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#Courageous Heart {Dad}
quickienewyork · 1 year
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Good morning!
I'm having a little bit of a slow start today. We walked Zelda, made the bed and put it up, and I brewed some coffee. But once I sat down at the old laptop, it's been a touch less productive.
On Thursday, Piper and I are getting a plane for a short vacation of which I know almost nothing about. She's planned everything and we are both very excited for a weekend away.
Which is to say, I'm a little pre-occupied with day-dreaming and less inclined to dig into all the marketing, sales, and other crap I do as a writer to try and earn a living from all this typing I do.
But it's getting warm outside and I saw beautiful friends this weekend. Zelda is curled up next to me on the couch, and my plants are looking green and lush.
So maybe being productive isn't the important thing today.
I hope you're doing well, taking deep breaths, and remembering how amazing you are.
-guy
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void-kissed · 1 year
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For the SI development meme: 4, 5, 6, and 8 for any or all of your Xenoblade SIs?
Sure thing, friend!! Thank you very much for sending these in, it really means a lot!~
(question source: "Self-insert Development Meme" by blushpanda)
Hmm.. You know what? I didn't catch this when I first read your ask, but I now see that you wrote "for any or all", rather than just "for any". So how about I answer all four questions for all four (well technically three but functionally four) self-inserts? ^-^
..That'll make this quite a long ask answer, so I should probably go under the readmore, haha.
Alright, here we go!~
4. Do your self-inserts have a backstory? Tell us about them! How do their backstories, if any, define who they are? How do they reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams? - ..In short, yes to the first question, so to elaborate:
Sapphire's backstory is that she was born on Gormott to Gormotti parents, but while they were sailing across the Cloud Sea, their boat was swallowed up by the Urayan Titan and became shipwrecked. Sapphire was still a young child here, and sustained many serious injuries, mostly to her back and her arms. A team of Garfont Mercenaries led by Vandham himself went to the mouth of the Titan to investigate, and found Sapphire in the wreckage - none of them had brought any healer Blades with them, so Vandham picked her up and ran all the way back to Garfont Village with her in his arms to get help. To this day, none of the mercs are quite sure how she survived, considering the extent of her injuries and the time it took for her to be healed - but she did, and Vandham immediately decided he would adopt her as his daughter (naming her Sapphire), so from then on she grew up in the village amongst everyone else and training alongside the mercs until meeting the party when they arrive in Garfont Village themselves.
Aline's backstory is that she was originally a resident of Torigoth Village, one day unexpectedly becoming a Driver after unearthing Avalon's Core Crystal in a field. When the village was razed, she fled, becoming separated from Avalon in the process - Lora and Haze, at Avalon's request, found her hiding in a rainy forest nearby. There wasn't much time for her to introduce herself before the party were attacked by Gort and his mercenaries - Addam and the others were impressed by Avalon's abilities, so they asked him and Aline to accompany them on their journey, and Aline was somewhat nervous but tentatively accepted (mostly both for Avalon's sake because they actively wanted to help, and also because she had nowhere left to go now. And also to get to know Lora more).
Calanthe's backstory is that she was initially a programmer in Vector Industries' First R&D Division; specifically, she was part of the team responsible for coding KOS-MOS' emotion module. She had been working on a modification that would remove the limiter placed on KOS-MOS' emotions, allowing her to express emotions whenever she desired as opposed to only when her module deemed it necessary; she was in the middle of fitting this modification when the Gnosis attacked the Woglinde, causing KOS-MOS to self-activate and resonate with the Zohar. Since Calanthe was in physical contact with KOS-MOS at that moment.. she accidentally gets transported across universes into Alrest, appearing outside the room where the Conduit (as it is known there) is kept. In the process, she also accidentally awakens the Blade version of KOS-MOS from her Core Crystal, and has a very confused conversation with the Architect himself before wandering out of Elysium. She gets as far down the World Tree as the 7th Perimeter Skyport before accidentally falling off, causing KOS-MOS Re: to jump down after her; the two fall through the Great Void before it completely closes and end up falling into the Land of Morytha, where Poppi spots them and flies up to help them both before they hit the ground. This then allows Calanthe and KOS-MOS to meet and join the party.
Citri's backstory is that she grew up as a resident of Colony 9, and has been friends with Shulk in particular (as well as his friends by association) since her childhood. When Colony 9 was attacked by Mechon, she was injured and captured, being taken to be turned into a Face unit alongside Fiora (who suffered a similar fate). Due to Citri's friendship with Shulk, who had since begun to wield the Monado, she was chosen by Vanea to pilot Face Nemesis and become the vessel for Lady Meyneth's soul. The soul transfer worked, but Citri ended up retaining her memories and consciousness coexisting alongside Lady Meyneth, allowing her to start to get to know both her and Vanea.
..Ah, this is already a long answer. Oh well!
5. Do your self-inserts have any magical talents or otherwise special abilities? Are they passive, like the ability to befriend animals, or dangerous power that the villains want? Or if they're evil - any powers the heroes want to stop? - This varies across the four!
Sapphire has the somewhat mysterious power to crystallise atmospheric ether! This ability is rather strenuous for her to perform, and she can only do it on a small scale. However, it enables her to fix Blades' Core Crystals that have been cracked, allowing those Core Crystals to be reawakened again when they would otherwise not have been able to. She doesn't know why she can do this - in part, some of her initial motivation for joining the party is to see if she can find out - but it's because she has shards of Avalon's Core Crystal inside her, and ether crystallisation was how they used to be able to heal both Drivers and Blades, so the fragments of their Core Crystal in her body are what meant she essentially "inherited" that unique ability of theirs.
Aline doesn't really have any particular magical powers, but she does have the aptitude required to become a Driver, as she found out when accidentally resonating with Avalon! She is also quite good at befriending or calming down scared animals or creatures, but this isn't really a magical talent so much as it is just "her natural personality makes her comes across well".
Calanthe also has aptitude despite not actually being from Alrest, as she discovered when she awakened the Blade version of KOS-MOS. You could argue there's also some potential for magical stuff by virtue of having literally gone through a gate between universes despite being an ordinary human, but.. so far nothing is planned for that. She's just a very out-of-her-depth-in-a-whole-new-world programmer.
Citri may also not really have magical abilities (at least, unless the whole "harbouring the soul of a goddess inside her" part counts), but she is unique for being able to pilot Face Nemesis. Her new robotic body also makes her a lot more resilient than she would have been as a Homs, and probably also gives her faster reflexes and higher strength and things.
6. Do they fight? What’s their weapon of choice? Do they stay on the sidelines? What would it take for them to get off the sidelines? Revenge? Saving a loved one? What’s the motivation for them to fight, or to stay OUT of a fight? - Yes, all four fight in various ways and levels of willingness to fight!
Sapphire is fairly skilled in combat thanks to growing up amongst the Garfont Mercenaries, who taught her how to use a fair few different weapons (sometimes at a bit too young of an age, but it was fine). She doesn't actually become a playable character until after Chapter 4, when Tora decides to go back to Gormott with his father in my version of events and she takes up the role of Poppi's Driver (since Poppi is an artificial Blade). When this happens, she is excited to finally be on equal footing with the rest of the party, and doesn't shy away from fighting if it seems like the right thing to do!
Aline does not enjoy fighting, but sometimes has to as part of travelling alongside the others. Her weapon of choice is a sickle that she'd previously used while farming, and she starts off as the wind element, but can change this. Her non-combative disposition may be a large reason of why both the Blades she awakens during the TTGC story are healers. If she does have to be in a fight, she much prefers supporting her allies and staying back from the main fighting - the most offense she will choose to muster is self-defense if something gets too close or possibly debuffing enemies to make them easier for the others to take down.
Calanthe also isn't that much of a fighter, but is more willing than Aline - it's moreso that she isn't used to it, but can adapt fairly well. Her main weapon ends up being KOS-MOS' Ether Cannons, which is good because it keeps her a bit further back from the action while she's inexperienced; she tends to pass the cannons back to KOS-MOS for her to do specials very frequently, especially initially when she has no idea how to use these two massive Zohar-shaped cannons she's just been thrown. But with how overpowered KOS-MOS is, Calanthe still definitely holds her own (and gets flustered by KOS-MOS' awesomeness often).
Citri can also fight pretty well! In my version of events, she takes Fiora's place as the seventh playable party member (since.. she kind of fills in a lot of what her role in the story used to be, oops). She isn't naturally someone who starts fights, but at the same time she isn't afraid of fighting, especially considering the story parts she is playable for because she is confident in what needs to be done and who needs to go down (especially after the events of the Mechonis Core where she is a lot more driven to defeat the villain).
8. How do they fit into their canon world? What’re their roles to play, if any? Do they have big destinies? Or do they more live as side characters that’re helpful for the protagonists/antagonists? - All four have different roles, but the extent to which they are "main" or "side" characters varies a bit!
Sapphire is a member of the main party from Garfont Village onwards, though she only becomes playable herself after the end of Chapter 4. I think she would be quite prevalent in the story due to her relationship with Pyra, and the fact she is with the party for a lot of the overall story, especially since Tora leaves after a certain point in my version of events so there are less characters sharing the spotlight. I also think being a more important character suits her in terms of her personality, if that makes any sense!
Aline joins the party right before the first fight against Gort, and continues to be a playable character within "Team Aline" (which consists of her, Avalon, and later Ursula) for the rest of the game! From there, she acts as a supportive character to the others. Despite the fact she appears so early in the game, TTGC comes across as very focused on Lora, Jin, Addam, and Mythra specifically, so I think she would be an important but not necessarily "main" character (especially also considering her naturally more introverted and less spotlight-hunting personality).
Calanthe would join the party during Chapter 8, when they encounter her and KOS-MOS in the Land of Morytha. I think she could be playable, given that KOS-MOS being her Blade indicates that she could go on to awaken more Blades, but at the same time that's very late in the game to have a new party member join. She doesn't have that much story relevance considering she's not from the world of Alrest, so she'd be more of a side character who only gets developed more if you make the effort to go back to Alrest and do sidequests and things in the final two chapters before beating the game.
Citri is quite important within my version of events as the vessel for Lady Meyneth, whom she ends up forming a close familial connection with! She and Fiora both share the whole theme of "reasons for Shulk and Reyn to fight the Mechon and figure out what happened to them both", as well as being a link between the Homs and the Machina by virtue of being a Face unit (although Citri has a notable difference in a) the whole Lady Meyneth thing but also b) she's the only Face who retains her original hands, due to a mechanical defect in the ones she was meant to have had).
Overall, I would say that Sapphire ends up the closest to a "main character" out of the four.
Phew! That was a lot of writing! But, hopefully it was all okay - this, if nothing else, will serve as an excellent reference post for introducing new people to my Xeno self-inserts. So, thank you very kindly for the opportunity to write all this out!! ^-^
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machinecreature · 2 years
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i feel less anxious and a renewed sense of courage after speaking with my mother, and i also learned a piece of information that made me go... yeah. it's time. it's time to have The Conversation my dad about all this. i really...i uh. hate men lmao. what kind of man doesn't want to go and visit their wife? he simply doesn't get how serious this is. or he's just scared. well, he's going to get a wake up call from me.
last night i actually knelt beside my bed and prayed because well i didn't know what else to do. my mom always said the day would come where i would have to do that but i didnt want it to be over this but here we are. anyway, i just asked for courage. and i feel like i have enough courage and righteous anger to do what i need to do now.
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cntloup · 1 month
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Fem!Reader giving birth, fluff
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"Mrs. Riley, ready to push?" the doctor asks as you sob in agony, sharp stabbing pain shooting through your body. You cling to Simon and he holds you in his arms from the side of the bed, "Nooo, please! I can't!!" you cry out, tightly squeezing Simon's hand, "Love, look at me." he beckons softly, nuzzling your face, his calm voice comforting you for a moment before another wave of excruciating contractions strikes and you curl into yourself, crying desperately for them to get the baby out of you sooner. The scene in front of him breaks his heart. He wishes he could take your pain away.
"You can do this, lovie. You're the strongest, bravest person I know. You've come this far. I'm sure you can do it. And we're gonna have a baby girl, dove." he croons against your temple, plants a sweet kiss on your lips and soothingly rubs your back, his words causing you to feel a surge of courage and endurance. “Mrs. Riley, it’s time.” the doctor says and you start pushing, wailing and sobbing violently. He doesn't even flinch at the feeling of you grasping his hand so tightly to the point of almost breaking his bones, yet he trembles, panic evident in his eyes as you scream at the top of your lungs, but he stays strong for you as he holds you and coos praises into your ear.
After what feels like an eternity of pain and screaming, you hear the loud cry of your baby and let out a sigh of relief, flopping back down on the bed. “Dad, will you?” the nurse calls Simon and he places a loving kiss on your forehead and goes to cut the umbilical cord, tears well up in his eyes as they land on his baby girl. The nurses take her to clean her up and swaddle her.
By the end, you’re utterly exhausted, soaked in sweat and your throat dry and hoarse from all the screaming. Simon holds a glass of water in front of you with one hand and gently lifts your head with the other. “Attagirl.” he praises as you gulp down the whole glass and a content sigh leaves your mouth. “You did great, lovie. I'm proud of you.” he murmurs as he tucks away the strands of hair stuck to your damp forehead, "I love you." he whispers, kissing your lips, "Love you too, Si." you whisper back in a weak, tired voice.
His whole world has changed. He cannot believe how far he’s come. All those years, it never even occurred to him that he was even capable of falling in love and getting married, let alone having a child and creating such a loving family.
They hand you your baby and you cry joyous tears as you hold her gently in your arms, cooing at her softly. "Here, Si. Say hello to your daughter." you encourage him to hold her. At first, he panics, body slightly shivering. He takes a deep breath, leans forward and delicately takes her tiny, fragile body in his big, strong arms, gaze filled with love and adoration. He sits on the edge of the bed and embraces you. The moment he holds you both in his arms, time stops and everything else is a blur. It's just him and his girls. 
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 
Dad!Simon art by @ave661
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theha1r · 1 year
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tag drop: verse tags
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Bro how would they react if they found out u got pregnant? Cuz yk their pirates and stuff so what would they do? U can do whoever but ik i want shanks, zoro, and mihawk you can do other people or not do the ones or dont do this at all👍 i want i jus want you to be comfortable writing this if you want to write it at all😭
I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH, thank you for the request!!
