#Apartments for Rent in International City

[teslaproperties]

A Complete Guide to Properties for Rent in International City

Discover everything you need to know about properties for rent in International City with this comprehensive guide. Learn about the types of rentals, the benefits of living in this vibrant community, and tips for finding the perfect home. Explore how Tesla Properties, a trusted real estate company in Dubai UAE, can help you secure your ideal rental with ease.

[flemingology]

drunk on you ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alcohol makes your girlfriend lose her inhibitions. but not her ability to make you feel so, so good

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding (dancing), language, smut (18+), strap (R receiving)

wc: 4.8k

an: save me drunk, messy and eager alexia save me. thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :)

Alexia’s at the annual end-of-season party with her teammates. The venue is a chic upscale rooftop bar overlooking the glistering city lights. It’s been rented out exclusively for the team, a night to celebrate another successful season and finally blow off some steam.

The atmosphere is vibrant, fairy lights and lanterns string across the space, casting a warm golden glow. Alexia stands by the bar with her usual calm, collected demeanor, though internally, she’s anything but. She can’t wait to get the night started, to lose some of her inhibitions that she clung to tightly during the season. She’s already had a drink, a glass of white, and is nursing a second more to keep her hands busy than anything.

She knows you’re coming. You texted her earlier saying you got held back a little at work, finishing up some meetings here and there, but ever since you texted her you were on your way, she’s been hyper aware of every moment ticking by. She missed you. She always misses you throughout the season. Not physically, of course, because you spend every moment of every day together. But Alexia always feels like her busy schedule forms a barrier between the two of you, as much as you both try your best to work around it. Now, with the prospect of a couple weeks off, and especially a fun night ahead, she can barely control herself.

When you finally arrive, the vibe shifts. Alexia noticed you the second you walk in, abandoning her conversation with Patri almost immediately, much to the dismay of the midfielder. Her gaze locks on to you, and her breath catches slightly at the sight. You’re wearing a black dress that hugs your figure just right, confidence radiating as you weave through the crowd. It’s moments like these that Alexia still has to pinch herself. You were hers, all hers, but sometimes she couldn’t quite believe that.

Her mouth quirks into a small smile, but her eyes already darken with desire. She feels her pulse quicken, and tightens her grip on the glass slightly. Internally, she’s already scheming how to get you alone, but for now, she stays composed as she watches you greet new and familiar faces before you eventually reach her.

As you make your way toward her, Alexia straightens up, setting her glass down on the bar. She doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a step closer and weaves her hands around your waist as if it’s where they’ve always belonged. “You made it.” Her voice is quiet, a mixture of relief and attention lacing her tone. Her fingers press gently into your sides as she pulls you closer, her forehead resting against yours. The world around you fades for a moment as Alexia tilts her head slightly, and her lips brush against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. When she pulls back, her thumb lightly strokes your hip through the fabric of the dress. “How was your day?” “Better now,” you laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mine too.” She kisses you again then, a little firmer, but still unhurried. Just a silent reminder of how much she missed you throughout the day, even only after a short time apart.

It’s grounding, for Alexia. After a full day of meetings and training, her mind being pulled in different directions, having you there at the end of the day centers her. She feels the tension in her shoulders begin to fade, a warmth spreading through her chest that only you seem to bring out.

The party is in full swing, the venue feeling alive with music, laughter and the hum of conversations that ripple across the room. For a while, you and Alexia stick together, her hand occasionally finding the small of your back as you both engage with teammates, coaches and friends. You share a drink, clinking glasses with knowing smiles before being pulled into separate conversations.

At first, you keep Alexia in your peripheral vision. There’s something enticing about how she speaks animatedly to her teammates, her expressions more open and carefree than usual. Her laughter rings out above the chatter, a hearty sound that makes your heart flutter. It’s rare to see her this untroubled. During the season, she keeps herself to very strict standards, so you love seeing her thrive in environments like these. It doesn’t happen often, but when it happens, you can’t help but admire the way she lets loose.

You find yourself swept into conversations of your own, chatting with familiar faces and even a few new ones. Still, there’s an undeniable magnetism between you and Alexia. Every so often, your paths cross and she’ll slip her hand around your waist, leaning in to ask if you need another drink or if you’re enjoying yourself.

“Having fun, cariño?” She asks, her breath warm against your ear as she stands close. “Not more than you, apparently,” you tease, gesturing to the drink in her hand that should’ve been her fourth or fifth. She grins, playful and unbothered, and you’d give the world to have seen it plastered on her face a little longer. “I’m celebrating. Let me live a little.”

The party has escalated into a full-blown celebration. No more polite conversations and introductions to staff, the DJ has found his rhythm and the dance floor is pulsing with energy. People are laughing louder, dancing harder and drinks keep on flowing freely. You’ve slowed down on the alcohol, because someone has to drive you two home, and Alexia, it seems, has had more than enough for the both of you. You’re leaning against the bar, nursing a soda while watching on from a distance. She’s caught in a circle of teammates, all laughing and clapping as someone attempts a questionable dance move. Mapi, probably.

Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a little tousled, and she looks radiant in a way that makes your chest ache. She glances up and catches your gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she breaks away from the group and makes a beeline for you.

“You’re no fun over here,”’ she says, words slightly slurred and voice raised to compete with the music. She wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Come dance with me.” “I’m fine right here, Ale.” You laugh, placing a hand on her arm to steady her. “I need to drive us home, remember?” She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out as her fingers tug lightly at your wrist. “One dance. Just one.”

And who are you to resist her when she looks at you like that, on one of the very few nights in the year where she gets to let loose? She pulls you onto the dance floor, her hands immediately finding your hips. The beat is fast, but Alexia, too drunk to really notice, doesn’t care about keeping rhythm. She’s clumsy, her movements loose, but it’s endearing. “See? You’re having fun!” Alexia says, her lips close to your ear as her fingers dig into your waist. “You’re impossible,” you reply, but you can’t help smiling as she spins you around playfully.

The music shifts then, into something with a deep, pulsing rhythm. The dance floor grows tighter, couples dancing together while others simply lose themselves in the music. Alexia pulls you closer, her hands firm on your waist, and she turns you around so your back is flush against her chest. She rests her head on your shoulder while swaying the two of you. “Ale, seriously,” you murmur, but your voice doesn’t carry the seriousness you wished it would. “We’re not exactly alone here.” You can feel her smirk against you. “No one’s paying attention. Look around.”

You glance around briefly, and sure enough, everyone seems engrossed in their own little worlds. Her hands tighten slightly on your hips, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “I’ve barely touched you all night. Let me have this.”

You had a retort ready, really, but then her grip shifts, her strong hands guiding your hips in time with the beat, and it dies in your throat. “Ale,” you say again, but it’s weaker this time, your protest faltering as her thumbs rub small circles into your waist.

You swallow hard, your resolve crumbling. Against your better judgment, you let yourself lean back into her, the tension in your body melting as the music takes over. You start to move with her, letting her guide you, her strong frame pressed against yours. Her hands drop slightly lower, resting just above your hips, and her grip tightens as your movements grow bolder. She groans softly, the sound nearly lost in the music but still enough to make your stomach flip.

“That’s it,” she whispers, her lips delicately brushing the curve of your jaw. “Just like that.” Her hands shift again, sliding dangerously close to areas that weren’t appropriate in this setting, and you grab her wrists, stopping her before she gets too bold. “Don’t push it,” you warn, though your breath hitches as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. She chuckles, low and teasing. “I’m just warming you up for later.” Her comment makes your stomach flip, and it takes everything inside you not to lead her out of the crowd and home now.

As the song fades into another, you slowly pull back from your girlfriend, whose arms circle around your waist tighter in response. “Don’t go, cariño”, she murmurs into your neck. “Ale, I need a break, and you look like you could use some water.” You teasingly flick the tip of her nose, before softly pecking her lips a couple times and walking away. 

The hours slip by, and the party grows louder, messier. Alexia drifts through the crowd, moving from one group of teammates to the other, seemingly always a new drink in her hand whenever you catch her gaze. You try to give her a couple disapproving looks, but she acts like she doesn’t notice, and continues on with her celebrations. It’s when you see her at the bar for the second time in five minutes, you think it’s time to intervene. Her balance is off and she leans against the counter of the bar to steady herself. The bartender is pouring her another drink, but you step in before she can take it. “Okay, Ale, I think you’ve had enough for the night, hmm?” “Huh? Por qué? I’m fine!” You hum, the way she slurs her words telling you she’s anything but. “Let’s go home, amor.” You don’t expect her to comply immediately, but she doesn’t complain when you wrap her arm around your shoulders and carefully guide her through the bar and to the parking lot. 

The quiet of the night is a sharp contrast to the chaos of the party, and as you help Alexia into the car, you can feel her start to relax against you. She’s tipsy, her movements a little clumsy, but the way she laces her fingers with yours tells you she’s already thinking about what’s to come when you get home. The ride is filled with Alexia’s warm, slightly slurred murmurs against your neck. She keeps pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, her lips soft but uncoordinated. “You smell so good… I missed you tonight.” “Missed me? I was there all night, baby.”

She pulls back just enough to give you a half-hearted glare. “Not like that… you know what I mean.” Her hand slides up your thigh at that, delicately brushing her fingers over the exposed skin where your dress had ridden up a bit. Before it gets too high, though, you catch it and put it back in her own lap. “Save it for when we’re home, Putellas.”

-

The door clicks shut behind you as Alexia practically collapses into your side, her arm draped over your shoulders. Her steps are uneven, and her weight leans heavily on you, but the soft giggle that escapes her lips tells you she’s exhilarated. “You gonna help me with my shoes, or am I just supposed to struggle?” she teases, holding onto the wall for balance as she kicks one heel halfway off, then nearly topples forward. You laugh softly, reaching out to steady her by her waist. “At this rate, you’re going to break an ankle.”

Dropping to a crouch, you gently tug her heels off, your hands brushing against her bare ankles. Alexia watches you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, her fingers resting lightly on your shoulder to keep her balance. “There,” you say as you place her shoes by the door. “Gracias, mi ángel,” she murmurs, the pet name making your stomach flip.

As you both step further inside, Alexia’s fingers brush your arm, trailing down until she’s holding your hand. She tugs you toward the living room, but her movements are uncoordinated, and she nearly trips over the edge of the rug. “Careful,” you say, catching her again. “Maybe I had more to drink than I thought,” she admits, laughing as she pulls you closer. “You don’t say.”

The walk upstairs is a challenge. She almost falls more than once, needing to steady herself on the railing more than she’d like to admit. You’ve got a hand on the small of her back from behind, slightly pushing her forward. At the top of the stairs, she stops you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Wait,” she says, her voice low. You look up at her, your brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Her eyes drop to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. “Just… kiss me.”

It’s not a question, and before you can respond, her lips smash against yours. There’s nothing soft about it, not tender, not deliberate, it’s all tongue and teeth. She manoeuvres the two of you towards the bedroom and it’s a miracle that you reach it without her bumping you both into something. Her hands are roaming across your body hurriedly, like she wants to make up for lost time.

