#yes they cost her dad a job

[rexlover180]

Whenever my dad tries to convince me that he, an engineer in the 80s, had just as hard a time as I am, a teacher in the 2020s, financially, I can't help but wonder if monthly budgeting left him feeling an existential sadness that left him wondering if he would ever be able to spend money for joy ever again......

[mulloey]

unwelcome • mingyu

you hate your new stepdad. you swear.

stepdad!mingyu x fem!reader

words: 3k

warnings: step-dad relationship (but you were fully grown when you met him!), implied age gap but not specified, dubcon if you squint, hard dom!mingyu, brat!reader, fingering, spanking, name calling, pussy slaps, mean mingyu. he is not a good dude. extremely weird dynamics (bc he is fucking ur mom after all :/ ) you’ve been warned!

don’t like, don’t read. this is fiction and is not a reflection of reality. if this is not your cup of tea, please scroll. i’m not your babysitter and hate is blocked.

-

you fucking hate him.

mingyu married your mother around a year ago - after only a few months of dating mind you - and you fucking hate him. being away at college, you hadn’t even met him until the week before the wedding, yet here he was; rearranging your house, telling you how to live, trying to assume some sort of authority over your grown ass life. he even had the audacity to chide you for calling him by name. whatever; on the rare occasion you can’t find an excuse not to go home for the holidays or weekends or pick up his calls, you’ll just call him mr. kim.

this is one of those rare occasions. but you sense it may not be rare for very long; your luck has run out and all the campus accommodation is fully booked for your final year. you’d been lucky to get a bursary for on-campus accommodation in your first three years, but that only extended to off-campus accommodation for out of state students. living on the other side of the city, you do not qualify.

you swear mingyu could help, if he felt so inclined. he doesn’t flaunt his wealth but you know he has it; the shiny watches on his wrist and the designer clothing suddenly adorning your mother tells you that much. but even if he did want to help you, which you doubt, you’d never ask him. because that would involve admitting that this man, at least 10, maybe 20 years younger than your mother, and who walked into your life when you were already in your twenties (only a few months into them, admittedly), has any kind of authority over you. he doesn’t.

so you move home, cursing the world and everything in it as you watch from the living room window while mingyu and his stupid friends carry your boxes inside. your mother stands next to you, following her husband with loving eyes. it’s nice to see her happy, you must admit. you just wish she would stick up for you a little; explain to her husband that you’re a grown adult and can’t be told what to do. but she’s always been a meek, passive woman who never seemed to have anything go right for her. you don’t blame her for clinging to whatever fragile happiness she can find.

you figure it won't be too hard to get through this year though; you can ignore mingyu as you have been, he’ll quickly get the message and ignore you in return, and you can keep your head down and scavenge enough credits to graduate, get a job and move out. simple, right?

no. of course not. when is anything ever simple for you?

because mingyu refuses to leave you alone. at all. it seems, for whatever reason, he is determined to be around you at all costs.

you stick it out for all of a couple weeks; ignoring his comments, answering his questions with as little detail as possible, and skirting on this side of his house rules so as not to piss him off. but he only ramps it up, and you can’t take it anymore.

you decide to play the sweet, docile act he loves in your mother, hoping it sways him. you ignore how fucking weird it is to be emulating your mother to get your way, but if it works, it’ll benefit her too. because you’d really hate to have to tell her cherished little husband to go fuck himself.

“mr. kim,” you call.

mingyu, sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper and a bowl of cereal, looks up. he tilts his head, surveying you closely. “yes?” he asks. “if you’re here to complain about your curfew, you can save it. you worry your mother sick when you stay out until a stupid hour.”

oh, yeah. you resist the urge to roll your eyes; your curfew is that most ridiculous part of all of this, but your mother agrees with it too and you know she’s under no obligation to put you up here for free, so you’ve stuck it out until now out of respect. it’s still fucking annoying, through. you’re twenty fucking years old.

“i’m not here to complain about that,” you say. you bite your lip to keep the ‘asshole’ you want to tack on the end of that sentence inside your mouth.

he tilts an eyebrow, putting the newspaper down. “then what?”

“i just want to know,” you say. you drag out the last syllable, hoping he finds it cute. god, you’re gonna have to take ten thousand showers after acting like this just to please this idiot. “why do you want to talk to me so much?”

he pauses. “what do you mean?”

“i try to stay out of your way,” you say. “because i prefer to keep to myself and honestly, as much as i’m glad you make my mom happy, i really don’t need another parent. but you insist on talking to me and asking me things and knowing about my life. i don’t get it.”

he stares at you for a moment, looking down through those black glasses he always wears around the house. he runs a hand through his air, sighing like he can’t believe what he’s about to say— or that he even has to say it.

“you know what i think?” he asks. you shrug. “i think you do get it. i think you ignore me and talk back to me and find loopholes for all my rules because you want me to bite back. you never had a father, did you?

none of your fucking business, you want to say. instead you go with, “no.”

“there we go,” he says. “it’s a shame, honestly. little girls need their dads. it’s no wonder they act out when they don’t have them.”

“i’m not-” you huff, frustrated but trying not to prove his point by shouting at him. “i am not acting out, mr. kim.”

“you are,” he says. “and you’re damn lucky your mother asked me not to do anything about it.”

you feel your face twitch in anger. you’re long past the innocent act that he was just too annoying for it to work on, but you don’t want to completely lose your cool. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

his lips quirk amusedly and he leans back in his chair, watching you closely. he folds his arms and huh. they’re big. you’ve been so busy being angry at this man for intruding on your peaceful life with just you and your mom and having the nerve to act like he has the right to tell you what to do that you’ve never really thought about how… large he is. you know he’s conventionally attractive, of course you knew that and yeah, in another life you’d probably have tried to hit that at first, but his awful personality has always made him ugly to you. it sours his otherwise beautiful features and twists them into something repugnant. especially that stupid fucking smirk he wears as if he knows anything about you. asshole.

“what it means,” he says, “is i don’t think i’d have all that much trouble setting you straight. but you’re an adult, and i’m not your real father, so i agreed with your mother that i wouldn’t. but watch yourself.” the last sentence is quieter, tacked onto the end like he wasn’t quite sure if he should say it. too right, you think, because it’s fucking creepy.

you snort, rolling your eyes. “what, are you gonna put me over your knee like a little kid or something?”

he raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. he almost looks… amused? “would you want me to?”

oh, fuck this guy. all you were trying to do is illustrate how childishly he’s treating you and he’s acting like you’re the weirdo. “piss off,” you say. “that’s disgusting.”

his eyes flash but he still looks more entertained than aggravated. “you suggested it,” he shrugs. “and i’d certainly like putting you right.”

“yeah,” you spit, “well. forget it.”

you turn on your heel, storming out of the kitchen. well that didn’t go the way you wanted.

-

mingyu watches you retreat with amusement. what a brat. your mother said you would be, but he didn’t expect this. god, his palms twitch every time you walk in the room with a sour expression, or stomp up the stairs at night, or do anything at all, really. he aches to wrap his hands around your throat and set you straight, but he can’t. he can’t.

not yet.

look, he’s not a bad man. he doesn’t want to be a bad husband either; it’s not like he seduced your mom to get to you, or even had any bad intentions with you at all. your mother had told him about you, shown him the photos, and you seemed like a sweet little girl he was looking forward to welcoming into his life.

but fuck. the moment you walked through the door for the first time, looking nervous and irate at the same time. well. clearly the photos your mother had shown him were not recent— you’d grown exponentially since then, blossomed and bloomed in all the right ways. he couldn’t help but reach for his cock absentmindedly when you sat down and your breasts bounced a little in your tight sports bra. thank god he stopped himself. he’s certainly not the type to get off in public like some impotent old coot.

he is, unfortunately, the type to have fucked your mom from the back that night so he could pretend it was your face he was pressing into the pillow.

he hated himself for it, truly. what he hated even more was that, despite the way he lusted after you, he still had an innate need to, well, parent you. he still wanted your chores done and your tests passed and your curfew adhered to. he wanted you to be good.

or maybe he just wanted you to be good for him.

but he finds it more and more difficult to care the tighter his hand wraps around his dick that night, wishing it was splitting you open instead. god, you’d feel so good wrapped around him. he doesn’t know if you’re a virgin - you probably aren’t, knowing what happens at college - but he knows he can make you feel like one. he hopes he never has the chance to find out. he doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if he crossed that line.

that day in the kitchen was the closest he ever got or wants to get; you were just so insolent that he wanted to bend you over then and there to correct the problem. god, he wanted to see his hand prints on your skin and slick leaking out of your hole. and when you bit back and protested everything he said, he almost broke. almost took you. and he caught the way your eyes lingered on his arms, too; the brief spark in your eyes when you finally seemed to admit to yourself that yes, your strict, annoying step dad is hot. he doubts you’d have resisted it, in the end. but in that moment, he didn’t really care. he wanted to break you and rebuild you into a sweet, obedient little stepdaughter. thank god he had self control. well, some. he’s glad your mother was too drunk that night to notice your name slipping from his mouth as he fucked her into the mattress. he gave her another orgasm just to ease his guilty conscience. who cares if i wish it was your daughter squirting all over my face instead?

-

mingyu’s been weird since the kitchen argument. so have you, admittedly, but he’s been weirder. he’s stared at you more, touched you more, scolded you more. and you… well. you’ve let him, to be honest.

you don’t know why. maybe you’re tired of fighting a war in your own house. maybe you feel bad for your mom, who’s desperately trying to piece together a happy family. maybe his arms are somehow getting bigger every time you see them.

today your mother is out, away on a trip with some old college friends. she’d left you under mingyu’s care — despite you being a full-grown adult yourself — and he had reassured her with sickening sweetness that he'd make sure she behaves.

unfortunately, your sleep schedules have aligned recently, so you trudge into the kitchen not long after he does. you sit silently at the table, munching through your cereal and scrolling through social media. you feel his gaze on you even before he speaks.

“are you ever not on your phone?” he asks.

you roll your eyes, huffing. “none of your business,” you grumble. “and yes.”

“hm.” his eyes are narrowed, staring you down through the brim of his glasses. you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “typical,” he says.

“what?”

“a little girl who thinks she knows the world,” he chuckles. “doesn’t realise just how naive she really is.”

“i’m not naive,” you spit. “i’m an adult. i lived alone until the stupid dorm filled up.”

“mm,” he hums. the corner of his lips twitch upwards in a brief smirks, but he shakes it off, returning to his breakfast with a small smile. “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“fuck off, mingyu,” you mutter before you can think. you’re not sure if you intended for him to hear it— but he does. of course he does. his gaze darts upwards, ice cold.

his voice simmers with rage when he speaks. “what did you just say to me?”

you swallow, a twinge of fear pulling at you. you live to piss him off, you have since you met him, but the way he’s looking at you, the bulging of the veins on his neck and his hands as he clenches his fist against the wood of the table is a little terrifying. you wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve pushed the wrong button, when he finally speaks.

“come here.”

your eyes widen a little and you shake your head. “no.”

“come here, y/n.”

for a moment you’re fearful, hands shaking by your side, but you quickly pull yourself together. mingyu doesn't scare you. this is just another game. you smile, tilting your head in amusement. “what’ll you do if i don’t?” you taunt, snorting to yourself. “call my mom or something?”

his brow tilts, eyes flashing dangerously. “you should be a lot more scared of me than her, little one,” he says, voice low. “i could wreck you in ways you’d never come back from.”

you don’t know what comes over you. every sense in your body tells you to get up and walk away, to stay at a friends house or a hotel until your mother comes home— anywhere where you’re away from this man. but you don’t. instead, your face twists into a scowl as you spit; “do it.”

he moves in on you instantly; before you can register what’s happening he’s out of his seat, pulling you from yours by the hair and pushing your front down onto the table. he presses down on your back, keeping you bent over as his other hand yanks you back by the hair. he leans over you, inches away, breath on your neck as he speaks. “yeah?” he breathes. “want me to ruin you, little girl?”

you squirm, moaning softly at the feeling of his bulge against your ass. through his pyjama pants and your loose sleep shorts, there’s little need for imagination. you swallow thickly, head swimming with a million thoughts but completely unable to make sense of any of them.

you fucking hate mingyu. you hate him with a passion. but his face pressing into your neck and his strong hand pushing you against the table feels so right. and you’re so fucking horny.

you push back, rubbing yourself against his bulge and he straightens back up, staring you down before his hand comes down hard on your thinly-covered ass. you yelp; mingyu is strong.

he snorts, letting his hand fall down again. “you deserve a lot fucking worse than this,” he sneers. “you’re lucky i’m so fucking pent up over you.”

wordlessly he grabs the top of your shorts, yanking them down to the top of your thighs just enough to expose you. he pauses for a moment, then chuckles. “no underwear?”

“s’ my pyjamas,” you mumble, squirming under his gaze. his hand comes down again with a snarled “stay fucking still”.

“you’re such a slut,” he chuckles. “you knew we’d be alone today but you came prancing down in these— can i even call them shorts?” he pulls them down further, letting them fall around your ankles. “that’s better,” he hums.

he leans forward, replacing the hand on your back with his strong forearm, holding you in place while his other hand creeps closer to your pussy. he pauses just short of it, pinching the supple flesh of your inner thigh. “i wonder,” he whispers. “after all this back talk and attitude.” his finger trails closer and closer to your heat and your skin feels hot to the touch. “how wet are you gonna be when i finally touch you?”

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before two fingers are pressing against your clit, dragging you your folds. you hear the humiliating wetness as he swirls it around his fingers. he hums like he’s making a clinical observation. “very wet indeed,” he says. “doesn't feel like you hate me at all.”

“i d—” you start, but you're cut off when his hand draws back and slaps your pussy harshly. you scream, bucking against the table and he slaps you again in response. “don’t get your slick on my fucking furniture,” he snarls. “fucking cunt.”

you sob, feeling drool pooling on the wood as his fingers return to play with your pussy before pushing inside. he makes a noise of appreciation, starting to pump in and out. “fucking tight, aren’t ya?” he chuckles. “could almost have me fooled into thinking you’re not a fucking whore.”

“i’m not a whore,” you pout.

you hear him laugh quietly, and then he’s leaning over you again, grabbing your hair with those slick-covered fingers that had been stretching you open just a moment ago.

“you are now,” he whispers.

-

my first svt fic!! feedback welcome and comments/reblogs appreciated. requests open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[mrsnishimuraaa]

i’ll take good care of you

PAIRING : FBI agent!niki x CEO daughter!reader

SYNOPSIS: having an insanely rich and powerful father was always something different, you never know who can be after you or your family. So when you have your own agents hired and Nishimura Riki is assigned to look after you, trained to always keep his emotions in check but when he meets you everything changes, the professional detachment unravels as he falls for the girl he’s sworn to keep safe. torn between duty and desire even in the worst of times.

GENRE: strangers to lovers, fluff and angst, mentions of death

m.list

well i did do a poll for this but i ignoredthe poll and decided to write it anyways plus all the votes were yes! so here we are ☺️

“now off you go, don’t mess this up Nishimura” the head of agents says sternly as he pats niki’s shoulder gently. they had just finished a long briefing the objective coming out as: Protect the CEO’s daughter. keep her safe. at all costs. Simple enough, very do-able.

niki stepped out of the office building and made his way to the sidewalk. the area around was busy, but he caught the company transport, gave the driver the address, and relaxed as they drove through the nice neighborhood, passing big houses and well-kept gardens on the way to the destination.

when niki arrived at the place he was sent to, the first thing that hits him is the silence. The kind of quiet that comes with a fuck ton of money. as he steps up to the front doors, he’s greeted by an abnormally large door that’s framed by tall columns. lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and a series of different flowers. useless stone statues in spots around the well kept garden. ‘what kind of fucking person with this much money needs a special agent’ is the thought running through his mind, but he continues to walk up the concrete steps before knocking on the door.

the front door swings open and he’s met with a man in a suit “nishimura riki right?” the man asks , he can hear the money imprinted in his voice. “that’s me, you can call me niki if you’d like” he responds, reaching a hand out to shake the man’s hand. “come inside” the man wavers him in, stepping aside to invite him to the house.

as he steps in he’s met with marble floor, a big grand staircase and chandeliers as if they were normal room lighting. the openness of the house screams filthy wealth to him, expensive artwork on the walls and an unnecessary amount of vases. “take a seat, take a seat let me call my daughter down” niki nods as he lets himself fall back on the big white couch, admiring the inside of the house that is before him.

the man comes back with a girl, as she elegantly walks down then stairs before making her way over. “hey, i’m y/n it’s nice to meet you” her smile beams as niki stands up in a array of manners , reaching his hand to shake hers “ Riki Nishimura, but you can just call me niki” he faintly smiles and nods his head. “look i’m so sorry about this, my dad is just so paranoid” you laugh in attempt to lighten the mood a bit, sitting on the chair across from him. but niki knows how oblivious you are to the situation your in, your thinking your dad hired him for no reason. “ well it is my job at the end of the day right” he says , clasping his hands together.

after chatting for a while, and niki being shown to the room he will be staying in for probably quite some time, night had fallen and niki was left to soak in his own thoughts.

niki had forced his mind back to the mission what felt like millions of times , pushing aside the thoughts that kept drifting to y/n. everything about her was distracting, but he couldn’t afford to get caught up in it. this was only a job, nothing more. he had to remind himself that his focus had to stay sharp and collected, any personal feelings were a risk he just couldn’t take.

the first few days were definitely something , attempting to grow to know each other he figured the job may not be too difficult, the only instruction from her father being to keep her safe at all times, even if it means fleeing the country. you on the other hand never knew why being protected so well was so important, your father never explained it to you and only left you just plain curious as to why what he does is so serious that people want to hunt down him and his family

all of that aside you thought niki was generally attractive, though you know that’s something you can’t go against on your father, you’ll just have to keep it to yourself. although you do enjoy his company, despite how cold and collected he may seem. as you’ve never really spent much time with many people your age because of the so called ‘risk’ . it was oddly comforting to finally have someone to talk to other than your mother or father for once.

but at the same time he has this cold, almost unapproachable look, with a tough expression that doesn’t seem to change no matter what’s happening around him. it’s like he’s built a wall around himself, but sometimes in the quiet moments, you catch a glimpse of something different. softening in his eyes or a rare smile that feels out of place but somehow not. you know it’s there, buried beneath the tough play, that soft heart of his waiting to be seen if you’re patient enough to look beyond the coldness. and it really makes you wonder sometimes how long it’s gonna take for you to crack the cold surface of his heart.

you think maybe it’s because he’s here sincerely to do his job and that he could possibly get in trouble if he shows a warmer more bright side of him. either way your determination to figure it out grows

although most of the time your father was never home , and your mom always being in other countries on business trips, you found yourself spending a awful lot of time with niki, desperate to crack the coldness and authority in his heart against you, bringing up random topics to get to know him better was definitely helping a bit but never a lot.

but oh little did you know his feelings only ever growing fonder and fonder of you, having to push them right back down and attempt to separate his feelings from buisiness. he can’t let his guard down like this, he’s only here simply for work right?

never in a million years would his mind cross that you would feel the same way as him, suppressing your feelings thinking he would not be here for a long amount of time. or even the thought of how cold hearted he may seem, you hope maybe he will become much warmer to you one day.

but the day your father never comes home from work, it all changes.

your first instinct is to panic, the morning you realise your father has been missing for 2 days, your hysterical sobbing whilst pacing the kitchen awakens niki as he rushes downstairs, completely forgetting to put on a shirt but that’s the least of his concerns, grabbing the gun he was told to bring incase of an emergency, thinking you were being attacked.

he puts his back to the walls, gun drawn infront of him as he carefully yet quickly makes his way to where the sound of your crying is coming from.

gladly hes met with the sight of you laying over the kitchen counter sobbing at a piece of paper in front of you rather than being stabbed brutally by a hit man. “y/n what’s wrong, talk to me” he rushes over dropping the gun on the counter, his cold hearted play immediately washing away as he hears your cries, placing a hand on your shoulder, the other reaching out to pick up the letter infront of you.

“Dear miss Kang Y/N

We are incredibly sorry to inform you of the tragic assasination of your father Sir. Kang Jin-woo.”

that being the only sentence his eyes run over,the word ‘assasination’ ticks something off, completely ignoring the rest of the long letter. he engulfs you in a hug, rubbing your back as you sob into his bare chest. the moment is cut short by the ringtone of his phone “shit, one moment” he gives your back a last light rub before pulling back to answer the phone. “Hello? yes nishimura speaking, okay i’ll be gone in the next hour.” he hangs up the phone in urgency.

“get your stuff y/n we have to leave. now.” he hurries you, your sobs coming to a stop slowly as panic sets in “w-wait what’s going on” you sniffle as you follow him upstairs “i’ll explain later, transports gonna be here in half an hour hurry” he firmly says, but the urgency in his voice gives you the instinct to pack up and go.

he gathers his own items before dropping them downstairs , making his way up to you as he knocks on your door “come in” you chime as he makes his way in, “how close are you to being ready” he asks , leaning on your doorway as you push your last suitcase toward him “now, but can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?” you question as he takes your suitcases and bags , leading you downstairs “there’s a car out the front get in and i’ll explain to you there, we don’t have time we need to go”

you get into the car, saying hello to the random driver as you buckle yourself in, hearing the trunk close before niki jumps into the seat beside you.

“now y/n, don’t panic okay” he starts to trail off

“your dad was assassinated by the people that want to take over his company, this was the whole reason i was sent to take care of you in the first place, now they are coming after you as your the next person in line to take over as the next CEO. they are already on their way to find you, most likely more than half way as it’s not that difficult to track people down anymore.”

the seriousness in his voice concerns you the slightest “what the fuck?” your face shows utter shock.

“i know” he sighs “i’ve already booked us flights to japan” he leans back in the car seat , man spreading in search of comfort. “sorry what?” you blurt out “i don’t even speak the tiniest of japanese” you raise your concern. “i know, but i do” he raises a brow as you give him a look of confusion

“y/n im japanese,i was born there.” he laughs, as you nod and form a small ‘ohh’ understanding his idea a bit more. “we’re gonna stay in Okayama where i was born, trust me we will be safe there okay?” he says as he reaches for a bottle of water from the cup holder “niki i’ve known you for barley 3 weeks and you expect me to ‘run away’ with you?” you say quietly. “it’s my job y/n i am here to look after you. i can promise you i’m not some creepy freak that’s kidnapping you, it’s for your safety ” he adds a small joke to a serious matter, you seem to relax a bit at that.

arriving to the airport, he hands you a mask and gestures for you to put it on, you need to keep your identity hidden until your out of south korea.

the two of you make it through checkin and security with ease, and begin to roam to the international terminal. “sorry to bother but im lowkey hungry” you tap him on the shoulder. “that’s okay, there’s a cafe just there we can go get something?” he says pointing around the corner as you nod, leading you over to the cafe. you grab a drink and 2 hash browns to snack on, you reach into your pocket to grab your card but as you look up you see that niki had already payed for you. “niki.. you don’t have to pay for me” you shove him lightly and he only chuckles at you “its fine y/n ,let’s go to the gate” your heart warms at his sweet gestures.

maybe he wasn’t so cold after all? the geniune care and thought in his gestures make your doubt of him ever showing any feeling to you wash away.

though y/n needs to keep her feelings in check, no matter how strong they may be. the reality is, he’s just there to do his job, not someone she can let her heart run away with, or can she? but the feeling of finally seeing niki’s warm hearted side envelopes her in her thoughts. would she ever know he’s thinking the same?

boarding the plane as the attendant tells you to turn left, you look at him in confusion “oh yeah i booked us business class” he laughs as he ushers you forward. “ki” the nickname slips out of your mouth and goes straight to his heart, he feels like he could melt into a puddle right infront of you.

sitting down on the comfy seats next to each other , making small talk as the flight fills. doubt starts to set into you, and your mind runs a million miles per hour and niki can see it on your face. “what’s wrong?” he leans forward to take a better look at you in an attempt to read your expression better.