I just did Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk for now. May end up doing one for Sanji and Buggy as well if anyone wants, but since I ended up writing these as little short stories instead of headcanons, I just decided to focus on those three this time.
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Shanks is already such a dad honestly I lub him <3
So here we gooooo
Whoops
OPLA! Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Reader
SFW, so fluffy I'm suffocating
Wordcount: 4.6k
No warnings, I think?
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Zoro
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It took you some time to dredge up the nerve to tell him. It was just a one night stand, after all. A lot of alcohol involved, nothing special. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him for a while, but that was in no way relevant. The incorrigible amount of liquor you had consumed had more than done the trick of acting as liquid courage, given you had awoken the next morning in his hammock, both of you stark naked, just a hungover tangle of limbs with no real memory of anything past making out on the quarterdeck while everyone else was staying the night in town.
That had been awkward enough—your eyes locking as you both stirred awake, your face turning beet reed as you scrambled off the green-haired swordsman and quickly threw on enough of your clothes to be able to safely escape, him speaking up behind you as you hurriedly dressed yourself.
“Did we—uh—”
“No idea,” had been your quick, curt response, making sure you didn’t turn around and meet his eye again. “Bye.”
“Wh—? Wait a minute—”
But you had already been out the door. You spent the following days, the following weeks avoiding being alone with the first mate of the Strawhats under any circumstance, avoiding any situation where you might have to actually talk about what had happened between the two of you.
But now you had to talk.
Middle of the night, with everyone else safely asleep so they couldn’t overhear, you stood over him as he lay asleep himself in that same hammock. You stood there for a long, tense moment, arms crossed tight over your stomach, tapping your foot lightly as you looked down at Zoro, deliberating over whether you really had the guts to go through with this.
You decide you have no choice, and you nudge his arm. “Wake up,” you say quietly.
He snores in response.
You sigh to yourself, and nudge his shoulder a little harder, say it again a little more forcefully. “Wake up, come on—”
He gives a small growl of protest at that, rolling his shoulders and stretching his toned arms out behind his head, before tucking one hand under his neck. He squints at you in the small, dark cabin, blinking slowly. The groggy, astonished sort of manner in which he mumbles your name makes your heart skip for a moment.
“Wha…?” He glances past you toward the cabin door, toward the darkness outside on the deck, and asks, “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.” He quirks an eyebrow as you toe the wooden floor, staring off to the side, biting your lip. “We…need to talk.”
“At…two in the morning,” he repeats slowly. You hum in affirmation and give a small nod, already feeling your face starting to heat up—and you hear him sigh.
Then his hand is around your forearm, and you’re gasping out in alarm as he pulls you down across his chest until your eyes are level with his, your foreheads nearly touching.
His hand slips further up your arm, up your shoulder, back behind your neck, and your blush only grows hotter as he gives you a smirk. “Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.”
And he pulls you down, seizing your lips with his own.
Your brain all but short-circuits. You can barely remember how to breathe as your thoughts whirl. He kissed you. There isn’t a drop of alcohol involved this time, and he still kissed you.
Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.
Maybe that crush of yours was more mutual than you thought it was.
Your eyes flutter shut as you melt against him and return the kiss with a slow sigh, forgetting for a moment what you were doing here in the first place, your tongues meeting and swirling together, his hand drifting down your back, curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging at it and—
And this was exactly how you got into your present predicament in the first place. You tear your lips away from his and sit up at the edge of the hammock, flinching. “No, we…” You glance over your shoulder at him, briefly meeting his eyes as he stares up at you cautiously. “We do need to talk, I…” You swallow, and decide to just rip off the bandage, just say it. “I’m late.”
He’s silent for several seconds, and as you sit there, inwardly panicking, dreading his reaction, he finally speaks up.
“What the hell could you be late for at two in the morning?”
“What—no, I—” you sputter, jerking your head to look over your shoulder at him, sharing his stare of bafflement, as you realized he had no idea what you meant. “I…my period. I—is two weeks late.”
His brow furrows for a moment as that sinks in.
And his eyes slowly widen, and you look quickly away, flinching again, hanging your head.
“O…oh.” He sits up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock to sit next to you, exhaling a slow sigh. “Shit.”
“Mmhmm,” you reply in a weak sort of hum, practically a whimper, watching him run a hand back through his hair from the corner of your eye, his eyes wide, unblinking, glued to the doorframe.
“I…guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a doctor now.” You glance over at him, swallowing nervously as he gives a small, breathless laugh, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be upset about it, even angry. It was just a stupid, drunken one night stand, after all.
Wasn’t it?
Not really much to talk about. His words ring in your head as you watch him fall back across the width of the hammock with another laugh, resting a hand over his eyes. He said it right before he kissed you, sober this time, as if maybe…there was more to it than just an alcohol-fueled one off fling.
“Y…you’re not upset?” you ask carefully, looking down at him.
“Nah,” he says, laughing a little again. He lowers his hand down to rest over his abs, meeting your eyes with a little bit of a grin. “I mean, it is kinda my fault.”
“It takes two,” you point out, frowning.
“Yeah, but you were drunk.”
“We both were.”
“You were really drunk.” You purse your lips and shove at his ribs as he laughs again, sitting back up. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, sighing and shaking his head. “Shit.”
“Shit,” you agree, nodding. “I guess…we talk to Chopper in the morning and…figure things out from there?”
“Yeah. Guess so.” You’re both quiet for a long moment, staring out toward the darkened deck. “You know…” You glance over when he sighs slowly again. “This crew’s…pretty much the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. That most of us have had, probably. Whatever happens with…this—we’ll all have each other’s backs.”
He isn’t at all wrong, and the thought is enough of a comfort to bring a slow sigh of relief from you as well, a small smile to your lips. You shift a little closer and rest your temple at his shoulder, your hand over his, your eyes slipping shut.
“Anyway.,,” Your eyes open when he speaks, and without warning he pushes you back down into the hammock, pressing his lips to yours—and your eyes flutter shut again as his tongue brushes your bottom lip amid the slow, playful kiss.
“Wait—” You draw back from it just as abruptly as you were drawn into it, lifting an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. “Isn’t this sort of what got us into this situation to begin with?”
“Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down to his elbow. He smirks as well, his hand resting at the crown of your hair. “But it’s not like you can get any more pregnant.”
You can’t help but giggle at that, hooking your arm around his neck and shaking your head, smiling. “Fair enough,” you agree, and lift your head to press your lips to his again.
Shanks
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It all started three weeks ago, when you first missed your cycle. Your paranoia and anxiety that it could mean that, meant you had stopped drinking entirely. Shanks had been too busy to pick up on it, or simply as carefree and oblivious as ever.
But this morning you had awoken early, perhaps earlier than anyone else on the ship. You checked the position of the log posse and adjusted the course accordingly until it was pointing straight ahead again—and that was when you realized, by the sound of a match striking behind you, that you weren’t the first person awake—and someone had noticed the cessation of your drinking with the rest of the crew.
And almost the moment Benn Beckman confronted you about it, you blabbed your worries to the first mate, and you were fairly sure he nearly swallowed his cigarette.
“You’re what?”
You had joined the Red Hair pirates as a navigator around eight months ago, and had quickly fallen for the charming captain. There was no real agreement that there was anything more between the two of you than casual sex and flirting, nothing exclusive; but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the two of you were spending more and more time together, and that from an outsider’s point of view it looked a lot more like romance than anything casual.
But you were dead terrified that this news would ruin everything.
Beck just shook his head, grabbed you by the shoulder like a misbehaving child as you ranted, and walked you toward the door to the captain’s cabin. He opened it, and gestured at you to get in.
“You don’t come back out until you tell him,” he said, and you flinched at his stern tone. “Got it?”
“Got it…” you sighed wearily, hanging your head as you entered and shut the door lightly behind you. You had the idle hope that Shanks might be asleep as you entered but now, standing in the doorway, you can see clearly that he isn’t. He’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed—the same bed that you’ve been sharing every night for at least six months—and squinting at a map in the dim light of the lantern hanging from one of the bedposts, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black boxers. He looks up from it mid-yawn, and waves at you, nodding at the empty side of the bed to his right.
“You’re up awfully early,” he comments as you kick off your boots and climb into bed next to him.
“Just checking the course,” you say as he hands the map off to you—an old treasure map that you found helping clean out his rather cluttered desk a few weeks ago. “Any breakthroughs?”
“That.” He indicates a crude sketch of what appeared to be a statue. “It’s in Arabasta.”
“You’re sure?” you ask, looking over at him, and he nods slowly. “Oh, great. That’s…”
“Crocodile’s territory,” he says, as you let out a sigh that mirrors his own mildly dejected tone. “If we dock there we’ll be up to our tits in his Baroque Works wackjobs. Not that they’d pose us much of a threat, but…balance of power and all that.” He sighs himself, grabbing the map away from you again and tossing it off the side of the bed, where it flutters slowly to the floor a few feet away. “Not to mention it looks like it’s out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Not worth the time.”
“I guess not,” you say, frowning as you watch him sink back into the bed, his eyes slipping shut, unbothered by what might have been a disappointment to almost anyone else. He hadn’t mentioned the map to anyone else except for you and Beck, had kept it otherwise entirely to himself in case it did turn out to be a bust. Nothing ever really seemed to get under his skin.
You close your eyes for a long moment, bracing yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t get under his skin either. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, he speaks up himself.
“Now, something that’s much more worth my time…”
“Oh—!” You let out a small cry of alarm as he tugs you down suddenly to lie with him, and he shifts so he’s facing you, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand creeping slowly up your stomach to where the lapels of your shirt are tied shut, grinning wickedly.
“…is the beautiful woman in my bed who is, frankly, wearing far too many clothes.”
You can’t help but giggle a little as he sets straight to attacking your neck, his lips trailing down the column of your throat as he deftly works the knot loose, lightly nipping at your collarbone as he shifts you onto your back and brushes the lapels of your shirt open. Maybe you could drop it for now, just for now, you think disjointedly, your eyes slipping shut as his fingertips brush over one of the cups of your bra. Just until…
No. No, if you put it off again, you’re just going to keep putting it off.
“No—wait—” You grab his hand, pulling it away, and he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement. You swallow, glancing away for a moment before returning your gaze to meet his. “We…need to talk about something,” you say quietly.
The confusion in his eyes quickly shifts to concern at your hesitant tone, and he slowly lifts himself away from you, sitting up on his knees. “Alright,” he says, just as slowly, just as cautiously, looking at you as if you’re a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. “What exactly is it that we—”
“I’m pregnant.”
You just blurt it out, before you can stop yourself, so suddenly that Shanks stops mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widen to saucers as he gawks at you, and he blinks rapidly a few times. “B—be—beg pardon?” he stammers.
You just swallow nervously and nod—you know he heard you. He draws in a deep breath, shoulders going limp, and lets it out after a moment as a tremendous sigh, running his hand back through his hair.
It was rare, if ever, that you had seen your carefree captain in an outright panic, but seconds later he was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the cabin, his hand curled over his mouth. You sit up as well, alternating between glancing at him and staring down at your knees, your stomach tied in knots. You’re sure that this is it, this is the end, this is your final stint sailing with the Red Hair pirates. A ship is no place for a child, after all, for a baby, for a woman with child—
He stops pacing suddenly, his hand slipping down to his chin. “Midwife. We’re going to need—that’s what they’re called, isn’t it?” You lift your head, staring at him in mild alarm as he resumes pacing, now rambling aloud. “We’ll need a midwife, I hardly think Hongo’s qualified—might know someone who is, but…” He shakes his head. “Still probably a good idea for you to talk to—have you?” he asks, stopping to look over at you, and you shake your head rapidly. The only inkling you have that you are pregnant is that you’ve gone well over a month without a period; you had been far too scared to talk with the ship’s doctor about the concern, afraid that he would go straight to Shanks and you would be shoved straight off the ship at the next populated port.
“We’ll need to set that up immediately,” he half-mumbles, and resumes pacing again. “How far along do you think you are?”
“I—er—” Your head is absolutely spinning. “M…maybe eight weeks?”
“Eight? That’s two months, tha—that means there’s only seven more, we’ll need—everything, crib, clothes, probably a rocking chair…”
You listen in growing astonishment as he rapidly lists off everything, already planning far more than you had even thought to, not even the slightest bit upset. He seems almost…excited. You swallow, exhaling a slow, shaking breath, your eyes burning a little as relief floods through you.
“…diapers—” He stops in his tracks again, lowering his hand from his chin and looking at it, frowning. “How am I supposed to change a diaper with one ha—”
He looks over sharply when a small sob escapes you before you can lift your hand to muffle it. You lower your head, closing your eyes tightly, gripping at the edge of the bed as that overwhelming flood of emotion becomes too much to contain.
“Oh—sweetheart…no, no no…” You hear him sigh, his footsteps quickly crossing the room. The bed sinks beside you as he sits down and wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest and resting his hand near the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently, combing his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, we can handle this, okay?”
“I—I thought—” Your breath hitches as you turn your head so your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be mad,” you force out. “Th—that I’d—I’d have to leave and—and—”
He tightens his hold around your back, letting out a few soft chuckles and shaking his head. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to think,” he tells you.
“It…didn’t seem ridiculous to me,” you say quietly, your voice choked.
“Well, it is,” he assures you again. “I don’t—look, love.” He shifts his hand from the nape of your neck to your cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. His thumb wipes away the tears streaming down your face, and he smiles warmly. “I don’t want you anywhere but right here. With me. Okay?” Your breaths leaves you in a trembling sigh at the sincerity in his soft tone, the softness in his brown eyes as he gazes into yours. You swallow, and nod quickly, closing your eyes for a long moment.
You draw in a sharp breath in surprise when you feel his lips press lightly against yours in a slow, tender kiss that eases almost all of your tension away in an instant. one of your hands slipping from your lap to rest against his knee as your lips just barely part.
“I love you,” he murmurs, and the knots in your stomach are gone as he lowers his hand to rest it there, smiling. “And we can handle this.”
“I…I love you too,” you whisper, and his smile only broadens at that.
He kisses you again, more firmly this time, before standing suddenly from the bed.
Before you can fully register what’s happening, he’s already heading out the door of the cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, calling out loudly, “Lads, I have an anno—where is everyone?”
You hear Beck scoff from somewhere nearby. “It’s four in the damn morning,” he says. “Probably sleeping.”
“Ah. Right.” A brief pause, and then Shanks goes on, so happily you can practically hear him grinning, “I’m going to be a dad.”
