asian man, whom he guessed was probably Chinese, with his knowledge about other races which was inversely proportional to the anger he felt towards immigrants. A rage that peaked in that moment, mixed with a giant despair. He was stuck in the body of a flamboyant man whore who was trying to seduce another man at that moment.

“Okay, boy, you had my curiosity, now you have my attention. I’m in the Amazon researching the aroma of priprioca for a new fragrance, I’ll be back in California at the end of the month. Be ready; you’ll need more than a sculpted body to turn my attention into real interest.”

Once again, Hank felt everything dissolve around him, only to find himself in a totally different place. This time, he was lying on a cushioned surface, wearing nothing but swim trunks, with the summer sun shining on his body while a cool breeze partially relieved the heat of the day. He was in some kind of resort, strangely empty except for his own figure. Unlike before, now he could feel the anxiety of that other guy, Han, as if the barrier between them was getting thinner. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something he had been waiting for was about to happen in the next few moments. That’s when Hank saw scared the guy from the gigantic painting in the mansion approaching, while Han, in turn, was enjoying the sight of the figure in front of him. He wanted to meet Yutao for his art, talent, and fortune, but now he was genuinely interested in the man before him, a dude with an impressive physique, walking with the confidence of someone who had the world at his feet.

“You got a tattoo,” Lee Yutao remarked, eyeing Han's bicep with a deep voice, but unlike what Han expected, there was a hint of insecurity in it.

“I’ve got more in hidden spots if you wanna see,” Han replied, reveling in the sight of one of the most powerful guys in the industry blushing, his confidence slipping away. That was unexpected; Lee Yutao had seemed way more assertive in their messages. But apparently, the teasing had the desired effect.

“How about we head up to my suite and you show me everything you can do… boy.” Yutao replied with more confidence, making Han smile with satisfaction while Hank was horrified at the prospect of what could happen.

He was still worried when everything dissolved and solidified around him again.

He was out of breath, heart racing, as if he’d just been hit hard, and yet a feeling of tired pleasure washed over him to the point where he couldn’t help but smile.

They were both Hank and Han experiencing this, and it freaked Hank out, causing his smile to fade, which didn’t go unnoticed by the person next to him.

“Han, babe, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Han replied, glancing at where Yutao was lying. “Your big cock just took my breath away.” He added, making them both laugh.

“Man, you say stuff that throws me off. Even after all these months, no matter how confident I think am, you totally disarm me.”

“I think you need someone to keep you on your toes.”

“Maybe…” Yutao replied as the room dissolved into smoke and Hank found himself in a different place again. He was in a luxurious bathroom, maybe in that same first resort; he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The only thing he could make out was Han, once again holding the phone, recording a video for someone. Probably Yutao. Hank felt curious about where that conversation was headed.

“Miss me, babe? When am I gonna see you? It doesn’t make sense for you to keep sending me these gifts if you’re not here with me!” Han said with a teasing look.

Just then, a reply to the video came in. “I’ll send my private jet to pick you up right now! Talk to you in Phi Phi.” Han lit up with joy, and Hank, even reluctantly, shared the feeling as everything around him once again reshaped. What hit him first was the smell of the ocean, brought by the beach breeze while he feel the sand under his feet.

“I can’t believe you were too shy to go shirtless at the beach. What’s the point of having a hot body like that if you’re not gonna show it off?”

“I work on my body for me, Han, not to flaunt it for everyone else!”

“That doesn’t make any sense; nobody looks like that if they don’t wanna be admired!”

“Oh, I want to be admired, just not by everyone, only by the right guy!”

“Hmm, and what does it take to be the right guy, Mr. Lee?”

“I still don’t totally know, but I’d bet that you’re on the right track!”

“Can I know what I’m doing right then?”

“I can’t say for sure; I just feel like I can be myself with you…”

“Oh, it’s because I’m so disarming, huh?”

“Could be…”

“Great, then let’s disarm you a bit more!” Han said, grabbing Yutao's phone and opening Instagram.

“What are you doing, Han?”

“Babe, you can keep playing the tough guy, you can wear me out in bed, but you can’t post a single pic on Instagram? You know what you really need? Someone with initiative by your side!”

“And that would be you?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to be disarming? Well, I’m gonna be!” Han replied, sliding his sunglasses down his nose and striking a pose for a selfie.

“You look ridiculous!” Yutao said, laughing.