“Alexia,” you murmur against her lips, your hands tangling in her hair. “Tell me,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you love me.” Your answer comes in the way you kiss her back, your fingers tugging at her shirt, desperate to feel her closer. Alexia groans softly, her lips moving to your jaw, then your neck, as she walks you backward toward the bed.

The back of your knees then hit the bed, and you sit down on the edge, Alexia pushing you further up the mattress. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” Alexia murmurs, her voice low and rough in your ear. Before you can respond, her hands slide under the hem of your dress, the coolness of her palms sending a shiver down your spine. She lifts the fabric slowly, deliberately, and you raise your arms to help her, the piece of clothing discarded somewhere behind her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes raking over you like she’s seeing you for the first time. Her fingers trail over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps. Her lips find yours again, this kiss deeper, hungrier, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls away slightly. “Let me take care of you,” she says, her voice almost a plea. You nod, your hands tugging at her shirt in return. “Only if you lose this first.”

Alexia chuckles, reaching behind her to yank the shirt over her head. The movement is hurried, and the hem gets stuck for a moment, causing her to fumble. You can’t help but laugh, but the sound dies in your throat when her toned body is revealed, the intensity in her gaze making it impossible to focus on anything else. “Something funny?” she asks, a playful smirk plastered on her face. “Nothing,” you manage, your own voice unsteady. “Just... hurry up.” She stands up quickly and her hands fumble with her belt, a huff of frustration leaving her lips at that. “You’re really not as smooth as you think right now.” “Shhh,” she replies, giggling as she finally gets it undone. “I’m still smooth enough.”

She climbs back onto the bed then, her movements not as fluid as they usually are, but her eagerness sends a wave of arousal through you. Her fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, and she pauses, looking up at you with a question in her eyes. “Can I?” You nod quickly, your breath hitching as she tugs them down, leaving you bare beneath her. “Dios mío,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect.”

Her gaze catches yours as she trails her fingers down your body, and you let out a soft gasp as her digits find your clit. Although she’s clearly trying her best, her movements are a little jerky, and it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable for you. “Alexia…” you murmur, shifting slightly beneath her. “Am I-” she starts to ask, her brow furrowing, “is this okay?” You nod but guide her hand gently, showing her the rhythm you need. Her eyes soften, and she focuses harder, biting her lip as she matches your guidance. “There,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “That’s perfect.” She teases you a little, rubbing tight circles over your clit and eventually dipping her fingers down your folds to gather some arousal. It’s not perfect, it’s definitely not as precise as she usually was, but it felt good. 

A couple moments pass when you suddenly notice her body is no longer pressed against yours. She reaches over to the bedside table, clumsily rummaging through the contents of the bottom drawer, but you know what she’s looking for. She eventually retrieves the strap, a goofy triumphant smile on her face. As Alexia stands up from the bed, you take a moment to get comfortable, moving up the bed and against the pillows. You ground yourself, taking a couple deep breaths, but you notice that Alexia is taking way longer than usual. When you open your eyes again and look over at her, you can’t help but choke out a laugh at her state. She’s fumbling with the harness of the strap, and it would be adorable if she didn’t seem so worked up about it. “Need any help over there?” “No,” she insists stubbornly, and it takes a couple more tries, but she eventually manages to get it on snugly. 

As she walks back over to the bed and climbs on top of it, you can’t help but drift your gaze down to the silicone between her legs. If there was one way that Alexia knew to make you crazy, it was with her strap. Her muscled body and athlete’s stamina often made for multiple orgasms a night, the midfielder usually only ever stopping when you had to tap out.

She spreads your legs with one hand and rubs some lube up and down the strap with the other, and you feel a jolt of arousal course through you at the sight of her hand pumping up and down the toy. “Ready, mi amor?” You bite your lip and give her a nod, eyes fixed on the way she slides the toy between your folds, your breath catching in your throat as she rubs it over your clit a couple times. “Ale,” you start, your voice desperate, “please.”

As Alexia sinks into you, her breath catches in her throat, and her hands clutch your hips with a desperation that makes your heart race. "God, you're perfect," she groans, her voice slurred but full of emotion. Her lips press against your jaw, her words tumbling out. "I missed this. Missed you." Your nails rake lightly down her back as you arch into her. "You feel so good, Alexia," you whisper, your voice trembling with pleasure. "Just like that."

Her movements are messy, her thrusts uneven, but there’s something intoxicating about the way she moans your name. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy," she murmurs, her words slurred but passionate. "I can't, mi amor, I can't get enough of you." She loses her control at that, her thrusts becoming harsh as she grips your hips so tight you’re sure there’s gonna be a bruise tomorrow. You try to match her pace, guiding your hips along with her movements, but it’s to no use, as she seems to speed up inexplicably more. You try to relax and enjoy it, but it’s teetering on the edge of painful and you know she wouldn’t like it if you didn’t tell her.

You grip her shoulders, guiding her rhythm as best you can. "Slow down, baby," you murmur, your breath hitching when she adjusts. "Just take your time." Alexia nods against your neck, her lips brushing your skin. "Anything for you," she whispers hoarsely, her thrusts becoming more deliberate. "Just tell me... tell me what feels good, cariño."

When her pace steadies, a deep groan escapes her lips. "You're so tight," she mutters, her words broken and breathless. "So perfect for me." Your hands find her face, cupping her cheeks and forcing her to meet your gaze. "I love you," you say, your voice trembling as she hits the perfect spot inside of you with every thrust. Alexia’s eyes darken, and she lets out a low, guttural moan. "Say it again," she pleads, her thrusts deepening. "I love you," you repeat, your voice louder this time. "Only you."

You feel your first orgasm fast approaching, the weight of Alexia’s vulnerability combined with the way she seems to have perfected her thrusts, even in her drunken state, is pushing you to the edge far more quickly than you would’ve liked. The tension builds between the two of you, Alexia’s breathing growing heavier in your ear and you letting out moan after moan, no longer caring about who in your apartment building you’re keeping up with how loud you’re being.

Alexia's grip tightens, her lips brushing against your ear. "Come for me," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding despite her drunken haze. "Please, mi amor. I need to feel you." Her words push you over the edge, and your release triggers her own. You let out a desperate whimper of her name as she buries her face in your neck, her moans muffled but no less intense as she shudders against you. "Te amo," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "So much, more than anything."

After a brief lull, where you’re both catching your breaths and Alexia rests her forehead against your shoulder, her warm breath tickling your skin, she stirs again. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your thigh, her touch sending little sparks through your body. "I’m not done with you," she murmurs, her voice slurred but filled with determination. You chuckle softly, still trying to recover. "Ale, you’re drunk."

“Doesn’t seem like that kept me from making you feel good just now.” You blush at her words, and you know she’s right. You hit her shoulder lightly, feigning annoyance, but the smile playing on your lips gives you away. Before you can protest, she’s shifting you onto your stomach, her hands clumsy but insistent as she guides your hips up. "Stay just like this," she says, her words breathy and almost pleading.

You lean your head down onto your forearms, waiting patiently for Alexia to adjust herself behind you, still trying to catch your breath from your first orgasm. Alexia’s hands roam your body, her touch eager. She fumbles a bit, trying to adjust herself, and lets out a frustrated groan when the strap isn’t cooperating. "Why is this so hard right now?" she mutters to herself, which makes you laugh softly. "Do you need help?" you offer, half-teasing, but there’s a fondness in your tone. "No, no," she insists, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I’ve got this. I swear."

Her hands tremble a little as she aligns the strap with your core, misjudging the movement a couple times. “Sorry, sorry, let me- wait, okay.” Finally, she aligns herself, and as she slowly pushes inside, the clumsiness fades. She lets out a low moan, gripping your hips tight. "Oh, fuck," you breathe, your voice raspy. "Fuck, that feels so good, Ale.”

Her thrusts aren’t as rushed this time, but she’s struggling to find a steady rhythm. She goes with deep, slow thrusts at first, but then speeds up a bit, and when you’ve finally adjusted, she slows down again. It feels good, but it’s not steady enough to be entirely pleasurable. “Babe,” you begin, your voice strained as you try to talk through the pleasure. “What? Did I hurt you?” Alexia speaks up before you can form your sentence, her thrusts slowing to a complete stop now. You look at her over your shoulder, your heart warming at the little frown that was etched across her forehead. “No, you’re not hurting me, baby. You’re just a little… off. Just try and be steady, yeah? I’ll guide my hips along.”

Her frown melts into a sheepish grin, and she nods, leaning forward to press a kiss against your cheek. “Sorry, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. “I’ll do better.” This time, when her hips roll forward, the sensation draws a soft gasp from your lips, your head falling forward on your forearms. “Like this?” she asks, her voice low and slightly slurred but full of intent, her gaze locked on your face. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Like that.”

A smug grin spreads across her face, her earlier clumsiness replaced with a determination to make up for it. “Told you I’m smooth with it,” she teases, her voice tinged with playful arrogance. “Shut up and keep going,” you reply, your words coming out in a breathless laugh.

She chuckles, her lips trailing down the back of your neck as her hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you against her as she moves with more purpose. The heat between you builds quickly now, every thrust deliberate, every press of her lips against your body filled with an urgency that leaves you both gasping for air.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with pleasure. “So do you,” you reply, your voice trembling as her movements drive you closer and closer to the edge. “Better now?” she asks, her tone playful but earnest, her lips brushing against your shoulder. “Much better,” you manage to say, your voice breaking into a soft moan as her rhythm deepens, her body pressing into yours with just the right amount of pressure. You know she won’t come again, usually only being able to come from the friction once, but you know she’s enjoying it just as much as you are. 

Her arm slips around your body after a while, two of her fingers finding your clit as she draws quick circles, firm around the bundle of nerves, a desperate moan leaving your lips at the added pleasure. “God, Ale-”, you start, your voice breathy, “fuck, baby, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop, please.”

You lose yourself in your pleasure, your back arching for her and moan after moan spilling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer to your release. She leans down, her body flush against yours and brings her lips to your ear. “Let go for me,” she whispers, her voice tender but full of intent. 

Her words and her movements are all you need, and when the release finally washes over you, it’s overwhelming, leaving your entire body trembling beneath her. She doesn’t stop, her touch soft and soothing as she helps you ride it out, her lips pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

When you finally come down, she collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms as you both catch your breath. “Better?” she asks again, her tone teasing but warm as she presses a kiss to your temple. “Perfect,” you reply, snuggling into her chest, your body still buzzing from the aftershocks.

Her fingers trace gentle patterns on your back as she mumbles, “I love you. Even if I’m a little drunk and clumsy sometimes.” You laugh softly, lifting your head to meet her gaze. “I love you too. Even if you’re a mess.” “Hey,” she protests lightly, her lips curving into a grin. “Shut up and kiss me,” you say, pulling her down into another kiss, her laughter muffled against your lips.

After cleaning each other up with a quick shower, Alexia is completely sobered up and you share the rest of your evening together, tangled in the sheets, whispering affirmations of your love and adoration for the other in the quiet of the night. 