“ nothing , it’s just what if they find us in japan? y’know what if we’re not safe niki” you turn to face him, “y/n i can promise you we will be okay, im gonna do whatever it takes, i’ll take good care of you” he pushes the strands of your hair behind your ear as you smile at him.

you relax a bit more, after takeoff you find yourself in an attempt to ponder off to sleep, but you just can’t so you opt to just rest your eyes for a while knowing you may have a big day ahead of you.

on the other hand he can’t help but think about how he’s been holding onto his feelings for a while now, wanting to confess but unsure if it’s the right time. there’s a part of him that wonders if she sees him the same way or if it would just complicate everything between them, his doubt lingers making him hesitate, but the urge to be honest with her grows stronger with every conversation the two of you share.

until he finally gains courage speaks up “y/n” his settled voice slightly startles your tired self but you hum at him, gesturing him to continue on. “this might sound crazy but just listen to me please” he asks for reassurance and you nod

“y/n i’ve liked you since the day i layed eyes on you, every conversation we have, every time we laugh together i can’t help but love it. i know your in a crazy situation right now and i promise im never going to let anything bad ever happen to you. i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that i can keep you safe y/n, hell we can even stay in japan for the rest of our lives if you want too y/n im willing to try” the loving words that leave his mouth have you in shock for a second or so, and your heart races in your chest at the sudden confession

“niki..” you trail off, “but what about your job?” you question “ i would quit in a heartbeat for you, we can both start fresh, please give it a chance” his voice is so sincere.

you think for a moment, your dad got assassinated your mom has probably fled for good and people are after you big time, you realise how you may have little to nothing good left back in korea, and the opposed risks of going back truly frighten you and the opportunity of a fresh start with a lot less risk is something you can’t afford to not take up and the offer really sparks up your brain.

fuck it let’s do it.

“you know what” you breath, and niki’s face brightens a bit “ yes, only if you really want too niki ill start fresh and give you a chance” you look into his eyes for assurance and he can’t help but smile so brightly at you pulling you in for a quick kiss, he feels like your smile lightened up the whole entire plane. “ i’m gonna take good care of you y/n i promise” he says in a warm voice as his thumb caresses your cheek gently.

the two of you land in japan, and you immediately feel so much more free and relaxed as niki communicates to the airport staff for you as you can’t speak japanese, though you find that utterly attractive but anyways. collecting your luggage and making you way out of the airport before catching transport to his home town.

the feeling of this once in a life time opportunity is so beautiful to you, a fresh start in a new country. you prepare to meet niki’s family the next day as a surprise and can’t help but feel nervous alongside excitement to meet new people.

meeting his family went extremely well, they took a strong really liking to you and you bonded so well with his siblings. also slowly starting to pick up the basics of japanese as niki gives you occasional lessons when needed otherwise you both communicate in korean any other time.

two years pass and you can’t be any more thankful for the opportunity of a fresh start, you haven’t had any opposed threats so far and seem to be un reachable from the people after you back in korea. and the thing your most grateful for?

you and niki got engaged.

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

[hwaslayer]

vivrant thing (jwy) | one.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.7k

—CHAPTER WARNINGS: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, mentions of a small car accident due to texting & driving (pls do not ever do this), lots of sibling bickering (i promise they love each other ok), alcohol consumption and intoxication, mentions of toxic relationships (not oc), mentions of sickness and death in immediate family

"Are you actually fucking kidding me?!" Jiwoo yells as she heads outside to meet her brother. "Wooyoung, you had one job!"

"And I got the job done, didn't I?" Wooyoung holds the grocery bag up. "Just got into a little accident, that's all." He points to the dent on the front of her car. 

"A little?! It's a huge dent! What did you do?! Mom!" Jiwoo yells as she heads back into the house. "I told you I didn't want Wooyoung driving my car!"

"Your car was already out in the driveway." Wooyoung adds, rolling his eyes as he leaves the grocery bag on the counter.

"Yeah, so ask me to move next time!"

"Stop yelling, your voice is giving me a headache. It's annoying."

"Mom! Dad!"

"Jiwoo, stop yelling." Their mom comes from out of the room, followed by their father. "You don't need to yell—"

"I do, because Wooyoung took my car and dented it!"

"What happened?" Their father asks, his hands on his hips.

"It was an accident—"

"You haven't even said sorry!"

"And I won't if you keep cutting me off and yelling." Wooyoung glares at her. "Yeah, fucking keep it up—"

"Hey!" Their father chimes in, cutting Wooyoung off. "The both of you, be quiet! I'm not going to ask again. What happened to your sister's car?"

"It was an accident." Jiwoo crosses her arms as Wooyoung repeats. "I just didn't brake in time so I gave the car in front of me a 'lil love tap."

"You were texting and driving, weren't you?"

"For the record, I responded to one text."

"Ugh." Jiwoo groans loudly. "I literally just got the car, Wooyoung!"

"Say sorry to your sister."

"Now, is that necessary? Cause I'll—"

"Jung Wooyoung." Their mother sternly calls for him, making Wooyoung let out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry." He looks at Jiwoo.

"You make sure that car gets fixed, Wooyoung. And take care of the costs. Your sister needs her car."

"What am I supposed to drive in the meantime?! Wooyoung's car?" Jiwoo smirks at him.

"Hell no!" Wooyoung spits. "You'll probably try and crash it into a tree the first chance you get."

"You can drive our SUV until it gets fixed."

"No!" Jiwoo looks at Wooyoung. "Wooyoung can just drive me around."

"I have shit to do that isn't on your time. Take the SUV." Jiwoo groans and rolls her eyes, brushing past her brother to get ready for the party.

"You're unbelievable. Seriously, what kind of brother are you?"

"Enough! Can we finally get ready for the bbq, please? People are going to be over soon. Can't get one moment of peace in this house when you two are home." Their mom checks the time, walking off to the kitchen with a loud sigh. "I hope you got everything from the list, Wooyoung." She yells just as she's about to dig into the bag.

"Wooyoung."

"What?"

"Be a little nicer to your sister."

"She's the one always jumping to conclusions and getting all mad. I didn't purposely try to get her car wrecked. At least I'm fine and not hurt, right?" Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"I know, and yes, thank god. But, still. All you two do is butt heads, jeez. Can't you both try and get along sometimes?" 

"Whatever." Wooyoung heads up to his room, already annoyed by the fact that he has to be here with his family all up on his case about the accident. He can admit, maybe he should've paid better attention on the road. But, it's the way none of them even asked if he was okay— Jiwoo constantly whining and yelling at him, his parents getting on his ass and backing her up. His little sister was definitely the favorite, being the top student and all. Golden child. Was in band and the church choir, never really rebelled. While Wooyoung skipped a class [or the whole day], talked back to his parents, stayed out late and just.. enjoyed having fun. He had his good days, but he also had his bad days. He wasn't necessarily cold, but he wasn't going to sugarcoat shit either.

He's a stark contrast to his little sister.

So, he shouldn't be surprised that his parents are taking her side. He shouldn't be surprised they'd come to her rescue first. He shouldn't be surprised at all. He can't wait to get the fuck up outta here when the bbq is over. He'll be out as soon as the morning hits, before any of them can wake up and pester him about anything else.

You gather your hair back and secure it with a claw clip, running your cherry-flavored chapstick across your lips before pressing them together to spread it out. You check yourself in the mirror once more, not entirely crazy about your outfit for Jiwoo's family bbq today.

But, it'll do.

You had known Jiwoo since elementary school, meeting her in the 2nd grade when you sat for lunch alone and the boisterous girl joined you. She was the new girl, but she surely didn't act like it and you admired that about her. Since then, she never left your side despite your shy nature— not engaging in much in the conversation, only humming a few words or sounds in response when she ran through list of never-ending questions. 

Even though her and Wooyoung were 2 years apart and very different, you felt like they were alike in many ways [which they'd deny until the very end].

That's how Jiwoo became your bestfriend. Because throughout all of life's changes, through your losses, she was your constant. She stayed, never wavered. Was your biggest support system alongside of your grandpa. Without her, you're not sure where you'd be. You owe alot of the push you've done in life to her.

yeosang: i'm downstairs!

you: cooooool, be down in a sec

*yeosang liked your message*

You check your outfit in the mirror once more, smoothing down the fabric before spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists. You press them together and rub it down your neck, down your clothes— a simple yellow floral tube top, white distressed jeans and your tore up chucks. It seemed fitting for a summer bbq; not one to wear dresses, shorts or mini skirts like that.

"Yo." Yeosang quickly scans your outfit just as you plop into the passenger seat and greet him. "You look nice."

"Thank you." You smile. "And thanks for picking me up." He reciprocates the smile, waiting for you to buckle up before driving off to Jiwoo's parents' house. From your tiny studio, it's about 25 minutes of a drive. Yeosang doesn't have to take the highway or anything, but he does have to navigate through the busy streets of the city before reaching their neighborhood. Jiwoo's parents celebrate their birthdays a day apart from each other, but it fell during the work week this year. So, they decided to throw a bbq with family and close friends on the weekend in order to be with everyone.

"What'd you do today?"

"I just went to get some groceries and bought a little gift for Jiwoo's parents. What about you?"

"Uh yeah, I just got their gift right before I picked you up." Yeosang chuckles. "Otherwise, I slept in a bit too much and by the time I knew it, half of my day was gone." You laugh.

"Yeo." You laugh. "You should really try waking up early. It's nice to get the most out of your day."

"It is, but you know what's also nice? Being under my covers." You laugh and shake your head, eyes fixed on the view through your window. The rest of the ride is comfortably silent with Yeosang's music playing in the background, especially since it isn't much of a drive. He does chime in here and there when he's reminded of random things he has to do or thinks about. Besides that, Yeosang is good at leaving you to your peace. When he pulls up to the street, he's having to park across from the house— Jiwoo's family and their close family friends already filling the spaces nearby.

"Oh! Y/N, Yeosang!" Jiwoo's mom sees you first, pulling you both into a hug before gesturing towards the kitchen. "Jiwoo is in here!" You both greet her happy birthday before following her into the chaotic scene that is the kitchen, Wooyoung quickly brushing past with a huge bowl of marinated beef in his hands and almost bumping into Jiwoo as she holds a huge pitcher filled with juice in her own.

"Wooyoung, move!" Jiwoo nudges him away and he glares at her.

"Stop! You'll make me drop this."

"What about me, butterfingers?"

"What about me, butterfingers?" He mocks her with a look before rolling his eyes and heading out to the backyard to meet his dad by the grill.

"I swear to God." She groans, before finally shifting her attention to you and Yeosang.

"Hi." You smile at her and you expect her mood to be lifted, but she continues to pout.

"Y/N, Yeo. Finally. Get me out of here. Please, let's just slip through the front door, no one will notice."

"Where's Joong? He has to come on our escape plan, too." You playfully go along with it.

"He's not here yet." She sighs.

"What's wrong?" Yeosang asks with a small chuckle. You look at Jiwoo with a slight head tilt, reading into the frustration in her eyes.

"Today is just so messy." She whines a bit, setting the pitcher down onto the main dining table. "Wooyoung's dumbass used my car and got into a little accident earlier."

"Oh, is he okay?"

"Yeah, look at him! He's the fucking same. But, you know what isn't? My car! The bumper is all dented and everything. You didn't see it walking into the house?" She lets out another frustrated groan and shakes her head. "Whatever, anyway, he's gonna make sure it gets fixed. He better."

"Was it his fault?"

"Yes." She sighs. "Texting and driving. Like an idiot."

"It'll be fine, Jiwoo. It's unfortunate, but I'm glad he's okay. I'm sure your brother will make sure it gets fixed in time." You add.

"He's so frustrating sometimes. Can't trust him with anything." You both follow her out to the backyard that is already filled with familiar faces. 

"It's okay, it'll get fixed." You give her a small smile and squeeze her arm. "Let's just enjoy today, okay?" She gives you a small smile and throws her arm around you, bringing you over to one of the free couches near the back corner of the yard. Some of her family members are playing badminton on the other side of the backyard, while another cousin is playing music and has Wooyoung and his friends hovering around, conveniently close to the grill.

"Oh, Y/N. I wish I could be like you, sometimes. So much patience and grace. Things I need to be successfully related to Wooyoung."

"You have it. Just.. needs more practice." Yeosang responds, making you chuckle. You finally find her dad and greet him happy birthday before greeting the rest of her family members. You, Jiwoo and Yeosang hang around the backyard for a bit, talking about work and the upcoming summer party. You don't chime in much, nor do you want to being that it'll be your third year not attending. Luckily, at this point, Jiwoo's boyfriend, Hongjoong, walks into the backyard and starts greeting everyone before he plops himself right next to Jiwoo.

"Yo! Sorry I'm a little late." He looks at you and Yeosang. "Friends! I missed you, guys. It's nice to see your faces." You laugh.

"Hi Joong."

"Where were you? I was texting and calling you!" She pouts. "We had an escape plan ready."

"Escape plan?" Joong cocks a brow up.

"Yes, so I can get away from this mess named Wooyoung and cry to myself in peace." 

"Baby, I'm sorry. I was caught up with my dad, he needed help with a few errands. The car will get fixed, okay? Glad no one was badly hurt." You smile to yourself as he kisses her on the temple. Hongjoong is a really good guy. He's perfect for Jiwoo and has a lot of patience for her. He cares for her a lot, and it's so clear you wouldn't ever second guess his feelings for her. He's selfless and would do anything for his lady without question.

You wonder what it'd be like to experience genuine true love like that. You've been in a relationship before but you couldn't exactly say it was love. Not a genuine, raw form of love, not a deep connection. Just a relationship where you learned about your partner and they learned about you, but that was far as it went. You don't remember feeling like the relationship was special, or like it was meant for you. It was more so another experience, another lesson in your book.

How does it feel to be completely, utterly, disgustingly in love and smitten with someone?

"I'll be back, I'm gonna get a drink." You mutter mid-conversation, getting up from the seat to head back into the kitchen. To your surprise, Wooyoung is there, sorting through some of the drinks set out.

"Oh, hey." Wooyoung gives you a small smile while you silently wait for him to move away from the counter where all the drinks are sitting— soda, juice and hard alcohol bottles spread across the surface. "Want me to make you something to drink?"

"Um." You softly respond. "It's alright, I was just gonna grab some juice." You point at the pitcher.

"You sure? You aren't driving anyway, right?" He points to Yeosang who is now talking to one of their cousins near the wading pool. 

"Mmyeah, I came here with Yeo."

"Alright then." He smirks. "I'll make it pretty light, hm?"

"Okay." You smile sweetly at him. You've always had the sweetest smile and Wooyoung does enjoy seeing it, he won't lie. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

"Course." You twiddle with your fingers as you watch Wooyoung make a pretty concoction in a cocktail shaker, pouring in peach schnapps and cranberry juice with a dash of vodka. He transfers the drink into a fresh cup, handing it over with a smile on his face. "Wanna taste it before you go?" You sip on the drink, eyes lighting up at how good it tasted. You weren't exactly a fan of cocktails [or alcohol in general], though you wouldn't turn down a drink or two on some occasions.

"Mm, it's good!" He chuckles.

"Yeah? Kinda pulled the measurements out of my ass but I didn't put too much vodka."

"What're you doing?" Jiwoo walks into the kitchen.

"Listening to Y/N tell me how good my drink is." She looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"You don't have to lie to him." You giggle.

"It's actually good." You hand her your cup to taste the drink. She takes a good sip and nods in approval, shifting her attention to her brother.

"She wouldn't lie to me." Wooyoung winks at you.

"Can you make me one?"

"Nah. Bar's closed now. See what all that doubting does?" Wooyoung puts the lid back onto the vodka bottle before turning on his heel to walk away.

"You're a dick."

"Love you too." He says as he walks outside and returns to his bestfriend, San.

"You okay?" You ask her as she pours some juice into her cup.

"Yeah, I just came in here wondering why it was taking you so long to get juice." You laugh as you follow her back out into the backyard and to Yeosang and Hongjoong.

"Caught your bartending brother before he closed."

"Bartending brother?" Yeosang and Hongjoong both ask.

"Mm, Wooyoung made Y/N a drink and didn't even make me one." They laugh.

"Of course."

"Anyway, do you guys wanna sit at the wading pool? Dip our feet in and watch my family act a fool?"

"Sure. That sounds fun." Yeosang shrugs.

Throughout the rest of the bbq, you, Jiwoo, Hongjoong and Yeosang engage in a few other activities with her cousins besides hanging around the wading pool with her baby cousins— karaoke, some rounds of badminton, watching Jiwoo go head to head with her brother and older cousins in beer pong. From time to time, you catch Wooyoung looking over at you, giving off tiny smiles to be friendly. It isn't entirely uncommon, Wooyoung was always nice to you despite the distance. You don't talk much, but he doesn't necessarily treat you like a stranger especially after all these years.

It's a nice thing about him, their family— they're there for you.

They're there for you so much that Jiwoo comes up with the most incredible [in her terms] idea while she catches you cheering for Wooyoung during the very last round of beer pong against their cousins. It gets rowdier and rowdier, Wooyoung and his cousins yelling back and forth; their voices echoing into the sky. You try to sink behind Yeosang, jumping at the sudden cheers and random banging.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a little loud." You scrunch your nose, Yeosang throwing his arm around you to provide some kind of comfort during the round. When evening officially hits, the partying doesn't stop. If anything, it gets a little more rowdy with alcohol running through everyone's system. 

"Oh, fuck!" Wooyoung says, the beer tipping out of his cup when his cousin rams into him and spilling onto your jeans. 

"Jung Wooyoung!" You hear his mom yell while his dad laughs alongside of her, nudging her to let it go.

"Oh shit, Y/N. I'm so sorry." He looks at you before glaring at his cousin. "You dipshit, look at what you did!"

"Wooyoung!" Jiwoo yells, dabbing a napkin to the wet spot on your jeans.

"It's okay, Jiwoo—" You try to chime in, but your response gets drowned within the ruckus.

"It's Sebeom's fault, not mine! Why is everyone calling my name!"

"You both are idiots!" She groans, taking another napkin to your leg.

"The hell is the napkin gonna do, Jiwoo?" Wooyoung sets his cup down before gently grabbing your wrist. "Let's go dab some water on that." You silently follow behind, letting Wooyoung politely drag you into the kitchen. He's clearly drunk, fighting with the paper towel roll before he successfully peels off a few sheets and runs it under the water.

"Wooyoung, it's okay. I can always throw it in the wash."

"Still, it'll get sticky and smell like beer in the meantime." He says, crouching down and dabbing the wet towel to the spilled beer on your jeans. "I'm sorry, Y/N. You know how my family gets."

"It's alright." You watch as he pinches the edge of your jeans and tugs it outwards, widening the surface area as he continues to wipe away. 

"It might look worse at first, but the water will help." He clicks his teeth. "Did it get anywhere else on you?" 

"Just my left arm but it's fine—" He stands, albeit a bit wobbly at first, taking another end of the napkin to dab away at the small wet spots on your arm.

"Okay." He says, tossing the tissue away. "Better." He gives you a toothless smile. "Won't do it again."

"Thank you, Wooyoung. It's fine, it's not a big deal. Really."

"As long as I did a better job than Jiwoo." He says, leading you back out to the backyard.

"You made it worse!" Jiwoo yells.

"It gets worse before it gets better! Plus, the beer smell won't be lingering." Wooyoung scoffs. "At least Y/N is grateful for it." As soon as you've settled next to your friends, everyone begins to sing happy birthday to Wooyoung and Jiwoo's parents before digging in for more food and sharing the ginormous cake Jiwoo ordered from a mutual friend. Wooyoung brushes Jiwoo off to the side, determining that he has the best cake-cutting skills between the both of them.

"Here, Y/N. For you." Wooyoung hands you a hefty slice of cake, eyes still glazed over from the alcohol he had been drinking. You watch as he licks the icing from his thumb, shaking his head in ironic approval. "The cake is so good. Thank god Jiwoo got it right for once—"

"Wooyoung, shut up!" 

"Don't start again!" Their mom yells from the other end of the table, yet the two continue to bicker. You, Hongjoong and Yeosang stay out of it and eat away at the cake, continuing to mingle with their family members for the rest of the night until Yeosang feels his social battery dying.

"You ready? We could stay if you want, though." You shake your head.

"I'm good. Let's go say bye to Jiwoo and her parents." He nods. You find Jiwoo first, talking to one of her aunts off to the side. You squeeze her wrist as a signal that you and Yeo are getting ready to leave, her eyes widening. Bottom lip poking out. Whines ready to leave her lips.

"Nooo, you're leaving me? Please take me with you." You laugh and rub her back as you pull away from the hug.

"You'll see me tomorrow. I'll be expecting you to come over."

"First thing in the morning. Leave some room in your bed." Yeosang shakes his head and turns to Hongjoong to bid him farewell.

"Make sure you bring her girlfriend home safely." Hongjoong says seriously, patting Yeosang on the back. 

"Will do." He nods. You follow Yeosang out towards the front door, clinging onto his sleeve as you navigate the busy house. You almost slip out successfully until Wooyoung pauses in his steps, doing a double-take when he catches you on his way back to the backyard.

"You're leaving?" You nod, chuckling to yourself when you see him drunk-whining just like his sister. "It's early!" He whines a bit. "Were you not gonna say bye to me? I thought we were cool, Y/N."

"Bye Wooyoung." You wrap your arms around his waist as he pulls you into a rough, but tight bear hug. "Bye San." You wave at San, in which he responds with a tiny smile and wave.

"Drive safely!" He calls out before leaving. You finally get out of the house, Yeosang waiting for you by the front door. You're not even gonna lie, you are pretty exhausted already, and you're excited to get washed up to lay in bed and pick up your current read. Jiwoo's family was always fun, so lively and full of energy. They fit so well together, like they were all perfectly molded and crafted as one. They've become like your second family, and you wished you had your own you could be the same with. But, that also goes to say, their parties always leave you exhausted.

When Yeosang gets you home, you thank him for the ride and give him a hug once he's dropped you off at the door. You slowly waddle into the studio, a smile on your face when you see your bed, your nightlight— the smell of incense still lingering in the room. You quickly hop in the shower and get ready for bed, looking at the big, bright 10:27pm in white on your nightstand clock. You slip into bed, getting cozy under your sheets before grabbing your book. Jiwoo is texting you and Yeosang pictures from today, including ones of her cousins getting crazy during beer pong.

Today was fun. It's over, and it was fun.

Today is not over for Jiwoo, though.

A few of their family members linger around while Jiwoo and her mom continue to clean around the house. She orders her lazy ass brother to haul out the bags of trash to the garbage can and to clean up the remaining mess from the beer pong game out in the backyard. Once all of the cleaning as finished, Jiwoo rushes to the bathroom to beat her brother for a shower. She feels like she can finally relax, finally settle down, finally set her plan in motion—

"I need you to do me a favor." Jiwoo leans against the doorframe of Wooyoung's old room as he folds his clothes neatly into his duffle bag, grabbing a new pair of clothes to change into once he's showered.

"Depends." He mutters, not taking his eyes off of his bag.

"No, you at least owe me this." He scoffs.

"Nevermind, I need to shower. Come back to me in 3-5 business days—"

"You didn't even make me a drink earlier!

"Not my fault you doubted my bartending skills." He furrows his brows. "Plus, I already told you I was getting your car fixed."