“Babe, when you’re as hot as we are, who cares? But it’s your call.” Han shot back, handing the phone back to the other guy. After a thoughtful pause, Yutao got into position and took his first Instagram pic, revealing his face behind the brand for the first time, next to the young model posing.

Hank didn’t try to intervene at any point, maybe because he finally accepted that he was just a passenger in this body. But deep down, the barrier between him and Han was slowly crumbling, and he felt what the other felt, something very different from what he was used to. Han was into Yutao, sure, in a physical way, which strangely didn’t bother Hank as much anymore. But the interest was more than just physical; initially, it was about the mysterious figure of the man, the power he exuded, and his wealth—things Hank could understand in his greedy mind. However, at some point, the interest shifted to the person himself, the shy man trying to play the dominant alpha who quickly fell for Han’s tricks, who could leave him speechless with just a few words, even if he later surrendered to pleasure.

Not knowing how to deal with those contradictions, he felt reality reshape around him.

He was sitting on a comfy couch, his own hand covering his eyes. Once again, with his chest and legs bare.

“Go ahead and look, Han, babe!” It was Yutao’s voice. And both Han and Hank felt a wave of happiness hit them at the sight of the ring the other man offered.

“Han, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You made me realize I don’t have to act like someone I’m not to get what I want. You push me out of my comfort zone, you challenge me with every word, you disarm me, and I love you for that and everything else. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Han and Hank said in unison, the barrier between them finally dissolving as in a luxurious mansion bedroom, lying on a gigantic bed, Hank’s restless body underwent the transformation his mind had already accepted.

It all started with a shrinking of a few inches, bringing him down from a respectable 6'1" to a more modest 5'7", while his sun-burned white skin picked up a naturally golden hue, accentuated by hours spent tanning by the pool completely nude. His facial features became more delicate, with characteristics that would forever define him as someone of Asian descent, while his blond hair turned a raven black. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the young man let out a sleepy sigh; then the real transformation began. His chest was replaced by a pair of well-defined muscles tits ready to be sucked by his lover. Below that, a well-toned abdomen formed, with eight bricks of pure meat. As his upper body developed a V-shape, his lower body also went through significant changes; enormous muscles formed in his calves and especially in his thighs, making it impossible for him to walk without the characteristic sway that only someone with tree-trunk-thick legs learns to master. Unlike the rest of his body, his feet became more delicate and smaller, with nails as well-groomed as a rich vain woman. But the feet weren’t the only thing shrinking; the massive member that was Hank’s pride shrank down to a modest size while his butts expanded, ready for ready to be pounded by Yutao's powerful thighs while his massive cock vigorously hit Han's prostate.

As Yutao’s plan unfolded, the man himself approached the bed he shared with his husband and partner for life.

“Where have you been, babe? I need you now!” Han said, making his voice heard for the first time in those walls, while Yutao felt the presence that had brought forth the perfect man for him, experiencing an afternoon of love that would just be the first of many to come. As Han surrendered to pleasure, so did Hank, the distinction between the two already nonexistent.

Hours later, in the next morning, the couple took advantage of their workout session in the professional gym they had at home to snap a selfie for social media.

After spending the whole session feeling a specific aroma mixed with his partner’s scent, Yutao couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you wearing Alpha Scent while working out?”

“I’m the face of the fragrance, babe; it’s my duty to wear it on any occasion.”

“I know, but you’re well aware that the version I have at home is the real deal. If someone who isn’t one of us smells it, I don’t know what the consequences could be.”

“Afraid someone else might show up and steal me away? That’s impossible, babe; I’m completely yours. But I really do wonder what would happen in that case…”

“Don’t get any wild ideas, Han…”

“I thought you were with me precisely just because of wild cideas.”

“I’m with you because I love you. But now you reminded me of something. We need some help with the house!”

“Hey, you know I don’t mind taking care of you and our home. I love being a devoted trophy boy.”

“Babe, you’re so much more than that, and even though you gave up your modeling career for me, you’ve made us one of the biggest digital influencer couples out there. So, as much as I love tending to the garden while you cook and take care of the house, we can’t do this without some help.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s hire some people and find someone capable of managing our homes when you’re busy.”

“And who’s going to do that as well as I do?” Han asked playfully.