“Yeah,” says Beck. “Congratulations. Now maybe go put on some damned pants.”
“…Right.”
Mihawk
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You already know he isn’t going to be happy. After your first missed period, you mentioned children. Merely in passing.
And he had immediately expressed his gratitude that there would never be any of the vile creatures roaming the halls of his castle.
Another three weeks, and you don’t have a choice but to bring it up. You’re losing sleep over it and he’s noticed, because of course he’s noticed. Mihawk doesn’t seem to miss anything, where you’re concerned—except perhaps this, which he seems to have not one single suspicion of.
You lay back on a plush sofa in one of the dens, your head resting in his lap as he sips a cup of coffee and flips through the newspaper, your eyes barely open. All you want to do is sleep. You’ve barely slept in a damned week, his words haunting you every time you do, his potential reaction to this upheaval of the peaceful existence you have both lived at his castle for the past several months.
“It’s likely because you’ve stopped having a glass of wine before bed,” he says, and you sigh to yourself. You had outright lied on that account, told him that for no reason you could discern you were suddenly getting horrible headaches any time you consumed even a drop of alcohol. “It’s been almost two months, you could try again.”
“N…no,” you say. “I can’t.”
He lifts the newspaper and glances down at you, lifting his eyebrows—waiting for you to elaborate. It’s now or never. You pull yourself up, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your body to meet his eyes as he looks at you in growing perplexity, his sharp eyes darting briefly down from your gaze as you bite your bottom lip lightly.
“I…can’t because…” You’re already feeling lightheaded, already reeling from the threat of what may come to pass. “Because I’m pregnant.”
His eyes remain locked onto yours for several tense seconds. He slowly folds down his newspaper and sets it aside on the end table. Slowly, gently as if you’re made of porcelain, he moves a hand down to your shoulder and lightly pushes you up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth, lifting his hand as if about to speak…and closes it again.
He tries once more, and words seem to fail him yet again.
And then he stands from the couch abruptly, without a word, and strides out of the room.
You’re fairly sure you know where he’s headed. You pull in a slow, deep breath, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability, before your rise to follow him. Surely enough, as you expected, you find him in the kitchen, pulling the cork out of a half-full bottle of wine. He glances briefly over his shoulder as you enter.
“How did this happen?” His tone is level, but you notice how he fills his wine glass nearly to the rim.
“Well, you see, when a man and a woman—” The glare he levels upon you shares none of your attempted humor, so you just sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island and crossing your arms. “Probably after that warlord meeting a couple months ago?”
“…Ah.”
That’s all he says on that matter—there isn’t much else to say. Whatever had happened at the meeting was a mystery to you, but it evidently had gone very poorly and been an absolute waste of his time, as he had returned to Kuraigana Island that evening in a bit of a foul mood and set immediately to downing two and a half bottles of wine. You had joined him in the endeavor, and the rest of the night was more than a bit of a blur. You only really knew that you both woke up on a couch rather than your bed the following morning, that you yourself could barely walk from the stiffness in your thighs, and that you had both bickered lightly through your shared hangover about who was going to get up to make coffee, before both giving up and going back to sleep for more than half the day.
“Well. This is…”
He doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it is, so he takes a sip from his overfull wine glass instead, leaning back against the counter opposite you, staring at the wall but clearly not actually seeing it. His eyes are far away, unfocused.
“…unexpected,” he finishes finally.
And takes another sip of wine.
“Mmhmm,” you hum in agreement, both your hands gripping at the counter behind you. You pull yourself up to sit there, your gaze glued to him, carefully studying his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but there’s nothing—just that blank, miles away stare. “S…so…what do you…what should we…” His eyes shift over to you, but only briefly, before shifting down to his wine glass.
“I…” He cringes slightly before going on, as if the admission physically pains him, “…don’t know.”
You know there are two things that Mihawk hates above all else in life—unexpected news, and a lack of control. Right now, experiencing both at once in tremendous measure, you can almost see the thin thread of his patience beginning to fray, and you aren’t sure what might happen when it breaks.
You swallow nervously, lowering your eyes when his gaze shifts over to you again.
You hear him sigh in resignation.
“We’ll need to find a doctor immediately to be sure,” he says curtly, and you give a stiff nod in agreement, glancing up at him. He’s staring down at his wine glass again, and continues to do so in silence for several long, tense seconds.
“You’re angry,” you say quietly. He sighs again, shaking his head, and sets the glass on the counter behind him. Your eyes fall to your knees once more as he crosses the kitchen toward you, and shift over to your hand when he rests his over it.
“Not with you,” he says lightly. There’s something different about his tone, but it isn’t anger. It almost frightens you more when you recognize it as uncertainty. You’ve never seen him uncertain about anything.
He pulls your hand lightly, and you slip off of the counter and onto your feet, sighing slowly yourself as he tugs you back against him, his arm curling around your waist. He brushes your hair behind your ear, behind your shoulder, and your eyes slip shut as his lips graze your neck. “I’m not sure if I possess the skillset necessary to be a very…adept parent,” he murmurs.
You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, relaxing back against him as his lips brush your neck again, a silent reassurance that he genuinely isn’t upset with you. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You rest one of your hands over his at your waist; and you bring your other up, curling your fingers in his hair near his temple. “I can hear it now,” you say airily, smirking a little, and you go on in a mimicry of his dry, deadpan tone, “’Now, now, we’ve already established Daddy’s cross necklace is not a toy.” You giggle at his irritated sigh, as he pulls his arm tighter around your waist.
“Then again,” he says, “I do have to deal with you being a brat every day and I’ve yet to murder you.”
“See?” You pat his cheek lightly, and he grabs your hand to stop you. “Good practice.” You lean to the side a bit and turn your head, smirking at the wry look he gives you, and pressing your lips to his lightly for a moment. He exhales a slow sigh as your lips part, tilting his head forward until your foreheads touch. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmur softly.
“Yes…” His fingers lace through yours. “I suppose we will.”
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sunshinesteviee · 5 months
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quality time - s.h.
summary: steve has some quality time with his newborn wc: 1.1k warnings: descriptions of steve's scars, dad!steve & mom!reader a/n: so i'm pretty sure this was originally a request from an anon literally forever ago, but i cannot for the life of me find the ask, i'm so so sorry! it's been a while since i've posted, so just a lil something for y'all. hope you enjoy! <3
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“You wanna hold him again, love?” you ask your husband in a murmur, barely able to pull your gaze up from your newborn. He’s tiny and perfect, and you just can’t get enough of him, even after a couple of hours. 
Steve’s perched next to you on the bed, one strong arm around your body. His thumb traces short, gentle lines over the hill of your shoulder, nose pressing against your temple as he gazes down at your son, “Mhm, yeah, if—“
“You better not be saying ‘if it’s okay with me’, he’s your son, too, Steve. Here, you take him,” you elbow him gently, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. It’s adorable, but totally not necessary. 
His cheeks flame red as he carefully takes the bundle of blankets from you, sheepish as he mumbles, “That’s not what I was gonna say—“
“Save it, baby, I know you better than that.”
He huffs but doesn’t say anything, immediately drawn to his baby boy in his arms instead. He looks like a mini version of you, your nose and eyes that he loves so much; it makes his heart grow ten times bigger. He does have a full head of hair that’s definitely the Harrington gene, though. And maybe he has Steve’s lips, too. 
Steve pulls his arms up, pressing a kiss to his head gently before he moves towards the chair in the corner of the room that he’s claimed as his. Just as he’s about to settle into the chair, a nurse enters the room to check on everyone. She smiles at the sight of your baby boy in Steve’s arms and says, “You know, there’s a lot of benefits of doing skin-to-skin with your newborn. Especially for dad and baby. Helps to regulate baby, and is great for bonding with your baby. Wanna give it a try?”
You expect Steve to say no. Not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to, but you can count the number of times you’ve seen him with his shirt off in public on one hand. After his time in the upside down, he’s marred with scars. Deep ones that eat into his sides and pucker his skin, that are rough and not pleasant to look at. The first time he’d gotten up the courage to take off his shirt at the pool, scars still fresh and pink, he’d gotten incredulous looks and nasty stares. He’d quickly learned that it was better to keep his clothes on to keep the questions to a minimum. He wasn’t ashamed, it was just easier that way. The only times Steve took his shirt off in public was if it was around people who knew what had happened, and even then, sometimes he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of all the shit they’d been through, and sometimes it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist. 
So, to say you’re surprised when Steve immediately agrees is an understatement. You watch in shock — and admiration — as Steve hands your son back to you for a moment so he can pull his shirt over his head. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him remove his shirt so quickly, even after all your years together. The bite-shaped scars, though not as prominent as they once were, are on full display, still slightly pink and raised against his tan skin. If the nurse notices, she doesn’t say anything; she only smiles, suppressing a laugh as Steve trades you his shirt for your son. 
He takes him carefully, as if your son is made of glass and could break at any moment. He handles him so delicately it makes your heart burst, and you cradle Steve’s shirt to your own chest. Steve finally sits down, placing his little boy in his lap so he can unwrap the blankets and get him out of his tiny onesie. It’s so small that it nearly makes you cry, even more so as you watch your husband lift your son back up and lay him against his chest once the onesie has been set aside. 
He pauses for a moment, not quite comfortable in the chair yet, eyes flicking to the nurse in the corner of the room as he asks, “It’s not— he’s not gonna be too cold, right?”
“Not at all! Skin to skin is actually great for regulating a baby’s body temperature. He’ll be just fine.”
Steve considers what she’s saying and then nods, finally leaning back into his chair, holding your boy to his chest, “Yeah. Okay, yeah, that’s good.” For someone who had been almost as terrified about being a dad as he was excited, he’s taking to it quickly, just like you knew he would. You knew his insecurities had more to do with his parents than his own ability to be a parent, and so far, he’s already proving himself wrong. 
The newborn scrunch is in full effect, your son’s tiny limbs tucked mostly underneath his body against Steve’s chest. He looks content, and you honestly can’t blame him — Steve’s chest is also one of your favorite places to be. Your husband looks just as content; one hand covering the entirety of your son’s back, fingers behind his head for support, the other hand on his small, diaper-covered bum to keep him in place. Steve’s eyes flutter closed after a few moments, settling back into the chair comfortably.
There’s a Polaroid camera sitting on the bedside table next to you, and you reach for it so you can take a picture. You want to remember this. Not only for the sweet moment, but also for Steve’s clear and immediate love for his little boy. The noise of the camera is a lot louder than you anticipated, and Steve cracks one eye open, sending you the best fake glare he can muster with just one eye. It’s ridiculous and it makes you laugh behind your hand, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby. You murmur a half-hearted apology as the picture prints, not really meaning it. 
Steve snorts his own laugh, his chest moving enough for your little boy to grunt quietly in protest, shifting his position against Steve. Quick to soothe, Steve pats at his tiny back gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s interrupting our quality time, huh? She had nine whole months with you, and she just has to interrupt us.” 
“Steve,” you giggle, shaking your head as you hold up the now developed picture, “I was trying to capture the moment!”
“Shhh, we’re bonding!”
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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months
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[Zoro knows your father would never let him date you. That doesn't stop him from climbing through your window in the middle of the night.]
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The night is hot and humid but you feel unbelievably cold. Part of you wants to blame Roronoa Zoro for that state of things, although you know only your lovesick heart is to blame. Ever since you accidentally fell asleep against him while watching the stars, each night without him is a dread. The kingsize bed feels overwhelmingly big and empty, despite being the same bed you've been sleeping in your whole life.
You're sitting at your vanity, blindly staring at your reflection in the mirror, the activities of your nightly routine long forgotten. The nightgown you're wearing is so thin it's almost see-through and yet you still feel sweat running down your back. You've opened the window and unbuttoned half of the garment but it changed nothing. Monsoon season is truly uncomfortable.
"You look nice," a low voice speaks behind you.
Your blood runs cold as your heart halts for a moment. Quick enough to give yourself whiplash, you look over your shoulder at the unforeseen guest.
Zoro is sitting on your windowsill, back comfortably leaning against the window frame. His swords are propped up against the wall. It seems that he has been perched there for a while now, quietly watching you in your natural habitat. Beads of sweat on his forehead are glistening in the twilight of your candle-lit room. His hair, a deep shade of green, looks almost black in the darkness of the night. The intense look in his eyes makes you flustered, almost forcing you to look away. Still, something about his presence is so magnetic, you can't force your head away.
The initial dread of someone being in your room with you subsides but then another terror creeps in - the terror of someone stationed barely two rooms away. The very same man who sees anything pirate-related as problems that require violence as the solution. Even pirate hunters.
Nervously, you clench your hands into tight fists. "Do you have the slightest idea what my dad will do if he finds you here?" you hiss at Zoro, afraid that any sound would awaken your father.
The thought of 'You're worth it' is the first thing that crosses his mind. But no matter how true, Zoro can't find the courage to let such vulnerability be known.
"I don't care," he answers. Zoro gets up from the windowsill and lays in your bed with such casualness as though there is nothing out of the ordinary in his behaviour. Like he's not risking bodily harm to be within the confines of your bedroom.
You watch him in shock, eyes wide open. "He could come in at any moment, Zoro."
But he's just laying there, hands under his head as he's staring at you out of the corner of his eye. "Your old man's sleeping like a log," he states, uninterested.
The short moment of silence between you is filled with your father's muffled snoring. It's still a mystery to you how your mother can sleep with him in the same bed and wake up well-rested in the morning.
"Well, what if he wasn't?" you continue to argue but you already feel the need to do good by your father withdrawing, its place taken by something much more motivating and hard to explain. A calling, one might say.
"Just come here." Zoro motions at you.
Your flowy gown shuffles quietly as you get up from the chair by the vanity and gently lay on top of Zoro on your bed. As the familiar scent of wood, hay and metal hits your nostrils, you can feel all of your muscles immediately relax. All of the tension you carry in your shoulders and back is suddenly gone. In some unconscious reflex, one of his arms circles your waist, keeping you firmly in place. The strength of his hold couldn't be challenged even by a fatherly wrath.
Despite neither of you saying anything for a good moment, your bedroom is not filled with silence. Various sounds of the tropical island are pouring in through the open window: rustling bushes, laughter of late-night drinkers, cicadas, packs of stray dogs barking at each other in the distance. And, above all, the calming hum of the sea as its waves rhythmically wash the shore. The music of life as it follows its mundane, routine path.
"I can't sleep without you," you finally whisper against his firm chest.