"Great, then you can do one more favor for me." Wooyoung sighs as he turns to look at her.

"What, Jiwoo?"

"Can you be Y/N's date to our company's summer party?"

"What?" Wooyoung furrows his brows and lets out a pathetic chuckle. "You're kidding, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean? She's my bestfriend."

"Yeah, clearly. Why can't she find someone else to go with her? Like that guy you two are close with, Yeosang?"

"Um, that's weird." She furrows her brows. "That won't do. If she wanted to go with him, she would've done it a long time ago. You know her. She hasn't gone the past two years, I'm not gonna let her pass up on this one."

"So then go ask your man if he has a friend he can spare?"

"She's not gonna wanna go with any of his friends!"

"Too damn bad."

"You cleaned up her jeans like a saint earlier!" 

"Because it was the right thing to do! What does that even have to do with this?!"

"Wooyoung." She whines, almost stomping her foot. Wooyoung pauses to look back up at her.

"Even if I agreed, you do know how awkward this might be, right? Not only for me, but for her, too." Wooyoung shrugs. "I know she's been your bestfriend for years but we aren't exactly close like that. We're two very different people. We can't exactly spend a whole evening together. Alone."

"I'll be there with Hongjoong."

"That's what I said. We'd be alone." Jiwoo groans.

"She'd definitely be more comfortable with you than someone else!"

"Doubt that. She's quiet and shy. Very much the opposite of me?"

"Yeah, big ass mouth."

"That can be useful." He smirks, making Jiwoo wince in disgust.

"You're so disgusting, Wooyoung. Maybe I should take this back."

"You really think she'd play along with this?"

"Yes!" Wooyoung squints his eyes.

"You didn't even tell her about this plan, did you?"

"She'll go along with it. Please. I just want her to go and have fun for once."

"Hm." He hums, deep in thought. "Nah."

"Just one night!" Wooyoung sighs.

"No."

"Wooyoung!" She pouts.

"Jiwoo, seriously. Quit."

"You owe me! I've had your back so many times, and I've never asked you for anything else out of the ordinary." He looks at Jiwoo and he actually feels a bit bad about the car situation. And it's true, even though they don't always get along, Jiwoo has always had his back and covered for him when she didn't entirely need to. She's always had his back even when he didn't really deserve it. He subtly nibbles on the inside of his cheek, letting out a deep sigh before shaking his head.

"Whatever. Tell me the details." She squeals and he quickly turns. "And by the way, this is your idea. Not mine. I'm only doing you a favor so you can stop hounding me about the car. It's one night and that's it. If she gets mad, that's all on you."

"Fine. Consider your debt paid." She gives him a small smile. "Thank you."

"What are you talking about, Jiwoo?"

"I want you to go to the party and have fun." She pouts a bit, brushing your hair away from your face. You furrow your brows at her, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

"But, parties aren't really my thing." You shrug. "And besides, I don't really have anyone to go with. I hate to say it, but I don't wanna show up alone. Everyone has dates they can bring. You have Hongjoong." You look over Jiwoo's shoulder and catch Yeosang talking to his team members at the far end of the room. He catches you looking over, flashing you a small smile before returning his attention to his coworker.

Yeosang was great, no lie. He was a good guy, everyone could see that from miles away. He was smart, diligent, kind, and the biggest team player. He started at the same time as your cohort of new hires, Jiwoo starting a couple of months beforehand. When you saw him in person, you did find him attractive. He was at a good height and well-built, black flowy hair framing his chiseled face. At first, you thought Yeosang was just being nice to you. But, slowly, he'd accompany you to the break room for coffee breaks. Bring you coffee and pastries from another shop on random mornings. Occasional outings to lunch. Until finally, he'd accompany you to casual dinners where it felt a little too serious to be considered casual— you just didn't wanna dwell on it. Too shy to say anything or bring it up because your brain goes on overdrive and makes you think you're reading into this more than you should.

He was just your friend, being your friend. So you'd like to think.

You weren't really sure what you wanted out of this, but at this moment in time, you felt like Yeosang was good enough as that. If people found out you weren't entirely into him, they'd probably think you're crazy. And you probably are, but as much as you appreciate Yeosang's company and his kindness, you fear you'd be forcing yourself into something with him.

That's not what you think Yeosang deserves.

If anything were to develop, you'd like it to develop naturally. It hasn't yet, so maybe this was a sign that you two were actually better off as friends? You're not good at this whole dating thing, reading into signs and signals.

"I know you don't really wanna go with him either."

"It's not that. I just feel like it'd be awkward and I'd ruin our friendship. It'd feel way too forced for me."

"Y/N, you're gonna have to tell him sooner or later." You shake your head. "Then?"

"Then, I don't know. I just don't know about him. That's why I'm perfectly fine staying home and being away from all of that."

"What if my brother goes with you?" Your eyes widen.

"W-Wooyoung?" She nods. "No, Jiwoo. Is this what this is all about?"

"Look, don't get mad, okay? Just hear me out." You cross your arms as she lets out a breath. "I asked my brother to accompany you to the party and he agreed to go."

"What?!" You say a bit louder than expected. "Is it because he feels bad for me?"

"No! Shh!" Jiwoo furrows her brows at you. "I mean, he also owes me, but—" 

"Jiwoo, I'm not a charity case!" You harshly whisper.

"I know, I know! You aren't. I just really want you to go." Truthfully, if this were any other person or circumstance, you'd probably feel a little hurt [even with good intentions]. You'd certainly feel like a charity case, and you'd feel sorry for yourself; especially for having to be set up in this way.

But, you're surprisingly not all that hurt by it.

Again, you know Jiwoo has good intentions and she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. She does have a point— you haven't really gone to any of the big summer parties. You didn't mind it, but now that you think about it, you feel like you can't hide forever. The feeling of missing out settles in the pit of your stomach, and it's awful.

You're probably the only person who ducks out on these things. You're the one to blame for choosing not to be involved and for shielding yourself away from people, any inconvenience, etc. Shielding yourself away from fun, happiness. Life doing its thing.

"Mm yeah." You look at her. "I'm not close to your bother like that, though." It's true despite how he can be in person. Although you and Jiwoo were glued to the hip growing up, Wooyoung had his own group of friends and didn't pay much attention to you and his little sister. You both knew the basics about each other, have gone on trips together, tagged along with Wooyoung when he was the only means of transportation for you and Jiwoo. Why would he be worried about you, anyway? You two were busy fangirling over B2K, young Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You and Sean Patrick Thomas in Save the Last Dance, screaming at the top of your lungs whenever your favorite songs came on and shopping for hours at the same mall almost every weekend.

Not exactly Wooyoung's cup of tea.

Wooyoung was always rough-housing with his friends or going on casual 'dates' with different girls, blasting his 90s music in his room [like Vivrant Thing by Q-Tip, it's his fave] that'd shake Jiwoo's walls and drive her crazy. He had a few relationships that always ended up crazy toxic and you've seen the girls crying over him on their doorstep or throwing shit at his window to grab his attention after days of no communication. Despite that, he's not entirely a bad brother. He did his best to support Jiwoo throughout all her milestones in life, never missing an important event or being there for her when she needed her brother more than anyone else. They bicker and fight. A lot. But, they'd be there for each other in a heartbeat if needed. No question.

"You are, enough! You know he's full of himself and gross." You give her a look.

"Okay, really? That's supposed to make this better?"

"Sorry, kidding. Just my defense mechanism as his sister." She crosses her arms and sighs. "But, Wooyoung isn't exactly a stranger. And knowing my brother, he'd lead the entire time. Just let him accompany you to the party and call it a night! At least you'll be there with me and we can have fun together."

"You're gonna be busy with Hongjoong." You slowly walk back to your desk.

"I'm not. At least not entirely." 

"Jiwoo." You look at her.

"I won't be too busy with him! I promise." Jiwoo looks at the date on your computer. "It's up to you, Wooyoung already agreed. But, today's the last day to RSVP."

"I feel bad, I told Yeosang I wasn't going."

"This isn't entirely how I'd go about things but hey, he'll see you with my brother. Maybe that'll initiate a talk, and you can tell him you don't want to ruin your friendship."

"Mm." You hum and pull up the email with the RSVP button, not really trying to think about the whole thing too deeply. "I don't have anything to wear."

"It's fine, we'll go shopping soon! We have some time before the party." She softly squeals as she watches you type away and send off your RSVP.

"Jiwoo, I don't know how to get ready for these things. I can't even do my hair and makeup properly."

"Babe. I will help you get this sorted out. Don't even worry. We're gonna have fun! It'll be good. I'm just happy you're finally coming." You give her a small smile.

"I hope it'll be good." Your bottom lip slightly pokes out. "Am I supposed to text your brother and thank him?"

"No. Don't worry about him."

"He's accompanying me to the party, of course—"

"Seriously, don't. It'll be fine. I promise."

"Papa?" You gently open the door and walk in, setting your shoes aside.

"Is that my girl?" Your grandfather comes from around the kitchen, holding two small bowls of rice in his hand. "You made it in time for dinner!"

"I can never miss dinner with you." You giggle, stepping out of your shoes and placing your things down before taking your place at the table. "How was your day today, papa?"

"Good." He sits in front of you with a smile.

"Did you exercise like you promised?"

"Yes." He gives you a look, making you chuckle. Your grandfather was 77 years old and still active, still healthy as can be. When you moved out, you made him promise he'd continue his exercise regimen and that he'd continue to keep himself healthy with wholesome foods. Reading. Going out and exploring the town. After all these years, he's the only one who has taken care of you well— having lost your mom and dad at an early age due to illnesses, same thing with your grandma. Despite the adversity, your grandpa made sure to put you first even if he was hurting, if he was tired, if he was stressed. He never took that out on you. He never made you feel like you were a burden, or like there was love lacking under his roof.

It was time for you to do the same.

"Good." 

"How was the bbq?"

"Good! It was fun. Loud. Chaotic. Per usual at the Jung household." He laughs.

"Sounds like you had a good time." You nod. "How about work?"

"It was okay. It was pretty busy at first, but eventually settled." You avoid contact, digging into your rice when you grab a piece of samgyeopsal sitting in front of you. He watches you closely, seeing how you've gotten quieter in the last few minutes, signaling you were hiding something.

"Did else happen today that's making you watch the rice in your bowl?" You give off a tiny laugh and shake your head.

"Mm, well. Jiwoo convinced me to go to the summer party."

"You're going?" He smiles from ear to ear, happy to hear that you're finally going to enjoy yourself at the summer party you always avoided. He never forced you to do things outside of your comfort zone, but he did wish you'd go and enjoy yourself from time to time. Be happy. Have fun. "Good, I'm happy you're going! Is Jiwoo going with Hongjoong?"

"Mhm!"

"Then.." Papa looks at you with a small smirk. "Are you going with Yeosang?" You shake your head.

"N-no."

"No?" He looks at you, surprised. You've definitely talked to your grandfather about Yeosang and how you were feeling about everything. Even then, he was still surprised you weren't going together as friends.

"I'm going with Wooyoung."

"Jiwoo's brother?" You nod.

"Papa, it's kinda stupid. The way everything happened and how I ended up going."

"Nothing is stupid. Try me. How did you end up with Wooyoung as your date?"

"Well, now I'm gonna sound like a charity case."

"You are not." You give your grandpa a look before stuffing your face with more rice and pork.

"Wooyoung got into a little accident while using Jiwoo's car."

"Is he alright?" You nod.

"Yes, he's okay. Jiwoo is having him cover the car.. but also slipped in another favor." You shyly look up as you continue to nibble on your food, and your grandpa laughs.

"Ah, and that favor is the party, I'm assuming."

"Yeah. It's silly."

"It's not. She's coming from a good place and just wants you there. The whole car thing is unfortunate but for her, seems to be the right stroke of luck to get her bestfriend at the summer party." You giggle.

"I guess you could say that." You sigh. "I'm just worried about Yeosang. I told him I wasn't going and I'm not sure I will."

"You'll just show up with Wooyoung?" You shrug.

"I don't know how to do these things, Papa. I don't wanna hurt him, but I really can't see myself being his date or taking this further. I don't know what to say or how to say it yet."

"Eventually, you're gonna have to, you know that, right? For the sake of your friendship. He seems like a great guy, and I'm sure he'll understand whatever the case is, Y/N."

"I know." You shake your head. "I will. But, not now." Papa nods quietly before eating another spoonful.

"It'll turn out fine, okay? Don't worry about it too much."

"Thank you." You softly smile.

"Anyways, back to Wooyoung—" He pauses to eat some more. "It's not the most common way to find a date. But, weirdly, I'm glad it happened this way. I want you to go and have fun." You silently look at him. "Life doesn't slow down, you don't get any younger. Take the opportunities no matter how silly it may sound at first. Make more memories."

"I know. I'm just.. I feel awful that Wooyoung even has to go with me. He's probably going to have the worst time."

"Don't say that. He's going with you and the both of you will have fun. Let yourself have fun. Plus, it's Wooyoung. You know him. I'm sure he'll do what he can to make sure you are comfortable."

"I guess so."

"Enjoy, and have fun. Don't worry about anything, promise me that?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I can ask for." Because all he wanted was to see you happy. Genuinely happy in your own skin. Enjoying yourself. Having fun. 

All he wanted was to see you smile over life again.

—PERMANENT TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid

[pensthoughts]

home turf | v.p

pairing: adult!van palmer x reader summary: fresh out of college, you’re stuck in new jersey helping your niece while your sister’s away. taking her to soccer practice is easy—except for the part where her hot coach keeps distracting you.  word count: 2.1k contains: age gap, flirting, soccer coach van

you didn’t think “post-grad” would mean living in your sister’s mansion in new jersey, driving her kid to soccer practice in a mercedes you don’t pay the insurance on, and googling “freelance jobs that don’t suck” from a poolside lounge chair. 

but here you are. 

your sister, madison—42, divorced, high-powered tech exec—got told she was being pulled out to california for work a couple weeks after you graduated. “three months,” she said, breezily, over a glass of wine that cost more than your entire college meal plan. “you get a free place to stay. i get someone i trust with sophia. win-win.”

her mansion feels like a hotel lobby and smells like lemon and linen. every room has a different diffuser. your socks slide on the marble when you forget to walk like you’re rich. 

madison calls it the house, but it’s got seven bedrooms and two staircases and a backyard so big you could lose a child in it. even though she’s not home, she’s still involved. she facetimes like a sitcom mom, with her makeup done and perfect lighting and a voice all sunny and composed. 

you’re not used to it yet. not the house, not the way your niece says “we have a gardener”, not how quiet it gets when she leaves for school and you’re alone with your thoughts and the fridge full of green juice that costs as much as a car. 

but you said yes. because you love your niece. because your sister asked. because you just finished college, and money’s tight, and the rent at home was making you spiral. so now you’re in new jersey. living in your sister’s mansion, figuring out what comes next. 

madison is almost 20 years older than you, and it shows. she was married and pregnant by the time you were in the first grade. you grew up on opposite ends of the same childhood; her with your dad’s first wife in new jersey, and you with the second in a new york city apartment. you only overlapped when she came home for holidays, looking like someone off tv, with a different car and haircut every time. 

she helped raise you when your mom was sick, though. and after the funeral, she paid for the rest of your college like it was nothing. 

you’re not sure if she’s more your sister or your boss. but you owe her. and now you owe her daughter too. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

your niece is a phenom. that’s what the newspaper said. 

freshman starting varsity. number 9. seven goals in her first two games. she’s got madison’s determination and your footwork. you’d say it’s genetics, but mostly she’s just obsessed. wakes up early to train. watches tape. has her cleats lined up like museum pieces in the garage. 

you love her, even when she’s smug. especially when she’s smug. it’s familiar. a little too familiar. 

she looks up to you. you won nationals back in high school, after all. you were supposed to go far—college scholarships, olympic qualifiers, maybe even pro—but injuries happen. life happens. you haven’t played in years, but it’s in your bones. you can still see the angles on the field before anyone else can. you still dream in cleats. 

which is probably why you keep ending up at practice. 

it starts innocently. drop-offs. pick-ups. then she asks you to stay and watch. then she says coach palmer likes when the parents show up, even if you’re technically not a parent, and suddenly you’re in the bleachers four afternoons a week. 

you’d like to say it’s for your niece. but then there’s her. 

van palmer. 

coach palmer, to everyone else. forty-two. red hair always shoved under a hat. lives in sweatpants and track jackets like it’s a uniform. she owns a video store downtown called while you were streaming—yes, it’s real, yes, it somehow stays open—and she only coaches soccer on the side, “for fun” she once said, like running drills and barking from the sidelines is her version of a wine hobby. 

you notice her the first day. how could you not? 

she’s magnetic in that older-lesbian, scruffy-hot, fixes things with duct tape and charm kind of way. her voice carries. she swears under her breath and laughs like she means it and has this way of whistling that makes the whole field snap to attention. 

and she notices you too. 

you’re sitting on the bleachers one afternoon, sunglasses perched on your head, drinking some overpriced juice from madison’s fridge, when she wanders over during a water break. 

“let me guess,” she says, stopping just a few feet from you, hands on hips. “you’re madison’s little sister.”

you blink. “uh… yeah. how��d you—?”

“you’ve got her eyes,” van says. “and you’re not a student. unless they’re letting college grads back in with fake IDs.”

you snort, which is humiliating, but she just smiles wider.

“i’m van. palmer. coach,” she adds, jerking her thumb toward the field like you didn’t just watch her command the team like a general. “i went to school with madison.” 

you smile. “yeah. i’m not a parent. i’m the cool aunt.”

van grins. “ah, the most powerful of all family roles.”

you nod solemnly. “we don’t pay the bills, but we do buy the secret candy stash.”

“i respect that.”

there’s a pause. you both look out at the field, your niece arguing with another girl over who gets to take the next corner.

“she’s good,” van says. 

you smile. “she’s so smug about it.”

“i’d be smug too.”

you glance over. “is that a coach thing? or a former player thing?”

she shrugs. “both. played in high school. team was supposed to go to nationals.” her voice dips there—just slightly—and you catch something in it, like the weight of memory. 

you remember reading something once. a team that never made it. a plane crash. a rumor that felt too big to be real. 

but van’s already switching gears. she taps the bleachers with her knuckles. “you play?”

you pause. “used to.”

van’s eyes cut back to you, curious. “how used to?”

“high school. nationals.” you say, mentioning nationals makes you feel slightly odd, considering what she probably went through because of it.

her eyebrows lift. “damn. you win?”

“yeah. barely.” you smirk. “why, you wanna recruit me?”

she grins, wide and a little wicked. “only if you’ve got four years of eligibility and a fake birth certificate.” 

you laugh—genuinely this time—and van chuckles with you, kicking lightly at the grass with the toe of her sneaker. 

there’s a pause, then she says, “you’re gonna be picking sophia up most days? 

you nod. "until her mom gets back. i’m the live-in aunt-slash-temporary guardian.” 

van whistles, low. “big house for two people.”

you give her a look. “you been creeping on our property?”

“nah,” she says, grinning again. “small town. you can see the gate from the road.”

you roll your eyes. “it’s not my mansion.”

“but you’re staying there?”

“temporarily.”

“hm.” she tilts her head. “so what, you just hang out by the pool all day?”

you shoot her a dry look. “only when i’m not updating my résumé or submitting applications to jobs i’m underqualified for.”

“ah,” she nods sagely. “you’re in your ‘screaming into the void’ phase.”

“exactly.”

van smiles like she knows the feeling a little too well. then someone yells “coach!” and she turns her head.

“duty calls,” she says, “nice meeting you…?”

you give her your name, and she repeats it once, like she’s locking it in. 

“cool,” she says, “try not to distract the team with your whole…” she gestures vaguely toward you, “…vibe.”

you laugh, surprised. “my vibe?”

“i don’t know. you’ve got this sunglasses-and-smoothie energy. it’s very SoCal”

“i’m from new york.”

she whistles. “dangerous combo.”

she then jogs back onto the field without another word. 

you sit there, a little stunned, sipping your smoothie like it didn’t just become the most embarrassing beverage in the world. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

that night, your niece finds you in the kitchen. 

“so,” she says, casual as anything. “coach palmer talked to you today.”

you try to play it cool. “she talks to all the parents.”

“you’re not a parent.”

“i’m parent-adjacent.”

she snorts. “she totally thinks you’re hot.”

you almost choke on your water. “excuse me?”

“she kept looking at you. like looking looking. she never talks to anyone during water breaks.” 

you open your mouth, close it, and point at her. “you are fifteen. you are not allowed to have gaydar yet.”

she just laughs and walks away. 

and you stand there, in your sister’s designer kitchen, heartbeat loud in your ears, trying not to smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

whole foods is somehow both overwhelming and peaceful at nine a.m.

it’s a saturday, and you’re there with your niece, shopping for ingredients for a smoothie she swears by—"it’s what all the girls on the u17 national team drink"—when you turn a corner in the produce aisle and almost ram your cart into another. 

“woah—” comes a voice. “either you’re following me, or you’re trying to run me over.”

you look up. van, standing on the other side of the cart, a bunch of bananas in one hand and a lazy grin on her face.

she’s wearing joggers and a white t-shirt, no hat today, hair slightly messy, like she just rolled out of bed and still managed to look unfairly good. 

“maybe both,” you say, recovering quickly. “you looked like you needed to be humbled.”

“oof,” she says, holding a hand to her chest. “brutal. and here i was gonna compliment your fruit selection.”

you glance down. organic strawberries, overpriced peaches, some kale you regret grabbing. 

“it’s for her,” you say, nodding toward your niece, who’s already halfway down the aisle, pretending not to look but very obviously watching you both. 

“of course it is,” van says. “madison used to make smoothies like that. back in high school, she was the health queen. cheer captain, straight As, SAT tutor. i think she even ran a charity one summer just for fun.”

you laugh. “yep. that sounds about right.”

“you were raised in the city, though, yeah?” she asks, nudging her cart alongside yours as you move toward the bulk granola. “i remember you mentioned it. didn’t your dad move after the divorce?”

“yeah. me and my mom were in the upper west side until—” you cut yourself off, because you don’t usually say it so early in a conversation. but van’s watching you like she actually cares. so you finish, quieter. “until she passed.”

van’s expression softens. “sorry.”

you shrug. “it was a while ago. madison stepped up. she’s kind of intense, but she means well.”

van snorts. “understatement of the decade.”

you grin. “what about you? you grow up around here?”

“born and raised,” she says, grabbing some trail mix. “i left for a while. came back eventually. too many ghosts out west, i guess.”

you glance at her. there’s something under that. but she doesn’t elaborate. and you don’t push. 

“so what brings you to whole foods on a saturday morning?” you ask.

she shrugs. “needed coffee. and peanut butter. and apparently a run-in with a pretty girl in the fruit aisle.”

you freeze for half a second. pretty girl. you.

van meets your gaze, completely unbothered, like she didn’t just casually wreck your brain with a sentence. 

“do you flirt like this with all the aunts?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

“only the hot ones,” she says, then winks.

your niece coughs loudly behind you. you whirl around.

“are we done?” she says, way too innocent. 

you nod, quickly. “almost.”

“coach palmer,” she says, smiling sweetly, “you should come over sometime. we’ve got a pool. and a grill.”

van raises an eyebrow. “is that so?”

“yeah. my mom would totally approve. she loves community engagement.”

you stare at her. she stares back, victorious.

“well,” van says, grinning. “i do like a good grill.”

you clear your throat. “okay. we’re gonna check out now.”

“see you at practice,” van says, and her gaze lingers for just a second longer than necessary. 

as you walk away, pushing the cart a little too fast, your niece smirks. 

“what?” you ask, trying to sound stern.

“nothing,” she sing-songs. “just saying…you’ve got game.”