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[apas-95]

Is there a story behind China's one child policy that makes it not as horrifying as western media claims?

The defining feature of China's development for the past 70 years has been the urban-rural divide. In order to develop a semi-feudal country with a very low industrial level into an industrialised, socialist nation, it was necessary to develop industrial centres. To 'organically' develop industrial centres would have taken many decades, if not centuries of continued impoverishment and starvation, so programs were put in place to accelerate the development of industry by preferentially supporting cities.

Programs like the 'urban-rural price scissors' placed price controls on agricultural products, which made food affordable for city-dwellers, at the direct expense of reducing the income of rural, agricultural areas. This hits on the heart of the issue - to preferentially develop industrial centres in order to support the rest of the country, the rest of the country must first take up the burden of supporting those centres. Either some get out of poverty *first*, or nobody gets out of poverty at all. The result being: a divide between urban and rural areas in their quality of life and prospects. In order to keep this system from falling apart, several other policies were needed to support it, such as the Hukou system, which controlled immigration within the country. The Hukou system differentiated between rural and urban residents, and restricted immigration to urban areas - because, given the urban-rural divide, everyone would rather just try to move to the cities, leaving the agricultural industry to collapse. The Hukou system (alongside being a piece in many other problems, like the 'one country two systems', etc) prevented this, and prevented the entire thing from collapsing. The 'one child policy' was another system supporting this mode of development. It applied principally to city-dwellers, to prevent the populations of cities expanding beyond the limited size the agricultural regions could support, and generally had no 'punishments' greater than a lack of government child-support, or even a fine, for those who still wanted additional children. Ethnic minorities, and rural residents, were granted additional children, with rural ethnic minorities getting double. It wasn't something anyone would love, but it served an important purpose.

I use the past-tense, here, because these systems have either already been phased out or are in the process of being phased out. The method of urban-rural price scissors as a method of development ran its course, and, ultimately, was exhausted - the negative aspects, of its underdevelopment of rural regions, began to overwhelm its positive aspects. So, it was replaced with the paradigm of 'Reform and Opening Up' around the 1980s. Urban-rural price scissors were removed (leading to protests by urban workers and intellectuals in the late '80s), and the Hukou system, along with the 'one child policy', were and are being slowly eased out as lessening inequality between the urban and rural areas make them unnecessary. Under the new system, the driver of development was no longer at the expense of rural regions, but was carried out through the internal market and external capital. The development paradigm of Reform and Opening Up worked to resolved some contradictions, in the form of the urban-rural divide, and created some of its own, in the form of internal wealth divisions within the cities. Through it, over 800 million people were lifted out of extreme poverty - almost all of them being in rural areas - and extreme poverty was completely abolished within China. 'Extreme poverty' can be a difficult thing for westerners to grasp, wherein poverty means not paying rent on time, but to illustrate - many of the last holdout regions of extreme poverty were originally guerrilla base areas, impassable regions of mountainside which were long hikes away from schools or hospitals, wherein entire villages were living in conditions not dissimilar to their feudal state a century before. These villages were, when possible, given infrastructure and a meaningful local industry accounting their environment and tradition (like growing a certain type of mountainous fruit), or entirely relocated to free government-built housing lower down the mountain that was theirs to own. These were the people the 'one child policy' was aiding, by reducing the urban population they had to support. Again, there were exemptions for rural and ethnic minority populations to the policy.

Even now, Reform and Opening Up is running its course. Its own negative aspects, such as urban wealth inequality, are beginning to overcome its positive aspects. So, the new paradigm is 'Common Prosperity', which will work to resolve the past system's contradictions, and surely introduce its own contradictions in the form of chafing against the national bourgeoisie, as it increases state control and ownership of industry, and furthers a reintroduced collectivisation. Organising a nation of well over a billion people is not simple. It is not done based on soundbytes and on picking apart policies in the abstract for how 'dystopian' they sound. It is an exceedingly complex and interconnected process based on a dialectical, material analysis of things; not a utopian, idealist one. What matters is this: those 800,000,000 people now freed from absolute poverty. The things necessary to achieve that were, unquestionably, good things - because they achieved that. They had their negative aspects, as does everything that exists, but they were unquestionably correct and progressive things.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 1

      [Master List]

  Danny liked to believe he was a good person, with a good heart, but even he knew he’d decided to do this more out of boredom than anything else. There were a lot of places and people he could help with his powers and wealth but there were only two reasons he’d agreed to help Lady Gotham. The first being; she’d asked. Who was he to turn down a city spirit who’d come to ask his help? What reason could he have for turning her down? Well, he was busy with his kingly duties, but that was exactly why he had to do it. He was bored.

            Having graduated with his bachelor’s in the previous semester and the realms being completely calm and peaceful for the first time in a few thousand years, he’d grown bored. He’d honestly been considering finally dealing with the GIW on a more official basis (though he wasn’t sure he would be able to without overturning the Anti-Ecto Acts) but had ruled it out. He’d banned ghosts from Amity Park years ago and had discovered the GIW wasn’t doing too well for itself anymore.

            So….

            He’d agreed.

            Of course Lady Gotham had been entirely ambiguous with her request and thus he’d decided to take certain liberties in the way he chose to help. If he was being honest he thought his ideas were much more helpful than what she may have been expecting. He’d hung up his metaphorical cape and retired Phantom shortly after high school. As king, he was still Phantom, but he didn’t plan on ever flying around as a vigilante again.

            He wouldn’t have agreed to help if it meant he’d have to pick up his old mantle again.

            Teen hero Phantom had died on a dissection table and there was no amount of Ectoplasm strong enough to bring him back.

            Only a bit of research told Danny all he needed to know about Gotham and how he could best help. The birds and bats had rogues covered, they didn’t need Phantom anyways. But the thing that led to so many people becoming goons? To dealing drugs? To taking up crime? That was something neither the birds nor the bats were handling.

            So using an infinitesimal amount of his disgustingly vast wealth, Danny bought a decent sized building in the middle of the Bowery, bought and apartment building nearby, and packed his things. Moving wasn’t difficult considering his handle on opening portals to the infinite realms and the fact that he was currently living in his keep.

            Jazz had been… confused. She thought he was throwing away his freedom, shunning her hopes that he’d go for his PhD, but after he’d explained what he was doing  she was more than happy to help in any way she could. After all, she was interning as a psychologist at Arkham Asylum while finishing her PhD at Gotham U. Anything that got her little brother to spend more time with her was a win in her books.

            Getting the building ready for Danny’s plan was the most time-consuming part, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He took all the necessary precautions, had the building inspected and fumigated, installed heating and air conditioning, replaced the worn-out plumbing, and had Tucker create the best security system known to man- or ghost. He did all the same in the apartment building he’d bought (he also lowered the rent a fair bit without telling any of the current tenants).

            Once the building wasn’t literally collapsing, he had the carpeted floors replaced (there was no saving the blood crusted carpets) with hard wood floors and colorful area rugs. At this point people had begun to notice all of the work going into the building, they didn’t ask questions though, that would be very Gothamite of them. Danny had spent every waking moment working on the building, hadn’t stepped outside more than a handful of times, and certainly hadn’t met any of the neighbors.

            That was kind of the opposite of his intentions.

            So he’d looked around for soup kitchens in the area, found one that served dinner at a time that fit in his schedule, and started volunteering. A few days after contacting them about volunteering he got a call that he was cleared to start whenever, and he agreed to come the next evening.

            He arrived a bit earlier than they’d suggested but the woman in charge didn’t seem to mind too much.

            “I’m Molly, you’re early.” A woman much taller than Danny with broad shoulders and biceps thicker than his head, crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “I assume you want to work?”

            He nodded, dumbstruck.

            “Good. This way.” He followed her without a second thought. He found himself in a large kitchen filled with the sounds of chatter, chopping, and music. A couple of the volunteers were singing to the music while cooking. It was overall, really pleasant. “You know how to chop vegetables?” Molly asked.

            He felt… condescended a bit but brushed it off. “Yeah I can chop.”

            “Good, Les! You’ve got a new chopping buddy. Lanky, take a break.” Molly shouted orders to the rest of the staff while Danny took over chopping from Lanky, apparently.

            A young woman -he assumed she was Les?- handed him the knife Lanky had been holding and pointed to a large sack of potatoes. “Chop all of those, then put them into the pot to your right.” She brushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear and continued chopping carrots.

            The two chopped in relative silence, the sounds of the kitchen washing over them, until he finished the sack of potatoes he’d been working on. Danny was a lot slower than Les but she had more carrots than he had potatoes, so he finished first. “Done.”

            She looked up, finished what she was doing, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Good. Can you finish these carrots while I move the potatoes and see what else we need done?” He got to work on the carrots while Les ran around making sure everything was running smoothly. By the time she returned he had finished the carrots as well.

            “Good,” There was approval in her voice, and he fought off a blush. “Dinner is starting soon. We’ve plenty of people working on the food, you up for serving?” He nodded, wiping his hands on his own apron before following her away from the kitchen.

            “Wash up here.” She gestured to a sink beside the door leading to the eating area. While he washed his hands she explained what he’d be doing. “You’re just serving one dish, so it’s not complicated. One ladle-full per tray, no seconds, there won’t be leftovers as it is. Be kind and respectful, we have people if anybody gets rowdy so don’t try to be a hero.” It was a strange warning but… well, it was Gotham.

            He nodded obediently and followed her to the pot of stew that was already made which he’d be serving from tonight.

            “Service starts in ten minutes; we’ve already got quite a line. Someone will come to relieve you for a break in two hours. Dinner last four hours- I assume you’re here for the whole night?” He nodded again. “Good, you’ll get a twenty-minute break to eat and rest before going back to give someone else their break, understand?”

            It was a relatively easy job- though he tried not to think too deeply about some of the people he served. You can’t save everybody, Danny. Jazz’s voice echoed in his mind as he watched two young boys get food, refusing to make eye contact with any of the volunteers. The older boy muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ before dragging the younger boy away and finding a spot in the corner away from everybody else.

            He tried to put them out of his mind as he continued to serve the everybody else. He couldn’t. Danny found himself glancing towards the corner every few minutes to watch out for the boys, something about them reminded him of Jazz and himself- though he wasn’t sure why. Other than the overprotective older sibling thing, there wasn’t much to compare. Still, he felt a sort of… pull towards the boys.

            It wasn’t ectoplasmic, they just… clearly they needed help- two kids wouldn’t be in a soup kitchen if they didn’t but- You can’t save everybody, Danny. And you’ll kill yourself fully trying to. Jazz was right, like usual- of course he’d never tell her that but-

            “-nny? Hello?” Someone tapped his shoulder, his head whipped to the side, startling the newcomer. “Sorry man, just trying to send you on your break. You good?”