"Me too," he admits quietly.
Although Zoro knows how ridiculous of a euphemism this really is, he never lets on. All of his waking hours are accompanied by thinking of you ('Are you safe? Are you alright? Do you miss him? Are you taking care of yourself? Do you ne-'). He's gone from taking multiple naps a day to barely one, only because he feels desperately uncomfortable sleeping alone as though his physiology knows that something important is missing. And when Zoro does finally fall asleep, you appear in his dreams. Sometimes he wakes up with the memory of your scent and touch lingering for a moment until he comes to his senses.
"Will you be here in the morning?" you ask hesitantly. It's selfish to ask Zoro to stick his neck out like that but at the same time, you desperately don't want this moment to end.
"Do you want me to?" he whispers.
As you nod, your cheek rubs against his chest.
You feel his chin resting on top of your head, further encircling you in a tight hold like a child who refuses to let go of their favourite toy. Perhaps Zoro is not the best with words but his actions tell you more than enough - if he could, he'd keep you close just like that until his last day. But knowing this moment ought to end in a few short hours, he wishes to memorize every detail of the way your body fits his.
That night Zoro wasn't sleeping in his own bed but still, he felt he was home.
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pinkie-pop · 26 days
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"Reincarnated As The Cringefail Lord of Hell's Second Child."
Part I Part II
Sequel to this.
Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Morningstar!Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel
Word Count: 3.2k
Includes: No applicable warnings for this installment
Synopsis: A straightforward isekai story, you're reborn as the devil's child. With knowledge of your past life and the show your new world is based on, it's clear that you must be destined for greatness. The only question remains: why does everyone around you seem to be acting so...strange?
•~•~•~•~•~•
You remember Lilith as a caring mother.
For the short period of time that she was in your life, you never once felt unloved. Even when you were suspicious of her, even when you tried to turn away from her, she always gazed at you with utmost adoration. Then, six months later, she stopped gazing at you at all. Six months later, she disappeared entirely.
Lucifer handled her sudden departure about as well as one could have. You didn't see him that much during the six months in which your mother was present, but you could tell they were in a rough patch. They never fought, never hit or insulted, but they were awkward in a way that was hard to describe. It showed in the way Lucifer gazed at her, in the way Lilith would break eye contact, in the way she never handed you over to him without his explicit asking. You suppose that must be why Lucifer has hardly changed even after his wife left without warning��to him, she had already left a long, long time ago.
•~•~•~•~•~•
Being a single father to two children isn't easy, even if one of them is already grown up. A child is never fully grown in the eyes of their parents, no matter how many centuries pass them by. 
You were always a little too mature for your age. It made it hard to be a dad, Lucifer thought. After all, how could he raise someone who acted as if they had already led a full life some many years ago? 
Before Lucifer could blink, seven years had already passed him by, and yet his youngest had not seemed to age a day. It was as if you had stopped growing a long time ago. It was as if you were born an adult. Your physical body was the only indicator of your progress. It scared him, honestly. Before you could even walk, you were crawling to the library and reading grimoires as old as the demon who owned them. Lucifer wishes he could dismiss it as a child simply playing with a toy, but something deep in his gut told him that you understood every word. This theory proved true when you started practicing magic mere months later. Your progress was astounding, unlike anything he'd ever seen. 
You…weren't normal. But every so often, you'd look up at him with your big, round eyes and smile, and you'd feel like a kid again. Lucifer would become aware of how rounded your cheeks and small your body was, and suddenly, the unease would vanish. That's right. No matter what, you were still only seven. The same seven-year-old who brought their teddy bear everywhere they went, who'd play with Razzle and Dazzle, just barely starting to be taller than said sheep. 
Despite everything, you were still his child. 
Lucifer’s phone buzzes, momentarily taking him out of his musings. 
It's Charlie.
Wait…Charlie?! Charlie never calls him! Oh no, what should he say? It has to be perfect, it has to be—
“Hey, bitch,” he says. Perfect.
“Hey, Dad,” Charlie says awkwardly, the sound of her pacing echoing through the speakers. She seems nervous, it makes Lucifer's heart ache. He wants so badly to reach out through the phone and comfort her, but he can't even muster up the courage to ask what's wrong. He kicks a duck across his workshop, the sound of it's squeaking echoing across the room. “So, I had a favor to ask you...” The sound of pacing stops, and Lucifer waits with bated breath.
“Sure, anything,” he says. “Anything you want.” Charlie explains the situation to him. She runs a hotel now, apparently. Why didn't she tell him sooner? The thought of her not trusting him with it ate at his pride, but he set his feelings aside and resolved to just listen. Charlie invites him to check out her hotel, and it dawns on him that this is the first time she's ever invited him over. The weight of her invitation is not lost on him. Eagerly, he responds, “I'll be there in an hour!” then hangs up.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Despite your maturity, you're still too young to be left home alone (in Lucifer's eyes, at least), so Lucifer takes you with him to the hotel. He's sure Charlie will be thrilled to see you again—the two of you have always been fond of each other. 
The hotel looks pretty much as it did in the show, with the only difference now being the large banner hanging from the stairway reading “Welcome, Dad!”. Charlie is there to greet the two of you at the door, and you can see the rest of the cast hanging around in the distance.
“[Name]!” Charlie says, running to pick you up and hug you as Lucifer stands awkwardly to the side. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have added your name to the sign!” When Charlie is done nuzzling your face, she and Lucifer share an awkward hug of their own. “I’m so glad you guys could make it. Let me show you around!” Charlie holds your hand and guides the two of you to the bar first, where Husk is there downing another bottle of cheap booze.
“Who’s the pipsqueak?” He says between gulps. “I don’t like kids.”
“Look at their face, hot stuff,” Angel replies, leaning over the counter with a lazy grin. “Think you just insulted royalty.” 
“Hello!” you say, craning your neck up to see them. “I’m [Name]! It’s nice to meet you!”
“Aw, look at that smile,” Angel coos, picking you up by the armpits. “Musta inherited that from ‘er Mom.” 
“What makes you say that?” You tilt your head. As far as you know, you inherited most of your traits from your father.
“Look at ‘im,” Angel says, nodding towards Lucifer, who’s wearing the nastiest frown you’ve ever seen. 
“Oh,” you chuckle. “Dad, are you okay over there?”
“I’d be fine if that filth were to put you down, sweetie,” he says.
“Hey! I am not ‘filth’! People pay big money just to be in the same room as me, you know!” Lucifer walks over and snatches you from his grip. The two of them exchange insults back and forth. Seeing as this might take a while, you climb down from your Dad’s arms and start looking around. 
“Why, hello there, little one,” Alastor says, materializing beside you. He reaches a hand out to shake, then excitedly swings your arm up and down when you give it. “You must be [Name]. Pleasure to be meeting you, dear! Quite a pleasure! Our dear Charlie has told us quite a bit about you,” he says, still shaking your arm.
“She has?” You say, glancing over to Charlie, who’s busy trying to defuse the tension between your father and Angel Dust. 
“Yes, indeedy!” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you around. “And since our dear Princess is so busy with her father and our tenant, I shall take it upon myself to show you around. Isn’t that just grand?” Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for a reply before dragging you by the arm towards the staircase, only to be stopped by Vaggie who quickly blocks the path.
“Oh no you don’t,” she says, brandishing her spear. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you are going nowhere with them.” Alastor grins but relents, dropping your arm and disappearing. Creepy.  
“Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, kneeling down to your height. You nod but hold the spot where the Radio Demon had grabbed you as if worried it might be bruised. Vaggie checks to see if it is but sees no signs of any bruise or injury forming on your small arm. That’s a relief, at least.
“Hah!” You and Vaggie snap around at the sound of thunderous laughter coming from the bar. The two of you are greeted by an odd sight—Lucifer and Angel Dust embraced together in a stiff hug, while Charlie looks on, seemingly pleased with herself. You aren’t sure how she pulled it off, but you suppose she must have succeeded in de-escalating the fight between those two.
“Oh, I see you’ve met my girlfriend!” Charlie says, walking over to you. 
“Your girlfriend?” Lucifer says, quickly untangling himself from Angel. “You like girls? S-so do I! We have so much in common!” He says, pointing his finger from himself to Charlie in a repetitive manner. 
“It’s uh- it's nice to meet you. Sir,” Vaggie says, standing up to shake Lucifer’s hand. To which he grabs her hand but then quickly pulls her in for a brief hug. The hug seems to blindside Vaggie momentarily and ends before she can return it. Still, she doesn’t seem unhappy about it.
“I’m Niffty!” Comes a voice from your right. Sure enough, it’s Niffty who’s come to see you next. “You’re taller than me, even though I’m older. That’s fine, though! I don’t mind at all!” She says, stabbing at a nearby roach with her needle, a crazed look in her eye.
You shuffle away from Niffty…
…And bump right into Sir Pentious on the way. 
“Oh, h-hello there,” he says, looking oddly nervous. “Ssorry, I uh…I do not know how to eh, conversse with people of your kind.” You blink at him, and he grabs his collar as if sweaty. 
“By ‘people of your kind’ do you mean…kids?” You ask. Pentious nods. “Just talk to me how you would everyone else. If it helps, you can think of me like how you think of Niffty?”
“Sscary…?” 
“I meant more like…a short person,” Niffty runs past you briefly, stabbing at another roach with her needle, “-but I get where you’re coming from,” you say.
The rest of the day follows more or less the same beats as the episode it was based on. Lucifer and Alastor have unexplained beef with each other, they sing a song about it (where does the music come from?), Charlie’s daddy issues get resolved via another song (seriously, where is the music coming from? Did they improv this?), and Mimzy appears. Soon enough, it’s time to leave. Charlie is hugging you and your Dad goodbye when an idea occurs to you.
“Hey, Dad? Charlie?” You say, feeling a bit nervous. “Do you mind if I stay here? I want to help out with the hotel.” It’s been seven years since you arrived in hell, but you still remember every detail of the show from having written it down as soon as you could write. With your knowledge, you might be able to help move things along more easily.
Maybe you can protect your sister from making a deal with the Radio Demon.
“Oh, honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Lucifer says, looking down at you.
“Eh, why not? Let the kid stay, for Christ’s sake,” Angel pipes up from the bar. “We could use someone ta’ liven the place up a bit.”
“Sweetie, you’ve never even stayed the night away from home before. Are you sure you want to stay in the hotel?” You nod.
“Charlie will be there with me! And you won’t be that far away, either! Please, Daddy?” You give Lucifer your best puppy-dog eyes, the ones you know he’s weak to. Lucifer looks away from you, clearly conflicted. 
“Alright,” he relents. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” you say, a tad too eager.
“I’m staying here with you.” 
“Is that okay?” You turn to Charlie. 
“Of course!” she says. “I’ll go get your rooms set up right away–”
“Room,” Lucifer corrects. “We, uh, wouldn’t want to take up too much space.”
“Oh no, no, no, it’s fine, we’ve got plenty of room for both of-”
“Just one room is enough for us,” he says, his voice final. You want to protest, being a fully grown adult (in your own head, at least), but you know your father won’t budge on this. He must miss feeling like a father, having one grown child and another who acts like they’re grown already. You should let him have this/
“Uh, sure,” Charlie says. “I’ll go get one ready for you, then.” 
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“So,” you say, looking over to Vaggie. The room is empty, save for you two. It’s the perfect time to start putting your plan into action. “How’d your hurt your eye? I thought Exorcists were supposed to be invulnerable.” Vaggie freezes, a horrified expression on her face as she turns to look at you. 
“How did you know that I’m an Exorcist?”
“You have a giant ‘X’ over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It isn’t rocket science,” you say, because it’s the first thing that came to mind.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she says, voice almost a whisper.
“Charlie knows, though, right?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Vaggie remains silent. “I think you should tell her. Keeping secrets from your partner only builds distrust, and it’s not like she wouldn’t forgive you.” 
“It’s not that easy,” Vaggie says, moving to sit on the couch. You sit beside her, waiting for her to go on. “I mean, you try telling your girlfriend that saved your life that not only have you been lying to her for years, but that you’ve also killed hundreds of her people. The same people that you’re now trying to save.”
“Well,” you say, shifting a little closer. “I think that last part is what’s really important here.”
“What? The part about me killing hundreds?”
“The part about you trying to save hundreds. I think that speaks to how much you’ve changed over the years. You’ve done things in your past that you aren’t proud of. Everyone has. But now you’re trying to make things right. I mean, you love her, don’t you?” Vaggie nods. “And she loves you?” Another nod. “Then what’s the issue? You guys are a good pair, and you’ll get through this. But first, you have to be honest with her.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she says, looking down. 
“I know I am. Now go. Go and tell your girlfriend the truth. Make sure she understands your point of view. Don’t just tell her and leave. Sit down and really explain where you’re coming from, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “You know, you give some really good advice, for a kid.”
“I know I do. Now, shoo, get outta here.” Vaggie smiles at you, then moves to get up. You give her a thumbs up, silently praying for things to go well for her.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“Charlie, there’s something I need to tell you,” Vaggie says, closing the door to their shared room behind her. “It’s um, I mean, you might wanna, uh, sit down for this…”
“Is it bad?” Charlie asks, her face creased with worry. 
“No—I mean, yes— I mean, maybe?”
“What is it?” Vaggie sighs, running a hand through her hair. She moves to sit down, and Charlie moves to sit with her, taking Vaggie’s hand in hers. “You know I love you, right?” Vaggie nods. 
“I—I’m—I…I can’t do this,” she says, abruptly getting up and walking to the door. 
“Wait!” Charlie says, standing to block her. “Hold on! You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No.” Vaggie shakes her head.
“Then it’s fine, isn’t it? We’ll be okay.” Charlie takes Vaggie’s hands in hers and Vaggie feels herself begin to tear up. She hastily moves her hands to wipe at the tears, missing the hurt look that briefly crosses her lover’s face. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Vaggie nods, throat dry. She needs a drink, water, alcohol, something. 
“I…” Charlie nods along, an encouraging smile on her face. “I’m an exorcist,” she says at last.
Charlie's face drops. She and Vaggie stare at each other for a long time before Charlie steps up to speak. “...Why are you telling me this now? Why keep it secret for so long?” She says at last.
“I…I’m not proud of it,” Vaggie says. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you but I just…I was scared.”
“Vaggie, you know I believe in redemption more than anyone else. What were you scared of?”