“Nobody, babe, nobody. But a friend of mine is gonna send his brother-in-law over in the next few days. The guy’s a complete waste of human meat, but he’s the perfect test subject for what the new version of Alpha can do. Now let’s snap that selfie already; I’m dying to enjoy our time together in the best way, fucking your ass!”

[grimst4rs]

“Evening,” Sirius called out, when Harry entered the kitchen, particularly quiet as he walked down the corridor. It was late, past midnight, definitely, yet it was one of those nights (which had turned into most of them) in which he couldn’t sleep. “Careful not to wake my sweet mother up?”

Harry laughed a “yes”, before sitting down. “She’s quite charming.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair, already flecked with grey. “Always was, my mother. Thought Molly sent you off to bed already.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry said, sincerely. “You seemed down.”

“I don’t like being here,” He rasped out, looking away from his godson. “But I reckon you know how that feels, considering how eager you were when I told you to move in with me once my name would be cleared.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah. Dudley’s not the nicest cousin I could have.”

“The offer’s still on the table, though, you know.”

He smiled, so alike to James. “I know.”

“Is there something in your mind?” Sirius asked, pushing his chair back with a harsh scrape and propping his legs up on the table. “You seem off yourself. Nervous about going back to Hogwarts?”

Harry a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been told by many that people think I’ve gone off the rails.”

Sirius scoffed. “You shouldn’t care about what other people think of you. You know you’re telling the truth about Voldemort, and that should be enough.”

“Yeah, well, but considering the Ministry’s saying he’s not back and everyone listens to what Fudge says, it’s kind of hard to not be the poster for gone mad.” Harry let out a small laugh. “Which would be easier to deal with if fewer people believed him, but I reckon I don’t have credibility considering I’m a fifteen-year-old who’s been deemed bonkers and unstable.”

Sirius leaned on the two back legs of his chair. “The Ministry’s spreading the same propaganda during the first war, too. Nothing’s happening, we’ve got everything under control, obviously, how could we not, and Voldemort’s little servants’ attacks are actually just tragic accidents of an unknown nature — that’s a heaping pile of shit, obviously.” (Harry snorted.)

He picked at his nails. “They’re still the main voice, though.”

“I know,” Sirius replied, “but soon enough when they’re not gonna be able to cover up the attacks anymore, they’ll figure everything out.” Sirius took a swig out of the wine glass. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, is there anything else that’s on your mind, besides Fudge being an idiot and, I assume, the exams?”

Harry looked away from him. “There’s this girl…”

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius murmured, chuckling into the hand he had run over his face, “you’re just like James. Tell me, is she perhaps a redhead with a fiery temper and a knack for picking the worst mates out of the bunch?”

Harry laughed, then completely stilled and, when he was sure the portrait of Walburga Black hadn’t started shouting again, he leaned forward arms on the table. “No. She’s on the Quidditch Team.” He then bit his cheek, obviously looking for his words. “Did they love each other?”

Sirius’ gaze softened as he poured himself another glass of wine. He looked at the boy sitting on the chair at the old, wooden table in his childhood kitchen — all James looks-wise, besides his eyes, Lily’s. Yet his temper was just like Lily’s, as seemed to be a big part of his personality; Remus told him so, the few weeks he’d stayed at his shabby cottage in Glasgow and had the time to find themselves all over again.

“Yes. Very much. Well,” Sirius tsked, “James was gone, that’s for sure. For years before something actually happened between them. But Lily obviously loved him, too. I remember their wedding — I was the best man, you know? — your father got quite, ah, tipsy, and by the end of the evening, he’d declared his undying love to your mother probably over twenty times. It was a beautiful night. Happened in the August after we graduated. They’d been planning it for months before; it wasn’t a big thing, but it was probably the best night of my life. I’ll have to ask Remus if he still has the pictures.”

“Why would he have them?” Harry asked, curiously.

“We used to live together,” Sirius answered. “Lily and James moved out, and then it was the two of us. Peter lived with his mum after they moved to Godric’s Hollow — that’s where they lived, where you were born — so Remus and I kept the apartment for ourselves. Reckon he still has the pictures, even though he moved out, since I don’t have them.”

“You two lived together!?” He demanded, incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” Sirius chuckled, sitting back down and downing a good part of the wine he’d poured himself. “We moved in together, like I told you. I knew him pretty intimately, so to say.”

Harry nodded, then rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly.