            Danny nodded, setting down the ladle and moving aside for the other man. He needed to clear his mind.

~~~

            He painted the walls. Pale colors that complimented the even more colorful posters he hung over top and went nicely with the rugs. He considered tuning it down a bit when it came to the furniture, but what was the point? Colors were fun- kids liked colors, right? So the plastic tables and chairs were yellow and red and green and blue and purple and any other color you could think of.

            And once the furniture was moved in he was able to buy toys. Toy boxes were filled with various brand new and colorful toys, shelves were packed with unread books in perfect condition, and crayon boxes with coloring books were laid neatly on each table. The cabinets were stocked with Sam-approved snacks, the first aid kit was over-stocked, and the closet was filled with a wide range of clothing for kids who might not have hats, gloves, coats, or anything else they might need. He'd buy more when he finally had kids to buy for.

            Lady Gotham hadn’t said a word about his plan, but she’d nodded resolutely, thanked him, and went on her way, and that was enough encouragement to continue.

            On one of the last days of constructions, Danny received a visitor.

            “So this is where you’ve been, eh babypop?”

            Looking up from the paperwork Danny had been poring over, he smirked. “I guess I missed living in a haunted town.”

            She rolled her eyes and sauntered closer. “So you’ve- what? Traded your throne for a plastic rainbow chair?”

            “I didn’t trade anything. Lady Gotham asked for help, and I had time. It’s not like I’ll be here forever. Just until Gotham is faring a bit better. Maybe I’ll find someone I trust to give this place to sometime down the line.”

            Ember leaned her hip against his desk and crossed her arms. “And you’re doing this alone?”

            He shrugged. “Jazz is in school and interning at Arkham, Sam’s in San Francisco with Val and Tucker, and who knows where Dani is.” He frowned at something on the paperwork before shrugging again and writing something down.

            “That wasn’t what I meant, kid.”

            “I’ve gotten really good at the whole duplication thing recently so, yeah, I was going to do this alone. Who else would help me? I mean, maybe I’ll hire some help down the line, but I’ve got to be established first.” Danny knew full well that his current plan would have him exhausting himself on a daily basis. Working long days, by himself, while duplicating himself enough to take care of an unknown number of kids would drain him.

            A hand grabbed his pen away before he could keep working on his paperwork and he looked up to try and snatch it back. Ember was leaning into his space, holding the pen away from him. “I was offering to help, Babypop. Actually, I’ve talked to a few people who are offering to help.”

            Frowning, Danny searched the desk for another pen. “You do realize this isn’t like the Infinite Realms, right? You can’t duel a kid, you can’t mind control children, you aren’t allowed to fuck shit up here.”

            “Wow, is that all you think I’m capable of?” The hurt in her voice was feigned but he wondered if there was a tiny bit of truth behind it.

            “That’s not what I meant, Ember. I- just- who wants to help?”

            She smirked.

            That was how Danny found himself surrounded by ghosts, going over rules and expectations if they wanted to help. Lunch Lady, Ember, Dora, and a few others he didn’t know as well, listened as he laid down the law. The safety of the kids came before all else. It came before their own safety, it came before Danny’s identity, it came before everything. If they were going to do this, they would be doing it the right way.

            “There is also the matter of the birds and the bats.” Danny sighed, leaning against his desk and facing his friends? Subjects? Fellow ghosts.

            Ember scoffed. “I don’t need that talk from you, babypop.”

            “No no- not the birds and the bees. The birds and the bats. Gotham vigilantes.” The ghosts nodded in understanding. “They are not to be messed with, understood? The Anti-Ecto Acts are still very much in play, and I cannot tell you what side the birds and bats will be on but presumably, the governments. Batman founded the Justice League so not only does he work for the government, but they failed Amity multiple times, I do not trust them.

            “First and foremost; Batman. He’s the leader of the birds and bats as far as I can tell. He’s been around for over twenty years, the world’s greatest detective, and keeps up with heroes like superman, avoid at all costs. His sidekick is Robin, a kid in green, red, and yellow, he has swords, and we all know that despite his age, he is probably pretty dangerous.”

            “Okay we get it; you beat all of us while you were a scrawny fourteen-year-old.” Ember scoffed.

            “Everyone else is listening quietly, Em.” He glared pointedly. “Anyway, next is Nightwing- he’s technically Bludhaven’s vigilante but he helps around Gotham on the regular. Wears black and blue, my understanding is he’s generally pretty friendly, but I don’t want to take any chances. Then there’s Red Robin, he’s said to be a tech genius and considering Tucker’s obsessed with him, I’d say that’s probably true. Despite that, he’s not chump, I’ve seen some videos, he can fight, and he fights dirty. He wears black and red.

            “Red Hood wears the bat emblem, but he works mostly on his own in Crime Alley. He wears a red helmet- I know, he should be wearing a hood, but whatever. Hood is the only one that I’ve heard a good deal about, I’ve heard whispers of him in the realms, spirits who are grateful to him for avenging them like to call him the avenger of the dead. I have a great deal of respect for him. That being said; Red Hood kills, he is the only vigilante in Gotham that carries guns- not dangerous to you, but still, avoid him at all costs.”

            “I don’t see the importance of such a warning, we cannot die.” Dora frowned.

            Danny nodded in agreement. “No, you’re right, you probably don’t need to be all that concerned. However, if they find out about us and what we are, there’s no telling if they’ll get their hands on ghost tech from my- from the Fentons.” Ember gave him a sympathetic look at his slip. “I don’t want them learning anything about us or the Realms for all of our safety.

            “Signal is the daytime hero, he wears bright yellow and my understanding is he’s also super friendly. I found a video of him teaching street kids how to do a backflip. I’ve also seen him punch goons into next week so again, dangerous. Spoiler wears purple, she’s a badass any way you look at it. She’s quippy, flippy, and intense. More intense though is black bat, who wears all black and doesn’t speak.” He took a deep breath and made sure he’d said everything already. “I think that’s everyone. Questions?”

~~~

            The daycare was almost entirely finished, Danny had been spending more time there than at his apartment, and he’d had Tucker craft fake identities for everybody who wanted to help out. With how stressful things had been Danny felt the need for an extra-large, extra caffeinated, heart attack inducing coffee. There was one coffee shop he loved in the Upper East Side that knew him well. He’d come by for a coffee every morning since moving to Gotham five weeks ago and the barista’s had quickly began recognizing the man who got a black coffee with seven shots of espresso and a disgusting amount of syrup. He imagined not many people got that kind of drink. (He hoped).

            Jesse smiled when Danny approached the counter and began typing his order from memory. “How’s the construction going, Danny?” They asked.

            Offering his own tired smile, Danny nodded. “Construction’s done, just finishing up some stuff on the inside and paperwork.”

            “That’s great!” Jesse accepted Danny’s card, swiping it through their register. “My uncle lives in the Bowery and he has a little girl. The daycare could really help a lot of people.” Their voice was warm and slightly sad at the same time. “I hope it works out.”

            Taking his card back and their words as a dismissal, Danny gave a nod and moved towards the hand-off plane to wait for his drink. He checked his phone; Jazz had been blowing it up with more ideas for his egregious wealth could benefit the people of Gotham. She’d mentioned a lot of ideas that were… well they weren’t bad per se, but Danny already had a lot on his plate with the Daycare opening in just under a week.

            He wrote each suggestion down in his notes app anyways. A lot of them were things Gotham already had; food banks, homeless shelters, etc. but some of them were more interesting. A mechanic who fixed up cars for free, a tutoring program for kids who weren’t in school but wanted to go back, classes on how to combat different kinds of gasses and poisons (specifically fear gas, Poison Ivy’s different toxins, and Joker Venom), first aid programs, and a whole lot more. Danny hoped to implement a lot of Jazz’s ideas at some point, but for now, he was just one guy.

            One guy who barely saved himself.

            Jesse handed Danny his drink and waved as they turned to help another customer. Moving towards the exit, Danny narrowly avoided crashing into a bigger man who clearly didn’t have special awareness but in turn crashed into a much smaller man.

            “Oh shit!” Danny’s drink spilled all along his front and onto his shoes and he cringed at the painful heat coming into contact with his sensitive scars. “I’m really sorry.” He sighed, looking over the other man to see he hadn’t actually spilled any of his drink on the other man. Thank Ancients.

            The other man, who was only slightly shorter than Danny, was pressing napkins into Danny’s shirt. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? That looked really hot.”

            Danny nodded, taking the napkins from the other man and wiping away what he could without rubbing his scars. “Yeah… it was. I’m just glad I didn’t spill it on you.” He froze. “I didn’t, right?”

            The other man shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks. Let me buy you another one- it was kind of my fault anyways.”

            “We both know I crashed into you.” Danny raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need anyone to buy his coffee, he was disgustingly wealthy, if anything, he should be buying the stranger his coffee as an apology for crashing into him.

            “Whatever, let me buy your coffee as an apology anyways.” Danny shrugged, following the man up to the counter. He was going to buy a replacement anyways; he might as well let this stranger buy it for him.

            Jesse raised an eyebrow at the duo. “Oh god. I was hoping you two would never meet.”

            Danny and the man looked at each other strangely before looking back at Jesse. “Why?” They asked in unison.

            “Two large hot coffees with seven shots of espresso and fifteen pumps of vanilla?” They raised their eyebrow, looking between the two men judgmentally.

            Danny turned to the stranger, who in turn did the same, both looked at each other before promptly bursting into laughter. “Oh my Ancients, you too, huh?” Danny pretended to wipe away a tear as the other man ran a hand through his hair.

            “A man of taste.”

            Jesse swiped the man’s card. “I’ll have them in a minute, Tim, Danny.” They nodded to each of the men dismissively and they took their cue.

            They took a seat near the hand-off plane and Danny realized he’d never introduced himself properly. “I’m Danny, sorry about almost dropping my coffee on your very expensive looking suit.”

            The man -Tim apparently- waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Tim, sorry about making you dump boiling hot coffee all over yourself.”

            “Better my t shirt and jeans than your Armani suit.”

            “I save the Armani for special occasions.” Tim smirked. “So what could you possibly be doing that requires a level of caffeine that could kill an elephant?”

            Danny rolled his eyes. “Jeez, you sound like my sister. I’ve spent the last five weeks renovating a place in the Bowery and turning it into a daycare. Only a few days before it opens, and I’ve already got a couple of kids signed up, so I imagine I’ll be drinking this every day for the rest of my life. How about yourself? You must have a crazy job to be drinking that much coffee.”

            Tim looked surprised briefly before masking it. “I’ve got some business meetings today I’ve been putting off for a while. I usually drink a few coffees a day to get through all the bullshit the board likes to pull.”

            “You must be pretty high up to be dealing with a board. I know how much those meetings suck. I usually just fake an emergency- of course they start to catch on when you do it every single time- but you know- I don’t really care.” He chuckled thinking about the last council meeting in the realms when Frighty’d almost had an aneurysm from Danny’s antics.

            Tim’s head tilted. “Where do you work?”

            He hadn’t anticipated this question which was stupid because he was the one who’d brought up dealing with his own board, Danny was saved by Jesse. “Tim!” They called from the bar. Two identical coffees sat on the hand-off plane and the men moved in unison.

            Drink in hand, Danny turned to Tim. “Well thanks for the coffee, Tim. I’ve gotta get back to the daycare but it was nice meeting you!” He smiled, offering a hand to shake.