“I don’t know. I just—I didn’t want to have this conversation. With you. With anyone. When I first got here, I didn’t know you, I couldn’t trust you with my past, and then as more time passed and we got to know each other, it felt like it was too late. Like I couldn’t say it anymore without it becoming this huge thing. Every day, the secret got bigger and bigger, and I…I felt like I was drowning.” Vaggie looks down, ashamed.
“Vaggie,” Charlie says, once again taking Vaggie’s hands in hers. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She rubs her thumb against her hand comfortingly.
“Are…are we okay?”
“Of course,” she says. “I love you, Vaggie.”
“I love you, too.”
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“You know, you never did tell me how you hurt your eye,” you say, looking over to Vaggie.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because if angels can be hurt, they can probably be killed, too. I want to believe in Charlie’s hotel, but having a backup plan is always good.”
“An ex-colleague of mine slashed my eye right after she took my wings,” Vaggie says with a sigh.
“What did she use?”
“An angelic spear. Same as all of us.” You hum, pretending to ponder the information you were just given. Should you just drop the act and tell Vaggie you know what Carmilla did on the last extermination, or should you keep nudging her in the right direction?
“Carmilla Carmine deals in angelic weapons, doesn’t she? Maybe she knows something we don’t.”
“Doubt it,” she says. “Not even the other exorcists knew we weren’t invulnerable, and whether or not we can be killed is still up in the air.” You make a noise of displeasure. Without the information that Carmilla definitely killed an exorcist, Vaggie won’t do anything, but there’s no plausible explanation for how you could have come across such information. But if you don’t tell her, Charlie will end up making a deal with Alastor… But if you just give her the answer, Vaggie won’t fight with Carmilla and regain her wings…In the actual show, Alastor only relayed that Carmilla killed an angel, and Charlie took it from there. You should do the same.
“Vaggie, there’s something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else or ask any questions, okay?”
“What is it?”
“Promise me,” you say, holding up your pinkie. Vaggie obliges, and the room turns red with your deal. She looks shocked, her singular eye wide as she stares at your intertwined fingers, but the shock doesn’t last as you quickly move on to more pressing matters. “Last extermination, Carmilla Carmine killed an exorcist. I don’t know how she did it, but you need to go there and find out.” Vaggie opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You suppose she must have been trying to ask a question, but the strength of your deal must have prevented her from doing so. “Please, Vaggie. Something’s going to happen during extermination day, I can feel it.” Seeming to sense your desperation Vaggie at last relents.
“Okay, I’ll go talk to Carmilla,” she says.
•~•~•~•~•~•
Taglist: @Halparkebitch @American-idiot21 @Toast-on-dandelioms @Mixplara
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palioom · 7 months
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going for a ride
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summary: you've been eyeing your dad's hot best friend joel for a while, but you never had the courage to go and approach him by yourself. one day while watching him work on his harley in his garage, you finally decide to make a move.
pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader word count: 3.5k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); biker!joel with some tattoos; reader is in her early 20s; age gap; unprotected p in v; inappropriate use of a harley; cum shots; some dirty talk
• masterlist •
She was watching him.
Again.
He could feel her eyes stare into his back as he worked on his bike in his garage, door wide open in the hopes of letting a rare breeze in.
It was way too fucking hot today, and while Sarah was out with some friends, he used the time to get his bike ready, fixing some minor things and just checking if she was good to go still.
Because the weather was also good for taking his Harley for a ride again.
And her? His best friend’s daughter? Sitting in a chair on the lawn in front of her house, a big oak tree shielding her from the harsh sun.
Pretending to read a book, mostly just sparing long glances at him.
Trying to look innocent and occupied when he looked over to her.
Thinking she was slick.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop looking.
Joel Miller, her dad’s best friend, covered in tattoos, all over his arms, his chest, up to his neck. Dark, salt and pepper hair slicked back, some sticking to his sweaty forehead.
He was hot. Working on his stupid bike like almost every day when he had the time to.
She liked to see his muscles flex as he tightened some screws or polished the sleek, black metal.
How his biceps bulged when he moved some heavy part away, or a crate or something else that showed just how strong he was.
His veiny hands when he was over at their place or they at his, watching football or having a cookout. How thick his fingers were, wrapped around a beer bottle which seemed damn small compared to his large hands.
More than just once had she imagined what his thick fingers would feel like stretching her out, late at night when the heat made it impossible to sleep. When her own hand vanished into her panties because her thoughts kept revolving around him, moaning his name quietly while her hips bucked up.
She felt herself growing wet just watching him right now.
Not once had she gone over to him when she was alone. Too nervous, her dad always going with her.
But with him gone today, on some stupid trip with one of his other friends, she just really wanted to go over, watch him work up close.
Squirming in her seat, she snapped her book closed and stood up, setting it on the chair and just looking over to Joel.
Heart beating in her chest as she tugged down her tank top just a little lower and pulled her booty shorts up just a little higher.
Now or never.
He heard her approach before he saw her, turning around with a raised brow, squinting his eyes against the harsh sun reflecting off his driveway.
“Hello, Mr. Miller.”
She looked pretty, always did, no matter what she wore.
But he couldn’t deny that there was something about the skimpy shorts and the way her breasts threatened to spill out of her top that just made her prettier.
Hotter.
Hair done up and a nervous, little smile on her face.
“Hello, darlin’.” He greeted her, wiping some oil off of his hands with a rag. Joel was curious to find out why she had come over. This was the first time she had made the way alone. “Told you before you can call me Joel.”
She stopped not too far from him, looking a bit unsure, her eyes fixed on his hands, how the tattoos moved with them. 
How adorable.
He couldn’t tell if she was more fascinated by his hands or the images on them.
“What do you need, sweetheart? Did something happen?”
Joel knew nothing had happened, smiling as he asked. 
Of course he had noticed the way she looked at him when she thought he was busy. Or at dinner, when he was over for a beer. 
When he fixed something at their place.
Always staring with her pretty eyes, turning away whenever she thought he had almost caught her.
And he couldn’t deny that he had thought about her, even if he tried not to, for her old man’s sake.
How couldn’t he?
With the way she looked and the way she acted? He’d be stupid not to think about her.
“I just- I saw you working on your bike and just wanted to ask if I could watch?” She asked, internally slapping herself for just how stupid she sounded. Watching him work on his bike, yeah sure. “I think it’s really cool and-”
“Sure, darlin’.” He chuckled, cutting off her nervous rambling. Watched as her eyes snapped up to his, smile on her face. “Wanna get a closer look?”
She nodded, eyes sparkling. All she could think about was how good he looked, with that smile of his and how it let the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly.
Joel just laughed and beckoned her closer with a nod of his head.
There was literally nothing she knew about bikes, still taking it in with wide eyes as she stepped closer to the Harley. It looked cool, that was really all she knew.
And he looked cool when he sat on it, riding through the neighbourhood, leather jacket and helmet on.
Got her squeezing her thighs together every damn time he raced past her house, running to the window when she already heard the familiar sound of it echoing up and down the street.
Joel only watched her, a smirk still on his face as he saw her circle it, lips slightly parted.
He couldn’t resist letting his eyes roam down to her ass, just peeking out from under these little shorts, making his dick twitch in his pants.
“It’s pretty.” She said sheepishly. “Like, super cool.”
“You can touch, it won’t bite.” 
Her eyes snapped up to him, apprehensive to touch the obviously very expensive motorbike, but then reaching out to touch the cool metal, the soft leather seat.
It really was a cool bike.
“Ever ridden one before?” He asked, stuffing the rag he had wiped his fingers with earlier into the back pocket of his jeans, watching her shake her head.
The way she looked at the bike almost made him wonder if she really was here for that instead of what he thought she was here for.
“No, dad said it’s too fucking dangerous to ride one.” She chuckled, trying to imagine herself on one.
All cool, clad in protective leather with sunglasses on. But never as cool as Mr. Miller.
“You’re old enough, sweetheart, your old man can’t do shit if you want one.”
Joel laughed and she joined in, clearly relaxing now.
“Yeah, like I got the money for a fucking Harley.” She joked, finishing her round and coming to stand beside him. “Said he was gonna kick me out anyways if I get one.”
A half-joke, she knew he would never.
Joel just nodded, thinking.
“You wanna sit on it?”
She looked up at him, clearly surprised by his question.
“C’mon, do it. I don’t mind.” He added, seeing the hesitation on her face. 
She really looked adorable like this, biting her bottom lip and her fingers playing with the rings on her hands. 
Fuck, they were small.
How often had he imagined them wrapped around his hard cock while he was fucking into his own fist.
So nimble and thin compared to his. Made it difficult to really imagine it was her getting him off.
“You sure, Mr. Mill-” She quickly cut herself off, correcting herself. “I mean, Joel?”
Her calling him Mister had never failed to make his dick twitch ever since had really taken notice of her one or two years back.
It was like the switch had flipped one day and he had finally seen how fucking pretty and hot she was.
“Go ahead.”
He watched her get on, a little clumsy as she swung one leg over the machine but managed to sit down. Her ass looked so good on his bike, her hands wrapping around the handles apprehensively.
“How’s she feel?” He asked, stepping a little closer as she adjusted herself on it, looking over it.
“Feels good.” She said with a smile, looking back at him, and god, that smile could melt him more than the Texas sun. “Do I look cool?”
Joel had to laugh at that, nodding his head. “Very fucking cool. Wanna feel her?”
Her brows furrowed at his words, her eyes saying everything.
“Scoot over, darlin’.” He said, swinging his leg over the bike and coming to sit behind her, his hands replacing hers on the handles.
She went rigid, with him so close to her, gasping when he turned the bike on, revving it a few times.
His laugh was so close to her ear, his chest pressed against her back as he leaned forward a little.
“What do you think?” 
A nervous laugh escaped her, moving back just a little, having to bite back a small noise when she felt him.
Already hard against her ass, hips rutting forward subconsciously as she moved against him.
She could swear she heard him groan, the loud engine drowning out the sound of it in the small garage.
Shit, he really was hard. But she tried to play it off, like she didn’t feel anything.
“Really cool, Joel.”
Joel noticed, of course, the way she stiffened and became nervous now.
His hips ground into her ass again, mouth close to her ear now.
“Wanna go for a ride?” He asked, turning off the motor, the sudden silence almost louder than the bike had been. Deafening, suffocating. “Or are you interested in a different kind of ride, sweetheart?”
She whimpered, a small noise in the back of her throat, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. Eyes wide, maybe a little scared.
“What do you mean, Joel?”
Now that she had been cornered, she found it hard to speak, like her tongue had been tied up and rendered useless. He wasn’t actually implying what she thought he was implying, was he?
“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” He said, voice low. One of his hands came to rest on her bare thigh, feeling the softness of her skin, her eyes moving to it. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, darlin’.”
It creeped higher, her breath hitching when he squeezed a little.
“And now you come over in those skimpy shorts with your tits spilling out of your tank top and wanna tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Joel-” Her voice was shaky, swallowing hard. “I’m-”
All he wanted was to kiss her neck, so inviting as his hand wandered down again, her hips squirming.
“C’mon, speak up like a big girl and tell me what you need.” The hand not on her thigh reached into his front pocket, finding the remote for the garage doors and pressing the button to shut them. 
Her heart was beating in her chest, whimpering as he pressed himself closer to her, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
“Want you, Joel.” She breathed out, whimpering when his fingers flexed, his lips attaching to her neck now. “Fuck, I need you.”
He smirked, kissing down the column of her neck, enjoying the little sounds she made. Smelling as sweet as she looked.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, hand wandering to the button of her shorts, fiddling with it, “you’ve been thinking ‘bout me, haven’t you?”
She nodded, watching his thick fingers open the button, then pull down the zipper. Mesmerized by the way the thick veins on the back of his hand danced as he moved his fingers.
His other hand came up to cup her breast, making her moan, the sound bouncing off the walls and making him groan. Soft and warm and full, like they were made for him to hold.
Fuck, she sounded so sweet, he wondered what she’d sound like moaning his name as he fucked her. Spread her sweet pussy open with his cock.
“Been thinking about my dick? What it’d feel like?” He asked, voice raspy as his hand vanished into her shorts, finding her without underwear which drew a chuckle from him. “Stretching you open?”
She was so wet already, hips jerking forward when his fingers found her swollen clit, brushing over it. So, so eager to be touched.
“Y-Yeah.” Her answer was quiet, breathy. Throwing her head back against his shoulder as he gently pressed into her clit. 
“Ever had someone fuck you, sweetheart?”
She shook her head, hands grabbing his forearm for purchase. Feeling the muscles move beneath his skin made her head feel light.
No.
“Shit.” He cursed under his breath. Couldn’t believe she was a fucking virgin.
It was impossible with how she looked.
“Joel, please-” She whined, needing more. His hand on her wasn’t enough, she needed him inside of her, feeling an orgasm come closer as he put more pressure behind his movements.
“Is someone needy for some cock?” He said, biting into the soft flesh at the crook of her neck. “What would your old man say if he saw you here, sweetheart?”
“Please-” It was all she could say, his fingers on her breast pinching her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top.
“Please what, darlin’?” He asked, kissing over her shoulder, breath hot against her skin, his finger speeding up. “Talk to me, ask nicely.”
Her whines grew louder, hips bucking into his hand.
She needed him, aching for him to stretch her open.
“Please fuck me, Joel. Please!”
He chuckled, biting her earlobe and taking his hands out of her pants, laughing at the noise of protest she made.
She felt him get up behind her, looking at him confused for a moment before he already dragged her off the bike by her waist.
With his broad hands on her hips, he bent her over it, pressing himself against her ass, making her gasp as her hands felt around for something to brace herself on.
“Got no idea how long I’ve been thinking ‘bout you, sweetheart.” Joel grunted, fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts and pulling them down hastily. “Your cute little ass peeking out of those slutty shorts, teasing me all the damn time, swingin’ your hips around me.”
His hands found her ass, giving her a playful, light smack, enjoying her surprised squeal. He kneaded the warm flesh before opening her for him.
“All wet for me, darlin’?” He asked, seeing her nod and moan, thumb hovering over her slick entrance and pressing against it just slightly. “What a pretty, little pussy.”
She whined, trying to press her hips back into him, making him chuckle.
Still kneading her ass, he shook his head.
“You’re such a needy little girl, aren’t you? Whining and moaning for some cock to fill you up.”
She nodded again, biting her bottom lip.
When she heard the zipper of his pants, she stilled, looking over her shoulder to watch him open his jeans and push it down along with his underwear.