“i do not have game.”

“you had her blushing. coach palmer. blushing.”

you roll your eyes, but your face is warm.

and later, as you’re unpacking the groceries in the massive lemon-scented kitchen, you realize you can’t stop smiling. 

you kind of want her to come over. 

you kind of want her to stay.

[mommyslittlebird]

That’s What Mama’s Do

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

An early Christmas gift from Wanda encourages you to indulge your curiosities, and Wanda learns she can be a bit rougher with you than she originally thought.

CW: Stepmother/Stepdaughter, guilt, sexual exploration, flashbacks, anal (R receiving), spitting, strap ons (R receiving), spanking, inexperienced reader, mentions of videos taken during sex, dirty talk

Word Count: ~4.7k

A/N: It’s back and I’m so excited! I’ve extended this series to be at least 6 parts now, so get pumped everyone. I just kept having more and more ideas.

A/N: So definitely not 48 hours but like kinda close?? I was struggling with this part and I still think it might have worked better as a drabble, but I think it works anyway. This part isn’t nearly as Freudian, but there’s more of that to come in future parts! I hope you all still enjoy!

Thank you @marvelwomenarehot0 for reading this like 5 times and reassuring me I’m FINE

Part 3 of Her Special Girl

The days were filled with peppermint hot chocolate, soft blankets, Christmas movies by the fireplace, and lots and lots of cuddles. You and Wanda were practically velcroed to one another, completely inseparable. The two of you preferred to stay mostly at the house together, seeing as you couldn’t be nearly as affectionate when there were other people around in public.

What had started as an unpleasant fluke in your Christmas break, had turned out to be the best Christmas present you could ever ask for.

One this particular afternoon, you and Wanda were dancing together to Christmas music in the living room. She had you pulled close to her chest, gently swaying you back and forth to the jovial holiday music. But louder than both the music and her heartbeat, one thought came blaring through your mind.

How could you ever leave this? How could you leave her, alone? How could you ever be so selfish?

You leaned back so you could see her face. “Mama?” You interjected. Your eyes searched her’s, looking for a way to ease the guilt in your heart.

“Yes, little love?” She smiled down at you with a heart full of love and admiration. If she was holding resentment against you for leaving, she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

You swallowed nervously. “Could I give you one of your Christmas presents?” You asked. You hoped experiencing her joy upon receiving your gift would quell the aching guilt. “I have more to give you on Christmas. I just wanted to give you a special one while it’s still just the two of us.”

Her smile widened. “Of course, sweet girl. How about we do a special little gift exchange with just us. You know how hectic it gets on Christmas Day.” She bent forward and whispered into your ear. “Plus, I have a present for you that no one else is allowed to see.”

Your heartbeat quickened. She chuckled as she watched a blush rise to your cheeks. She smirked, drawing a medium sized box out from behind the tree. You followed suit, picking out a small box placed carefully on top of the pile of presents. You’d taken extra special care to wrap it nicely for her. You’d been excited about giving her this gift for a while now.

“You first,” you insisted, setting her gift down on the couch after she handed it to you.

You handed her the box, chewing your lip nervously. She unwrapped it meticulously, slowly pulling away the tape without ripping the paper.

Inside was a rectangular jewelry box, off white with a golden W.M. pressed into the center. She opened the lid and gasped as she revealed a gold chain necklace with three stones pressed into the center. The biggest one, in the middle was your birthstone, and on either size shone two aquamarines, the twins’ birthstone.

“Honey this is beautiful,” she said, pulling the necklace from the box. “But this must’ve cost you a fortune.”

You shook your head. “Not a fortune. I promise it wasn’t exorbitant. The gold was a gift from dad from a couple years ago, but…”

“You only wear silver,” Wanda finished for you. She chuckled at the general cluelessness of her husband, thinking he could just buy the most expensive thing on the shelf and you’d love it.

You nodded, smiling a little at the thought that Wanda remembered such a detail. You gently took the necklace from Wanda’s hands, clipping it around the back of her neck while she held up her hair.

“It’s perfect, darling,” she said, putting her hand affectionately over the stones. “Thank you, so much.” It sat perfectly on her neck, level with her collarbones. It looked beautiful on her.

You picked up your own present from where you’d set it on the couch. It was a bigger box than the one you’d given her, but it was light. You didn’t take the same care as she did with the wrapping paper, simply picking a corner and tearing off the paper. You unwrapped and opened the box to reveal a harness. It was very similar to the one you already had, except, instead of one O-ring at the base, there were two.

You tilted your head in confusion, examining the object. Wanda watched you nervously, slightly afraid the gift was unwanted.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a harness,” you answered. “But it has two rings for two…” the realization dawned on you as you spoke the words allowed. You stood in shock for a moment.

Wanda’s heart sank, thinking she’d gone too far. “It… it’s okay if you don’t wanna use it. There’s no pressure to try anything, of course. I just thought… you used to really enjoy…” she rambled.

You cut her off, still too caught up in your own thoughts to be paying attention to her nervous rambling. “Can we use it now?” You blurted out, excitedly.

She smiled. “Of course, little love. I thought you might like it. I remember you being rather fond of… playing like this.”

—————

You were standing in the doorframe of her home office, anxiously playing with your own fingers.

Wanda had been furiously typing away at her desk. The sound of keys clacking filled the silent room. Her face was focused, emotionlessly concentrated on the task in front of her.

You stood there awkwardly, trying to build up the courage to ask her your question. You certainly didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t even like to interrupt her work when you weren’t about to ask embarrassing questions.

She was never upset with you, for interrupting her work. “Nothing that comes across my desk is more important to me than even your silliest queries,” she had told you. “Anytime I get to be talking to you, my work day has improved tenfold.”

Still, you stood in the doorway a little longer, hoping she would manage to notice you first.

After a few grueling minutes of going unnoticed, you finally decided to speak up.

“Mama?” You asked quietly.

Her face of pure concentration broke out into a wide smile. “Yes, my little love?” She responded, beckoning you into the room.

You exhaled in relief. She wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, at least. Now it was just a matter of trying to ask the question that brought you here in the first place. “I-I have a question,” you announced anxiously, cautiously approaching her desk.

“Ask away,” she instructed, leaning back in her car and swiveling it to face you. You had her full attention.

You looked down at the hardwood floor, unable to meet her gaze. Maybe this would actually be easier if she was still focused on work and you were simply in the background. “I… it’s embarrassing.”

Her face tilted, morphing into one of soft sympathy. “It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s just you and mama here. You can tell me anything.” She reached her arms out, beckoning you closer so she could gently pull you into her lap. She sat you down and wrapped her arms around your waist, kissing you on the temple.

If she were anyone else, you wouldn't dream of asking her what you were about to ask. You lived in a world where questions, especially ones that may be considered taboo, were discouraged. Your curiosities had always been diminished and shut down, even since you were a child. And yet, Wanda was different. “You’re still growing up and learning about the world,” she’d once said. “It’s an honor to get to teach you about all the things you want to know. That’s what mama’s do, after all.”

You steeled yourself. “I… um… do you know how sometimes when we… play together you put toys inside of me and it feels really good?” You asked, trying to frame your question.

“Mhm,” she hummed affirmatively, trying to hide her growing excitement. She loved how flustered and embarrassed you got when you asked her questions about sex. It was almost as arousing as the “hands on” learning experiences themselves.

“I was wondering if… maybe you’d ever had toys in… the other hole,” you asked, looking down at your lap.

“Mmm,” she hummed again. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were you really asking her what she thought you were asking her? God, you were more perfect that’s she could’ve imagined.

She kept calm, trying to contain her excitement. “I have. Mama doesn’t like to have things in her ass so much, but,” Her tone dropped lower and more sultry. She leaned over so close you could feel her breath on your ear. “I would love nothing more than if you’d let me play with yours.”

“R-really?” You stuttered. “You don’t think it’s… gross?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, sweetheart,” she assured. “It’s just another part of your body, little love. I don’t think any part of you is gross.”

“O-okay,” you said, leaning your head on her shoulder.

She pulled you tighter into her side, squeezing you in her arms and kissing your head repeatedly. “I love you so much,” she praised. “I’m so proud of you for being such a brave girl, and asking mama all your curious little questions about your body.”

“I love you too, mama,” you responded. You curled up in her lap, burying your red face in her neck.

“How about I forward all my calls to Natasha for this afternoon, and mama can show you all her toys and we can pick out some for you to experiment with, huh?” She whispered into your ear, voiced laced with excitement and seduction.

Your eyes went wide, and you nodded. It wasn’t the first time Wanda had dropped everything to fuck you, but you were shocked that seemed to be equally as excited about this as you were.

She led you to her closet, letting you peruse her collection. For someone who didn’t like to use them, she had a lot of butt plugs. She explained in depth their uses, the sensations of the different shapes and materials, and helped you make an educated choice of which one you’d like best. In the end, you both decided to start with a small metal plug, as well as a smallish strap. When you asked if she’d be pegging you with it, she chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet, little love,” she explained. “We’ll just use the strap like normal, but you’ll have the plug in this time. Does that sound good?”

You nodded. You were a little confused as to why she chose such a small strap if it wasn’t going in your ass anyway, but you trusted her judgment.

“One more thing,” she said, grabbing your favorite toy, the wand, before turning off the lights and leaving the closet. As always she took you to your own room rather than leading you back to her own. You both preferred to keep the sex out of the bed that her and your father shared.

She had you lean over the edge of your bed while she plugged the wand into the outlet. She handed it to you. “Alright love, I want you to make yourself feel good, okay? Can you do that for mama? Can you touch yourself while mama plays with your ass?”

“Mhm,” you hummed affirmatively, taking the wand between your legs and turning it on. You immediately shivered at the sensation.

She ran her nails softly up your back. “That’s it, good girl. Now just relax for mama.”

Her fingers moved down to circle your exposed asshole, watching the muscle tense in anticipation. You jumped at the unprecedented feeling.

“Shshsh,” she cooed. “Relax baby. You’re okay. Mama’s gonna take care of you. I’m just going to put a little lube on you, okay? It’s gonna be a little cold.”

You shivered again as you felt the cool liquid run down your untouched ass. She pressed her finger against your hole, gathering the liquid there before slowly starting to push into you. To her surprise, her first finger slid in rather easily.

You groaned at the sensation, muffled by the mattress. “Are you sure you’ve never had anything in here?” Wanda asked, suspicious but not judgmental. “It’s okay if you have, baby. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You whined into the mattress. “I-I… in the shower sometimes, I… explore a little bit.”

Wanda smiled, chuckling affectionately as she rubbed your back, slowly moving her finger in and out of your tight hole. “That’s okay, honey. You’re always allowed to explore your own body. Do you just play with your fingers? How many have you had?”

You nodded. “Just my fingers. And only ever one. I-I tried to do two, but… I couldn’t.”

She nodded, circling her finger around inside of you to get you comfortable. “Mama’s gonna try to add another finger now. Is that okay?”

You nodded. “Is… is it gonna hurt?”

She shook her head. “No baby, it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts just tell mama and we’ll stop, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl. Now, just try your best to relax. Take a few deep breaths.” You felt a second finger at your entrance, slowly pushing past your muscles. You squirmed, at the uncomfortable sensation, but Wanda’s hand on your lower back kept you still.

“Good girl,” she praised as her two fingers fully pushed into you. “That’s a big stretch isn’t it?”

You whined. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was an intense, unfamiliar pressure. You turned up the setting on the vibrator between your legs, keeping the discomfort at bay.

She spread her fingers out inside of you, stretching the muscles further. You moaned, the discomfort morphing into something more pleasant. The pleasure, oddly, didn’t override the discomfort, but rather existed beside it. “Mama…” you moaned, starting to slowly buck your hips back into her hand. “Feels… funny.”

“I bet it does feel funny, doesn’t it?” She said. “Do you like it? You wanna switch over to mama’s plug?” Typically, she would’ve insisted on taking things a bit slower, but, likely due to your own ‘self-exploration’, you were handling it a lot better than she’d expected.

You nodded. “Yes please.”

She slowly pulled her fingers out, watching your muscles tighten back up and close. She fantasized, for a moment, about opening you back up so she could spit inside of you, watching your muscles close as little bits of her saliva leaked out. But she’d save that thought for later. You were far from ready for that.

She took the metal plug and poured a bit more lube onto the end. The plug was a bit bigger than both of her fingers, but not terribly so. She pushed the cool metal against your asshole.

You jumped and whined at the sensation. She shushed you, putting a firm hand on your lower back to keep you in place. “Just relax honey, just like before. Keep playing with yourself.”

You did as instructed, taking a deep breath and focusing on the sensation in your clit. On your exhale, she started to push the plug in. She carefully pushed through the resistance forcing the plug into place.

“Mama!” You cried out. A range of sensation shot through your body all at once. Pain, pleasure, discomfort, pressure all came to a head in a sudden orgasm you hadn’t expected.

Wanda eyes went wide, seemingly taken as off guard as you were. She smiled and rubbed your back affectionately. “Aww,” she cooed, “did my sweet girl just cum just from mama’s plug in her ass. It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” you apologized. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as sensations overwhelmed you. Unlike your usual orgasms, this one only made you hungrier for more. You turned up the setting on the wand again.

“It’s quite alright, darling,” she assured. “Do you still want mama to fuck you while you have the plug in? It might feel a little different than it ever has before.”

You nodded eagerly. “Please mama!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she chuckled affectionately, surprised and amused by your eagerness. She lined herself up with your pussy, pulling your hips back to meet her own.

You cried out, suddenly acutely aware of why she’d chosen such a small strap. With the plug in your ass, your pussy felt so much fuller than you would’ve expected. Your hands shot out in front of you, gripping the bed sheets for dear life.

Wanda made her first few strokes slow, watching as the base of the plug shifted with her movements.

“Mama!” You cried again. “Feels so… so full mama. Please!”

“Does it feel good baby?” She asked, rocking into faster. “Do you like having mama in both your holes? Do you like it when she fucks you with a pretty plug in your ass?”

“Yes mama!” You breathed. “It hurts, just a little, but it feels so good mama.”

“Aww does it make your ass feel too full baby?” She cooed. “That’s okay, honey. You can cry while mama fills your holes. That’s it. Cry for mama baby.”

In an almost Pavlovian response, you started to cry. The pain was bearable, even surprisingly pleasant, but Wanda’s command allowed your body permission to let the tears flow. You were glad your admission of pain didn’t seem to deter her, even when it was paired with tears. In fact, the sound of your cries only seemed to spur her on further, nearly pulling out of you and pounding back into you with every stroke.

“Mama I’m gonna cum again,” you sobbed.

Wanda ignored you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You came harder this time, having to turn off the wand between your legs to keep yourself from overstimulating.

You tried to squirm away from Wanda, but she grabbed your hips harder and kept you in place. “No baby. Keep crying for mama. Keep making those pretty noises. I’m so close.���

You felt her hips start to falter before she pushed herself as deep into you as possible. She groaned, near collapsing on top of you before catching herself on the bed.

“That was so perfect, angel,” she soothed, pulling out of you while she gently ran her fingers through your hair. You whined at the sensation, lying limp on the bed. “Let’s get you all cleaned up and in some jammies, and then you can sit under mama’s desk while she finishes working. Does that sound good, little love?”

You nodded, groaning as she pulled out the plug and set it on the nightstand to be cleaned. Your head spun. All you could think of was your mama. You were so lucky to have someone who cared for you so deeply. You were so thankful you had her to guide you, to indulge all your curiosities. “Thank you, mama,” you mumbled tiredly.

“For what, sweetheart?” She asked, playing with your hair and looking down at your blissful face.

“For being here to teach me new things,” you tried to explain. Your head was so floaty you couldn’t get your words quite right. “And… and trying new things with me. And not thinking I’m gross or weird when I get curious about… certain things.”

“Of course, angel,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

—————

Wanda stood next to the bed, this time in her own room: the room she shared with your father. With him gone all week, her previous rules about keeping sex with you out of their shared space had gone as well. Unlike when you were young, it didn’t bother you much anymore. After all, you hadn’t seen him in years. In many ways, he wasn’t so real to you anymore.

So you held no discomfort about your current position, naked on your hands and knees in the middle of their bed.

Wanda was almost equally as naked, wearing nothing but the harness and the necklace you’d just given her. She was working on preparing and securing the toys you two had picked out in the appropriate O-rings. It she wasn’t so goddamn beautiful and you weren’t so goddamn turned on, she might have looked ridiculous.

But you suppose that was part of the gig with sex in general. It’s a little ridiculous, and, actually, mostly rather unsexy. But something about love and arousal morphs your perspective just enough to change everything: to make it a magical experience.

You’d chosen a smaller, blue dildo on the top. It was only about 6 inches long and less than an inch in diameter. On the bottom, you chose the first strap she’d ever fucked you with. It seemed fitting that the first time she’d use the strap on you in three years, she’d use the same one she’d used for your first time ever.

You felt the bed dip and she crawled onto the mattress behind you. She ran her nails down your back. “You are so beautiful, you know that?” She asked in a low sultry tone. She ran a finger up your slit. You’d been practically dripping since you’d opened her gift.

You shivered at her touch, instinctively buckling your hips back against her hand. “Please mama,” you whined. You were already so needy for her.

She wanted to hold out for a little longer, circle you while she toyed with your perfectly displayed body. But one look at your ass had her impatient. She needed to be inside of you, urgently. She lined the bottom toy up with your pussy, slowly pushing into. You were all too inviting, practically swallowing her. She was met with little resistance even in the first couple strokes. Then she pressed the top toy into your ass.

Instinctively, you tensed. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Relax for mama. I’ve got you.” She rubbed gently at your lower back.

You relax, allowing her to push the toy into you. You whined as she pushed past the initial ring of muscles.

“Mama’s got you,” she reassured. “I’ll go nice and slow.”

The overwhelming full sensation immediately made your arms collapse, pushing you face down into the mattress. It was so much different than having her fuck you while you wore a plug. Rather than a static thing shifting inside of you, there were two things, moving simultaneously in rhythm with one another.

The stretch was overwhelming. You could feel both of the toys from both holes as they each pushed you open. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open. She’d hardly been in you for a minute and you were already losing your mind. “Mama… mama please,” you pleaded.

She leaned over to wipe the hair from your face. “What is it baby? Tell mama what you need,” she said, concerned. It had been a while since she’d fuck you. Maybe this was too much for your first time back. “Do you need mama to stop? I can take the blue one off and we can just use the pink toy,” she suggested anxiously.

You gripped the sheets under your hands, jaw slack and mouth opened. Once again, her anxious rambling fell on deaf ears as your mind was consumed with pleasure. “Faster,” you said unexpectedly. “Please, mama, go faster.”

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected request, but she hesitantly started to build to a moderate pace. She gripped your hips, pulling them to meet hers with each thrust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” she praised. The sound of your skin hitting hers alone was driving Wanda crazy. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But when your weak little voice cried out from underneath her, she lost all semblance of control.

“Mama, please, harder.”

She tilted her head, giving herself a moment to process what you were saying.

She remembered you at 18, meek and trembling under her. She recalled the way you stuttered when you asked her even the simplest questions about sex. You were so ashamed and afraid to ask anything of her back then. It would’ve taken you weeks to muster even a simple request.

And here you were, years later, underneath her once again, shamelessly begging for her to fuck you harder. She couldn’t be more proud.

She slammed her hips into yours, gripping you hard enough to leave marks. “Did you miss mama fucking you like this? Did you miss her toys filling you up until you couldn’t think anymore?”

You nodded. “Yes mama!”

“You’re taking me so well, little love,” she praised. Her eyes darkened as she watched the strap disappear into you again and again. She was fixated with the sight. “Mama’s gonna have to get the camera out so you can see what a little angel you look like from up here, taking my straps all the way to the hilt. Would you like that baby? Would you like to watch yourself get fucked by mama?”

You nodded. “Mhm,” you hummed, biting your bottom lip. Her words took you slightly off guard, but that didn’t stop them from further turning you on. It seemed your boldness was rubbing off on Wanda.

“Mama could record you a little video and then you could watch it while you touch yourself later, huh? See what a good little girl you are for me.”

You moaned, nearly screaming into the wadded up sheets. “M-mama…” you stammered. The way she spoke, telling you her fantasies so unabashedly, made your head spin. You supposed this was as good a time as any to bring a fantasy of your own into fruition. “S-spank me. Please. Spank my ass.”

Wanda’s eyes darkened with lust at the request. She placed a cautious spank on your right ass cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt. It was more just for the sensation.

“Harder,” you requested timidly. “Please, h-hurt me.”

Wanda slapped your other side, harder this time. You cried out, involuntarily clenching around the toys. She spanked you again and again, becoming obsessed with the sensation of you tightening around her. “You like it when mama hurts you?” She asked. Her voice was deeper than usual.

You nodded. You sniffled back tears, desperate not to cry. You were so afraid she’d stop or ease up, thinking she’d hurt you.

“Are you gonna cry for mama?” She asked, picking up on your stifled sniffling. “Go on and cry for me, love. You know mama loves to watch you cry.”

The floodgates opened as you started to sob underneath her, nearly shaking. “Feels so good, mama. I love being stretched with your toys. I love when you hurt me. I love you. I love you.”

Wanda smiled. God you were a vision, crying and trembling underneath her, and asking her to hurt you while you told her you loved her. “I love you too, darling. Fuck. I love you so much.”

“Please make me cum, mama. Please let me cum with you inside me,” you cried.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby. Go ahead and play with yourself for me. Mama’s got you. I wanna watch you cum on my toys, honey. Show mama how much you love her present.”

You reached your hand back and played with your own clit. She started to spank you again. “Mama!” You shrieked as you fell apart under her. She continued to fuck you and spank you, grabbing your hands at the wrist when you moved to push her away.

“Shshsh, angel,” she soothed gently. “I’m just making sure I get it all out of you, baby. Just let mama take care of it, honey.” She took both of your hands, positioning them on either side of your ass. “Be a good girl and hold yourself open for mama, okay?”

She pulled out of you, leaning over to spit in your open asshole. She watched in awe as the muscle closed back up, leaving her spit inside of you. She’d waited years to see this. Had she had a bit of foresight, she would have brought a plug she could stuff you with after, making sure it stayed inside. Oh well. There was always next time.

She moved your hands away, spanking your ass one more time for good measure. You groaned.

She grabbed a cloth off the side table, carefully wiping your clean. You squirmed under her gentle touch, but she held you in place before gently laying you on your side.

Much to your chagrin, she climbed off the bed. “Mama…” you called after her, reaching out for her.

“It’s alright baby, I’m just gonna take this off and then I’ll get all cozy with you in there okay? Wait just a second for mama.”

You pouted for the whole ten seconds it took her to get the harness off. She crawled into bed next to you, pulling you under the blankets with her. You curled into her side while she gently played with your hair.

“You’ve never asked me to spank you before, little love. What was that about?” She asked kindly and nonjudgmentally.

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you replied hazily. “I was always too embarrassed to ask before, but… I’m not so scared anymore.”

She smiled and kissed your head. “I’m glad you asked,” she admitted. “I enjoyed it. And I’m so very proud of you for being so brave. You made mama braver too, you know.”

You cuddled into her closer, looking up at her from her chest. Your eyes begged a silent question.

She giggled. “Ah, I thought we were asking for what we want now? Now you’re getting all shy on me again?”

You whined. Asking for things was hard, and you thought you’d done quite enough for one day.

She chuckled at your stubbornness. “Do you wanna suckle for mama? You earned it little love, being so brave and asking mama for what you want. Go ahead sweet girl.”

“Thank you, mama,” you say before taking her nipple into your mouth.