“It’s getting late, now. Head off to bed before Molly catches you and tells me off for being such an irresponsible godfather,” He said, acutely aware of how irritated his voice sounded.

Harry smiled. “Night, Sirius.”

“Good night, Harry.”

[yourmomxx]

— random relationship headcanons for jj maybank —

male!reader

a bit nsfw under the cut

just to be clear from the very beginning, we are talking about a secret relationship here

I mean come on, jj has a dead-beat dad, he’s not just gonna go all out and tell him “yeah i’m fucking someone with a dick fyi”

ain’t happening

starting a relationship with jj was hard, he kept pushing you away because of his fear of attachment and his trust issues

But you didn’t let him push you away

It took a while for him to let you in

But after those walls were broken, he was justKirk the most affectionate boyfriend ever

Everyday he would wake you and not know how he deserved you, and the pogues would never hear the end of it

so yes, obviously the pogues know about your relationship

even if he kept it a secret from them, too, at first

kie was the first to actually figure it out

because john b is a bit slow

and pope thought y’all were just really good friends

(no one had the heart to tell him what really made the bumping noises in the next room)

but they all love you

while you’re dating jj, you’re a pogue now, like it or not

you most definitely had it easier than sarah

but hey maybe that’s because your brother wants a psychopathic killer

speaking of siblings, if you have some (younger ones), jj adores them

like, seriously, he always tries to include them whenever you do things together, and jokes and plays around with them

if your siblings are older, they’re a bit suspicious of him first, but eventually grow really fond of him and start seeing him like a sort of a little brother too

we ain’t mentioning JJ’s dad in this house

except for the times where you threatened to beat him up until it was him lying in a hospital bed rather than his son

jj always held you back tho

he told you his father wasn’t worth a sentence in prison

you always take care of JJ’s wounds, even when he’s reluctant about it at first

silent smoking sessions where the two of you simply enjoy each other’s company

“who’s the man in the relationship?” “there’s no man in our relationship, idiot, but if there was, it’d be me.”

he always brags about you when he’s with the pogues

“did you know that y/n did …”

“y/n actually told me …”

“have you seen how fucking good y/n looks today?”

“can’t believe I fucking pulled that.”

the pogues mostly just smile and nod along, knowing how happy you truly make him

he’s just drooling whenever you walk over to him, shirtless with wet hair and only in swim shorts

his brain short circuits

It’s like that one slowmo scene in baywatch ya know

jj plans the cutest dates

like stargazing, small roadtrips, surfing together, campfires with roasting marshmallows

soft touches

and because you two aren’t in a public relationship, I am so heavy on this

like imagine you’re walking to the beach with the pogues, all together laughing and chatting

and you walk so close to jj that your shoulder always *accidentally* bumps his. all the time.

or bonfires

sitting next to each other and each talking to someone, but your knees are so close that they are just touching the entire time

you can feel jj’s warm skin against yours and it sends something like electric waves down your body

fingers linking slightly when you stand near each other or walk with the pogues to the beach

putting your head on the other’s shoulder because that’s not gay you’re “just tired”

shoulders or arms grazing when you’re close

your pinky linking with his thumb when your hands are placed near each other

f o r e h e a d t o u c h e s

hello and goodbye kisses

puts his arms around your waist from behind and lays his head on your shoulder or upper back when he’s tired (and you’re with the pogues)

falls asleep leaned against you when you’re at john b’s hanging out with the pogues

such dramatic golden retriever puppy energy

says he will literally die if he doesn’t get enough touches and kisses from you

jj practically lives at your apartment

he has his own toothbrushes over there and everything

when he’s at home he sleeps in your clothes because they smell like you and it comforts him

will literally return said clothes to you and tell you to wash/wear them because they lost your scent

with jj’s impulsive personality it’s hard, but the two of you do your best to argue as little as possible

and even when, you try your best to not yell and trigger him, but to be honest - the two of you rarely argue. like, heavily

of course there’s some harsh exchanges from time to time but not ever screaming fights or something like that

communication is key in your relationship

you’ve ensured that from the very beginning

you promised to talk things out when you feel like there are problems or something that needs to be talked about and then you can work on it together

there is literally no grudges you hold that could be thrown at each other to worsen arguments

cooking breakfast for him because you want to let him sleep in

stealing away from parties or bonfires to have some private time

his wardrobe is mostly your clothes

you would go to jail for each other

“jj i swear if you don’t stop pissing off police officers-“

you meet him at the beach to watch him surf

because he’s so talented, of course, not because you want to see him shirtless or anything

he’s the best at cheering you up

he’s everything but a dry texter

you mostly cook because the only meal this man knows how to make is toast and pasta

how he’s survived this long without you is a mystery

jealousy because, again, secret relationship

“I thought you weren’t the jealous type?”