Letting his heavy, thick cock spring free.
“Fuck.” She gasped, feeling warm suddenly. Nervousness settling in her stomach, his size unsettling her a little bit. “S’not gonna fit, Joel.”
He stepped closer to her, one hand on her ass and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, teasingly swiping the head through her slick folds, gathering the wetness and grunting at the feeling.
“Gonna make it fit, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel pressed into her carefully, his own need making him impatient. “Gonna be nice ‘n gentle.”
She hissed at the sting, feeling him slide in carefully, stretching her out. A drawn out moan left her, unable to keep her voice down with how good he felt inside of her when he finally bottomed out and stilled.
So much better than her fingers.
“What a tight little pussy, darlin’. All for me.” His hands smoothed over her back, pushing up the tank top to expose more of her skin, feeling her pulse around him.
“Feels good, Joel.” She whimpered, biting her bottom lip. He was so big inside of her, nice and thick. Stretching her open just right. “Please.”
“Please, huh?” He chuckled, hands wandering to her hips again. One day he would have to fuck her so he could see her face when she said the word. “Always so polite, your dad taught you well.”
Joel pulled back slowly, hearing her moan ripple through her, before pushing back in all the way.
Setting a steady rhythm, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with their moans and grunts, echoing off the walls.
She felt hot, squeezing him tight and moving back into him with each thrust, her sounds so sweet he didn’t know how he had survived without them until now.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Looking so good bent over my bike, little pussy squeezin’ me tight.” He grunted, a particularly harsh thrust making her cry out and losing her balance for a moment, grappling for purchase. “But you gotta keep your noises down, don’t want anyone to hear you, hm?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth when his hips snapped into her again, as if to make her cry out on purpose.
“Don’t need the neighbours to know that Mr. Miller is fucking his friend’s daughter.”
He built her up fast, his cock feeling perfect inside of her, every snap of his hips getting her closer and closer to the edge.
His words were only spurring her on, his voice so deep and gravelly.
“C’mon, I know you’re close, sweetheart.” He grunted, losing his rhythm as he neared the edge as well. “Cum all over my cock like the good girl I know you are, ‘atta girl.”
She whined, sound muffled behind her hand, that familiar surge of her orgasm so much more intense when he pushed her over, crying out for him.
“There we go, ‘atta girl, pretty girl.”
Her legs felt wobbly as her entire body trembled, her slick coating his cock while he kept pounding into her, eyes on her ass, watching it jiggle in time with his thrusts.
Driving into her over and over, having just enough of a mind to pull out when he fell over the edge, stroking himself as white ropes of cum shot all over her ass and lower back, a deep grunt rumbling in his chest.
She whimpered, feeling so empty as he came all over her, his other hand on her hip holding her up, his noises making her shiver.
His cum felt warm on her back, a feeling she quite liked.
Her mind was hazy, hand falling from her mouth as she became limp, trying to gather her breath.
Joel swallowed hard, seeing her with his cum all over her.
What a pretty sight.
He knew then and there this wouldn’t be the only time this happened, already needing more as his thumb drew circles into her skin.
“You alright, darlin’?” He asked, reaching for the rag in his back pocket after he had pulled his pants up again and began to clean her up.
How he wished he could leave it there for longer, wished he could see her face covered in it.
Some day.
She nodded and hummed, slowly pushing herself up into a standing position, bracing herself on the Harley, legs wobbling.
“‘M fine, Joel, thank you.” She said, feeling him bend over behind her and pull up her shorts for her, helping her to close them.
He chuckled at her look when she turned around, hand on his tattooed forearm. Dazed smile and eyes glazed over, looking just a little too blissed out.
“Felt really good.”
“You good to walk home?” He asked, hand on her back, all the gentleman again now. “Or do you need a minute, sweetheart?”
Like he hadn’t just said all that filth about how tight she was. Or had his cock buried inside her to the hilt.
She nodded, walking beside him to the garage door which opened now. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”
“Good.” He said, wide, mischievous smile on his lips as the sun flooded back into the garage. Hand falling from her back now as they stood there, just looking at each other. “You know, sweetheart, if you wanna know more about bikes, just come on over.”
The look he gave her made her heart stop, but she giggled at his words.
“I’ll gladly teach you more.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”
A wide grin graced her face, laughing again before she walked off, steps just a little wobbly still.
He could swear her hips swayed more than usual, ass peeking out at the bottom of her shorts again.
The barbeque at her place in two days would be very interesting.
And he really hoped she’d come over again, just so he could take her for another ride.
2K notes · View notes
alrtyhoney · 7 months
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TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS 
(I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness and I have to sit down for a while– the feeling that I'm losing her forever.)
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The rundown: That cake scene with Miles at his father’s bodega party but it’s with Miguel and his universe’s daughter. He’s late and it’s your quinceañera. Content: Father!Miguel O'hara x Daughter!Reader / Angst! (wc: 3844)
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There was something oddly peculiar about your father. People would assume that he would be the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child; the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. You’d argue it wasn’t true– you were fed, you had the weight of what a fifteen year old should have, and education was proper. 
You love your papa with all of your heart, but there was no denying the fact that he would never be around often enough. You understood this when you were eight years old, and mornings would bring only a cold breakfast accompanied by a hastily scribbled note from him. He’d leave early– far too early. You tried staying up in an attempt to tell when he gets up and leaves the house, but you swear you don’t hear the door open every time. 
Then came twelve and the missed events. Miguel seemed to be missing in action when it came to certain school activities, not showing up for things that he had previously made commitments for. It became more and more frequent as you grew older– you wouldn’t hear from him for days.
He was a man dedicated to his profession, and although you felt pride in what he had achieved, there was this empty space in your heart that hadn’t been filled ever since you were eight. It was said that a child needed the presence of their parents to feel security– to feel important. You never truly understood it, not until you had to endure many nights at dinner alone and the numerous times you spent walking home with nothing but your own thoughts for company.
You had always pondered over the question of whether it was a common phenomenon that fathers seemed to love their daughters less once they had reached teenagehood– or if it was possible for fathers to unlearn being fathers. 
“Is your papa coming, bebita?” 
The faint notes of classical music filled the air as you sat on the wooden floor, stretching your sore limbs. You observed the ladies who were much older than yourself starting their exercise routines, having come in early before the group class began. You waited for Miguel to pick you up. 
– But that had been two hours ago. Your teacher finally worked up the courage to approach you, hesitantly looking for the right words to say. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be the one to let you down, but she’d seen you walk out the studio’s door alone time and time again after you told her that your father would bring you home himself.
“He said he’d come pick me up today.” You spoke, nervously twisting the ends of your skirt. Your teacher had most likely heard these words countless times before from you, but the faint ray of hope in your voice remained firm. “He promised.” You added quietly, praying that maybe it would be different this time. 
“Ay, bebita– you know how this ends. You tell me those exact words and you walk out here on your own anyway.” She slightly shook her head, her face softening with a sympathetic smile as she knelt closer to you. “Tell you what, how about I offer to give you a ride home today? I have plenty of snacks in my car that you can enjoy. You can take as many of them as you'd like.”
You took some time to consider it, letting her gently weave her fingers through the strands of curls that couldn't quite fit into a bun. Your lips pursued as you sighed softly, “What if he comes and I’m not here anymore?” You’d hate to miss the opportunity.
Of course you still had faith that he would come, having endured all the other times he had let you down. You were never one to quickly give up on people and your father was the only one you trusted the most— you’d hate to admit that his inconsistency was starting to hurt; digging a deeper wound to the already bleeding cut. 
“He’s not coming and I know you know that too.” 
She stands up, grunting slightly as she hefts herself up. You knew there was no more room for negotiation anymore when she urged you to come along. She carefully takes your backpack from off your back and drapes it over her own shoulders, “Come on sweetheart, let's get you home.” 
The silence in the car was palpable, with no one feeling the need to prod conversation. You hadn't stopped fidgeting with the hem of your bag since you got in, and you could feel your teacher's worried glances burning into you. Your mind was a jumble of emotions that kept bubbling away as they all competed for your attention. What could be his reason this time/?
She switched on the radio in an effort to lighten the tense mood, but when a melancholic tune filled played instead, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.
“Is it possible for fathers to unlove their daughters?” 
It was a question that took her completely by surprise, so much so that another uncomfortable beat of silence passed before she could respond. The stillness made you regret asking in the first place. Your legs shifted nervously, an unconscious habit which you had never noticed before.
“Of course not,” She muttered, almost inaudibly. “Fathers tend to forget is all.”
But you knew that wasn’t the case. 
While Miguel was never home, something else resided on the corners of your house– someone you have never met at all. She smiled back at you from the frame sitting atop your dad's nightstand, wearing the similar blue soccer jersey your school had. She was the picture on his wallet and the little widget on his phone. It was beyond you– the few blue ribbons hidden on the box beneath his bed; the medals, the drawings you know you’ve never drawn or given him. For all you know, the kid didn’t even go to your school. 
It wasn’t anything sinister, but in a way she felt like a ghost. A child your father mourned for all his life and you had no idea why. 
This was a physical pain in your chest; one that was peeling away the very layers of your heart until it was nothing but ugly– just how could Miguel love a child more than his own? It was ridiculous to feel like you were in competition with someone you barely knew, yet somehow, you felt like you were losing. It felt even more absurd when you considered the possibility that maybe you weren't really his child at all.
“I joined our school’s soccer team today, papa.” 
It wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for Miguel to be at the dining table for lunch. But on this Saturday noon, he was there. Sitting across from you, quietly eating his food. Finally, he paused and shifted his gaze towards you, seeming to linger on you longer than normal before looking away, cracking a grin.
“Soccer? You hate sports, mija.” He says, a bit of laughter in his voice. "What made you decide to try out? I don't recall you being the least bit interested before."
Something in his eyes becomes brighter, a sense of familiarity as he eagerly awaits your response– and the thing is, you couldn’t tell him why. Not without addressing the elephant in the room. Maybe you’d hang my medals too? Maybe you’d frame a photo of me? You know well your question reminds him of someone else. 
“No reason.” 
It was no surprise that you were terrible at it. After barely two seasons, you'd already given up. However it was surprising to see Miguel in the stands during the times that you had a game, but there wasn’t much to watch anyway— not when you’d been relegated to the bench for most of the time. All you felt was shame. 
Oddly enough, he didn't question it. He remained silent during the rides back home, his gaze distant and never once looked at you. Had you embarrassed him to an extent where he couldn’t even acknowledge you? Or have you given him the impression that you were just no better than the little girl in his pictures?
You dared not to talk about it too.
Music was your passion; the pulse, the poise and elegance of it all resonating with you deeply. Ballet was something that spoke to you particularly in ways no other art form could. You found a special joy out on stage, a feeling that grew deeper and greater each time you danced.
But like every flame that you desperately try to keep alive, Miguel had a way of snuffing it out. 
You remember it all so vividly, even though you'd much rather the memory be nothing more than a faint blur. Your very first recital and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found amongst the audience.
Your focus was a tunnel-vision, only set to finding even a glimpse of him— you had been so determined to find him that you forgot about all of your own movements. Soon, the few wrong turns had turned to missed cues; as soon as the music stopped, you made a run for it.
Your teacher had done her best to console you that day, attempting to coax a smile from you in front of the vanity mirror with its bright lights. She had wrapped her arms around you, doing anything she could to draw even the faintest curve of your lips. But you stayed slumped on your seat, feeling the weight of the unshed tears on your eyes. 
The door swung open, finally revealing Miguel; he was out of breath and sweat glistened on his forehead. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his tie was undone, a clear sign that he had run all the way here. He paused for a moment to catch his breath before walking in frantically, eyes looking for you. 
His eyes softened at the sight of you in your pretty pink tutu– then the tenderness was replaced with a feeling akin to plummeting one hundred stories down. How could he miss this? How could he let his sweet girl wait? He rushed to your side, sinking down into a kneeling position. He looked upon you with lines creasing his forehead and you already knew what was to come out of his lips.
“I’m sorry muneca, I came as fast as I could.” 
The other parents of your classmates started to barge inside the very room, their children giddy with joy and excitement, running to them with beaming smiles. You could hear their loud congratulations– voices singing sweet praises and telling how they looked outstanding on stage. The noise sounded like static in your ears, like their words were unfamiliar to you. They received bouquets of flowers, sweets– gifts for a job well done. Miguel came late and only with apologies. 
“You want pretty flowers too, mijita? We can stop by the flower shop a few blocks away from here, you can pick any bouquet you want.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, desperate to make his daughter feel better– the same daughter who wouldn't even meet his gaze. “Papa had to deal with something. I’ll be sure to go to your next recital– pinky promise.” 
“But I worked really hard for this.”
You wanted so desperately to blame him; to yell at him for every mistake that you've made on the stage. You felt ashamed, humiliated, and helpless all at once- and still, you couldn’t have the heart to be mad at him.
He looked at you apologetically, "Baby, I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier. How about we talk about the flowers you want to buy instead? There are lots of restaurants nearby as well— you can pick whatever pleases you, just name it." He paused for a moment before continuing, gently nudging your shoulder. “I know how much this meant to you.”
If he did, why couldn’t he have come at all?
You let out a deep sigh, feeling completely ridiculous in your tutu. All of the sudden, the leotard appeared to be two sizes too small and utterly irritating; your tights seemed unbearably itchy. You looked down helplessly, wanting nothing more than to leave this situation behind. “I just want to go home. Can we just leave? Please?” You pleaded softly. 
He bit the inside of his cheek, a gesture that conveyed own sinking heart in a way words could not. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, breath hitching as he gave in to your request instead. 
“Of course.” 
After that very moment, you'd vowed to yourself never to wait in anticipation of something that may or may not come. You wouldn’t put your faith in any more of your father's promises spoken under the dead of night. It took a toll on you– your naivety had taught you better than before.
But when your fifteenth birthday drew near, you never expected he would go so far.
The locks clicked and whirred as Miguel fumbled with the keys to the front door. You could hear your Father's voice, clearly agitated as he jostled the keys back and forth in an attempt to fit them into the lock. Finally, he steps inside, eyes immediately darting to you.
“You’re not wearing your birthday dress, sweetie. Is something wrong?” He’s wearing a smile, struggling to keep the two boxes of cake upright as he locks the door from behind. The banner is lopsided and the balloons scattered all around seem small– like they’ve been there for days and were starting to deflate themselves. He kisses the top of your head once he gets close, getting a better view of what you were working on on the counter. Homework. “Did you have your friends over today? How was it? Wanna hear all about it.”