“Of course, baby,” she whispered, kissing your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

[somuchforahobby]

invisible string

Summary: Jessica is out of town and Hotch hires a new nanny for Jack Word count: 8k Warnings: Hotchner is afraid of women Tags: Tooth rotting fluff GIFS belong to @kiwriteswords Read on AO3

Time, curious time

It had been quite a while since you got a job interview. You had been recommended by your friend Jessica to her brother in law to take care of her nephew for a few weeks until she comes back from a work-related trip. But first you had to be interviewed by him and Jessica warned you it was not gonna be a walk in the park.

You didn’t know if you had to look like governess or a Nanny Fine, so you went somewhere in the middle, with an oversized blazer, straight jeans, a crop top and loafers. You wanted to look professional and mature but not boring and old.

When you arrived at the Cafe, your eyes quickly searched for a man alone, who seemed like a dad, but you could not find any. Only one that was much closer to a Calvin Klein catalog than what you expected to be Jessica’s in law. He raised his hand and for a second you thought of politely saying no with your head, because you were here for a job interview not a flirt, but then realized.

“Mr. Hotchner?” You asked, once you have walked to his table.

“Yes, nice to meet you, please have a seat.” He stood up from his chair and extended a hand to you. You shared a professional hand shake and sat in front of him.

“Thank you for agreeing to this in such a short notice, I appreciate your time.” He said, raising an eyebrow, forming a crease in his forehead. “Do you have your resume?”

You handed it to him, his eyebrows remained creased as he readed it. While he did it, you ordered a latte to the waitress, his eyes quickly examined you while doing so.

“Why did you study pedagogy and education?” He asked once your coffee had arrived.

“I think the best way to eliminate violence is education, I want to contribute. Also, I like to study human behavior, in a way, and the way we educate children has a lot to do with how they grow up to be. So I’m passionate about that.” You calmly explained, his sigh was still stern. “And I also really like the outfits we get to wear as educators” you decided to throw in a small joke to get a smile but it flopped magistrally. 

“According to this” he gestures to your resume, “you’ve had experience helping children to cope with trauma, can you talk me through the process?” He finished his question and took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, sure, it’s mostly through art. We either paint, draw or sculpt feelings and we explain them, that way we can talk about ourselves while being grounded by some self made craft.”

“You bring the materials?” 

“Yes, sir. In case there is anything extraordinary I’d be letting you know about extra costs, and of course it’s all based on the child’s preferences and allergies.” 

“I would not want Jack to be off school, get home and feel like he still has work or school to do, how would you manage that?” 

‘What a fucking jerk’ you thought, the superiority in his tone made you cringe.

“Well, yes, sir. I have a masters in Primary Education, I think I can realize when a child is bored or exhausted and change the activities for something that makes them have fun and relax. So, yeah, I am indeed trained to manage that.” You were certain that answer alone was gonna get you off the job because of the moody tone it came out with. Oddly, you saw the corners of his lips curl upwards just a little.

***

“He hated me” You stated the moment you picked up the phone call from your friend Jessica.

“He loved you!” She overspoke through the line.

“What?” You both said.

“You first” she requested

“He hated me, he was polite but his tone, OH MY GOD!, his tone was implying I was an idiot question after question.” You explained as you walked down the street to your apartment.

“He just called me to ask me when it’s appropriate to tell you you’ve got the job!” Your friend was laughing over the line.

“So, when is he gonna call me?” 

“I said I’d tell you myself.”

You laughed through the line and yelled a little in excitement for finally getting a job.

“Let’s have dinner tonight to talk about Jack and his father.” Your friend made plans and you thought they were perfect.

***

“So, you’re a child’s profiler?” The tall skinny guy you had been talking to since you arrived was very interested in your work.

“Not really, no. I treat kids with trauma to avoid them growing into it.”

“But can you realize when there’s a psychopathy in them?”

“Yeah but I don’t treat them, I refer them to a psychiatrist and I advise the parents to take therapy as well.” 

“That is so interesting, how do you treat them then?”

“Well, I usually work with kids than have blocked their trauma, so I can give them exercises and activities to learn it, live it, understand it and manage it—“ A voice calling your full name interrupted you. You turned and saw Mr. Hotchner on the threshold. You nodded to the young man who you were talking to and headed to your employer’s office.

“Please, come in, how can I help you?”

“Thank you. Well it’s just procedure, a few questions I have to ask before I start treating a child—“

“You are not treating my child.” He scolded you.

“Yes, I am.” You gave him his tone back. “But if you will be ashamed of it then your son will be too and this is not going to work.” 

“Go on.” He took a deep breath.

***

Gave no compasses, gave me no signs

You and Jack had spent the day playing in the snow, then coloring and finally, you requested his help to cook dinner in order to teach him to be independent. Truth is, you two were really getting along.

Dinner was ready when Mr. Hotchner arrived.

He called your name as soon as he opened the door, and the corner of his eyes wrinkled when he saw little Jack with an apron in the kitchen.

“Daddy, I made you dinner!” The little guy raised his hand holding a spoon, wearing a big smile.

“That is amazing, buddy. Then let’s have dinner.” Mr. Hotchner hugged Jack. “How was your day?” He turned his gaze to you, still holding Jack.

“It was great, maybe Jack should tell you what his favorite part was.” You asked him as you laid out the plates for dinner.

“The snowman!” He said with a big smile and you did as well.

“Thank you very much, that would be all for today.” Your boss gave you a handshake with the stern face he always has on. “Jack, say goodnight to your nanny.” He put the boy on the ground.

“Can’t she stay for dinner?” He asked his father. Mr. Hotchner raised his gaze at you in a questioning manner. You scrunched down to meet Jack’s eyes.

“No, sweetie. This is quality time you have to spend with your daddy, besides we only cook for two.”

“Are you also having dinner with your daddy?” He tilted his head to the side in confusion and you couldn’t help but laugh. With the corner of your eyes you saw Mr. Hotchner laughed as well.

“Yeah, I should, right? See you tomorrow little buddy.” You gave him a hug.

You walked to the couch to get your backpack and headed out of the house.

“Goodnight, Mr. Hotncher, Jack.” You gave them a smile before opening the door and walking out.

***

“Hotchner”

“Hey, Mr. Hotchner, sweetie get in the car–” 

“what’s going on?” 

“Sir, I can’t work from your apartment today” a car door closed in the back

“what’s wrong?” 

“There’s a–god–I don’t–I think there’s something inside” You were trailing off, he could hear you starting a car.

He said your name trying to get you to focus.

“I won’t go in there, sir, we will be in my apartment, you can pick up Jack when–”

“Where are you? I’m sending an officer”

“That’s not necessary”

“Come to my office, now” that sounded like an order

“Sir, let me just” you took a deep breath, trying to calm down

“Stay on the line, I will locate your phone”

“Sir, there’s a rat!” You screamed. Jack’s laugh resonated through the line.

“A rat? This is because of a rat?” He was ridiculing you.

“Yes, I opened the door and saw a rat running through the living room. So I can’t go in there.” 

“Daddy, she’s afraid of rats!” Jack screamed through the phone, laughing at you.

“Don’t you ever do this again” And he hung up.

“I think he is afraid too” You told little Jack as you drove home.

***

“Daddy! You’re early! Can my daddy make one too?” Jack jumped to hug his father the second he walked through the door, showing him the paste of play-doh he was holding.

“Yes, of course!” You answered, clearing another seat at the table for him. “Maybe, I should explain the activity again for your father to join in, would you like that Jack?”

“Yes, yes!” 

Mr. Hotchner had no other choice but to drop his briefcase and blazer on the couch and join both of you at the table.

“Today’s activity, Mr. Hotchner is to think of one emotion we have been feeling a whole lot this week and try to represent it in the play-doh. Jack and I had already started so you gotta catch up. Once we finish our sculptures we will share them with the rest, okay?” You looked at him with an apologetic look and he nodded in response.

“I made two,” Jack started to explain. “One is sadness and the other one is happiness.” He pointed at each of the sculptures, one blue and one pink. “The blue is the sadness and the pink is happiness.”

“Why did you choose those colors, Jack?”

“Because blue is a sad color, I think. And also when my daddy is sad he plays music he calls blues.”

“And why have you been feeling  sad,  Jack?”

“I don’t want to say it in front of my daddy, he says I have to be strong.” The little boy covered his face with his hands, in shame. You turned to look at his father in concern and he was just as ashamed as his son.

“Sweetie, if you want you can tell me in secret but you can also share it with your father because above all people, you should trust him to know how you feel.” Your tone was soft and tender, your focus only on the blond child sitting in front of you. “Or you can talk about happiness while you think about how you want to share the sadness.” You finally see a smile form in the little guy’s face. 

“Yes!” He yelled. “I am happy because you’re my new friend and we paint, and play a lot.”

“Oh, thank you sweetie, I am very happy to be your friend too. And why is happiness pink?”

“Because your backpack is pink! When I see it after school I know it’s going to be a fun day!” He was glowing, making your heart fill with joy. “You go!” 

“Okay, I made surprise, because this whole week I have been surprised with you Jack, because you are so smart, funny and amazing!” Your little friend blushed but quickly turned to his father to hear what his emotion was.

“I did love, because that’s the feeling that floods me when I am with you, and this moment is the most important I’ve had in my week.” 

“Not catching the bad guys?” Jack asked, excited.

His father moved his head from side to side with a smile, giving him an answer.

“Now, would you like to share why you have been feeling sad, buddy?”

“I miss my mommy” The little boy dropped his head to the table and you could swear your heart had been smashed. You looked at his father to handle it, but by the look of his face he wasn’t anywhere near to do so.

“Thank you very much for sharing this with us, Jack, is there anything we can do to make you feel better?” You ask. Jack said yes with his head and raised his arms in a hug. His father was quick to raise him in his arms in a tight hug. A tear rolled down your boss’ cheek when he mouthed ´thank you´ to you in complete silence.

“Thank you, that would be all for today” He dismissed you as he took off his jacket, but before you could turn away little Jack took his hand, guiding him a few steps from you.

***

“Daddy, I need to tell you a secwet ” 

Mr. Hotchner gestured for you to wait while he talked to his son, he hunched down to reach his height and the 5 year old leaned to whisper in his father’s ear. Your boss’ face turned from amused to intrigued in seconds while the child eyed you up and down.

“Thank you for sayin that, buddy. Wanna watch some TV while I talk to her?” The little blond kid nodded and walked to the living room. Mr. Hotchner guided you to the kitchen to talk, but you already knew what this was about the second he leaned against the door frame, locking you inside. “Jack says you cried today” folding his arms on his chest.

“I can explain.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Well, uh, today when I went to pick Jack from school the teacher said his grandfather had already picked him up.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Even though his voice was lower, he was speaking louder to you, rougher. His shoulders seemed to grow wider and his height taller.

“Sir.” You warned him, “I decided to check first and panic later, which was not necessary because Jack was actually with his grandfather.” You gave him his scolding tone back and saw how his shoulders went back to its original size.

“You should have called me.” He stretched his neck sideways, trying to relieve stress.

“Well I didn’t” you crossed your arms and turned away from him, tears pricking your eyes again. You heard him sigh.

“And then what?” 

“Well I drove to his house.” Your voice was shaking. “And he said a lot of things.” 

Mr. Hotchner said your name in a slow whisper, giving you the courage to look back at him.

“He said horrible things, sir.” Tears were already scrolling down your face and any signs of anger on him disappeared. “It’s not even worth saying them again.” 

He strode closed, “I’d like to know, please.” He raised his palms to your elbows but never actually touched you. He just stood there, in front of you, with his arms stretched to hug you but without the courage to do so.

“He said” you finally met his gaze, “that you… killed her?” A sob left your mouth at the sole repetition. “Is that…?” You couldn’t finish the question. He never had told you exactly what happened to Jack’s mom, he said she had been murdered while Jack was in the house, only that.

“No.” He turned away, “Of course I didn’t do it.” He kept moving his head sideways, almost obsessively, as if he was trying to convince himself as well. “It was a serial killer. He offered me a deal, not to go after him and he would not kill while I lived, but I declined it. I thought myself better, smarter, and I wasn’t responsible enough to take the necessary security measures.” He took a deep breath and you continued crying.

”is he in jail?”

”no.”

You gasped, “so he is still out there?”

“No.” One of his hand raised to massage his eyes in circular motions, “I killed him.”

Your entire body froze at the confession, alarms were flashing inside your head, warning you all the possible trauma that Jack might be suffering because of this. This was much more problematic that “his mother was murdered” as Mr. Hotchner said in your interview.

“Sir, that’s-“

“I know.” He returned to his initial position against the door. “What else did Jack’s grandfather say?”

“Well he insisted that I wasn’t a pedagogue, that I was with you” you turned down again, embarrassed, “so that I would be next.” 

“Did Jack hear any of this?” 

“No.” 

“Good. The first part, he,” he took a deep breath, “believes it is my fault, he thinks my mistakes are what pulled the trigger.” He was looking away, avoiding eye contact. “For the second, I apologize.” 

“Sir, don’t” now you wanted to comfort him, “why haven’t you put him to a stop?”

“Maybe because I think he is right.” He looked down and that was all you needed to round his chest with your arms, pulling him into a hug, his head falling to your shoulder.

“He is not” you repeated slowly while your fingers ran through his hair.

***

Were the clues I didn’t see?

Your boss had let you know he’d be coming home later than usual and requested you to stay home with Jack. Since this had turned out to be an usual request, you always had an extra change of clothes, pajamas and all the basic beauty products in your car.

So after you had dinner with Jack, left some for his father and got him to bed, you headed to the bathroom to get yourself ready to sleep.

You turned the tv on and chose a documentary in the Discovery Channel to lull yourself, after a few minutes you were fast asleep.

The keys didn’t wake you up, neither did the door opening nor the man walking in. Not even him turning off the tv. What woke you up was his judging stare or at least that’s what you woke up to.

“Jeez, Mr. Hotchner, you scared me. What time is it?” You said, sitting in one movement, with your eyes still sleepy.

“It’s 2:30 am. What if I was a murderer?” He asked, and maybe it’s because you were sleepy but you think he was teasing.

“I’m sorry, I was so tired, I couldn’t stay awake for long after putting Jack to bed.” You kept apologizing for… sleeping? At night? Like a human being? 

“No need to apologize, go back to it. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“No, sir, I should get home.” You stood up fast to get out of his scrutinous eyes but you were still sleepy so you ended up stumbling on your boss’ chest. His hands secured you by your shoulders. Your eyes automatically raised to his and for a few seconds you allowed yourself to admire him. Gosh, he was so handsome. He raised an eyebrow and that was your cue to stop staring.

“Careful, you can’t drive like this.” You’d swear his voice had dropped an octave. “Sit for a few minutes”

“Yes, sir.” You sat back down, your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. He walked out of the living room.

“Do you always stay on the couch?” He asked from the kitchen. You didn’t have the courage to look back yet.

“Yes.” 

“Even when I leave for several days?” 

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t. Sleep in my bed next time, please.” You finally turned your head to see him, shook by what he had asked you.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s appropriate.” You quickly answered.

“Why not? There’s nobody else there. I don’t see why you would neglect a perfectly comfortable bed when nobody else is using it. I need you to rest so you can take care of my child.” His tone was scolding, he sounded like he was talking about something serious, not asking you to sleep on his bed.

“Understood.” You limited to answer and stood up from the couch without losing eye contact with your boss. Or at least enough to see him scan your whole body in seconds and you felt nothing but shame.

There he was, with his pristine suit, tailored head to toe while you wore pink booty short pajamas. You started to fold the covers on the couch to distract yourself from him. Although you couldn’t, you wish you had stayed seated to avoid him seeing you like this. He must think you're a simple, immature woman. He must be the type to like lingerie for pajamas, not the Walmart 2x1 100% cotton promos.

You were lost in your own thoughts of how must be the woman he likes, how well he must treat women, fantasizing of your boss like a man, for once, when his voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Aren’t you cold?” 

“Mm?” You railed out.

“Aren’t you cold? It has been snowing lately.”

“No, not really. The heating system is enough. I'll change so I can go home for the night, excuse me.” And so you walked through the room to the bathroom.

“I’mma go home, Mr. Hotchner, have a good night.” He was still in the kitchen when you were leaving, you got your backpack without looking back and headed to the door.

“Good night”

You opened the door but he called your name before you could be out.

“Yeah?” You turned back to see him.

“Text when you’re home so I know you’re safe.”

“Sure, Mr. Hotchner, good night.”

***

“Is this yours?” Mr. Hotchner asked you, holding a hoodie in between his fingers. Jack was already asleep and you were gathering your stuff to leave for the day after one of your boss’ three day work trips.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” You quickly grabbed it, blushing. You had forgotten it in the bathroom after your morning shower.

“Did you go to Georgetown?” He pointed at the hoodie. Casual conversation wasn’t usual with him, so his question took you out of your concentration.

“Oh, no.” You scoffed, “I was a barista in Georgetown. Getting discounted coffee to the guys in the souvenir store got me some stuff.” He smiled. “You didn’t know? I thought the FBI knew even my high school hobbies.” You teased as you finished folding your clothes in your backpack at the end of the couch.

“Yeah, right, cheerleading and making out with the quarterback?” He teased back with a side smirk that melted your insides, walking to you. You laughed.

“What gave me up? The reading club or the academic scholarship?” You asked, giggling. He smiled, coming to sit next to your backpack, looking up to you.

“I never actually searched you in the FBI database.” 

“What a hustle!” You fake mocked, “what if I was a murderer?” You repeated his question from days before. He smiled again.

“I would’ve known,” he nodded with a confident smirk.

“How?” You put your backpack on the floor and sat next to him.

“I’m very good at my job.” He scanned your face thoroughly, his smile nowhere to be found.

“Oh, really?” You asked, your gaze lost on his lips and how his tongue came out and licked them.

“Yeah” he swallowed, nervous.

“What am I thinking, then?” Your voice was merely a whisper, the tension in the air had gotten the best of you, the logical side of your brain nowhere to be found. His eyes had never been that dark, traveling between your own and your lips.

“That is very late,” he took a deep breath, “and I should” his eyes closed and you bit your lower lip in anticipation as he leaned closer to you when his phone rang. He jumped off his seat in a second.

“Hotchner.” 

You stood up to grab your backpack and head for the door when he lifted a hand motioning you to hold.

“I’m on my way” He said, closing the flip phone. “I have to go back, do you mind staying? I can call a co-worker if you need to leave, he can stay with her husband.” He asked you, taking off his jacket.

“No, it’s ok.” 

“Thanks. I’ll take a shower and go, please feel free to go to sleep.” And with that he disappeared in the bathroom.

***

“Hotch” his voice resonated through the line, manly and powerful. Made your mouth water, honestly.

“Hey, Mr. Hotchner, I’m sorry to bother you-“

“It’s not a bother,” he interrupted you, “you can call me anytime. Is everything ok?”

“It is, but Jack had a bit of a breakdown today and I think we should talk about it.” 

“How is he now? Do you need me to be there?” He was concerned.

“No, no, he is good. I calmed him down and lulled him to a nap. I’ll text you recommendations on how to behave tonight according to how I see him when he wakes up.”

“Thank you. Let’s have brunch tomorrow while he is at school, 1 o'clock is ok?”

“Perfect.”

“He misses his mom, of course.” You started to explain once you both got your coffees and had exchanged the usual courtesies. He didn’t seem surprised at all by your discovery. “But he says some boy at school told him he can have a new mommy.” You repeated the exact words Jack had said the day before. Mr. Hotchner seemed to be confused. 

“How?”

“His daddy needs to pick him a new mommy. And Jack is upset that his daddy hasn’t done it because he doesn’t have time.” You finished explaining but the gears in his head were still working.

“A step mother?” He finally asked with his usual eyebrow up.

“I think—yeah.” You took a sip of coffee to let the idea sink in.

“I… okay.” He finally said something. His whole face was a puzzle, he was evaluating the options. For once he had more questions than answers. “Should I… get him one?” It was absurd to even ask.

“Look, I definitely cannot tell you what to do, and your dating life is none of my business but as your son’s nanny I would strongly advise you not to introduce anybody to him until you’re very certain of the relationship.” You gather the courage to say.

“So I shouldn’t hurry to find someone?” 

“No, Mr. Hotchner. Jack needs to know that he won’t have another mom, that he already has one. But he has to understand and grieve the death of his mother. As painful and horrendous as it is.” You saw his eyes fill with water at your words. He only nodded in response.

“He will be okay, he is a smart kid and has a loving father helping him in the way.” You gave him a smile and he mimicked one.

“I wish I was around more often.” He took a sip of coffee. “You’re real wise for your age, uh” He sounded amused and scolded at the same time.

“I’m not as young as I’d like to, though”

“Do you mind me asking?”

“Not at all, I’ll be 32 this year, I’m getting old.”

“Oh, I wish I was 32 again. So young, full of hope.” He was glowing, a half smile formed on his lips.

“Well, if I’mma age like you, I shouldn’t be worried.” Oh, shit, you said it. A blush creeped your face the moment you realized and apparently his too. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotch—.”

“Please don’t be.” He cut you off. “Flattery isn’t common in my line of business, I appreciate it.”

“Well, in mine is overly common.” You exaggerated the phrase to lessen the tension.

“Oh, really?” He leaned both of his elbows on the table, amused, “how so?” 

“You do know I do therapies in a clinic, right?” He nodded in response. “Well, there was this one time, I was treating a 10 year old girl for sexual harassment, one day, her father comes to pick her up from the therapy and, in front of her, he just straight out asked me if I was interested in a threesome with his wife!” You blushed at the memory and he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What did you do?”

“Well I explained to him why his behavior was inappropriate, even more in front of his daughter, and transferred the girl to another therapist. A forty something year old partner, so even if they dare to propose to her, I doubt she’ll have the libido for it.”

“Hey, be careful there.” He actually commanded you and damn it was hot. His phone rang once. You showed him your hands in surrender.

“Hotchner.” You looked at your watch, you had to pick up Jack in 20 minutes. “I’m on my way.” And he closed his phone. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

“It’s ok, so do I.”

After paying the bill, he walked you to your car like the gentleman he is. He even opened your door once you turned off the alarm.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Hotchner.” You said to him from inside your car.

“Nothing to thank me for, and please call me Aaron.” He stated before closing the door and sending you a wink.

***

Isn’t it just so pretty to think

It was a Saturday night, you were getting drinks with your friends when you got a phone call, you answered to your full name being called on the line.

“Hello, sir.” You said with a smile.

“Is that the hot guy?” Your friend asked next to you. You shushed her.

“It’s my employer.”

“Good to know” you heard him chuckle through the words.

“I’m sorry, I have very nosy friends, Mr. Hotchner. How can I help you? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to interrupt but I have an emergency call and I need you to come stay the night. If you’re busy or… intoxicated, I can call someone else.”

“No, there’s no need. I’m the designated driver. I can be there in 30 minutes, is that ok?”

Your friends booed you until you agreed to pay for the next two rounds. 

When you arrived it was nearly 3 am and he was already in his usual perfect suit.

“Nice outfit” he said the minute you got inside, eyeing up and down your mini black dress and heels.

“Thanks. Likewise.” You made a mock reverence with a smirk, earning a soft smile on his lips.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I always carry some essentials,” you pointed at your backpack, “just in case.” 

“Well if there’s anything you can use from either mine or Jack’s closet, please take it.” He said as he walked to the door.

“Thanks, sir. If I’m ever in need of a Gucci tie and a spiderman shirt I won’t hesitate.” Your tease didn’t go unnoticed since the edges of his lips curved upwards.

“It was a gift” he quickly justified, smiling.

“Of course” you kept your smug face.

“From a friend.” He was clearly amused by the exchange.