            Tim took it, holding his own coffee in his other hand. “You too, Danny. I’ll see you around?”

            “Unfortunately!” Jesse called from behind the bar.

~~~

This is a fic on AO3 but thought I'd post the parts here separately for anyone who wanted to read them on Tumblr

AO3 Link

Original Prompt from @glow-in-the-dark-death

Next

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part two

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. wc: 3.5k tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear! i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔 i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

[risingoftime]

ECHOES OF THE MIND | POOLVERINE X F!READER | CHAPTER TWO

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From your vantage point on the balcony, the world appeared distant and intimately close. The cigarette in your hand, its ember glowing softly, was a ritual, a brief escape from the whirlwind of thoughts and memories that swirled within you.

You often found solace in these moments of stillness, where the city’s rhythm became a backdrop to your internal landscape. The city, with its bustling streets and towering buildings, was both a friend and a stranger. Growing up in foster care had left you with a fragmented sense of belonging, and the cigarette was a small anchor in a sea of uncertainty. Each drag was a pause, a breath amid a life that had often spiralled out of control. Your search for solace was a constant, a thread woven through the fabric of your life.

Despite the challenges of growing up in the system, shuttling in and out of foster care, you remained resilient. The absence of a family, the mystery of your origins, and the note your mother left behind were all obstacles you faced with determination. You refused to let these circumstances define you.

The note your mother left behind was a stark reminder of your beginnings, a solitary piece of paper with just a name—a name that had been both a gift and a burden. It was a marker of your existence, but it had never been more than a name to you, a label without the context of a family or a past. This struggle with your identity was a close companion, a weight that you carried with you every day. When your gifts first made their presence known at the age of eleven, you naively thought that you were cursed, evil in a way. But as you grew, you learned to accept and understand your unique abilities, and in doing so, you found a sense of reconciliation within yourself. No one’s been your knight in shining armour. 

Now, it's just you and Amera. Amera, your loyal friend, has been by your side for as long as you can remember.  It feels as though fate intervened to keep you together because you were blessed to remain by each other’s side regardless of the tumbles and jumbles that came with being in the system. Her presence has been a source of comfort and strength, a reminder that you are not alone. She made life tolerable. As you approached the age of eighteen, the looming threat of being cast out into the world became all too real. They were forced to jump between shelters that were filled with misplaced characters who struggled with mental health, addictions, or both. 

It wasn’t until you had grown fed up with the uncertainties that you decided to take things into your own hands. The world had been unfair and harsh towards you, so you figured it wouldn’t matter how you would tip the scale to your favour. The apartment that you and Amera occupied had been a steal, literally. Amera didn’t know how you pulled it off; at barely twenty-one, you lacked the financial means typically required to secure a two-bedroom apartment in the bustling core of New York City. No one would’ve rented to two young girls with only their high school degrees and part-time minimum-wage jobs. From the moment you set your sights on that apartment, you began weaving a careful narrative to implant in his mind. You spoke confidently about your ability to pay rent, highlighting your financial stability and reliability. You were adept at using your power to play with the landlord’s mind, subtly assuring him of your dependability without stating it outright. And it worked. 

Years later, your ability continues to solidify your place within the building. You hadn’t had to pay rent since entering the apartment. Some minds were more docile than others. But with practice, no one’s consciousness was unmalleable given the right amount of force and will. Logan was the first to prove that theory wrong. 

“I thought you said that you quit.” A voice emerged from behind you, causing you to jump. 

“It’s my last pack,” you countered. 

“So you say,” Amera responded with a laugh. She joined you on the balcony with her mug, knowing it was green tea in contrast to your black instant coffee. Her long red curls wildly framed her freckled face, and her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She resembled a quirky librarian. Amera sat beside you and continued, “I’m surprised you are up this early; I was just getting ready for my clinical rotation.” She’s in the last year of her nursing program. When she told you about her ambition to go into healthcare, you had convinced her to go forward with it, and you’d “take care” of the rent. Amera remained unaware of how you managed this acquisition. You suspected that Amera thought you did sex work on the side to afford your lifestyle. 

Although you loved Amera dearly, you had never trusted anyone enough to expose your mutant identity, not since you had first discovered what you were truly capable of. 

The presence of mutants is not widely accepted in society; there has been increasing news coverage about the need to control x-gene humans. It wasn’t lost on you that the incident with Logan last night may have left you exposed.  

“Hello?” Amera waved her hand in front of your face, taking you out of your daze. “You okay? It was like your mind went to a different planet.” Her brows were furrowed as she analyzed your face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you replied, shaking off the lingering unease. “I just didn’t sleep well last night. I got in late from the bar 'cause Wade was fucking around instead of helping me close.” You rolled your eyes as you recounted Wade’s words of wisdom. Amera raised her eyebrows at that. 

“Wade again, huh? I swear that guy’s more trouble than he’s worth. I swear to God, if he’s the reason you’ve been more on edge lately–”

You shrugged, attempting to brush off her concern. “Tell me about it. It’s just been a hectic week, that’s all. It’s nothing I can’t handle, I promise.” you grumbled before taking another pull of your cigarette. 

Amera studied you for a moment, her concern evident. “If you need to talk about it…” 

“Thanks, Amy. You know I always bounce back eventually, but we can talk later when it’s not 5 in the morning.” You appreciated her offer; it was just like her wanting to shield you away from the pain of the world, but you weren’t ready to tell her the truth. And a part of you was unsure if you ever would be. 

She nodded, accepting your answer. “Well, I’m off to my rotation. If you need anything, text me. And maybe try to get some rest. You look like you could use it.” As Amera left, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. Her concern was genuine, but you couldn’t afford to let anyone see your vulnerabilities, especially not with the increasing scrutiny on mutants and the recent incident with Logan weighing heavily on your mind. 

Your thoughts raced as you recounted last night. Logan’s reaction had been unsettling. It was a rare occurrence, and it left you questioning whether your abilities were waning or if something about Logan made him particularly impervious. Is it possible that he was a mutant as well? You hadn’t met another person like yourself before, but of course, he might have had the ability to be unaffected by the powers of others– a walking shield of some sort. If that were the case, then you wouldn’t have to worry. Both of you would be on the same page. You’re delusional. It wasn’t as if you could assume that the man had supernatural abilities, nor was there a safe way to weasel the information out of him without explicitly exposing yourself. 

The hesitation in his demeanour proved it feasible to get ahold of his mind. He seemed intrigued but ultimately chose to leave. That was the issue; Logan could still choose to listen to your persuasion. If you possessed the gift of reading minds, you probably wouldn’t have lost as much sleep over this. Perhaps it was time to reassess your approach. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to keep a low profile and act as if yesterday hadn’t happened. The second best thing to your power of persuasion and thought projection was gaslighting. Deny and repeat. It was the best option until you could find a way to convince Peter to switch your schedule. You’d learned to play the role of a cheerful bartender well, and now it was time to use those skills to deflect any probing questions. You would need to be more cautious, especially with the growing risks associated with using your powers. The last thing you needed was for someone to become suspicious, or worse, to attract unwanted attention. You’ve gotten comfortable before, but as you've gotten older, blaming your ability to get your way on luck was no longer an option. It was time to be more vigilant. 

You had spent the day cleaning around the apartment and picking at the leftovers Amera had left for you. Your body was fidgeting, and it was impossible to sit still whenever you were nervous. Glancing at the time, it was best that you began to get ready before you were late for your closing shift at the bar. You studied your reflection, noting the weariness etched into your features. Amera was right. You needed to get some rest. Coffee and cigarettes weren’t doing your appearance any favours. By the time you were done applying your makeup, no one would suspect a thing. It was days like today; you’re grateful to wear a uniform. It made preparing for work that much easier. Female bartenders at Whiskey Whispers must wear the navy blue logo shirt that is snug and form-fitting with a low v-cut to compliment your blooming cleavage. They were accompanied by high-waisted black shorts that cut across your ass, making you appear more shapely than you were. It was a bit more revealing than you’d typically dress, but it was what brought in the tips. Throwing on a matching tracksuit to cover up, you grabbed your bag to head out for the subway. 

Walking towards the bar, you recognized him instantly. Logan leaned against the brick beside the back entrance of Whiskey Whispers with a cigar in his mouth. He wore a leather jacket with a white wife-beater underneath and his staple Levi jeans. His hair was dishevelled, and it took all your willpower not to stare. He shouldn’t be here, not at this time. Logan usually came for a drink closer to dusk. His presence didn’t allow enough time for you to think. Quickly, you steeled your mind and remembered your plan of laying low. Picking up your pace, if you got inside the back office before you could be followed, surely everything would be fine. It wouldn’t be odd not to greet him since you weren’t clocked to work yet. 

Oh, how you were wrong. Logan’s arm shot out to block the door with record speed. His sudden movement stopped you in your tracks, and you could hear your heart race as you faced the impenetrable barrier of his muscular forearm. The two of you were so close that you could inhale the heavy smoke emitted from his cigar. “Not so fast, princess.” Logan’s tone of voice was brusque but not wholly rude. He had more significant intentions than just catching up for a drink. 

You licked your lips to maintain your composure as if your mouth hadn't almost run dry. “Excuse me, Logan,” you forced your words to come out casually. I need to get settled before my shift.” Logan didn’t move an inch. His gaze felt like he was attempting to burn a hole through your eyes—steady and focused. 

He took a slow and significant drag from his cigar before exhaling the smoke to curl around his chest. “No problem, I just have a few questions. I promise it won't take long; we need to chat.” This wasn’t what you had anticipated. You fought the urge to panic. However, you knew how to handle this, stay calm and keep the conversation as short and sweet as possible. You could feel the presence of your powers stirring awake beneath the tranquil facade that you have shown. It wasn't safe to rely on them in a volatile situation like this in the public eye. 

“Questions about what? Can’t it wait? I have to get inside before I'm late.” Your voice was steady as you feigned impatience toward the man, hoping he’d get the hint. Logan pondered what you had stated and huffed, “Alright, let’s just talk, then.” He yanked the back door open, leaving little space for you to shimmy through. “After you, princess.” 

The back office was dimly lit, with lockers for workers to stash their things and old furniture that threatened to prick you with its tetanus-infected springs. The air smelled stale, and the AC hummed in the background. You needed to talk with Peter about getting the back door key card scanner fixed to avoid situations like this. Anyone could’ve entered through; the only reason no one has bothered is because of Wade’s unstable ass, some of the patrons started a rumour he got a hard-on from the thought of punching things. 

Yet, that didn’t halt Logan’s determination to get a solid answer from you. His eyes narrowed as you set your things inside the locker and began to unzip your sweater to reveal the scandalous shirt. Logan hadn’t taken care of your appearance previously; he rarely kept this much eye contact in a short period. However, now he studied your every move. 

“You know, I’ve been around for a while and seen my share of weird shit. And after last night, I think you’re not exactly who you seem to be,” he stated.

“Not sure what you’re getting at, Logan. I’m just a bartender, trying to make a living.” You rolled your eyes at him for extra effect. 