“oh, I’m not.”

“so the girl over there that’s talking and smiling all over jj has totally nothing to do with the fact that you’ve absolutely crushed your plastic cup?”

“mhm.”

but not in an i don’t trust you and I think that you will cheat on me-way jealous, more in a you’re mine and seeing you with other people that i know don’t know that physically hurts me-typa way

has his own private smile for you, all teeth and giggles, and just so in love

you give jj your clothes and he gave you one of his leather bracelets to wear

knuckle kisses

just staying in bed all day and cuddling

he has less nightmares when he sleeps next to you

whenever jj got out of the water after surfing, he would make sure to hug you, no matter how much you struggled to push him off you, so you would get just as wet as him

— nsfw ————————————————

you actually had to introduce jj to a few things because he had never done them before or ever even heard of them

he’s good with girls but the whole boy thing? that was new territory

so you had to teach him some stuff

but it turns out, jj is a quick learner - when he wants to be

he’s a switch but mostly bottoms

it’s his inner child that just wants someone to take care of him

sometimes the sex helps him to calm down after his dad hurt him, but that is a thin line to walk

he whimpers

he has a praise kink

“so beautiful” “my handsome boy” “atta boy that’s a good one”

those just do it for him

there’s times when it’s just rough and emotional and angsty (cue choking, knife-play, heavy dirty talk and degradation)

and other times that are slow and soft and loving (cue praise, careful movements, private mornings, many and long kisses)

he takes a shower and you just surprise him by stepping in too

quickies on the boats that jj is supposed to clean (you officially keep him company for “moral support”)

his sweaty surfer curls sticking to his forehead after while he’s grinning at you😫😫

head in small caves at the beach

hickies because “if that girl tries hitting on you one more time, I am gonna hit her. with my car- ”

the pogues tease him about them the morning after

“ayo jj had a rough night I see?”

teasing. like so much. from both sides

whether it be “innocent” touches or well-placed words … it’s all over the place

high sex

handjobs in the back of john b’s twinkie

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I'm ahead on studying so figured I'd get this going.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The television blares as you come downstairs. The hues flicker through the archway as you peek inside. Your father must’ve left it on. You’re used to finding him passed out on the couch but he’s nowhere to be seen.

You yawn into your hand, another week ahead of you. You near the couch as the volume makes your ear drums buzz. Why does he always have it so loud?

Your morning tea hazes your vision. You have those few moments of peace before you have to start the day. The warmth flowing into you, nestling in your stomach, comforting you. As you come around in search of the remote, you stumble to a stop.

Your father didn’t make it that far. He’s slumped over on the edge of the couch. Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the remote on the floor. He must have dropped it. You snatch it up and mute the television, leaving its glow to light the room.

“Dad,” you touch his shoulder, but you already know. He’s not rasping or coughing or choking. Oh no. Oh no no no.

You try to roll him onto his back, then to sit him up. You can’t move him. He’s limp and heavy and…

You run away, racing upstairs to grab your phone from your night table. The charging cord snaps out of the port as you flip it open and rush back to the first floor. You’re panting as you key in the emergency number and put the phone to your cheek.

“Hello!” You nearly shriek at the operator as they answer, “my dad! My dad!” You shake your head as you try to gather yourself, “my dad’s not moving. He’s not breathing.”

“Alright, ma’am, I need you to calm down, can you do that for me?” The man coaxes.

“I don’t know,” you whine.

“Ma’am, you gotta calm down. You wanna help him, don’t you? So take a breath, alright?”

You inhale and let it out, “he’s not breathing,” you babble again.

“Okay, ma’am, you gotta get him on his back for me, can you do that?”

“Y-yes,” you chuff out and go back to the couch. You push on your dad, lifting his arm until he flops onto his back, “he’s on his back.”

“Alright, do you know CPR?” The operator asks.

“I… yes,” you gulp. The doctor sent you to lessons after your dad got the tank. He said it was standard for family members. Your dad told you it was garbage. “Yes, I know how.”