And he must have forgotten. You decided to pretend not to hear his question, continuing to jot down notes, only humming at his presence. He settles the boxes down, sitting on the stool beside you. 
“I know papa’s late, but you can still go and wear your dress. I want to take pictures– should we order pizza? Do you want something else?” He’s rambling, hurriedly searching for his tone to dial down a few numbers. Miguel turns frantic, looking at the closed signs under every nice restaurant. “Pizza should be fine, mijita– you’ve eaten dinner, right?” 
“Not hungry.” 
Miguel chuckled, dialing anyway. “Did school suck today, sweetie?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “You know what can cheer you up? Cake. You love cake.”
“I don’t like cake anymore.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel frustration boiling over inside– and you fear it wasn’t the kind you’ve grown accustomed to suppressing. He was oblivious and it was killing you, hurting you in so many ways possible. “I’m not hungry.” You repeat again.
“Don’t be like that, __. Besides, it’s still tradition.” He stands up to check the drawers, only finding worn out candles from past birthdays. He takes a lighter. “Know what’s better than a cake? Two cakes! You’ll change your mind, go and open the boxes mija,”
Miguel excitedly pressed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently forward to open the two boxes of cake. The look in his eyes was that of pure anticipation as he waited eagerly for you to do so. It almost hurt you to tell him the news— that you wanted more than to just take the blame itself. It was conflicting. 
You finally got up from the bar stool, settling on your feet in front of the counter. Taking a deep breath, you carefully opened the lid of the boxes. What greeted you had made you visibly recoil– the small flicker of hope that settled in your chest gone as quickly as it came. The cakes were crumbled and the frosting was all over the box, like it had been trampled and tossed around.
Was this all a joke? Were you a joke to him? Your shoulders trembled as you couldn't bring yourself to look away from it; the letter was still visible but amongst the cake crumbs lay written a name– Gabriella. Not happy birthday to you, but Gabi. 
You didn’t know what hurt most. Your lips quivered and all you could mutter was, “Gabi?”
His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly moved to your side to take a look at the cake himself. He swiftly closed the lids, shaking his head. “Must’ve been a mistake back at the bakery. I can–” 
And you could barely catch your breath, not when the hurt piled over one another. 
“Are the medals from her? The one’s from your bed? The trophies?” 
He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly irritated. “What did I tell you about snooping around my things, __?”
“Is this the girl–” A ragged inhale cuts your thoughts, “on your nightstand and wallet?” You didn’t even realize you had started to cry, but when another breath had caught itself in your throat, you were inconsolable– finally letting the dam break all at once.
Miguel did nothing to console you– he didn’t know how to. He knew he had messed up royally and all he could do was helplessly watch you break down. Who knows how long you’ve kept this? 
“__, come on. It’s just a simple mistake, it’s still cake–”
“And it was my birthday!” 
“Baby, what’s the big deal?” He was shocked and understandably so. His sweet, babygirl, who was usually so quiet and docile, was talking back angrily to him– but Miguel knew better than to point fingers. This was his fault– your unbecoming was his own doing.
“You just had to be late– on my birthday!” 
“I have work, baby, you know this.” 
“That still doesn’t explain anything!” You cried out, desperation flooding your voice. “Why are you never home? Where do you go? Who is Gabriella– why do you love her more than me?” You could feel your breath catch in your throat as your voice rose and trembled with every question. Your breathing grew unsteady and your throat began to close up, not allowing anymore words to come out as much as you wanted to scream. You feared there’d be no more room for air.
And there was something about Gabriella that everytime she was brought up, Miguel would be defensive. Perhaps it was the plenty of times Lyla would reprimand him when she catches him watching the few videos of them or when Jess would pity his state. “Don’t be ridiculous, __. I made a mistake– that’s it. We don’t have to fight.” He says, grabbing a spatula. “If it bothers you so much, here,”
Miguel frustratedly spreads the lettering with the spatula, leaving smudges of red on top of perfectly white frosting, resulting in a more muddled mess. He's making a complete mess of it and you can't bear to watch any longer. Your still figure finally reaches out to grab his wrist, “Stop— stop that! What are you doing?!”  
It was no use. The cake was nothing but totally ruined now. You didn’t even have the chance to read the message. He forcefully digs the candles on both, sliding it in front of you. Your eyes stayed on the cake– you didn’t have the heart to look at him. Anger boiled up within you and without a moment's hesitation, the words leaped from your mouth, "You're not listening to me! This is not what I'm so upset about—!"
But he responds in the same loudness as yours, slamming his hands down on the cold tiles of your countertop. “Okay, champ, you got it– go for it! Say what you have to say,” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips, adding insult to the already deep wound. “What do you have to tell me so bad?”
And you didn’t think it was possible for silence to be more deafening, but as you stared each other down, all you could think of was how maybe Miguel was worse than the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child or the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. 
You were right. Fathers were capable of unloving their daughters and the way his dark eyes burned into yours was all the answer you needed. This wasn’t your papa– did you ever know him?
“My birthday was two days ago.” 
He furrowed his eyebrows, doubt creasing his forehead as he looked back to the calendar hung on the fridge. His gaze resting on your birthday date, the red circle mocking him in vivid reminder— two days ago. Your birthday was two days ago. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt nothing but guilt tying his stomach in knots. 
“Mijita–” He’s quick to console you, the anger in his words disappearing immediately and turning into an apologetic one– but every time he’d try to move forward, you’d only step back. Miguel couldn’t even bear to think how you’ve celebrated on your own. How you waited for him all night in your birthday dress. He subtly shook his head, trying his best not to clog his mind yet. 
He needed to make it up to you. He couldn’t lose you too.
“My birthday– why did you have to take it?” You rubbed your eyes harshly, but the more you wiped the tears away, the more they seemed to fall. “It’s mine and I still had to wait for you to be able to sing the song. It’s my day and all I could think of was what time you might come home tonight.”
You wanted nothing more than for him to run to you with open arms, to let you cry on his shoulders– but as his silence stretched on, you mistook it as nothing but ruthless. He simply didn’t care. Miguel was too much of a wall for that. 
The look you gave him was nothing but hate– a look no parent wants to ever come across and it almost makes him stagger back. It was like what he had done was the most disgusting– most inconsolable act ever beyond repair and all he could do was watch; watch as another daughter of his slip through his fingers. He’s holding you like water and he doesn’t know how to keep you in.
You scoffed, averting your gaze. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine by me.” You turned your back, letting out another shaky exhale. You couldn’t look at him the same– not after this.
“You make it really, really, hard to feel like a daughter.” 
And with that, you run to your room, leaving Miguel to stay rooted to where he stood. He thinks to himself– had he taken that from you too?
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𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
「 ✦ bucky barnes ✦ 」
ׂ╰┈➤18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some with have summaries if provided <3
╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮
𓇼 video games by @twoghostsfromeden
𓆉Sam Wilson attempts to teach Bucky how to play video games, but you have a different idea
𓇼 just like dad by @ladyfallonavenger
𓆉 The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.
𓇼 coming in hot by @nexusnyx (ao3 link)
𓆉When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
𓇼wallpaper by @cosmicbucky
𓆉 bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.
𓇼 consequences by @duuhrayliegh
𓇼@ellemj
𓆉 letters to santa pt2
𓆉 need and wants
𓇼 trust by @kgficz
𓆉Set during the end of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. You had been forced to work as a nurse for Hydra’s soldiers, you never expected The Winter Soldier to be one of them. What happens when he starts to care about you?
𓇼 glitter and goo by @welldonebeca
𓆉 When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up
𓇼 accidental pic by @mostlymarvelsstuff
𓆉Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally
𓇼 just friends by @cadaverousnight
𓆉A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder
𓇼 @espinosaurusrexex
𓆉Worlds Collide
🫧 The world is ending. And there are two types of people: The ones that embrace the last pieces of happiness left, and the ones that just don’t bother anymore. When those two clash, there’s no way of knowing what will happen. But maybe, some hopes and dreams aren’t so different after all and the both of them get a chance at becoming more than just acquaintances.
𓆉 refuge
🫧 You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep – lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?
𓆉happy little accidents
🫧 In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.
𓆉serious questions
🫧 Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.
𓆉 bad boys don’t buy flowers
🫧 Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...
𓆉request oneshot
𓇼 @pellucid-constellations
𓆉 unexpected
🫧 With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person you’d find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldn’t make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasn’t a feat you could manage alone
𓆉 i need him like water
🫧 You think Bucky’s having an affair. He thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. But he must notice the living room light is left on. Every night.
𓆉 flowers in the compound
🫧 That girl from the flower shop seems to be taking up a lot of Bucky’s time.
𓆉 request one shot
🫧 You knew Bucky didn't like his arm. You just didn't know how much until he accidentally hurt you with it.
𓆉 counting
🫧 Time heals all wounds. Bucky’d been holding onto that proverb ever since blip. But time had never been particularly kind to him, so he opted to keep track of the sweet girl’s in his apartment building instead, the one that made him banana bread and took him to diners at two in the morning. Sometimes, you didn’t keep the same schedule. That made Bucky panic.
𓇼 everybody talks by @nickfowlerrr
𓇼 @buckyalpine
𓆉come back to you
🫧 What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform. 
𓆉 did you hear
𓆉 40s bucky w/ nurse!reader
𓆉 sunshine
𓆉 spiral
𓆉 pick me
𓆉 untouched
𓆉 tongue twister
𓆉 wait what pt2 pt3 pt4
𓆉 can you not pt2 pt3
𓆉 choices pt2
𓇼 aching by @bbyboybucket
𓆉After Reader gives Bucky a massage, he realizes how much he likes her touch
𓇼 tiny match maker by @jamdoughnutmagician
𓆉 Adjusting to his new life outside of the superhero business, Bucky makes the acquaintance of a very young, inquisitive girl.
𓇼 metal arm brrr by @bombsonboard
𓆉 Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.
𓇼 the cards were dealt by @bucky-fricking-barnes
𓆉Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.
𓇼 @holylulusworld
𓆉 a different kind of valentine pt2
🫧 Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.
𓆉 happy birthday big grump
🫧 Your new neighbor is a professional grump. No reason to not be nice to him on his birthday.
𓇼 siren be bound to me by @darkdemeter
𓆉He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him.
And yet overboard and on the tide you set sail across in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul... a song so familiar yet unknown.
Forgotten. And Bucky reminds you yet again that there no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there
𓇼 to have and to hold harm by @queers-gambit
𓆉after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become
𓇼 @thighs-of-betrayal-blog
𓆉 jealous bucky
𓆉 request oneshot
𓆉 hold the door
🫧 You’ve never met your new neighbor, not until an incident happens involving the apartments elevator. 
𓇼 out of practice by @drabbles-mc
𓆉 reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years
𓇼 @jobean12-blog
𓆉 next door to love
🫧 When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.
𓆉 this spells love
🫧 Bucky is your best friend and he really is the best but he wants more, he wants everything, but the idea that it could ruin your friendship and he could lose you is too much...
𓇼 meet my family by @skaye44
𓆉Your parents want to meet your boyfriend Bucky which you agree, but the whole family invites itself along for the meeting.
𓇼 my sun my star pt2 pt3 by @cosmos-coma
𓆉 You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you
𓇼 @mrsbarnesblog
𓆉 my everything
🫧 The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before
𓆉 i trust you
🫧 when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help
𓇼 5+1 by @mrs-illyrian-baby
𓆉 Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk
𓇼 just like that by @navybrat817
𓆉Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier.
𓇼 @sergeantbuckybarnes
𓆉 begin again everything i wanted
🫧 When you go to meet your friend at her work you see a cute guy had been stood up, so you’re going to be the best date of his life.
𓆉 amnesia
🫧 During a fight in Madripoor you get hit in the head resulting in forgetting the last ten years of your life. And most important, your boyfriend.
𓇼 diamonds by @angrythingstarlight
𓇼 @literaryavenger
𓆉 not so bad
🫧 It's Bucky's birthday, but doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.
𓆉 happy birthday
🫧 It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you
𓇼 body and soul by @theladybarnes
𓆉 Reader has a conversation with Sam that leaves her a little confused before her date with Bucky. Includes probably the best romance movie quote to ever grace films.
𓇼 you’re my desire pt2 by @marvelouslizzie
𓆉Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.
𓇼 she chose me by @notafunkiller
𓆉Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.
𓇼 bucky has a crush by @assembletheimagines
𓇼 buckyvision by @fictionalmemoirs
𓆉 pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt5.5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10
•masterlist
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
last update march 18, 2024
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grumpyseaman · 2 months
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"This is me at 21 years old. This is the day I graduated from the Detroit police academy at 4:00pm, went home and took a couple hour nap, woke up at 9:30 that night and reported to my first tour of duty at the 12th Precinct for midnight shift. Look at that smile on my face. I couldn't have been more excited, more proud. Armed with my dad's badge that he wore for 25 years on my chest, one of my mom's sergeant stripe patches in my pocket, my lucky $2.00 bill tucked into my bulletproof vest, a gun I was barely old enough to purchase bullets for on my hip and enough naive courage for a small army, I headed out the door...my mom snapped this photo on my way.
The next 17 years would bring plenty of shed blood, black eyes, torn ligaments, stab wounds, stitches, funerals, a head injury, permanent and irreparable nerve damage, 5 ruptured discs, some charming PTSD and depression issues and a whole lot of heartache. They brought missed Christmases with my family, my absence from friends' birthday get-togethers, pricey concert tickets that were forfeited at the last minute because of a late call and many sleepless nights.
I've laid in wet grass on the freeway for three hours watching a team of burglars and orchestrating their apprehension, I've dodged gunfire while running down a dark alley in the middle of the night chasing a shooting suspect, I've argued with women who were too scared to leave their abusive husbands until they realized they had to or they would end up dead. I've peeled a dead, burned baby from the front of my uniform shirt, I've felt the pride of putting handcuffs on a serial rapist and I've cried on the chest of and kissed the cheek of my dead friend, coworker and academy classmate even though it was covered in his own dried blood and didn't even look like him from all the bullet holes. I know what a bullet sounds like when it's whizzing past your ear, a few inches away, I know what the sound of a Mother's shrilling scream is like when she finds out her son has been killed in the middle of the street and I know what it's like to have to tell a wife and mother of 3 that her husband was killed in a car accident while on his way home from work.