Logan flicked the ash of his cigar on the tiled floor before returning it to his lips. “Cut the crap. I know you’ve been hiding something.  You’ve got a way of making people do what you want, right?” The way that he posed the question alluded to the fact that he may have already known the answer. You were on your last resort. 

“Do you hear yourself? You’re imagining things. Maybe you had one too many drinks last night. I might need to start cutting you off earlier in the night.” You forced a laugh, but it sounded fake, a bit too high-pitched to sound genuine. 

Logan leant forward to be eye-level with you. You could feel his breath on your skin and couldn’t control your heart pounding. You began to break out in a sweat. Logan’s mannerisms were on the verge of being unhinged; behind his stone-cold brown eyes lay a wild side of him waiting to be unleashed. His voice was low and steady as he spoke, “I’ve dealt with enough mind games to spot a telepath when I see one. So, let’s skip pussyfooting and get to the point. What’s your deal?”

You stared back at him and remained still, although your instincts were screaming to run in the opposite direction, or worse, utilize your power with all your might to make him forget last night had ever happened. “And what if I told you that you’re wrong? What if I said I’m just good at reading people?” You gazed up at Logan through your lashes, trying to gauge his body language.

“I could hear your heart beating out of your chest. Am I making you nervous? I assure you I’m not here to play games. I know what I felt. You were messing with my head, trying to influence my decisions. You don’t do that without some kind of power.” 

Fuck. You balled your hands together in frustration and cursed under your breath. Logan wasn’t going to drop it. “So if you’re convinced I'm a mutant, why not report me? Instead, you chose to harass me at work personally.” 

“I want to know who else knows about this. I don’t want any surprises. If you’re involved in something bigger, I need to know where I stand. You get me?” Logan replied without hesitation. 

Ah, it began to make sense. He was worried about his safety, a secret of his own. “You’re a mutant,” you said, taking a step back, your voice steady but sharp. “You’re not exactly a stranger to mutant abilities, are you? I can sense something in you—something hidden behind that tough exterior. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to you.”

Logan’s expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes before his face hardened again. “Don’t try to flip this onto me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you retorted, your annoyance bubbling to the surface. “You’ve got that same intensity, that same ‘I’ve-seen-some-shit’ look that comes with being more than just a regular person. Maybe you’re trying to intimidate me to keep your abilities under wraps. Who else has tried to get into that head of yours?”

And for a moment, the tension between you was almost palpable. “I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, but if you’re making accusations, you better have something more concrete than your gut feelings.” He didn’t care to confirm or deny your question. 

“Logan, you might not be ready to admit it, but you’re hiding something,” you said, jabbing your index finger against his firm chest and feeling a surge of defiant energy. “And if you’re going to question me, maybe it’s time you looked in the mirror and confronted your own truths before someone discovers it for you.” You knew you were getting ahead of yourself, and your patience was thinning. 

He grabbed your hand and held it rigidly. “You think you know what you’re talking about, huh? Just remember that you can’t access my brain. I'm immune to you and your wiles.” His tone sounded like a threat.  He let go of your hand for it to fall lifelessly to your side. As Logan turned and walked away, the room seemed to settle into a heavy silence. You were left uneasy that the confrontation had only scratched the surface of deeper, more complicated truths.

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[unplugfromthesource]

Viva Las Vegas

🎲About: When invited to see your childhood best friends perform at the International Hotel and Casino, things take a turn of events and reveal suppressed feelings for your once lover and now enemy.

♦️Jake Kiszka x reader

♠️Word count: 6k

♣️Warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, angst, crying, cheating, ldk what else 🙌🏻

🃏Authors note: enjoy this is my first story so I hope it’s good and if the format is messed up sorryyy😛

⭐️⭐️⭐️

If you were to be told that your childhood best friends were performing at the International Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, you would die laughing. Growing up in the small town of Frankenmuth Michigan, you were always told you needed to live a big life and make the town proud, and that is exactly what you did. After finishing high school, you dropped the idea of college and found yourself working at the well-known store of Bronners, making a little less than minimum wage, but it worked. You saved up for 2 years straight, just to be able to rent out a small studio apartment in Nashville Tennessee, the music city. You landed yourself a job at a small bar that frequently hosted small and upcoming bands, one of them being the Orange Blossoms: the band you now market for full-time while working for RCA Record Labels. Life was good, really good; well until you got a very interesting call two weeks back from a very drunk childhood best friend, Josh Kiszka.

“Hello?” You asked rubbing your eyes. It had to be at least 3 am and you were woken out of a dead sleep to answer a call you should’ve just let go to voicemail.

“Y/N MY FAVORITE PERSON,” you could practically smell the alcohol reeking off the man you called your other half through the phone “HOW ARE YOU!”

“Josh,” you pulled the phone away from your ear and to no surprise the time read

3:05 am “It’s 3 am I was asleep just like you should be. Is there something you need?”

“Mama, do I ever need a reason to call the girl I love the most?” He asked almost slurring every other word

“No Josh but it’s a Thursday and I have work soon and need to sleep. Goodnight Joshua”.

“NO, NO WAIT. I had something to tell you but it slipped my mind.. Jake, what was I going to tell y/n again?” That name. The name of the man who had destroyed you. Josh’s twin brother, Jacob. Thomas. Kiszka. Silence hit the air and you could hear the long-haired man laugh and mumble something to his brother.

Jake and you had dated back in high school. It wasn’t a quick thing, it was a three-year-long commitment. Jake was your first and you his. He was there for the first time you got black-out drunk, greened out, ran away from home, lost your childhood pet, everything. Jake was not only your boyfriend but your best friend and you were beyond happy, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, all that joy and happiness, left in the blink of an eye on the night of your senior prom. It took no time at all for you to see the photo. There, in his jet black tuxedo and pink tye to match your flowing dress was an 18-year-old Jake pushed up against the wall with some dumb blonde. The dumb blonde in question? your best friend. Life had changed completely. All the sorries in the world couldnt make up for what he had done to you. You could care less about the skanky bitch you called your best friend but Jake? Your Jake? You have never felt more alone in your entire life. You broke contact with him for 6 years. Six years of your life you spent tip-toeing around him. You would exchange glances at parties Josh or Sam would host but not a single word would leave your lips. Josh had tried his best to break up the tension but you were stubborn, you always have been and that was partially the reason Jake had stopped trying so hard to apologize to you, because he knew you wouldn’t forgive and forget.

You broke the no contact on the twin's 24th birthday. You were invited to the party and you didn’t think twice about going, not for Jake but for Josh. Only for Josh. However, to lie and say Jake had looked nothing far from gorgeous would be wrong. He looked.. perfect. You found yourself drinking one too many martinis made by the fluffy-haired twin and ended up letting the alcohol take its course and finally speaking to the man who broke your heart. As you moved your body through the sea of people invited to the house located just out of Nashville, you found your glossy eyes looking upon a somber Jake.

“Hi.” you said quietly as you took a seat next to him outside by the small fire that had been growing rather dim as the night went on.

“Hi, Angel.” He said as his eyes met yours, using the same nickname he gave you all those years back in high school.

“ I uh, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday and wish you a year full of good memories or whatever you have in your life you want to be good.” God your mouth had never felt so dry as you were at such a loss for words. Why you were even speaking to him was beyond you.

“Thank you. How have you been? It's been what? Five-ish years?”

“Ive been good, I could be better but work is good and I got a dog of my own, yea lifes been, been going good.” Been going good and we should keep it that way, you thought to yourself.

“I'm glad. Ive missed you, Angel. Ive missed what we had.” His hand found its way to yours. Just as soon as it happened it was over as a girl was soon calling his name. A girl whose voice you’ve heard more than once before. As you turned your head, to no surprise you were met with the girl he cheated on you with all that while back. You sobered right up and stood quickly.

“It shows Jake. Happy birthday again.” and with that, you continued with your life, not speaking to the ghost of the man you once knew.

As you came back from your thoughts you were brought back to a drunk Josh rambling on about god knows what.

“So what do you say?” Jesus you must have been zoned out, I mean it was 3 am and this call was more than unnecessary in your eyes.

“Sorry, repeat what you just said, but make it short.”

“ I SAID, we're going on another leg for the US and were going to this fancy place in Vegas where Elvis played and I want you to come.” You had already seen the infamous Greta Van Fleet perform far more than once but a trip to Vegas didn’t sound too terrible.

“The International Casino?” you asked confusingly

“Yeah, that's the one! It's in a few weeks Angel so you have time to think but it would mean the world to all of us if you would delight us with your amazing presence.” You let out a small laugh, ignoring the fact that the nickname has made its way to stick with you for so long.

“Send me over the details in the morning Josh and I’ll look into it. Im going to bed now and I think you should too, love you lots Josh.” The short man let out a sigh wished you a good night and hung up.

Now, you sit in your hotel room, a suite not to mention, putting on the lash finishing details to your makeup, similar to that of which Josh does, and preparing for the night ahead. As you added the last rhinestone to your cheek, you moved to grab your favorite red lipstick, carefully applying it only to be interrupted by a phone call from no other than the man himself.

“Hello, mamas.”

“Hi Josh, to what do I owe the pleasure”

“I’m sending someone up to your room right now to grab you and bring you to the dressing rooms, then we're gonna bring you to your spot. Sound good?” You laughed knowing that by going on this trip Josh was going to do whatever he needed to make sure that you had lived it to the best extent, even if that meant reserving a special spot in the pit when you were more than happy to be in a seat, out of the way.

“Yes that’s fine Josh,” you said with a laugh “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you continued applying your lipstick, sprayed your favorite perfume, and were met with a soft knock at the door to your luxurious suite. You opened the door to see one of the many men you'd seen running around with the band before and allowed him to escort you to a room that was titled “Greta Van Fleet-Josh Dressing” and let you inside.

You were immediately met with showers of welcomes, seeing that not only Josh sat in this room but Sam and Danny too, Jake nowhere to be found.

“Angel! We’ve missed you come in!” exclaimed Josh and he sat up from his spot in a chair and left the woman doing his makeup dumbfounded at the sudden change in focus. As he came up to hug you it felt as if any worry you had about the night had left you completely. His hug was soon followed by Sam and Danny which led you all into a deep conversation of how life had been. Well, as deep as it could go seeing as they had to perform in just short of 30 minutes. As Sam rambled on about Rose and his love life your mind drifted to the fact that the other, more serious, twin wasn’t present. It must have shown on your face for Sam cleared his throat and said

“Jake in his dressing room, “practicing” is what he calls it but im pretty sure he's in there taking shots to pregame.” You let out a soft “ah” to show your understanding. It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Jacob Kiszka was pregaming, you felt like you always saw him drinking before a show, even when he was back in Frankenmuth whether it be a beer or a shot of vodka. Soon you found yourself taking a shot with the boys as if to say good luck on the stage tonight, knowing they wouldn’t need that; I mean they were amazing, to say the least. You saw the effect these men had on some of the people in the crowd, not just from their undeniable beauty but from the fact that their music meant something, it changed people and you couldn’t be more proud of them. While you never imagined them this big, you felt like they had this written in the stars for them. After exchanging conversation they got the five-minute call and the next thing you knew you were being brought out of the room and down to the pit. As you walked down the small hallway leading you to the stage, you heard the voice of a man talking to another, but not just talking, he was mad, really mad. The security guard tried to hurry you along past the scene but as you passed him, you could see that black suit, shining in the light due to the amazing detailing from the rhinestones and diamonds, and you knew that was Jake. Your Jake. Why he was mad? You wish you knew. Maybe something happened with his guitar, or maybe he had just gotten bad news from someone, but whatever it was, you weren’t even allowed a moment to process it before you were pushed along to your “special spot”. You found yourself being lifted over the railing of the pit and put smack dab in the middle of the barricade. You almost felt bad, this could’ve been someone else’s spot so before he could walk away, you grabbed the arm of the security guard and pulled him close to the railing.