“Good, I need you to breathe for him. You remember the steps, right?”

“I– I can do it,” you say convincing yourself as much as him.

“Do it now, alright? I want you to keep on until the ambulance gets there. You don’t stop,” he says calmly, “I’m tracing your location and I have people on the way.”

“I’m… I’m gonna do it. Now.”

You place the phone down and hit the button for the speaker. You stand over your father’s limp body as your eyes gloss with tears. He can’t be dead. You won’t let him do that. He never listens to you but you’re not going to let him die.

You tilt his head up and move the oxygen tube out of the way. You put your hands on his chest and pump, keeping count as you do. Then you pinch his nose and bend over him, blowing into his mouth, just how they showed you.

You don’t stop. You won’t. You can’t believe this is happening. It’s not going to happen. You can’t lose your dad. He’s all you have. He’s all you’ve ever had.

You hear sirens and the operator speaking to you. You tune it all out as you focus on your dad. You’re crying as you pump again. One, two, three…

The world is foggy around you as you count, over and over. You feel someone touching you, pulling you away. There’s noise all around as the colours turn to blurry orbs all around you. You fight to get free until you realise it’s okay. They’ve come to help.

You watch the paramedics in their white shirts work on your father as another stands beside you. She hands you your phone as the operator talks to you. 

“It’s okay, ma’am, they’re going to get him to the hospital,” he assures. “And take care of you.”

You thank him in a wobbly voice and shut the phone. The woman beside you gives a sympathetic look. The men by your father mutter.

“He’s breathing,” one declares, “get the stretcher.”

“He’s… he’s alive?” You squeak.

“Stand back,” the paramedic beside you stops you from going forward, “gotta let them get him loaded up.”

“Is he going to be okay?” You murmur.

“We can evaluate him at the hospital,” she insists, “you can ride with him but first, they need to get him there.”

You nod and wipe your wet cheeks. He’s alive. Barely. You think you might have saved him. For once, you think you did something right.

🧹

You call into work as you sit out in the waiting room. You hope missing your shift doesn’t affect your probation. Clara thanks you for letting her know but you expect it’s a hassle she doesn't want.

You have your spring jacket pulled over your pajamas and a pair of slip-on sneakers. You wring your hands almost raw as you wait and watch the clock. You are overflowing with anxiety. 

You rock in your chair as the minutes stretch to hours. You see others come and go. Some in rough shape, others on their own strength. Stretchers roll in and out, occupied or otherwise. The sterile scent dries your nostrils and stains your tongue.

As noon rolls around, you get up and find the vending machines just inside the entrance. You drop coins in the slot and push the button for an English tea. The cup drops down into place and the nozzle churns loudly, spitting out thinly steeped tea. It’s better than nothing.

You return to your seat and blow over the top of the cup. Your mind pendulums between the room down your hall and the beeping machines, and the empty house with its fantastical gardens. You should’ve been mopping Mr. Laufeyson’s floors that day.

You finish half the tea before you give up on it. It’s lukewarm and bland. You slouch down and cross your arms. Your eyelids droop but you won’t let them close. You yawn and watch a woman comfort her sniffling child as he sneezes into her shirt.

It’s all so surreal. It feels like a dream. It is your worst nightmare. The doctor warned you but you hoped… you hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

Your name is called and you sit up, nearly jumping out of the seat. You wave your hand and approach the woman in blue scrubs.

“That’s me,” you gulp.

“You can come see him now,” she says.

You blink, “he’s okay?”

She gives you a look, “he’s stable. Come this way.”

She turns back as the large double doors open inward and strides forward. You follow her and she leads you to a room. She points you inside. “He’s on the other side of the curtain.”

“Thank you,” you utter before she’s off. Everyone is in a hurry there. You suppose they have to be.

You turn and look at the closed curtain around the first bed. You pass it and peek around the next. You find your dad, eyes shut, tubes crisscrossed all around him as a machine echoes his heartbeat. You pull the curtain shut and sit in the stiff plastic chair just near the end of his bed. You stare at him, eyes welling hotly.

“I tried,” you croak, “I really tried, dad.”

You drop your face into your hands and let yourself fall apart. You bawl, swallowing down your sobs as you choke. You try not to make too much noise in your grief. You wouldn’t want to disturb your neighbour. But you can’t stop yourself. You’re sorry. You’re so sorry.