Smells, pictures, sounds and sights are burned and engrained into our minds...things we can never forget, no matter how hard we try; things that haunt our sleep at night and our thoughts during the day; things that we volunteered to deal with so that you don't have to. Things I don't want my sister, little cousins or YOU to even have to KNOW about.
I never once went to work thinking, "I'm gonna beat someone tonight."; "Hmmm...I think I'm gonna kill someone tonight." I DID, however, go to work every night, knowing that I was going to do the best I could to keep good people safe, even if that meant that I died doing so.
We ALL need to start being more understanding and compassionate toward one another. Violence doesn't cure violence and hate doesn't cure hate. I've seen and experienced both sides of the spectrum since I left the PD and I get it. I truly do. But this all has to stop.
Are cops perfect? No. Are there bad cops? Yes. But please...understand that the vast majority of police are good, loving, well intentioned family people. They have husbands and wives and children and parents and pets and cousins and mortgages and electric bills and lawns that need cutting, just like you. They have hearts and consciences. They aren't robots, they're not machines and they just want to help keep the wolves away from the sheep. I KNOW there's people who don't deserve to wear the badge but they're SO VERY few and far between. It breaks my heart to see all this hatred and anger flying around. All it's doing is encouraging more of the same.
Credit: Merri McGregor
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sensitivegoblin · 11 months
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Vent
#sisters BF is being such a typical douchey cus ‘alpha’ male#they had a fight again#and I could tell if I would’ve tried to help my sister would’ve just started being mean to me#I’m literally reliving my childhood no wonder I’m regressing in multiple ways#now I’m starving and too afraid to bump into him#and I don’t want him to hear my secret chips#i hate men I’m sorry between this and T*T* breaking my heart I have lost complete faith in men as romantic partners#cis-het men I should say#t*t* wasn’t white so no I can’t even make a ‘all white men’ joke🤣☠️#I’m just really tired#i feel like I’m giving my 100% and it’s not enough#i took a break came back and now I just hate myself#im not even mad I just hate myself and that I exist#like what do I even add to these peoples lives? nothing#i just wish I had the courage to die#my sister’s cat has been on my side today#i can read his emotion#he jumped up on the bed for the first time! i was crying n texting my dad and he got on my heating pad and curled up#i love him so much hopefully he’ll come up more n cuddle#im just really tired and wanna be saved#im having issues regressing but also at the same time my body is using my hypersexuality as a distraction like I used to as a kid-teen-now#so because of the hostile environment and depression im literally regressing into a child#but the trauma and the emotional mental shit is trying to also distract#im just really fucked to right now and I wish I could be held
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solemnreads · 7 months
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jungkook fic recommendations (II)
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Part 1
a - angst / s - smut / f - fluff /
minors - dni!!
All Time Favourites
Bedeviled by @writemywaytoyourheart a
summary: "Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it.  Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake."
Please Love Me by @ahundredtimesover a, s, f
summary: "As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t."
Habits of A Broken Heart by @softykooky a, f
summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”
Over the Odds by @jungk0oksthighs s, a ,f
↠ sugar daddy au
Blue Spring by @adonis-koo f, a, s
summary: Jeon Jungkook, only well known as the youngest (and hottest) dad at the daycare, he’s got it all, the looks, the sweetheart personality, the body, but here’s what gets everyone- he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. The only problem lies in his fickle one year old daughter that hates just about every daycare worker out there...Well...besides you that is. Which of course leads to Jungkook liking you just as much as his daughter...if not maybe a little too much. Or in other words...You and Jungkook are secretly crushing on one another but too shy to admit it.
Catastrophe by @astralmono f, s
↠ intimidating jk who's only soft towards oc
Mine by @flowerprincesscherryblossom s
summary: "oc is jungkook's bff and he get's jealous of taehyung flirting with her and jk takes her home and fucks the shit out of her"
Worst of You by @oureuphoria f, a
summary: "You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of baggage at 23." Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”
Epiphany by @nightbts f, a
summary: "you hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. but why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? and why did he feel the same way?"
1999 by @tattookoo f, s
summary: "the year was 1999. boybands were wearing all-white outfits, everybody wanted an ibook or a tamagotchi, tlc didn’t want no scrubs, fight club was playing in movie theaters and you became jeon jungkook’s fake girlfriend in order to fix his reputation. "
Hotter Than Hell by @chateautae s, a, f
summary: "jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant."
Soft For You by @joyfulhopelox f
summary: "wow, he's normally so cold. how did you manage to get him so soft for you?"
Risqué by @mercurygguk a, s, f
↠ age gap au ↠ boss' daughter au
Temptation by @aiimaginesbts s
summary: "werewolf jk entering his heat"
I Don't Like A Gold Rush by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids f
summary: "Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?"
Sketch by @moonscriptsx f, s
summary: "After sixteen years of dreaming about the same unknown beautiful girl, Jungkook finally gets to put a name to the face — and she's so much more than what he's dreamt of."
Drunk on Lust by @rerefundslocals s
summary: "drinking night with your best friend spills the truth upon secrets within you both."
Accidental Roommates by @jjkeverlast f, s
summary: "moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate."
Fool For You by @btsgotjams27 f, s
summary: "When Jungkook is finally single, you shoot your shot."
Evolution of A Lovers Heart by @jeonstudios a, s, f
summary: "the rules are simple: first one to take the virginity wins."
Stockholm Syndrome by @taleasnewastime a, s
summary: "You’d tried so hard to run away from your troubled childhood. Now in your final year at university you’re starting to feel like maybe what’s in your past will stay there. Then a beautiful stranger shows up and befriends you, but not everything about him is as it seems."
One Year, My Love by @hayjeon f, s, a
summary: "You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. "
Don't Ever Let Me Go @thedefintionofbts s, a, f
summary: "You were ten years old when you first met Jeon Jungkook, seventeen when you decided he was your best friend, and twenty one when you agreed to be fuck buddies upon his proposal."
Ember Burning by @kpopfanfictrash a, s
summary: "The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook."
University Superstar by @jungkookstatts f, s, a
summary: "Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…"
Énoument by @littlemisskookie a, s, f
summary: "Mulan!AU | War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook."
Recent Likes
Tainted Love by @jessikahathaway a, s
summary: "Jungkook sometimes forgets the time. Except the time he's spent with you, he's certain those times he'll remember until the day he turns to dust. As a demon with a time limit on his life, will he let you in? The witch who has shown him tenderness instead of a blade at his throat. Does he trust you with his life? Or will you be too late?"
Not in the Way You Think by @jungkookstatts a, s, f
summary: "You've been after your best friend for ages. But how are you supposed to know that he's after you too if he insists on being a bachelor until his dying breath?"
My Strange Addiction by @joonberriess f, s
summary: "Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it. Hurts, but I know how to hide it, kinda like it..’ 
R U Mine? by @nochukoo97 a, f
summary: "It hurts so bad seeing your best friend, who you have been madly in love with, with another girl. You secretly wish he would have never met his current girlfriend. It pained you to watch them interact right in front of your eyes. But what if things took a turn? What if you actually had a chance with him?"
Out of Sight, Out of Mind by @doyawalker a, s
summary: "Two years ago, Jungkook charmed you into loving him and wanting to spend your whole life with him. And when he suddenly ghosted you, your world broke into a million pieces and you swore to yourself to never trust him again. But when you suddenly meet him again as you start your master's degree, he is very keen on proving to you that he made a mistake back then and that he wants you back. Badly. But how can you be sure that he is telling the truth?"
Besties for the Resties? by @jessikahathaway f, s
summary: "Jungkook had always been your friend since the day you two met as young kids. But what happens when your friendship is put to the test? Can you remain “besties for the resties?” Or will years of friendship be lost in the blink of an eye?"
Stay by @still-with-koo a, f
summary: "when a creepy stranger follows you to your new job, your best friend jungkook makes sure he never does it again. but now he’s hurt and you’re determined to tend to his wounds, no matter how awkward if feels."
Candles and Flames by @taegularities a, f, s
summary: "He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen."
Ongoing
Bumblebee by @jkslipppiercing a, f, s
summary: "Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?"
Too Late To Dream by @itsamejin a, f
summary: "Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you."
Sweet Nothing by @adonis-koo a, f
summary: "being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time."
Wicked by @adonis-koo a, s
summary: "In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?"
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diagnosedpsychosis · 4 months
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Love At First Sight- Jake Seresin
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Contains: A little bit of weight/body insecurity from reader, shy/coward jake, just as shy reader, fluff
Description: Jake's been acting a little differently cause he's taken an interest in you and doesn't want you to think he's a jerk. All the while he's too nervous to make a move.
Word Count: 1.4k
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Jake didn't know what had come over him so hard that the confident man he was just weeks ago, had been replaced with a coward. He noticed it. His teammates noticed it. Even the bar regulars noticed that suddenly one of the cockiest, loudest, most outgoing men in San Diego had turned into a borderline hermit.
His regular game of darts with Javy had become a once in a blue moon activity. His teasing of Bradley, Bob and Nat ceased the moment they were finished work for the day. Even the usual 6 or 7 beers he'd pound down after a long day had reduced to 2 or 3 at the most.
He had an instinct of knowing when someone was looking at him, like his teammates and would meet their eyes with nothing but a bored stare before they'd look away not wanting to be bummed out by his mood. If only they knew that wasn't how he was feeling at all.
Even tonight, as Jake sits in a corner booth at the Hard Deck, his beer turning warm in his hand, his mouth and the rapid thud of his heart almost betray his exterior as he stares at you across the bar. You're talking to Penny, the easy smile on your face enough to make the corner of his lips twitch as he sits still, imagining all the things he'd say to you if he only had the courage to get off his ass.
Then he feels eyes on him and looks away, shooting a hard look in Javy and Reuben's direction. They both whirl around, turning their backs to him and then he's back to looking at you.
"He looking again?" Penny mumbles, leaning over the bar and grinning up at you. You've been caught glancing around the room again as to not make it obvious you were staring right back at the handsome blond.
"Mmm" You hum, biting on the inside of your cheek to try and stop yourself from grinning like a fool. You glance around again, eyes moving swiftly over him and onto the next person despite the desperate yearning in your chest, begging you to look at him again.
"I don't know why you don't just go and talk to him" Penny leans forward, lowering her tone so that there isn't a chance another guy in uniform hears the exchange. You whine, bouncing your foot like you were trying to get rid of a cramp.
"Have you met me? I'll take two steps and sweat my face off" You've never been overly confident and you had High School to thank for it. It didn't matter that it's been a decade since you graduated, growing up an overweight girl and not dropping the weight until you were in your 20's made you overly receptive to judgement.
You felt better now, more confident and happier, but because you didn't get to experience that bittersweet 'teenage love', you weren't really sure how dates and interest in people being reciprocated worked. Slowly losing weight late when everyone was getting boyfriends, or pregnant or even married didn't help either.
You'd noticed guys flocking to your pretty, skinny friends on nights out, and despite how beautiful your friends promised you were, your weight was the first thing they saw. If you smiled their way you were just the sweet, chubby girl that looked like she'd drank a whole bar empty and didn't know what was in and out of her league.
You'd never really had experience talking to guys, your Dad and brother not included, so the fact a ridiculously handsome man in uniform, that you're sure never would've spared you a glance when you were bigger, had been staring at you for weeks now, made you beyond nervous to make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him like Penny has tried to convince you to do for a while now.
"Well hey, if he doesn't love your nervous sweats then he doesn't deserve you" Penny tried to make you feel better, squeezing your arm before standing back up straight to fix a couple orders from some guys at the end of the bar. Your smile slowly falls from your face and internally you curse at yourself for not having the courage to even just go and say hi.
What you don't realise is Jake's doing the same, beating himself up for becoming so darn weak that he can't stand up, take a deep breath and walk over to you. Flying planes and risking his life were easy, but talking to a pretty woman he's been coming to the Hard Deck every day for 3 weeks purely with hopes of even just seeing? He felt like he couldn't breathe.
But then he watches your exchange with Penny, his heart beating twice as hard when for the first time in 3 weeks he watches the smile he's come to adore slowly fade from your face when Penny turns her back to you. He notices your heavy exhale and the drop of your shoulders. He notices you running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the glass in your hand that you're yet to take a sip of. He notices the slight crease of your eyebrows when you gnaw on your lip, and suddenly... he's never wanted to lift someone's mood so desperately before.
He doesn't give himself even a second to talk himself out of making his way to you, the need to see your smile again all too consuming.
Whatever's on your mind has your full attention, that even when the guy you've been watching for the last 3 weeks sits down on the stool beside you, his knee grazing yours, you fail to notice and keep tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.
Jake didn't know what the hell to say that didn't make him come across as an obsessed stalker, so he tried a humorous take instead. "You know, I almost wore that exact same top today. How embarrassing would that have been if we matched?"
His voice floats right into your ear and you turn your head, sucking in a sharp breath when you realise the person that's just spoken to you, is the same person you're making yourself insecure over. You open your mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to say as you're still trying to process the fact he's finally spoken to you, before closing your mouth again.
You look down at the obviously very feminine top you paired with plain jeans, and finally his words sink in. Your lips curve up and the moment of internal terror Jake had as you stared at him in silence, washed away.
"Only embarrassing if you pulled it off better than me" Jake's mouth pulls up into an easy smile as he stares right back at you, both completely oblivious to the group of pilots watching the exchange in surprise.
"I find it hard to believe anyone could" The flirtation rolls of Jake's tongue and he can't help grin at the sight of your cheeks flushing as you turn your head away from him slightly, looking ahead. Jake's eyes bounce over your features up close and he wonders how somebody could look so beautiful from afar, and even more mesmerising up close. He regret's not talking to you the second he saw you.
"I'm Jake" He blurts the words, almost like he can't contain them any more. The longer he goes without properly introducing himself and learning your name, the more desperate he becomes to know anything and everything about you. You look back and his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips as they curve up in the most beautifully natural smile.
Sure, he's wanted to kiss you since the moment he spotted you, but right now, as he stares at your mouth and the faint dimple poking at your cheeks, he's never been more content seeing another person happy in his life.
"Y/n" You reply softly and immediately your name is carved and filled with pure liquid gold, in Jake's heart. His heart beats to the letters of your name in morse code. His eyes fill with so much hope as he stares at you, like finding out your name is the greatest gift he could've ever gotten.
And as you stare right back at him, he wonders if telling you he's in love with you before even the suggestion of a first date is too soon.
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My first Top Gun: Maverick short. Hope it was okay <3
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