“I need one of those.” You closed your arms on your chest. 

“I can introduce him to you.” 

“Is he single?” 

“Not to you.” 

You gasped in mock surprise, “what does that mean?”

“Sweet dreams.” And with a smile he closed the door.

***

You and Jack were having dinner in your pajamas, you’ve made Mac and Cheese, Jack’s favorite. It was your last night special before his father came back from a trip and would have to go back to regular, healthy dinners.

“Oh, sweetie you’re so sleepy already!” He hadn’t finished his food and he was already falling asleep on the table.

“Can I have some juice?” He asked you, blinking.

“Of course sweetie.” You stood up to grab the bottle of juice from the counter but you didn’t realize Jack was running just behind you, so when you turned back to fill his glass, he crashed against you, throwing juice all over your pajamas.

“I’m sorry!” He screamed.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’ll get cleaned up in a minute.” 

You sent him to bed after he drank his juice, cleaned the kitchen and headed to the master bedroom to take a shower.

Every time you showered in your boss’ bathroom you took your time to satisfy your curiosity smelling his body wash, lotion, shampoo, everything. And this time wasn’t the exception.

Since this was the last night of his trip you had no clean clothes left. So you searched through his drawers for something that could be used as pajamas.

You found an old FBI t-shirt that fitted almost like a dress, in the morning you’d put it in the washing machine as well as the sheets you’d been sleeping in. You’d only washed them on your way out, so you could smell a bit of him every night when you went to bed. Sick? Yeah, you had made your peace with it. That night you slept better than ever, the smell of his clothes relaxed you way past any expectations.

In the morning you got up at 6:30 as usual, to get Jack’s breakfast ready, so you walked to the bathroom to wash your face. When you walked back to the room still half asleep, a voice took your out of your thoughts.

“Nice shirt”

You raised your head to find your boss dropped on the still unmade bed, with half lidded eyes, scanning you, taking extra time on your exposed legs and his t-shirt.

“Good Morning, Mr. Hotchner, last night Jack spilled juice all over my pajamas and I had to borrow—“ He stood up from the bed. “I was gonna wash it along with the sheets—“ He started walking towards you, you were begging your legs to run back to bathroom but your body was numb. “I swear this won’t ever happen again nor it has happened before—“ you were stuttering, covering your mouth in shame. He finally reached you, cornering you to the wall.

“Aaron.” He finally said. “Call me Aaron.” 

His eyes were filled with determination and lust, his hands landed on the wall behind you, just two inches separating your bodies. He was towering, looking down on you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

You scanned him as well, your insides were starting to liquify at his smell. He was still in his suit pants and shirt, he had lost the blazer and tie, the first three buttons were undone, giving him a domestic look and your mouth watered at the sight.

“Understood?” He kept you trapped. 

“Understood.” You said with a knot on your throat. You swallowed, your breathing was strong and agitated, maybe he could even hear your heartbeat.

He tilted his head down to you, his eyes closed like he was focused. Although his expression was of a man in pain. When he was just a few centimeters from you, he took a deep breath and pushed himself away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. That was inappropriate, please forgive me.” He walked out of the room before he could finish talking.

Once you gathered enough courage, you walked out straight to the washing machine to put the sheets and tshirt.

“Good morning, boss.” You limited to say when you saw him cooking breakfast with the corner of your eyes.

“Don’t boss me, I think of me as an employer rather than a boss, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone was as serious as always. Back to normal.

“What’s the difference?”

“First off, I don’t pay your taxes. And second, I am not a real authority to you.” He was measuring your body language with the corner of his eyes.

“I think you’re authority enough.” You set the machine and turned your body fully to him to show authority as well.

“I wash them every sunday” He said while cutting ham and cheese.

“I don’t wash them because I think they are dirty.”

“Then why?” He was honestly confused.

“Because I don’t think you should sleep in sheets that somebody else has slept on.”

“Do you wash them when you arrive?” He asked.

“No.”

“Why? Somebody has slept on them.” He kept preparing an omelet.

“Because I don’t care” 

“Neither do I”

“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to sleep in the same sheets as your kid’s nanny.” You used the m tone you use to explain things to children.

“But is it appropriate for my nanny to sleep on my sheets?” Well you weren’t ready for that knock out.

“You’re right, sir. I will bring my own from tomorrow on.” 

“I didn’t mean that.” he quickly tried to fix it. “You can use mine, I don’t mind. I just don’t want to be doubling the work.” He tilted his head, explaining.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring my own and leave your bed ready for you when you get back.” You didn’t even turn to look at him.

“Hey, about this morning, I’m sorry. I was out of the line, I don’t want to make excuses but I am really tired, and—“ this time you interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, sir.—“

“Aaron” he corrected you.

“I understand. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” You sent a subtle tease.

A devilish grin played on his face. 

“How do you want your omelet?” He asked, blushed.

“Don’t bother, I’ll have breakfast at home.” You grabbed your backpack and left.

***

It was around 10:00 pm, you were working on some other kids files when the door opened. Your legs were extended on the couch, your back leaning on the armrest and you were wearing glasses. This was not a position where you wanted to be found by your boss, even less now. In the last few days you have been avoiding him as much as possible, despite whatever your feelings were, you knew he was vulnerable and probably misinterpreting your presence.

At the end, he was still a parent for a kid you were treating and any complaint of him could take out of business really fast.

“Hello, Mr. Hotchner.” 

“Hey” He left his briefcase on the couch and headed to his son’s bedroom, as always. From the hallway he called you “Please wait, I need a word.” After he gave Jack his goodnight kiss, he came back to the couch and sat on the other end.

“How is he doing?” He took off his jacket, threw it away and started to loosen his tie. What a sight for sore eyes.

“Better, I believe. He talks about his feelings way more, that’s good.”

“Jessica comes back next week.” He completely took off his tie and now was unbuttoning the neck of his shirt.

“About that, would you like me to still treat Jack after that?” 

He raised his shoulders in answer, unbuttoning the cuffs.

“Do you think he needs to?” He asked you while he folded up the cuffs.

“It’s your son, Mr. Hotchner. This is a choice you should take, with him, of course.” 

He let himself relax on the couch, dropping his body completely.

“I have no idea.” He breathed out. He was exhausted. “How do you see him?”

“I think his trauma is far from healing, he is barely getting close to it, but he is starting to talk about it.” A light snore came from Jack’s bedroom interrupting you.

“Come closer” Your boss gestured with a hand to the space between you. You scrunch your legs to a butterfly position, causing you to be seated next to him. “Go on.” He rested his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and fully extended his legs from the couch to the rug beneath it. Knowing he wasn’t looking, you took your chance to stare at his face, how different he  looked relaxed in opposition to what he usually looks. Just as handsome.

“I don’t want this to sound like I want to keep him forever, although I would like to” a smile escaped the corner of his lips, “but I think it’s important that he talks to a professional. It can be me, or it can be a therapist, whoever you want, but please, please, don’t let this golden heart child become a traumatized, hurt, misunderstood adult.” Your tone reflected all the love and care you felt for this kid, and he realized. He turned his head to you with eyes opened. Took your hand and led it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re an angel.”

***

“Hello?” You answered the phone to hear your full name on the other line in the voice of your employer. “Hey, Mr. Hotchner.” He was on a work trip and would be returning this afternoon, or at least that’s what he said yesterday.

“Are you still going to the wedding?” He asked. Earlier this week you explained to him you had a very important wedding to attend and kindly asked him to be home Friday night so you’d be able to go, request that he only answered by questioning if the said wedding was your own otherwise he could not promise anything.

“Umm, I guess that’s really up to you, sir.” You heard him clear his throat through the line.

“Do you have a date?” You panicked, absolutely panicked. Your cheeks flushed and were thankful to be over the phone and not face to face. He said your name in a questioning manner to get an answer.

“Uh, no, I mean—“ you swallowed, “I do have an extra ticket but no, no date.”

“I think I can fix that, if you let me” he was teasing. Your whole body was melting over this man’s voice and Jack’s eyes looked at you with concern. “There’s someone who I think would like to go with you, if that’s okay with you…” 

“But, um, who’s gonna—“ take care of Jack? You wanted to say, but your mouth was dry and your throat was closed.

“He’s a nice looking fella, I’d say, for his age.” You could practically hear his smile. ‘You don’t have to compensate yourself, you are a work of art!’ Your mind was shouting while your heart pounded inside your chest in anticipation. “So, what do you say?”

“I would love to” you managed to say.

“Thank you.” He sighed. “Due to bad weather that’s the only way I think you’ll make it to the wedding, we are flying in the morning. I think there’s a tuxedo somewhere in his closet—“ He kept baffling and you were having trouble understanding.

“Jack?” You asked, looking over your little friend. And it all made sense now.

“Yes” You could hear a small laugh, “who else would it be?” 

“Of course, I’ll get this guy handsome and ready. Thank you, sir.” You tried to brush off the disappointment, but also your expectations.

“It’s Aaron.” 

“Have a safe flight.” And you closed your phone feeling like an idiot.

***

That all along there was some invisible string

“Daddy, can I have a girlfriend?” Jack asked as you and him finished making dinner. The early arrival of your boss that night had taken you by surprise and had no other option but to ask him to ‘help’ but he only leaned against the counter, rolling up his sleeves while you two cooked.

“Mmm” Aaron looked at the kid analyzing him, “why do you want to have a girlfriend?” 

Jack shrugged.

“He asked me that earlier today and I said that was something he should ask his father.” You explained.

“I think you should have a girlfriend whenever you meet a girl who you want her to be your girlfriend. Or a boy, doesn’t matter.” 

Jack seemed to think about his father’s answer for a minute, then he looked up to you.

“I want you to be my girlfriend!” He smiled and you could not help but laugh. You lifted him, sitting him on the counter next to his dad.

“I can’t be your girlfriend, I’m too old for you.”

“Buddy, rule number one, you gotta ask her if she already has a boyfriend.” Aaron leaned to say near Jack’s ear, smiling at you.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jack asked you.

“Or girlfriend.” His father instructed.

“Or girlfriend?” 

You laughed, “no.”

“Then you can be my daddy’s girlfriend!” His smile grew wider while his father blushed.

“Jack” He tried to stop him, laughing.

“He thinks you’re pretty.”

“You little traitor!” He lifted the kid and threw him on his shoulder, Jack’s laugh filled the house as his father faked-wrestled him, taking him to the couch. A few minutes later, Aaron returned, flushed and with a thin layer of sweat on his face, “these kids uh? Say the craziest of things.”

You bit your lower lip to hide your smile.

***

The final day came.

You said your goodbyes to Jack after a whole month of being his best friend. He cried, of course, so did you. You promised to visit his aunt Jessica once a week to play together, you promised him to be friends forever. You hugged him till he fell asleep in your arms, while his dad observed in silence.

You left him on his bed, kissed his forehead and walked out holding your own tears.

“Thank you” He said while he walked you to your car.

“Anytime, and really, if you ever need any help with that little guy, please call me. I adore him.”

“I know. And it’s mutual, I see.” He smiled.

“Yeah, I guess we were kinda meant to meet.” You joked. “Did you think about whether or not I will keep on treating him?” You asked, leaning on your car’s capo to make some time. He took a deep breath, so you knew it was bad news. You were already nodding before he said a thing.

“I think therapy would be better, he just loves you too much.” 

“No, I agree.” You looked down to hide your disappointment. “Well, thank you, Mr. Hotchner–”

“Wait.” He turned the alarm of his car off, opened the passenger door and took out a gift bag that then handed to you. “I got you something, for, well, all the help.”

“Oh” you smiled, “you really didn’t have to buy me anything.”  You grabbed it shyly.

“Actually, I didn’t” A half smile adorned his face.

You opened the bag to find the FBI shirt you had worn as pajamas that one time. A full smile formed on your lips.

“Thank you, I love it.” When you raised your sight to him, he was beaming.

“Looks better on you, anyway.” You blushed at the comment.

“Thank you.” 

He opened the door of your car and you walked towards it.

“If you’re not treating my kid anymore, can I ask you out sometime?” He asked while still holding the door for you. You blushed and smiled at the question.

“Sir, I–” 

“Aaron.” He corrected you yet again.

“Would love to, Aaron .” You said his name, like an experiment on your mouth.

“Will you add me to your list of perverts?” He teased.

“That is completely up to you” You teased back.

“I take the challenge.” 

You got inside the car and he closed the door sending you a cheeky wink.

Tying you to me

[deliciousangelfestival]

Mission Dad

Character: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky is just your average dad in his daughter's eyes. But deep down, she yearns for a father with more influence and power, like her friend's dad. Little does she know, Bucky is anything but ordinary.

Words Count: 3,712

Warning: Slightly bullying scene.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The midday sun streamed into the principal's office through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the abundance of light, the atmosphere inside remained heavy and gloomy.

"I’m sorry; it’s my mistake as a parent." You bowed your head to the people in front of you: two couples who wore formal suits, along with their teenage daughter, and the principal, who kept wiping the sweat from his head.

Your daughter, Faith, who stood beside you, clenched her fist. Her expression was ugly as she looked at her mother, apologizing and bowing to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Mom, don't apologize. it’s not even my fault.”

You glanced at her and nodded, assuring her that you didn’t feel hurt or offended.

Sabrina, your daughter's classmate, smirked at you and Faith. With her mouth silent, she told Faith, “You can’t win.”

“Yes. It’s just a small matter.” Roy, Sabrina's father and also a senator, patted his daughter's head. “I think this matter doesn’t have to go public, right?” He turned to the principal.

“That’s right.”

With that, the problem was solved. But the scar still felt fresh on Faith’s heart.

As you drove the car back home, the silence hung heavy between you and Faith. Then, unexpectedly, her voice broke the quiet. “Why did you marry dad?” Faith crossed her arms beside you, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her question. You hadn't anticipated such a query from your daughter.

“Why did dad let you go alone and allow you to be humiliated?” Faith wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. The memory of you apologizing on her behalf still fresh in her mind.

You felt a pang of heartache seeing your daughter in distress. Today's events had revealed a truth you hadn't known before. The reason for your confrontation with Sabrina's parents was rooted in the bullying Faith had endured.

Faith had gathered evidence – recordings and screenshots of text messages – hoping it would be enough to put an end to the torment. But the power and influence wielded by Sabrina's family proved formidable.

With the evidence at hand, Faith had the potential to tarnish Sabrina's family name and derail her father's career as a senator.

Your fists clenched at the thought of Sabrina's cruelty towards your daughter. You wanted to scream, to exact some form of justice for Faith's pain. The urge to confront Sabrina and her allies gnawed at you, a primal instinct to protect your child at any cost.

But you held it in, knowing that today you didn't have the power to fight back. Another reason was because your husband wasn't here. Bucky Barnes had been gone for months for his job, a job so complicated that contacting him was nearly impossible.

You caressed Faith’s hair gently. “I'll try calling your father again.”

Faith sighed, her frustration evident. “He better answer, or else I'll find a better dad.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the circumstances. “Honey, don’t joke like that. Your father is the only one in my heart.”

She pretended to gag, a playful gesture that reminded you of the teasing banter you shared as a family. Whenever Bucky returned home from his job, you would become lovesick teenagers, unable to keep your hands off each other.

******

Back at home, you glanced around to ensure no one was near before your hand slid open a secret shelf, revealing an old flip phone hidden within.

You dialed a number and waited anxiously until a voice finally answered, "Hello?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Steve, can you find him?"

“Not yet,” came the disappointing reply.

You sighed again, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "Alright, I’ll call you later."

Closing the phone, you rubbed your temples, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. Your daughter was right – you needed Bucky.

Just then, you heard heavy footsteps descending from the second floor. "Mom, I’m going out for a sec."

You glanced up in surprise, realizing Faith was already on the move. "Faith, we just arrived!" But it was too late – she had already slipped out the door.

******

Faith heard your voice, but she sprinted faster. She had caught the name "Uncle Steve" in your conversation, indicating that he might know where her dad was. They had been friends since childhood, and she trusted him.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop owned by Uncle Steve, she pushed open the glass door and was greeted with a warm "Welcome."

Steve was taken aback. "Faith?"

Approaching him, Faith cut to the chase. "Uncle, do you know where my dad is?"

Steve hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he shook his head. "You know he has to travel all the time."

Faith rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yeah, cleaning up someone else's mess. He keeps saying that, but when there’s trouble at his own home, he's never there."

Sensing the tension, Steve tried to diffuse the situation. "Hold up, the topic is getting heavy. Let’s sit down." He gestured towards a nearby table, inviting Faith to sit and talk more calmly.

Steve offered Faith her favorite chocolate mint drink to cheer her up. Taking a sip, Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her. She grumbled and sighed, “I don’t understand why mother married my dad when she can’t depend on him.”

Steve widened his eyes in surprise. “Your dad would be heartbroken to hear that,” he said softly. Having a daughter could be both sweet and scary, he thought, realizing the impact of her words.

“But it’s true. I also found out that mother came from a well-known family. But she cut ties with them because she married dad,” Faith sighed, her gaze drifting to the café window. “I wish I had a powerful dad.”

Steve sighed sympathetically, picking up on Faith’s frustration, as well as your own from the last phone call. “What happened, Faith?”

As Faith recounted the events of the day, Steve listened intently, his expression growing increasingly enraged. “How dare they do that!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table, causing the café patrons to jump.

“There’s nothing I can do since her father is a senator,” Faith lamented.

After a moment of silence, Steve spoke firmly. “Faith, don’t worry. Your father will handle this.”

“But—” Faith began.

“It’s not my place to tell you. Believe in your father. He’s stronger and more powerful than you think.”

Faith couldn’t argue with her uncle’s words. “Fine,” she relented, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll go back.”

Steve wanted to offer her a ride home. “Let me drive you,” he suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I need some alone time. And it’s not far,” Faith declined.

Steve nodded understandingly. “Text me when you get home,” he urged.

“Okey dokey,” Faith replied before heading out of the café.

Back at home, you continued to wait anxiously for your daughter to return. Dinner time had long passed, and worry gnawed at your insides. You picked up the phone and dialed Steve. "Is Faith with you?" you asked urgently.

Steve's voice sounded grave on the other end. "She was, but she left around 4:50 p.m.," he replied.

Your heart sank. "Steve, she still hasn't come home," you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

Without hesitation, you jumped into your car and raced to Steve's café. He was waiting for you at the park nearby, his expression as pale as yours. You could see the worry etched on his face as you approached him, your breath coming in heavy gasps.

Coming closer, you noticed that Steve was holding Faith's smartwatch in his hand. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Faith had been kidnapped.

You panicked, struggling to catch your breath, and Steve steadied you with a reassuring hand on your back.

"I'll call for backup," Steve declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"I—" you began, but the sudden phone ring interrupted you both.

The familiar ringtone brought a wave of relief flooding over you. With trembling hands, you quickly accepted the call. "Bucky!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just got the chance to call you. I—" Bucky's voice sounded cheerful, relieved to hear his wife's voice again.

"Our daughter has been kidnapped!!!" you blurted out, the urgency in your tone cutting through the cheerful facade.

"Who dares lay a hand on our daughter?" Bucky's voice dripped with icy resolve, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

********

As Faith struggled to focus through her pounding headache, Sabrina's taunting voice cut through the dimly lit room.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice as she leaned in closer to Faith. "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"

Faith clenched her fists, her jaw set with determination despite her fear. "What do you want, Sabrina?" she managed to grit out, her voice trembling slightly.

Sabrina's laughter echoed off the grimy walls, sending shivers down Faith's spine. "Oh, just a little payback for ruining my life," she replied, her tone dripping with venom. "Thanks to you, my parents are furious with me. I'm grounded, all because of your little stunt."

Faith's heart sank as she realized the extent of Sabrina's anger. She knew she had caused trouble for Sabrina, but she never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Sabrina, sensing Faith's vulnerability, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Well, let's see how smart you really are when you're at my mercy."

Fear gnawed at Faith's insides as Sabrina's words sank in. She knew she was entirely at Sabrina's mercy, with no one to help her in this dark, desolate place. She braced herself for whatever torment Sabrina had in store, steeling herself for the trials ahead.

As Faith scanned the dimly lit room, her heart sank as she noticed an array of menacing tools laid out on the table. Were they planning to kill her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

Sabrina's malicious grin widened as she picked up a baseball bat, swinging it menacingly a few times. The sound of the bat cutting through the air sent a chill down Faith's spine, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Closing her eyes tightly, Faith began to pray silently, her mind racing with desperate pleas for someone to come to her rescue.

With an evil smile stretching across her face, Sabrina walked menacingly closer to Faith, raising the baseball bat higher with each step. Faith could feel the weight of impending doom settling over her like a heavy blanket. She wished she had stayed home with you, safe and sound. She longed to see her father, to feel his reassuring presence beside her.

"Dad, help me," she whispered desperately, her voice barely audible amidst the tension of the moment.

"I'm here," a deep voice rumbled through the darkness, sending a surge of hope coursing through Faith's veins. Could it be? Was it truly her father?

"I'm sorry I'm late," the voice continued, each word like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, Faith couldn't believe her ears. Was she in heaven? But then, a second time, the voice pierced through the silence, more tangible than ever. "Dad!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping open.

Standing tall and imposing in front of her was Bucky, her father. He stood alone but radiated a sense of power and strength that dwarfed everyone else in the room. With a swift motion, he halted Sabrina's advancing bat, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Sabrina had always thought her father, Roy, was intimidating, but the aura of power emanating from Bucky now was on a whole other level. She could sense a palpable bloodlust emanating from him, a primal energy that seemed to course through his veins.

With a voice that trembled with fear, Sabrina managed to stammer out, "Who... who are you?"

Bucky's gaze bore into Sabrina with an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively. "I'm Faith's father," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "And now, I'm going to teach all of you a lesson."

*******

At the grand mansion, Roy lounged in his armchair, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully as he gazed into the crackling fireplace.

The sudden ringing of his phone shattered the tranquility of the moment. "Hello?" he answered, his voice laced with annoyance at the interruption.

"Dad!!!" Sabrina's panicked voice came through the line, causing Roy to furrow his brow in confusion.

"Why are you screaming like a crazy person?" he retorted, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Someone tried to kill me!!!" Sabrina's voice trembled with fear, sending a chill down Roy's spine.

"Stop being dramatic," he scoffed dismissively, though a flicker of concern flashed in his eyes.

"She's right," a new voice interrupted, sending a shiver down Roy's spine.

"And who is this?" Roy demanded, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Your nightmare. And you're next," came the chilling response, causing Roy's blood to run cold.

"Tsk. Empty threat," Roy scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"No, Dad. He's serious. Call all the bodyguards!!!" Sabrina's urgency cut through the air, leaving Roy no choice but to take her warning seriously.

Roy wasted no time in taking action. He swiftly dialed his secretary's number, his expression tense with determination as he issued his orders.

"Get ready for an intruder," he commanded tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Call in all the bodyguards. I want the mansion secured from every angle. Do whatever it takes to protect us."

As he spoke, Roy's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, his mind racing with thoughts of the potential threat looming outside.

*******

As the night wore on, tension hung thick in the air of Roy's mansion. The threat from the mysterious voice had put everyone on edge, and they remained vigilant, acutely aware of any unusual sounds or movements.

"Good. Let that kid stay there for a while. She only brings trouble," Roy remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke of Sabrina's misfortune.

"Who tried to hurt us?" Roy's question hung heavy in the room, unanswered and unsettling.

His wife, equally on edge, offered her own speculation. "Do you think it's the Barnes?"

Roy pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Impossible. I looked it up. Barnes is just a nobody."

But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. Could he be wrong? Was there more to the Barnes family than he had initially assumed?

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house turned eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Then, piercing through the silence, came the sound of screams echoing through the halls. "AARGH!"