“Is there anywhere else I can sit? Maybe up there?” you yelled out as you pointed to the seats sitting at an angle to the side of the stage.

The guard just looked at you and sighed, “They told me they wanted you here specifically, so they could see you. Don’t worry we had someone hold this spot for you. Enjoy the show Ms.Y/L/N.” And with that, he was gone and the lights started to dim, followed by a beautiful violin cover of the songs off Starcatcher.

The curtain fell and the boys made their way down from their spots, going on with the show as normal, until it came to the point of what would normally be their switch to the second stage, except this venue, in particular, did not have one, so they stayed put and gathered around into a half circle, facing the crowd in front of them. Sam had started to play a melody on his keys you knew all too well and once Josh started singing, tears filled your eyes. It was always a joke growing up about how much you and Mrs.Kiszka adored John Denver, Jake, and Josh egging it onto you how much you were like their mom. You had always seen on social media postings of them playing bits from The Music Is You, to honor their mom when playing back in your home state, but it never once crossed your mind that they may do the same for you. Josh had sang beautifully as always and made it a point to look right at you and reach his hand out to you when he finished the little snippet of the song you adored oh so much. You wiped your eyes and mouthed a quick thank you to Josh. While it may have seemed silly to the girls around you, you hadn’t seen the boys in truly so long, and just to hear them sing, knowing it was for you, made you appreciate how much they have changed you and your life, good or bad.

As the concert continued you found yourself in a sea of screaming girls once the familiar tune of The Archer, began playing. Josh had told you over the phone about the many interactions he had with fans, going down to the pit, hugging, kissing, grabbing them, and showing his love during Jake's extended solo and you expected nothing different for tonight. Just as you expected, Josh made his way down to the pit, hugging as many as he could but your attention drifted elsewhere. Your eyes found taking in the image of the man you once called your true love as he shook back and forth with his guitar, dramatizing the solo more than it needed to be. You found yourself taking in his features; his long, wet hair, the way it stuck to his face due to the sweat running down his body to his torso, the way his hips shook back and forth as he damn near abused his guitar on the stage. You couldn’t draw your eyes away but were broken out of your trance as soon his met yours. The tension you felt was unreal and hard to differentiate between sexual or pure rage for what had happened all that time back. It wasn’t just the cheating that had you mad though and you knew that. Jake was a slut, a genuine slut. You felt like he was sleeping around with a new girl after every show and he made no point of hiding it as photos circulated on the internet of him leaving venues with different girls every other week. You watched as he would watch himself play, in awe with his state of himself, what a self-centered asshole you thought. Soon, you brought your eyes away from his but couldn’t help but feel them staring down at you throughout the remainder of the show, almost as if he tried his best not to look before but now couldn’t control it. As Josh reached the last note of the last song, they bid their farewells and wished their love to all in the crowd and soon exited the stage.

As the pit fully cleared out, you made your way from the front of the pit despite the security trying to escort you to the boys backstage, you broke out of their hold telling them you needed to go to the restroom and would find your way back there on your own. You felt like you were being babied and honestly needed a drink or two after whatever the hell that show was. You moved through the sea of people and found yourself standing at a bar waving down a bartender, ordering your usual Jack and Coke. As the cold drink met your lips, you could feel yourself loosen up in an instant. Three drinks later you found yourself too far from tipsy but not yet fully drunk, you would give yourself a drink more before you were completely dazed out. You closed out your tab and picked up your phone, being met with text after text from Josh asking where you went. You called him and asked where he was, telling you he was at some restaurant located in the hotel and would send Sam to come and get you. As you sat impatiently, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to get another drink; the boys were probably near drunk by now as well who cares you thought as you ordered another drink, asking for it to be stronger than the last one, asking for this drink just to be put on the room, to which Josh was paying for. As you finished the last drops of your drink it was only a matter of time before the alcohol worked its course and you felt ready to dance and let loose.

Soon, Sam's body found yours as you laughed to him about just how good the show truly was, showering him with compliments on the band's skill. He only laughed alongside you, letting the alcohol drift from his breath to your face, letting you know it indeed was ok to order that last drink. As he guided you back to the restaurant, you were met with surprise seeing as the restaurant was not only a restaurant but a dance club. The seats consisted of a few big, dimly lit booths, and many high tops and scattered lounge chairs. Sam led you to one of the booths and you slid your body right in, to Josh, except the booth was now only being filled by you and Josh, the other three boys out dancing or getting drinks by the bar. You leaned into Josh and shouted as loud as you could over the music.

“The show was amazing Josh,” you said partially slurring your words “thank you for playing my song for me; ‘meant a lot y’know.” You smiled at him, eyes glossy.

“Anything for my favorite girl.” He said, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly.

You found yourself being pulled in all sorts of directions as Josh danced the night away with you until your phone read about 2 am. You pulled Josh to the side and told him it was time for you to make your way back to your room and sadness filled his eyes.

“I don’t want the night to end either Josh but I’m tired and drunk and need to sleep.” you laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I know mama. When is your flight back to Nash? Maybe we can spend the day on the strip tomorrow before we gotta go?” You looked at the man like he had six eyes. You were in no state to think of such difficult things, or at least that's how they seemed to you. You lazily gave him an estimate knowing it was some time in the afternoon, but it was late enough for you to spend time with him and the rest of the boys. As you wished him goodnight you stumbled out of the restaurant-themed club and made your way toward the elevators.

As you pressed the elevator buttons and entered in, you pressed the button leading you to the twelfth floor where your room resided. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand wedged itself in between the two doors, opening them back up and bringing you to face a, at least you would think, equally as drunk Jake. You didn’t want to talk to him let alone look at him but god did he look good. As he walked in he let out a small sigh, almost disappointed on who was in the small box with him. Before you could even open your mouth to ask him what floor he was headed to, he leaned in front of you, almost far too close for comfort, and pressed the number directly above the one you lit up and returned to his place on the opposite side, not exchanging a single word. You were praying the floor would stop somewhere else and someone would get into the elevator with the two of you, breaking the awkward silence but no one did. As the elevator made its way up you cleared your throat and as soberly as possible said

“You guys put on quite the show tonight.” You couldn’t tell if it came off as rude or a compliment.

“Glad you enjoyed it, Angel.” He said, his eyes lifting from the floor to look at you, take in your outfit, tailored specifically for this evening. You were dressed in a shorter-than-short silver skirt to show off your height as Jake himself always joked how you should be flaunting your “long legs” whatever the fuck that meant, followed by a black corset that had detailing that was similar to that of what was embroidered on the twins suits. Your skin was covered in glitter, from your chest to your arms and you supported a few dainty necklaces gifted from the boys themselves as well as a bracelet you bought for yourself just for this event. You put on your cleanest pair of go-go boots and do your makeup to resemble Josh, followed by a red lip and your hair in loose curls. How it all stayed on to this moment was a surprise to even you but it did, and maybe this time it genuinely was the alcohol, but you felt hot, really hot. Jake had managed to find time to change so he sported a simple linen set you've seen him wear one too many times before, leaving all but the last two buttons undone to show off his toned chest against the silver of his plethora of silver coins.

“It's not polite to stare.” you stated flatly at the man before you, toying with the bracelet on your wrist to keep you occupied. God this elevator was taking forever.

“You seemed to have no issue earlier towards the end of the show.” He let out slightly with a smug smile almost as if to insinuate something more than what was there.

“I’m sorry? Am I supposed to stare at the floor during a concert?” You snapped back only to be met with a smile forming wider on his lips.

“Like I said, glad you enjoyed Angel.” He said, cooly.

Finally, the elevator reached your floor and you couldn’t help but sit for a minute, debating everything that’s happened between you and Jake, realizing that even after all the years, you find yourself feeling the same way you did for him all that time back. You looked up at the man in front of you in confusion about the way you felt, wondering if he felt the same.

“Goodnight Jake.” you said softly before exiting the small box and beginning the walk down the hallway. As you approached your room you felt like your legs were ready to give out. You pulled your room key out and entered the room, sleep taking over your body. As you walked in you immediately made your way to the bed, needing a minute to regain some energy before getting up again and taking off your ensemble. After a minute, you sat up, taking off your boots, followed by your corset and skirt, taking off your socks and undergarments, and moving to get a a baggy t-shirt and different underwear. Once changed, you made your way toward the bathroom to begin removing your pounds of jewelry. The weight being taken off your neck led you to focus on taking off your bracelet however to your surprise, it wasn’t there. Fuck you thought to yourself. If it was anywhere, it was back in that elevator where you stood fidgeting with it while talking to Jake. You would’ve just let it go had it not been as expensive as it was. You were at a loss of thought. Do you call Jake and ask if he saw it in the elevator? No Jesus no. You tried to collect your thoughts in your drunken state and decided to just go back onto the elevator and look for it there. It was almost 3 am so you would think no one would be out in the hall so you slipped on some ankle socks and crept out of the comforts of your room, making your way to the elevator. Just as you went to press the button to go back down, the doors opened, and before you stood the same man you had just seen minutes before, holding your bracelet. He scanned over your body before stepping out of the elevator, taking in your “pajamas” and smirking slightly.

“You look comfortable.”

“Just give me my bracelet Jake. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.” You snapped at him, almost too loudly.

“Yeesh someone's angry.” He said with a chuckle, reaching his hand out to you.

You snatched it out of his and turned making your way back to the room, not giving him a second longer of your time.

Once you got to the door, the harsh reality hit you. You missed him. He looked so good on that damn stage tonight, it made you realize that you did miss him. You missed the nights when you would spend laughing your asses off at the stupidest tv shows, or the way you would make fun of each other for the way they looked when they woke up in the morning. What you missed most of all? The feeling of his body against yours. The way he made you feel complete. You felt tears build up in your eyes. You had loved him, even from the day he cheated on you, you have always loved him. You never loved another. You missed your Jake. As you entered the room, tears streamed from your eyes, not just out of sadness but anger. Angry that even after he did do this, you still wanted to crawl back into his arms, and be told it was all going to be ok. You moved to grab your phone and opened up your messages. You knew you shouldn’t have but you opened a new conversation and sat, staring at what you would even say. Before you could even type the first letter, a knock at your door filled the silence.