You let him down again.

🧹

Your father wakes up the next day. He isn’t cognizant as he thrashes and chokes on the tube down his throat. You hit the bell and stand back to watch in shock. The nurses rush in and shoo you out.

It’s hours before you see him again. The new nurse says he’s sedated and will need to be for a while. You ask if he’s okay. Again. Her answer isn’t much of one.

You spend the first two nights sleeping in the plastic chair. You can’t bring yourself to sleep in the house alone, but you have to leave him. You have a job that day and you need the money. Especially after seeing the invoice for the ambulance.

You go home and change on the third morning and go down to the east side for your assignment. You get through it without thinking. You just do. The familiarity of scrubbing, sweeping, and mopping mutes your emotion. Outside the hospital, you can almost pretend it’s not real.

When you finish, you go back to the hospital. You eat in the cafeteria before you go to your father’s room. Your stomach mulches painfully as your body greedily digests the processed chicken noodle soup. It’s your first meal since the day you got there.

Those yellow walls become your new home. You only leave to go to your third shift that week and otherwise linger. When the nurses send you out, you have tea in the cafeteria or choke down another unappetizing meal from a plastic tray.

Your father’s awake on Sunday night. They tell you they’re weaning him off the sedation. His eyes are glassy and confused. He doesn’t look like himself and for more than the tubes that keep him alive.

Monday morning you say goodbye and promise to be back after work. He grumbles and coughs. He doesn’t have a feeding tube anymore but hasn’t said a word. You don’t know if he can or if he just has nothing to say.

You set off to Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Another week. You’re halfway through probation but you won’t celebrate. You only want to panic. You need money. You need more shifts. Three houses a week for another month and a half won’t do.

As always, you just have to take what you can get.

You shake off the last week before you cross the threshold. Hopefully your eyes aren’t too swollen. Between the lack of sleep and crying, they’re raw and itchy.

You open your phone and click the stubborn button on the keypad to scroll. You put in the code and push through the gate. The garden is a blur of green as you ignore it. You’re not there to watch the leaves dance or breathe in the beauty. This place is just as gray as the rest of the world.

You go inside and begin. Shoe covers, gloves, and… you don’t have your water bottle. Oh well. You proceed down the list. Room by room, item by item. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him. You hope he’s not there.

You get to the second floor. There’s a new bullet point. ‘Study: grease the office chair.’ Huh?

You recall on your last visit how the chair squeaked with his every move. You huff and return downstairs. You go to the closet where the rest of the supplies are and find a new bottle. Small with a narrow nozzle. You read the instructions as you ascend back to the upper level.

You open the study door and stop short. You didn’t think too knock. You sputter but keep any words from spilling out. You keep a grasp on the doorknob but before you can back out, Mr. Laufeyson lifts his gaze from the laptop and catches you in his sights.

“Stay,” he demands and slowly closes the laptop lid. You wince as it clicks. “I thought you quit.”

You stand dumbly in the door. You glance from him to the wall then down at the bottle in your hand. He clicks his tongue and his chair squeaks as he leans forward.

“You may speak. I want to know where you were.”

Why? Your habitual silence keeps you from blurting that out. You clear your throat.

“I couldn’t work, that’s all,” you say, peeking up at him sheepishly.

He tilts his head as he narrows his eyes, “for what reason?”

You don’t know what to tell him. You don’t think he really cares. You roll the bottle in your grasp.

“I had an emergency,” you explain, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t–”

He puts his hand up, “they sent another one. I didn’t like her. She didn’t dust the mantle.”

“I’m sorry, sir–”

“Mr. Laufeyson will do,” he corrects.

“Mister–”

“We’re done speaking,” he interrupts.

You sniff. Did you offend him? Should you have told him more? You only want to be professional and it wouldn’t be proper to bring your personal life to work, would it? 

He stands suddenly and you grip the bottle tight, keeping your arms straight at your side. He struts around the desk, his height emphasized by his long steps. He approaches you, stopping as you move out of the way of the door.

“Fix the chair,” he demands, “that damn noise is driving me mad.”

He sweeps out, leaving you grasping the bottle of grease in confusion. Is he mad? And why is he so concerned with your absence? He doesn’t seem very fond of you. Will he tell Clara? Could he have you fired?

You try not to worry about it. You already have enough on your mind. You can only do what you can do. Grease the chair and finish the job.