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The sharp cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves of fear through the inhabitants of the mansion.

"What the fuck is going on?" Roy demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Are we going to be safe?" His wife's voice trembled with uncertainty, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, the bodyguards in this room with us are former special ops," Roy reassured, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own anxiety.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, his posture firm and resolute. "It's alright, ma'am. We can handle this," he assured, his words instilling a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The door swung open, revealing just one figure standing in the doorway.

As the bodyguard moved to intercept him, Bucky strode forward confidently, his eyes fixed on Roy. "You have to stop before you get hurt," the bodyguard warned, his voice tinged with concern.

But Bucky paid no heed to the warning. With a swift motion, he grabbed the bodyguard's hand and effortlessly snapped it, causing him to curse in pain.

"Shit!" the bodyguard exclaimed, clutching his injured hand as Bucky swiftly took down the rest of the security detail with brutal efficiency.

The bodyguard, his eyes wide with shock, leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Do you think it's him? The lunatic?"

His friend's expression mirrored his own disbelief as he muttered back, "Shit. You're right."

Their hushed conversation carried a sense of unease as they watched Bucky's brutal efficiency in dispatching their colleagues, leaving them wondering if they were genuinely facing the infamous lunatic they had heard whispers about.

With blood streaked across his face, Bucky closed in on Roy, who tensed, assuming a defensive stance. "So you're strong, huh?" Roy challenged, his fists clenched as he prepared for a fight. "I was in the military too. Which special force are you from?"

"Black ops," Bucky replied curtly, his words sending a chill down Roy's spine.

Before Roy could react, Bucky unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Roy staggered backward under the onslaught, his face contorted with pain as he struggled to defend himself against Bucky's relentless assault.

Roy, already on the floor, bloodied and battered, pleaded desperately, "Wait. Wait!!! Are you Faith's father? The problem between our daughters is done. And this morning your wife also agreed to it. They're just kids."

The words "just kids" rang hollow in Bucky's ears as he thought of Faith, bruised and battered, her innocence shattered by the cruelty of others.

His heart ached at the memory, and he felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over him.

Bucky laughed darkly, the sound chilling to the bone. "My wife gave you a last chance. But your daughter blew it," he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain.

Roy's eyes blazed with fury as he struggled to rise. "Who do you think you are? You're just a fucking nobody. I'm a senator. Even if you raze my house to the ground, tomorrow you'll be sleeping in jail. Along with your wife and kid," he declared, his voice trembling with rage and defiance.

"Oh, so you're that powerful, huh?" Bucky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at Roy.

"I'm that powerful, you son of a bitch," Roy shot back defiantly, his voice strained with anger and frustration.

With a cold smirk, Bucky reached for his old flip phone, his fingers moving with calculated precision as he dialed a number. "Senator Roy? You know him? Yeah, that one. Could you erase him? Thanks," he said casually into the phone before ending the call.

Roy's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to convey his disbelief and fear.

But Bucky wasn't finished yet. With a swift motion, he snatched Roy's phone from his trembling hands and quickly scrolled through the contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he dialed the number without hesitation.

"Call him. Tell him there's a lunatic who wants to kill you," Bucky commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he handed the phone back to Roy.

Roy's hands shook as he brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding with dread. "Hello?"

"Commissioner!! There's a lunatic trying to kill me, he's hurt my daughter," Roy screamed into the phone, desperation and fear lacing his words.

But to his horror, all he heard in response was a calm voice saying, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What?" Roy's voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the phone in trembling hands.

"Who are you? You're just a guy from a cleaning company." Roy looked up at Bucky, dis, belief etched across his bloodied face.

"You messed with the wrong daughter," Bucky replied coolly, his voice dripping with a quiet menace.

Bucky Barnes, known by the nickname "Cleaning Service," earned his moniker through his unparalleled expertise in handling the toughest missions in black ops. With hundreds of missions under his belt, not a single one had ever failed. His reputation as a lunatic preceded him, but he wore the label with indifference on the field.

However, when it came to his family, especially his daughter Faith, Bucky preferred to shed his tough exterior and play the role of a regular dad. He didn't want to frighten her with tales of his dangerous exploits; instead, he chose to shield her from the harsh realities of his profession.

But now, as danger loomed closer to home, Bucky realized that pretending to be someone he wasn't no longer served him or his family. It was time to embrace his true self and unleash the full extent of his capabilities to protect those he loved.

Before Roy could react, Bucky delivered a devastating punch that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

*******

As Bucky stepped out of the mansion, a cry of relief and joy erupted from both you and Faith.

"Bucky!" you exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.

"Dad!" Faith called out, her voice choked with emotion as she joined in the hug.

Steve watched the heartwarming family reunion scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, especially with the backdrop of the burning house behind them.

Bucky held his daughter close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "I'm sorry. I let you and your mother get hurt," he murmured softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Faith shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "No, Dad. You're not late. You're so cool," she reassured him, her words filled with love and admiration.

Bucky smiled, a rare warmth spreading across his features as he looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said softly before gazing at you. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm back.I will never let anyone else underestimate us ever again," he whispered, his voice filled with determination and love.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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[fayes-fics]

The Wonderful Unexpected: Chapter 1

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU (future chapters)

Chapter Summary: it’s Christmas, but it’s beginning to look a lot like a shitshow…

artwork by me

Warnings: None really... swearing and non-graphic character attack and injury.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Welcome to Chapter 1 of my next multi-chapter! A modern rom-com based on While You Were Sleeping. This is really just getting the wheels in motion, where she encounters Anthony. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis. Thank you to @colettebronte for beta reading. Please enjoy! <3

The first time you see him, your heart almost stops.

It is a Monday morning, your first shift in your new job at a coffee shop on a dreary day in late October, when he sweeps in, a blur of athletic movement in a sharply tailored suit. 

Your boss, the store manager, Gen, starts to make his drink, double espresso, without him even having to say a word. And seemingly, just like that, he is gone again, you standing there, stupefied, awkwardly clutching the milk-frothing pitcher.

And thus, it begins. 

Every weekday between 8:01 and 8:15, Prince Charming glides in, grabs his cup and is gone—a beautiful mirage with amazing cheekbones and a watch that costs more than your annual rent. It's like your world goes into slow motion, and, to steal a phrase from your dearly departed Dad’s favourite song, birds suddenly appear every time he is near. 

Anyway, one random, soggy Thursday, the fates intervene, and it's your turn to serve him. As soon as you see him striding purposely towards the shop, you start his drink, butterflies in your stomach. The smile he bestows upon you is dazzling… even if his attention is slightly diverted by the call he is on. 

Sparks shoot up your arm and into your chest as your fingers brush his briefly as you hand over the small cup.

Surely, this is meant to be? 

He is perfect. Your husband (he just doesn't realise it yet).

All you need is a way to introduce yourself…

—

It's the end of your shift three days before Christmas when Gen sidles up to you, an odd expression on her face.

“I’d like to recommend you for Employee of the Month.” 

“Didn't know there was one,” you shrug, having no idea what that could mean. You suspect not a great deal. Barista is no one’s chosen career. This is very much what you hope is a pit stop on your way to better things. A way to pay the rent until you get your big break. Or get to go travelling.

“Oh yes, well, it's been a few weeks now, and really, you’re my best employee. You are never late, always reliable, never get an order wrong, and are friendly to all the customers…” She trails off, looking very sheepish. “And if you are willing to work Christmas Day… ”

“Christmas Day!? Why are we even open on Christmas Day anyway? It’ll be dead, even around here,” you frown, putting down the cloth you were wiping the counter with.

“Owner policy,” she shrugs. “It's only for four hours in the morning - 7 til 11. If you do, it’s quadruple pay...” she lilts, attempting to make it sound appealing.

You squirm uncomfortably, not wanting to let her down but also really not wanting to work on that day. You were looking forward to a duvet and Netflix day with the second most handsome creature in the world (and definitely the most loyal), Chairman Meow.

“Look,” Gen petitions softly. “Prue still has bronchitis. Edie can't switch because she's got some big trip to see her cousins, and l promised my kiddos that I'd be there for them this year… l know it isn't fair, and I can't force you to do it... but you mentioned you are single and your parents are gone. You're the only one…” she trails off, looking awkward.

“...Without family…” you supply glumly, already knowing you will capitulate. At least quadruple pay will come in handy.

—

You are struggling to haul your Aunt Hilda’s Christmas ‘gift’ - a frighteningly enormous box you can tell is choked full of ugly breakables - up the stairs after a long shift when he materialises as he always seems to, just when it is most inconvenient.

Not your prince. No. Sadly not.

Albion “Alby” Finch. 

Yep, quite the name. Not one anyone could live up to. But perhaps particularly not him. The well-meaning owner of the building who lives in the ground floor flat. Still adjusting to his status as a landlord since his father passed last year, he is boundlessly friendly in that untrained puppy way. Always wanting to help but always somehow ending up more of a hindrance than anything. 

“Oh y/n, that looks tricky; allow me!”

He pushes his glasses up his nose with a pointer finger, then immediately lunges forward and grabs the other side of the heavy box without asking first.

“No, wait….!” 

But it's too late.

You had the box precariously balanced, holding it strategically over the poorly taped seams. But his sudden interference has disturbed the contents. You watch as he realises he was wholly unprepared for its weight; his face fleetingly takes on a look of respect that you were handling such a burden.

Time slows like molasses as it slips from his grip, a horrible crunching sound as it hits the step, losing much of its structural integrity in the impact. Then, a calamitous symphony as it tumbles almost poetically down the whole flight, picking up speed as it goes. Yet again, the world is in slo-mo, but not in a good way this time, watching its barrelling path with increasing dread. Both of you wince as the inevitable happens: the spindly legs of the Alby’s heirloom table in the hallway snapping under the duress of poorly packaged terminal velocity porcelain. 

“I'm so, so sorry!” he starts, flustering like a bird. “It’s all my fault; I’ll pay for it,” he assures.

“Alby…” you sigh, head slumping back in resignation, staring at the ceiling. You can't be too mad; he has sort of done you a favour, saving you the inevitable trip to the charity shop.

“What can I do to make amends?” He presses on. “May I take you to dinner?”

You are almost shocked that he has finally summoned the courage to ask you out after two years. When you tilt your chin back down, you see the panic rising on his face as he belatedly realises what he did.

“You are my landlord. Probably not a good idea,” you return diplomatically, trying to let him down easily. He is a nice man, and his admiration for cheese is to be respected, but you know you could never see him as anything but a sweet, slightly clueless friend.

“Right-e-o,” he nods, cheeks reddened. “Of course. So rude. Please forgive me.”

You wave a dismissive hand, staring down at the pile of destruction below, dreading the thought of cleaning up.

“I’ll deal with all that up,” Alby gestures, tracking your line of sight.

And for once, rather than help as you inevitably always do, you agree, your feet throbbing after a long day where it seemed every teenager in zone 1 needed a matcha oat latte.

So, as you tumble into your flat, you sigh in relief, flinging off your shoes and pouring a glass of water for yourself and a saucer of cat milk. You may not have your Prince Charming (yet…?), but you have Chairman Meow, who always makes a genuinely excellent fluffy pillow for your favourite brainless binge-watch. 

—

It’s as if there is lead in your socks as you shuffle down the pavement and roll up the shutters. 

Christmas Day. 6:54am.

Still an hour until sunrise, it's misty and rainy, but then that's typical London, really.

What isn't typical London is the deserted streets. Hardly a soul to be seen, only the very occasional car. Most people are tucked up in bed or, if they are parents, blearily watching their kids tear wrapping paper asunder in pursuit of loud plastic.

When an hour has already passed without a single customer, you are entering a new level of boredom. Inventing new lyrics for the Christmas music playing, balancing stirring sticks into a pagoda-like structure of impressive resilience (it can hold a cup!), cursing the owner who even thought it was a good idea to be open today. It's all a recipe for a sort of irksome ennui.

So when you hear a commotion outside, you almost fall off the stool you have been idly twirling on. Springing from your perch, you run to the glass window, keen for any distraction.

But the sight that greets you has your heart in your throat.

There, in the street, surrounded by a gang of kids in oversized hoodies, is your man. Prince Charming. They are tussling with him, and you realise they are likely trying to mug him of his expensive watch. 

You observe helplessly, too scared to confront them, worried that doing so might exacerbate the situation. As you fumble in your apron pocket for your phone, the kids disperse, and to your horror, you see your man lying in the road, worryingly still. 

Before you are even conscious of it, instead of dialling 999, you are flinging open the shop door and sprinting towards him. 

“Sir! Sir!” 

Skidding to a halt and hovering over him, you can see an ugly bruise forming on his left temple already. They must have knocked him out.

“Sir! Please wake up!!”

But there is no response. 

You fall to your knees next to him, tapping his cheek lightly with the back of your hand, a sense of dread filling you with every passing millisecond.

Cmon universe! You can't do this! Why can't you take out the ugly ones?! Kidding... Sort of. 

As your completely inappropriate internal monologue rages, you grab his shoulders and shake him gently, needing him to get up. Get out of the road, at least.

“Sir! Please! You are lying in the road! Please get up!”

You know it's Christmas Day, so traffic is thankfully light. However, if a bus comes around this blind corner, it will hit you both before it sees you.

Again, nothing from him.

You bend down to place your ear next to his nose and mouth, heart pounding, to see if you can hear breathing, at least. 

“Fuck, you smell so good!”

It's out of your mouth before you can censor it, not that anyone is within earshot, this unconscious beauty aside. Your nostrils are filled with expensive, no doubt custom-blended aftershave, which literally makes your mouth water. You have to tamp the sudden urge to bury your face into his neck and inhale deeply.

But then you hear the hiss of air brakes and know a large vehicle is approaching—it could be a bus, could be a lorry. Either way, you are not exactly going to stay here to find out.

Without knowing quite what possesses you, you limpet yourself around his prone body and literally log-roll him out of the road. A blur of frantic tumbling movement that only ceases when your knees encounter the rough stipples of the pedestrian crossing section of the pavement. Shocking even yourself with the strength you are able to muster.

It's incredible what reserves of power you can summon when Prince Charming’s life is on the line, apparently.

As you lay straddled awkwardly on top of him, a street-sweeping lorry barrels around the corner, right over where he was lying. Sweeping up what you suspect was his mobile phone in the process before you could even grab it for him.

Heart racing at the closeness of the call, you collapse on top of him, breathing hard. Trying desperately to ignore the stirring of your traitorous libido at the sensation of muscular thighs clenched between your own. 

His eyes flutter open, and you murmur a breathless “hi,” almost losing yourself in their depthless, warm beauty. That is before they roll backwards, and his head slumps to the left.

Just great.

As Michael Buble might sing at this particular moment…  ♫ It's beginning to look a lot like a shitshow. ♫

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[thepunkranger]

So I was thinking about Claire Redfield (as you do) and how much of an insane badass she is for not only holding her own in Raccoon City, but also protecting a child throughout the entire nightmare, and specifically how, for all intents and purposes, Claire in Resident Evil 2 during Raccoon City and Ashley in Resident Evil 4 are the closest thing to peers that they have.

Both of them are college-aged girls with zero combat/survival experience who've been dropped into a zombie-infested hellhole and have to find their way out, but Ashley is so starkly different of a character to Claire.

From a writing standpoint, Ashley is a very literal damsel in distress character. She's young, she's inexperienced, and she does, in fact, need a man to save her (no shade, I'd probably need Leon and his rippling abs to save me too). Now, she does grow significantly as a character throughout the events of the fourth game, and even gets to save Leon a couple of times, but she's still very much a young girl in need of help

Now, in comparison, Claire Redfield is a damsel in distress in the same way Meg from Hercules is

Claire is actually canonically younger in Resident Evil 2 than Ashley is in 4, being only 19, but goddamn is this girl not going to let that stop her. And while Claire does have a bit more skill with self-defense, all that really adds up to is forcing Chris to teach her knife fighting and probably going to the shooting range with him a couple of times. Claire is very confident in herself, but she doesn't have much real world experience to back that up. Girl rode her motorcycle into a zombie-infested city with nothing but a gun (where did she get this gun? We don't know) to do a welfare check on her brother and came out less scathed than the literal cop she made friends with.

And then, there's Sherry. Claire finds a random child hiding in the police station, saying that she's looking for her mom, and makes it her personal mission to protect her at all costs. And when said girl gets taken by the literal chief of police? Claire grabs her grenade launcher and decides that's gonna be his problem because by god is she taking care of that little girl.

By the time they make it out of the city Sherry might as well be Claire's biological daughter, and she is not about to let anything happen to her (forthcoming events out of her control notwithstanding)

Which, in a way, honestly I think makes 19-year-old Claire Redfield actually a closer peer to Ethan Winters.

Ethan is a nearly 30-year-old man who works an office job (I think he's IT?) and whose wife went missing a few years ago. When he finds out she's actually alive he grabs a flashlight and hops in his car to drive to Louisiana to bring her home.

This man finds out that his wife has been possessed, and he doesn't give a shit. He loves her. He made a vow to care for and protect her, and by god is he going to test the limits of 'til death do us part. He takes on an entire family of fucked up hillbillies and literal mold demons to bring her home. And when he does? They have a daughter, and Ethan is ready to sacrifice the world for her too.

All of Resident Evil 8 is just him fighting a pantheon of demons to save his baby girl armed with nothing but a gun he grabbed off a dead guy (he's from Texas, so I'm not gonna question it) and his innate knowledge of how to make life-saving elixirs. And yes, he does save both his wife and his daughter

Idk, I just think it's interesting that Claire and Ashley are so similar in age and life experience, but Claire winds up having the most in common with the Awkward Suburban Dad in the end

[scen7rage]

CHAGGIE SWAP AU DESGINS!!

As I was redesign the designs I think of Vagatha have a more alt look on her, as it shows her chaotic nature n chaos as her being swap as Al, vaggie have a personality of no care of anyone and will laugh out loud if you done something wrong, but have a canon behavior of she can do things when things r tough 4 her

Charlie haves a more in a 18th century era style as it shown of her royalty and her duty’s as one, she is nice but more mature than the canon, and yes it’s based on the 18th era on her ok.

CHARLIE MORNING STAR storyline: ever since her rehabilitation dreams were never refilled by the lack of support of it, she left it behind and went 2 do her duty’s as a royalty since everyone needed a powerful leader 2 depend since her father never do his duty’s and been on his sorrows in his palace. Which lend of Charlie and Lucifer have problems and cut off ties from him. Lucifer usually calls Charlie’s or text her 2 see his daughter is ok but never get a response or just a text message of “I’m ok”. Charlie become mature based of being a royalist who has a job 2 do n trying 2 not corruption of hell. She attends court cases, events, charities and so other more that the hell r happy 2 have a ruler like Charlie 2 b around. In around the times Lucifer miss his daughter and seen how she busy of her life and cleaning up the mess of her father by his lack of maturity and very ignorant of his job. But on episode 5 of Hazbin hotel swap, Charlie had a break day chilling her place , while Lucifer was struggle what 2 do of the hotel and needed 2 do this b4 the extermination happens. Alastor Suggest of call his daughter and help him out 2 call her. Charlie look at the call and sigh 2 see what he needs now so she can get this over with, she answers and hears Lucifer by his awkwardness of hearing his daughter again. As he mentions heaven and the hotel she deny it. “Oh no, I do anything but that dad. You know I don’t associate of that anymore.” Charlie thought its a waste of time but Lucifer beg that she should come and see how it’s going 2 see the potential it is. She finally accepted and went 2 the hotel.

As she was enter the hotel, Lucifer gave her a big hug with a “Charlie!” As Charlie see the place of this “develop hotel” she introduced herself of the guest of the hotel. That’s when she met Vagatha. Vagatha and her did not came a great start, Vagatha Develop a Crush on her since she saw her events. But Charlie seen her as a edge lord that her teenage self would behave which make Vagatha shatter and get a payback from that, throughout the episode she was making her and Lucifer relationship as a dad and daughter which anger Charlie since she has a complicated relationship from him.but throughout the series they both see how they not bad and get along and began dating after that. vagatha is a her knight but Charlie sighs knowing that she very powerful and protect herself but let Vagatha have this confidence.

VAGATHA STORYLINE: born from heaven n served the angel military, became one of the best soldiers 2 battle and defend her own homeland 2 the disgusting demons from hell. Vagatha had an instincts and will fight anyone who gets her way or do something that is in heaven, during extermination, she will kill most of the sinners out of joy with her bsf lute. Lute and vagatha had things in common, they protect the ones they love, they defend heaven which any cost, they h8 sinners. Which they became best friends 4 life, or so they thought. During the times of all lute have developed this obsession of power and control and wanted 2 be a leader of all the power she wanted. Over the years it gets worse that vagatha have 2 stop lute 2 do break any rules. Till one day lute break a rule which vagatha try 2 claim she innocent.heaven seeing them two have a history and how they disrupted the peace of heaven by their actions and sins which lend them fall down in hell. When they fall in hell, lute and vagatha had a huge fight which she lost an eye and wings, and lute having a missing arm and a broken wings which she can’t fly anymore and made aid 2 help her fly. And then so on, vagatha work alone and became a chaotic women who likes destroying stuff. They call her the “mad women” and become an overlord making her a 1st angel who is an overlord then lute being the second. She disappeared all the sudden in 7 years and came back out of the blue. She saw the hotel of Al and Lucifer made. She become entertained.

That’s when she came 2 the hotel and join there. And rest is history

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar (4)

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: There's a chill in the air and October is here~

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: A rather fluffy chapter, some hurt/comfort, R's mom is a bitch, R's dad isn't

A/N: It's time for more early Summerween!

October 13, 2023

You’re at Wanda’s doctor’s appointment when she calls you her girlfriend for the first time. As she holds your hand, looking at the ultrasound, you hear the little one's heartbeat and find out together that Wanda is having a girl. Both of you start crying.

“We’re having a little girl,” Wanda whispers as she connects your foreheads. In that moment, it’s just Wanda and you, and her stupid ex-husband has nothing to do with this baby.

“Our little girl.” You smile at Wanda and then look back at the ultrasound, watching her move around, tears of absolute joy falling on your face.

Later, you drive home with Wanda. The boys are with Vision this weekend, so you have the house to yourselves. You both take full advantage of this every chance you get, which is every other weekend now.

You’re kissing Wanda on the front porch when you hear a familiar throat clear. You stiffen up a bit before turning around to find your mother standing there. You plaster a smile on your face.

“Hi, Mom. Did you need something?” you ask in a sickly sweet voice because, honestly, all you want is to go have sex with Wanda.

“For my daughter to come home every once in a while and not just pop in because she needs a new change of clothes,” she points out, and you groan.

“Mom, I’m a grown woman. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m making my own decisions now. Please don’t do your guilt trip thing on me right now. I just got some of the best news of my life, and I’d like the mood not to be ruined. Can we do this later?” you call her out, and she feigns hurt. You love your mom, but she can be a manipulative piece of shit at times.

“Y/N Y/M/N,” she warns.

“Y/M/N Y/M/M/N,” you shoot back. “Mom, I’m not doing this right now. I’d like to go celebrate my good news.” You turn away, taking Wanda’s hand and starting to enter the house.

“If you take one foot into that house, your father and I will stop paying for college,” she warns, and you stop, spinning on your heel.

“Excuse me? Did you... did you really just threaten that?” you ask, a bit in disbelief.

“Yes, I did. I’m over your rebellious nature, thinking you can do as you please without consequence. You will ruin this family with your behavior!” your mother spits venom, and Wanda steps up.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t get to decide that. I love your daughter, and I know she loves me and my boys. She has been the most amazing thing to ever come into my life besides my kids. So, I don’t appreciate you coming onto my front steps and saying she’ll ruin this family when, if anything, she’s created stronger bonds with my sons than their own father. So, I won’t say this again: get off my stairs and off my property before I call the cops about trespassing,” Wanda spits back, pulling you inside before your mom can say anything else.

When the door is closed, you fall to the ground and start crying, bringing your knees to your chest, hugging them. Wanda rubs your back, whispering in your ear, “It’s okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. Don’t worry about her. I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you.”

“Wanda, I can’t expect you to take care of me. To pay for my college... that’s so much...” Wanda laughs a bit, and you look at her with confusion.

“Sweetie, what do I do for a living?” she asks, and you go to say something and realize,

“I actually don’t know. I know you work in business, but... I never actually asked,” you admit.

“I’m a CEO of a small firm, sweetie. I’m not millionaire rich, but we’re pretty well off. If I need to, I can cover your costs, sweet girl. Let me take care of you. You do so much for us. If it comes down to it, I will, because I want to see you succeed and go out and get that job or freelance or whatever it is you decide to do after you finish. I’ll support you and love you, and I’ll always be with you.” You cry even harder at her support as she holds you.

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

The next day, you wake up in Wanda’s arms, the warmth of her body grounding you. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of yesterday's confrontation with your mom still lingering, but the comfort of Wanda's presence helps you feel stronger.

Wanda stirs beside you, her eyes fluttering open. She smiles when she sees you, and you can’t help but smile back. “Good morning, beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss. “Thank you for everything yesterday. For standing up for me, for us.”

“Always,” she says, her eyes full of love and determination. “We’re in this together.”

You spend the morning lounging in bed, talking about the future, the baby, and your plans. Wanda reassures you again that she’s got your back, and you feel a renewed sense of hope and determination. You’re not alone in this, and together, you can face whatever challenges come your way.

Later, as you prepare breakfast together, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for Wanda. She’s more than just your girlfriend; she’s your partner, your confidant, and your biggest supporter. And as you stand in the kitchen, watching her cook with a look of concentration on her face, you know that no matter what happens, you’ll get through it together.

You’re interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing. You glance at the screen and see a text from your mom. Your heart sinks a little, but you know you need to face this. With a deep breath, you open the message.

“I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. Can we talk? Love, Mom.”

You show the text to Wanda, and she gives you an encouraging nod. “Do you want to call her?” she asks gently.

You think for a moment and then nod. “Yeah, I think I should. But can you be with me when I do?”

“Of course,” Wanda says, squeezing your hand.

You dial your mom’s number, and she picks up after a few rings. “Hi, Mom,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line,” she says, her voice softening.

“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. But you need to understand that Wanda and I are serious about each other, and I need you to respect that,” you say firmly.

“I understand. I just want what’s best for you,” she says.

“And Wanda is what’s best for me,” you reply.

There’s a pause, and then your mom sighs. “Okay. I’ll try to be more supportive. Can we start over?”

“Yes, we can. Thanks, Mom,” you say, feeling a sense of relief.

You end the call and turn to Wanda. “She’s willing to try,” you say, and Wanda pulls you into a hug.

“That’s all we can ask for,” she says. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

With Wanda by your side, you feel ready to face whatever comes next. Together, you’ll build a future filled with love, support, and the promise of new beginnings.

October 31, 2023

The house is all decorated, and you've been getting goodie bags ready all day, filling them up with treats and little toys. Thematic music has been playing all day, with Halloween movies running in the background. At three o'clock, Wanda and the boys burst through the door, the boys practically flying into the house.

“Daddy!” The two boys run in, making you smile. They had recently started calling you that when Wanda slipped one day and called you it in front of them.

“Ah! There are my little monsters!” They both attack your legs in hugs as they look up at you.

“Daddy, can we put our costumes on now and help you set up outside?” Tommy asks.

“Please!” Billy follows up, and you hear Wanda come through the front door.

“Hello, Daddy.” Wanda walks over, giving you a kiss. “I see you have two little monsters attached to you. Do you need help with them?” she asks in a teasing manner.

“No, I think I’m good because what they don’t know is that I am actually the TICKLE MONSTER! AHHHH!” The boys both scream as you chase them up the stairs.

“No running on the... oh, forget it.” Wanda’s voice fades as you attack the boys with tickles and kisses.

“Get changed into your costumes and meet me outside, you two,” you tell them as you head back downstairs. “How was your day, Mommy?” You wrap your arms around her waist, peppering her with kisses.

“It was good. I gave everyone a break today. We had a Halloween party, and everyone was very thankful to get a day of candy, pizza, and relaxation,” she tells you with a smile.

“Never too old for free candy,” you joke with a smile, and she laughs. “I’m going to get the stuff from the garage and set it all up, okay?”

“You know where it is, right?”

“Yeah, I saw it when I was taking out the Halloween decorations in September.” Wanda shakes her head at you.

“I still can’t believe you started getting the decorations out then.”

“Hey, after tonight, first chance I get, the Christmas décor is coming out. Don’t test me.” She laughs and pushes you away.

“Go on, get out of here, you crazy little thing.”

You make your way to the garage. Wanda always goes all out for Halloween; she has a popcorn machine, a cotton candy machine, and these cool heated cauldrons for hot chocolate and apple cider.

As you come out of the garage and the boys come running outside to ‘help,’ you notice your dad walking over. A smile on his face, which you reciprocate. After what happened with your mom, he apologized on behalf of her because she would never apologize.

Your dad still helps pay for your tuition, but Wanda also said she’d help if your mom refused to. Your father is ever grateful that Wanda and you found each other and all because he got a new job, and you needed to be closer for college.

“Happy Halloween, boys,” your dad calls out as he comes over. The boys are running around in their Batman and Superman costumes.

“Happy Halloween, Papa!” they call back as they play superheroes. The boys never had grandparents, and your dad was more than happy to fill a role in the boys’ lives. Wanda understands where you get it from now after witnessing your mother.

Your dad and you hug, and he helps you set up as Wanda takes a shower and makes dinner. “Boys, come in for dinner!” Wanda calls from the door. “Hello, David.” Wanda smiles; she’s changed into something casual, and you can see her belly from here as she holds it in.

“Wanda, happy Halloween. How’s the little girl?” he asks.

“Well, she’s been moving a lot more, but nothing compared to the twins.” Wanda chuckles, and so does your dad. As the boys race inside the house, Wanda gives another smile, going to tend to them.

“Thanks for helping, Dad. I really appreciate it.” You give him another hug. “I’m going to go eat dinner with my family if you don’t mind. Tasha should be here soon, and she’s going to help me hand everything out.”

“Okay, sweetie. Have a good night. I’m going to have a movie marathon.” He wiggles his eyebrows and goes back off to the house. You can see your mom from the kitchen window watching you, a scowl on her face, and you just smile before heading inside.

As you sit down for dinner, the doorbell rings, and you hear familiar voices. “Guess who’s here!” you announce as you open the door to Natasha, Yelena, and Kate.

“Happy Halloween!” they cheer, holding bags filled with more treats.

“Come in, come in!” you usher them inside. “We’ve got plenty of food and drinks.”

Natasha ruffles the boys’ hair as they run past in their costumes. “Hey, little superheroes! Ready for some trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah!” Tommy and Billy shout in unison, their excitement palpable.

Wanda comes over, greeting everyone with hugs. “Thanks for coming, guys. It means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Yelena says, pulling out a small box. “I brought some spooky cupcakes!”

“You are amazing!” Wanda exclaims, taking the box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

After dinner, you and Natasha set up outside while Wanda helps the boys with their final costume adjustments. Yelena and Kate arrange the candy and treats on the table, making everything look inviting.

“Ready for the trick-or-treaters?” Kate asks, adjusting her witch hat.

“Absolutely,” you reply, taking a sip of apple cider.

Wanda steps outside with the boys, all dressed up and ready to go. “We’re heading out now. Have fun handing out candy!”

“Good luck, Wands!” you call out, waving as they head down the driveway.

As the night progresses, trick-or-treaters of all ages come by, and you, Natasha, Yelena, and Kate have a blast handing out candy and complimenting costumes. The popcorn machine and cotton candy machine are a hit, drawing in more kids and their parents.

During a lull, you take a moment to look around. The house is beautifully decorated, the air filled with laughter and the smell of sweet treats. You feel a deep sense of contentment and happiness. Despite the earlier tension with your mom, you know you have a loving family and supportive friends.

“So how have things been going?” Yelena finally asks making you look at her.

“They’ve been good. Wanda’s been working from home a little more. She said it’s nothing like when she had the twins, but going to the office every day is killing her feet.” You explain to your best friend.

“Oh yeah when she was pregnant with the twins I stayed with her for the last four months of her pregnancy. I helped her with just about everything. She was stuck in bed and she needed my help to get out of bed to do anything.” Natasha tells you and you’re a little confused.

“Did Vis not help?” Natasha to your surprise shakes her head.

“He was working 60-80 hours to make up for what Wanda couldn’t do. He made sure she didn’t have to lift a finger that wasn’t necessary. I know you’ve only seen the bad side of things, but Vis wasn’t always bad. He really did love and care about Wanda at some point, but it just fizzled. Don’t tell her I told you, but I know just before you came here they were trying to make things work again which is where your little girl comes in. Guess you don’t need love to make a baby.” Natasha shrugged, making you bite your lip.

You hadn’t been expecting her to tell you that. She was right you had only seen the shitty side of Vis. You can’t imagine him loving Wanda or actually taking care of her, but at some point she did. You felt Natasha’s hand on your shoulder.

“You good kid?” The nickname you had been stuck with by Nat for forever. You nodded and smiled, deciding to end the conversation there as another group of kids came running up in their costumes of a full Mario cast.

Later in the evening, Wanda returns with the boys, their candy bags overflowing. They excitedly tell you about all the houses they visited and the cool costumes they saw.

“You should’ve seen the haunted house on Winsor Street!” Billy exclaims.

“Yeah, it was so scary!” Tommy adds, his eyes wide with excitement.

Wanda smiles, wrapping her arms around you. “We had a great time. How did it go here?” You set a hand on her waist, pulling her close so you could give her a kiss.

“Fantastic. We had a ton of trick-or-treaters. And these three were a huge help,” you say, nodding toward Natasha, Yelena, and Kate.

As the night winds down, you all gather in the living room, enjoying the leftover treats and watching a Halloween movie. The boys eventually fall asleep, curled up on the couch in their costumes. You and Wanda curled up together next to the boys, Kate and Yelena curled up on the love seat and Nat reclined in the chair. You had taken the liberty of propping Wanda’s feet in your lap so you could rub her feet.

You look around at your family and friends, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. It’s been a perfect Halloween, filled with joy, laughter, and the promise of many more happy moments to come. You couldn’t have asked for a better first Halloween as a family; this found family of yours.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[dwaekkism0811]

a world of colour

chapter 1

{ reader x seonghwa }

daycare au

ateez members included

single dad hwa, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of divorce

. * . * .* . loading . * . * . * .

Waking up in the morning wasn’t always a chore. Usually you gave yourself enough time to run your coffee machine and do your full AM skincare routine. The sun was never up when you rose, which always made it tougher to pull yourself from the warmth of your bed. It was the cost of running your own business, one where you needed to be there to open up shop. While it was a struggle to make it out on time, it wasn’t a chore. Every morning you travelled to your passion project, your dream job. 

The daycare looked a little drab with all the lights off as you parked in the lot outside. It had taken years of hard work in school and then raising the money to get yourself the rental space, but the little daycare was yours and every day was rewarding.

Unlocking the door, you moved inside and flicked all the switches outside the office. The rooms illuminated, all the colourful displays of hand-crafted art and spelling guides suddenly blooming to life. One of your favourite things the daycare did was display copies of their attendees’ creations, hand-print art and colouring sheets and everything in between. Your staff always reported that the kids were proud that they could see their art lining the space they spent so much time in every day, obviously through less and more simple wording.

A bit of time had passed and you had gotten most of the set-up for the day done. It would still be a while before the first parents would arrive and even the staff would only arrive a few minutes before official open. You believed that it was more cohesive and less stressful for everyone if you were the one to handle all that and the attendants could arrive ready for the day.

You really weren’t expecting the knock on the front glass door, the sound of it sending you jumping a little where you were sitting at the greeting desk. After the initial shock, your body started moving automatically, kicking into gear. You could see two sets of legs through the door, one adult and one mini. 

At first glance the man behind the door seemed intimidating. There was something about the energy he exuded. He wasn’t looming over you, meeting you eye to eye, but there was something that made him seem bigger than he was. 

“I’m so sorry, I see the hours don’t start until 7,” Your gaze automatically follow his pointing to the plaque in the window despite knowing it by heart already. “There was a work emergency and I wanted to make sure she got in before the cut-off time- seems like I went a little overboard.” The man’s energy was contagious and you found yourself laughing along. The man moved to rest his hand on his little companion’s head, fingers pressing lightly to her scalp in what looked like a calming massage.

You looked down at the little girl and was pleasantly surprised that she had a familiar face. Her eyes were wide and looking right up at you. Quickly your smile warmed, moving to kneel down to meet her level.

“Hi Seoyeon, good morning.”

She raised her hand to offer a shy wave, turning to press her face into her guardian’s pantleg.

“I didn’t even tell you my name, sorry again. I’m Seoyeon’s… uncle, Hongjoong.”

“You don’t seem very sure of that?” You joke, standing back up. The bell on the door chimes as you open it up and usher the duo in. 

“I’m her dad’s best friend, I just- yeah.”

As they walk back in you feel a little tug at your work apron. Seoyeon’s little hand has grabbed the fabric and she’s turned her wide pleading gaze your way. “It’s okay I get it,” You offer to Hongjoong, then to Seoyeon, “Yes, yes, I’m coming. Don’t worry sweetie.”

You pat lightly at her back, reassuring her that you’re there, guiding them into the playroom. “I can take her early this time since it’s a one-off thing; I hope everything is okay with her father’s work.” Hongjoong thanks you, relief evident in his voice. He signs easily when you turn the drop-off sheet his way.

“Seoyeonnie, what do you think of some early colouring time?”

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage timetravel, pre pilot/child ot3 meet their redemption era selves

(I took some liberties re: /meeting/) In hindsight, visiting the US Patent office was probably not their smartest move.  Never return to the scene of the crime, and all, at least not if the job was finished. 

But they'd put a pin in going back for the time machine, and not even a really bad idea could deter Hardison from an actual time machine. Well. Portal, like Eliot had said. 

It hadn't come with an instruction manual, but the three of them, Hardison, Parker, Eliot were professionals at figuring things out on the fly . Even lost in the past. Even scattered. 

Hardison knew he just had to wait, though. They'd find each other. They'd lived through the past once, they could deal with it again, especially knowing everything they did. And it wasn't like they had to live through the whole span of years, either. They just had to find each other, put the pieces back together, scattered with them, and go home. Easier said than done--he was starting to think they might have ended up in different times--but still, the Estimated range was fifteen to twenty years, so that was only five max before they met up, right?

Hardison had gotten right to work. Ads in every major newspaper in the heartland cost plenty, but he had years of criminal practice on top of knowing what tech to invest in, so he really wasn't that worried. He guessed Eliot would be betting on sports games, like in Back to the Future. Parker... well, it was hard to guess where she was. Once he and Eliot met up, they'd have to wait for her to get to them. He did have a few things to do, first.

He knocked on Nana's door, feeling like maybe he ought to be wearing a bow tie. 

"What is it? You from the county?" she asked, when she opened the door. He could see behind her a few curious faces, including his own. Damn, he'd been so tiny. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he said brightly. He could remember this day, vaguely. The box he held was more familiar than his adult face. "I'm here to install your new computer."

"I didn't order any computer," Nana said. "Run your scam someplace else."

"It's not a scam!" he heard his own voice say. "I entered a contest at school."

He had. And he'd lost. Stupid Jake Puckett had won, a kid who could have easily afforded a computer. Alec hadn't known that though, until Hardison'd checked idly. And he wasn't about to just let all of history change. Well, all his own history. 

"You got some proof of that?" Nana asked, and Alec went  scampering off to his room to find his copy of the essay.

Satisfied with the expertly forged documents (wow! it was much easier to forge past documents when you were in the time they were from!) Nana let him in and pointed to a corner desk near an outlet. 

"You ever use your own one of these?" Hardison asked Alec, who shook his head. " just the one at school. I really won?"

"Sure did. Now, let me show you what this thing can do."

~

Eliot stood at the edge of the field, a newspaper crumpled in his hand. Hardison was in Boston, if the ad was right, and of course the ad was. No one else put that much effort into a coded message. 

He watched the football fly. In two weeks, the kid throwing it would be on a bus to boot camp. He closed his eyes. There were options.  Kid wouldn't believe him, of course. There were no secrets yet, to spill as proof. And he was too stubborn to buy the warning.  A good solid tackle, though. Break his arm bad enough...

He'd thought about it. And then about the what ifs. The blood would still be spilled, he knew that. Someone else would end up on Moreau's chain. Someone else would end up with a half dug grave for Flores, and maybe keep digging it.  Everything he'd done for money, the money'd go to someone else. Job might not get done, or it might. 

He'd be there for his mother's funeral. He'd miss Katherine Clive's. Rebecca Ibanez.  the way the drinking might have gone... he'd miss Nate Ford's.  He'd go to school, like his dad wanted, never play college ball. Study something-- art history, maybe -- but no, that was him now. Not him then. Him then would be angry and broken. Him then wouldn't have... his people.

He crumped the paper further. "Dammit, Hardison," he said quietly, and walked away. 

~

Parker had a code. Some things, you just didn't do. Some were big and flashy and obvious. Some were smaller, quieter. 

Hardison would say she shouldn't do this, she knew, and she usually listened to Hardison. He knew what he was talking about, most of the time. You can't change the past. That'd been part of the lecture before they'd gone to steal the time machine.  You can do things, sure, but you always did them. 

Well, Parker hadn't done this. No one had, back the first time she'd lived through this day. But she was doing it anyways, breaking his rule and her own. You don't steal from kids who don't have anything. 

Carefully, she picked the lock on the child's bicycle chain. 

[sevs-corner]

the voices are talking again and they have concluded on the random idea of -- Tf 141: Transformers AU but they're like Cade Yeager and you're Tessa Yeargar (this is gonna be more on the found family genre, ok?)

Imagine the setting is based on the movie "Age of Extinction"

The four are just strugglin' to make ends meet as country-side mechanics out in the wild west. They could barely feed each other, living by each passing pay they could scrape together with all the odd jobs they pick up on the side. From mowing lawns, fixing plumbing, working in construction, double timing shifts at groceries and mechanic shops-- they do all this to support their family. To put food on their table.

And to make sure you get to live a comfortable life.

Yes, you-- the infamously adopted daughter of those gay couple at the corner of town. Clearly they're relationship status was viewed in poor taste by the townsfolk (those stubborn traditionalists) and in return, you were often associated with that status and unjustly judged for it.

School was always shit, a pain to go to and see-- but you needed to do it. Needed to finish it and graduate.

Not just because you're ass was on the line if you didn't, but you wanted to go to college for engineering. You were inspired by your dads (and secretly wanted to make them proud) and worked closely with them whenever they would coop up in their 'man-cave' (aka their working barn but they hang out there often too, so they resolve to calling it that.)

Day-in and day-out, you would help them after doing homework, helping some left over clean-up work they had to do before cooking dinner and sharing a couple of beers in front of a televised game. Once you were sure that they were all conked-up and snoring, sometimes, you would sneak into their garage and grab some of their old inventions-- trying to replicate them without any of their blueprints and study the purpose behind it. You would do this in your own personal workshop with your prized car that you fixed up yourself (and sometimes used in the drag car races.)

Hence, in similar fashion, you work as hard as them and in return, they try their best to support you-- with the only thing holding them back is the point that you might be away from them.

The best engineering college is states away and they just can't see why you can't just attend the college they have nearby, and still live with them to cut on costs on rent and other daily necessities.

But to their frustrations, you were just as stubborn as them (you were raised by them after all) and wouldn't back down from that argument. It wasn't like it was sure-ball guarantee you were going to leave-- what if you really sucked and that top league university doesn't take you? So, to you, they were just unnecessarily worrying for something that might not even happen in the first place.

Until... it does.

You're days awaiting for your graduation date and just fulfilling some left over requirements your school does for the students at the end of the year. You've started picking up on your side-hustle of also becoming a mechanic (and a secret drag racer at the side) at the car dealer and their mechanic shop, hoping to earn as much as you can for whatever fate has dealt in her cards for you.

These men are antsy.

They could feel the date coming closer and closer and either side had not come to a compromise on what you would do.

Until they see it.

That dreaded fucking mailman on a rickety old bike, their daily papers and some envelopes in his hand as he slots it in their old- but automatic- mailbox. When he looks up, the mailman sweats profusely, seeing all their pointed glares aimed at him, and just as he was about to pedal away-- a dog (Riley) chases after him like its his routine yet he still screams and bikes away.

Though he goes faster than before once he sees the dog actually jump over the fence this time.

All of them huff out a chuckle before Soap decides to grab the mail with Gaz giving him a quick smooch on his shaved off head in thanks while the other three of them go back to working out the old mobile their neighbor wanted fixed up.

Yet this gets interrupted by the most horrific scream Johnny lets out, making them whip their heads to the noise and immediately make their way to him.

And there they see, in his trembling hand, the letter.

In bright bold font behind the transparent section of the envelope, it says...

"Congratulations for being accepted."

Sadly, this news never reached you, no matter how much you pried for it. Seeing in your email that the letter was in transit and should be on the way soon, but still-- there was no news.

And the four men they call themselves cannot muster the courage to break this to you in fear that you would leave them.

Although this stone is left unturned when the truck- that Ghost found in an old theater his friend asked him to fix-up, became a fucking autobot in their barn.

Chaos ensues just like the plot of the movie.

They learn of your drag racing driving skills from the 'boyfriend' that saved you guys before getting picked off by the black ops unit of the CIA- the Cemetery Wind (or in this case, the Shadow Company) led by Philipp Graves.

Your boyfriend, being Alex Keller, a top race car driver that actually trained you and cleaned up your skills as a driver, which he was thankful at the moment when you proceed to pull out moves that crashed the other cars behind you and lose them in the explosion that helped you get off the grid for a moment.

The four men don't know what's worse now.

You not agreeing with them in your choice of college or you keeping a secret boyfriend from them under their nose-- and they have to see HIM cuddle up with YOU- THEIR PRECIOUS DAUGHTER?

Yeah, that's not gonna happen.

So, the whole time, they're trying to keep you away from each other-- and it was quite easy with four bodyguards orbiting around you 24/7.

All the while, you guys plan with Optimus to meet up with the rest of the Autobots to infiltrate the headquarters of K.S.I. after discovering that the company behind the attacks on the autobots. You had no choice but to accompany your family, you didn't trust them to keep themselves safe so you were gonna keep them in check-- with your boyfriend, of course.

On the other side of this story (for the other characters), Shepherd (in place of Joshua Joyce as the CEO) is the great big antagonist that helps rebuild Galvatron while in kahoots with Graves to forward their plan of improving the world through the use of the 'seed.'

Laswell, for this role, was the secretary of Shepherd-- but after the attack of their headquarters, gets in contact with the Optimus crew and offers her aid and connections to over turn the corrupted tide that was surely going to end their world.

The boys are obviously hesistant, but once she proves her information to be correct once she showed the company's plans on Galvatron-- they knew they needed her to accomplish it.

And so the plot continues as per the movie with its own sprinkle of excitement (once i build this in my drafts lol)

Welp, that was my word vomit for today-- you can find my masterlist here!