You opened up the door to be met with the eyes of the same boy you had never stopped loving. You locked eyes before the sudden movement of him brought his lips toward yours. It was like he had been thinking the same thing, as his hands met your waist and yours locked around the back of his neck. Quickly, he backed you into the room, kicking the door closed behind him and guiding you towards your bed. Your hands wrapped up into his tangled curls, pulling at them as he deepened the kiss. His hands began to slip under your shirt, searching every inch of your body, stopping just before your chest. As he backed you through your room, you turned, leading him towards the bed instead, moving your hands down to his face. As you approached the bed, you pushed him back and stepped back, moving to lift your shirt off of your body as he worked on his own. Once both were removed, your lips met his again, this time holding more force, as your hands roamed his body, leading you down to his waist, running them over his legs, slowly working their way up to his member, painfully hard already through his linens. A groan hit your lips, letting you know that he wanted this just as badly as you did. All those thoughts of doubt and anger towards him left your mind as he started to work kisses down your chin while you worked on getting his pants off. Once off, you lowered yourself onto your knees, palming him through his underwear as he stared at you with lust-filled eyes as you moved painstakingly slow.

You looked up at him, eyes glossed as you were just as desperate with him and slowly pulled down his underwear, pressing soft kisses to the insides of his thighs. Moving your way up, you could feel his body shudder, struggling to keep the little composure he had left. Finally, you took him into your mouth, pushing him down until he hit the back of your throat and slowly started to move up and down.

“Fuck Y/N.” he whispered, collecting the hair draping around your face, making a ponytail in his fist but using no force and letting you have free reign.

As you got comfortable with the feeling, you began to pick up your pace, settling him at the back of your throat after a little and choking back a gag, tears filling your eyes but this time for all the different reasons. A string of praises and curses left his lips as he started to force your head back up, almost as an instinct. As you let him, he kept up with the pace until he felt it was too much and switched to holding you in place as he began to thrust up into your mouth, quickly, bringing him to let out a loud moan.

He continued to hit the back of your throat and the gag you tried so hard to suppress released itself, causing him to lean his head back in pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck Angel, you're taking me so well” he managed to say with eyes squeezed shut.

The words leaving his lips made the pool forming between your legs ten times worse as you squeezed your legs together for some sort of relief. As you looked up at Jake, his eyes met yours as he reached his hand down to play with your breasts, releasing a moan from your lips. Just as fast as it was happening, it stopped and Jake pulled himself out of your mouth and you up from the floor, pressing kisses along your torso and breasts, hooking his fingers into the sides of your laced underwear. As he pulled them down, he stood, switching positions with you as you slid yourself back towards the head of the bed, laying comfortably as he worked to situate himself between your legs. Following your same movements minutes ago, he began to press kisses into the sides of your thighs, moaning as he did so as if it was pleasure enough to be touching you. Your hand trailed down to the bundle of nerves as the ache growing between your legs began to fog your thoughts. Just as you began to touch yourself, Jake grabbed your wrist stopping you whilst continuing to kiss his way up to that very spot.

He moved your hand out of the way and his lips found your clit, rubbing slow circles with his tongue around the nerves, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

“I wanna hear your pretty little sounds, Angel, don’t get shy on me now.” he said, releasing his mouth from you and slowly moving it back.

As he did so, your breath quickened as he flattened his tongue along your core, taking you in. He refocused his tongue on your clit as his fingers slowly danced along your legs, making their way up to slowly find their way inside of you. Starting with one at a slow pace, your hips jolted forward as you begged for more, allowing him to add a second digit inside of you, picking up the pace. Moans streamed from your lips as he set a steady, fast, pace, whilst continuing to work his tongue over your clit. Your hands found his hair again, pushing his face forward, grinding forward against his lips.

“Holy shit Jake” you moaned out as you began to slowly feel a knot forming in your stomach. Just when you thought it was impossible, he picked up the pace even faster, slipping his hands under your legs pulling you closer, and anchoring you in place as your back arched with pleasure. Your head dug back into the pillows as you let out a close-to-pornographic moan release from your lips. His tongue worked quick circles around your clit, making your head spin with pure pleasure. You had missed the feeling of him on you, in you, and you never wanted to let go of the feeling you gained back.

“J-Jake I’m s’close,” you said a little too loudly “don’t stop, please.” you said with a moan as you could feel you losing yourself with pleasure.

As he continued to work quickly, he involuntarily thrust his hips forward into the mattress and you wanted nothing more than for him to be in you.

“Jake stop fuck stop.” you said almost defeatedly knowing you were close to pure bliss. Immediately without thought, he lifted his face from between your legs, keeping his fingers inserted, moving at a far slower pace.

“What's wrong?” he said breathily, still trying to get his bearings about him.

“Nothing I just,” you said fighting back another moan as his fingers still worked inside of you, “I want you in me, I can’t wait any longer.” you said quickly. He met your words with a smirk and finished by curling his fingers in you and pulling them out, leaving you wishing he didn’t stop. He brought his fingers to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them and having you watch as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Jesus you taste so good Angel” he said raspily, moving his way up to be over you, lining himself up. Rubbing his hands up and down his shaft a few times you took the opportunity to switch positions, straddling him. You leaned forward to press kisses to his lips and slowly down to his chin, then neck, sucking harshly assuring you would leave a proud mark for the morning, down to his chest and torso. Slowly, you reached for his member, giving it a few pumps before slowly lowering yourself down onto him, releasing a mouth from your lips due to the stretch his size brought to you. God how I missed him was all you could think to yourself. Slowly, you began to move, setting a slow back-and-forth movement before working yourself to move more intensely. He brought one hand to your hip as if to anchor you there and another to your breast, leaning forward to put one in his mouth and leave one in his hand, eliciting another moan. As his mouth worked over your sensitive breasts, you began to pick up your pace and slowly pick yourself up off him before quickly lowering you wereslef back down, setting a speed for him to adjust to. Eventually, his head flew back to the pillows out of pure bliss, continuing to move his hand over your breast.

You leaned forward towards his neck as he began to thrust into you, letting you leave more small bruises for the morning. His hands now switched from your legs to your ass, having a firm grip you were scared would leave you with bigger bruises to form.

“ I missed you,” he whispered into your ear “fuck I missed you so much.” God, he sounded needy, desperate, as if you could get closer and you just didn’t know it.

“Tell me, what’d you miss jakey.” you said weakly. As much joy as this brought you, you wanted this to last, to be able to do this with him whenever be able to be his again, and you wanted him to confirm your hopes that he felt the same.

“I missed it all Y/N, I-” he cut himself off with a moan as you tightened around him as you tried to hold back a moan, despite his command to be vocal “ I missed your laugh, and your beautiful smile, fuck, I missed every aspect of you.” Good enough you thought to yourself given that he was fucking you fast.

You brought yourself up from his neck, taking control once more, picking up where his pace left off.

“Shit m’close baby.” he said quickly, with eyes squeezed shut, similar to how he looked while you rubbed your tongue down his shaft. The sweat forming on his face caused his hair to stick to his face, similar to on stage, making you want him even more than you already had him. With that, he flipped you over, taking over once more, and quickened the pace ever so slightly, clearly impatient. One leg found its way around his waist as the opposite hand reached for his back, clawing, trying to stabilize yourself.

“M’close too,” you said with tears forming in your eyes out of pure desperation, “Jake, faster and don’t stop.” you said gravelly.

Following your command, he drilled into you as the knot that had been building up for so long finally came undone and euphoria took over your body, your heading stretching back, moans streaming from your lips followed by his name. Just as you had begun to start to come down, his high began as his movements began to falter, letting you know he was there. He began to move back, trying to put out. You wrapped your other leg around him and pulled him closer, stopping his action.

“Inside me.. I want it inside me.” you said quickly, whilst looking up at him.

Without a second thought, he fully pushed back in and released himself into you, continuing to fuck the release into you, slowly and painfully. Once he was done, he pulled out, plopping down beside you, both of you breathing incredibly fast. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed kisses onto the side of your face and chin. With the moment of calm, your mind began to race again, but his voice pulled you out of thought.

“I love you Y/N. I love you, only you, I’ve only ever loved you, ever since the minute I layed eyes on you, I knew that I wanted to be with you for every minute of every day. I’m sorry for what I did but I will never stop loving you till the day I die.” He said sweetly, a tone you’ve not heard in years. You turned to look at him, your face serious but eyes filled with shock. You couldn’t find the words so you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was not like before. It was slow, passionate, everlasting. You pulled away and pushed your forehead against his.

“I love you forever Jacob Thomas Kiszka.” you said with a smile forming on your lips. All that time you had spent angry with him, upset with him, you had just wished he was different and he was. Maybe it took years, but he changed. He was your Jake and he always would be. The smile that formed on his lips matched yours.

“I do have to say miss Y/L/N,” your eyes furrowed with confusion, “I think you outdid the rest of the girls in the pit with your outfit tonight,” he said as you began to laugh about how unserious he was.

“Jake”

“Hm?”

“You’re an idiot”

“But you love me so it works out”

“But I love you so it does work out I guesss” you said dragging out your s’s.

He simply wrapped you up to the side of him pressing a kiss to the side of your head as sleep took over both of your bodies, allowing you to feel content once again with your life knowing you were complete once again.

[fr0mthefires]

haunted. - vampire!shigaraki x f!reader / part 1

In which you’re down on your luck, taking the first job that will have you after being laid off from Endeavor Dynamics. There, you cross paths with a certain mysterious, red-eyed individual who seems to be harboring a secret, and (un)fortunately find yourself tangled in a web of obsession and danger you’re not sure you can handle. Or stay away from.

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced drug and alcohol use, death, loss, not beta read

~5.9k words

Christ. What day is it?

You're barely awake, a lingering dream still blurring the edges between sleep and awareness.

You weren’t privy to keeping up with time much these days. It all seemed to bleed and blend into a blur now, minutes feeling like seconds, days feeling like hours or sometimes vice versa, the sunlight too hidden behind the thick black curtains you’d hung weeks ago to truly know whether it was day or night. You simply go through the motions, sleeping or gaming or watching whatever mindless content you click on and stare at absently to fill the overwhelming silence in your apartment.

Some would call it heaven to be holed up like this with no real responsibilities; you, however, have taken to calling it the Void. That’s what it feels like, anyway. A black hole of nothingness, chewing up time and spitting it out whatever which way it chooses.

You’d been laid off of your computer tech job a few weeks ago, Endeavor Dynamics having suddenly decided to do away with your particular position in the company in favor of funneling that money into lining their own pockets and beefing up their marketing, all in hopes of bringing in more poor, unsuspecting unpaid interns who were fresh out of college and hoping to make a name for themselves in the world of corporate greed.

You had enjoyed the newfound freedom at first after the initial shock and despair wore off. You could sleep in past 6am for the first time in ages, could spend all day grinding in your favorite games for legendary cosmetics and leveling up your stats, got to catch up on your anime watchlist and eat shitty takeout whenever you wanted. It truly felt like the life, until it didn’t anymore.

Your savings account had begun to noticeably dwindle after the first three weeks. No big deal, you’d told yourself. A new opportunity would come soon. You’d spent all that time and money grinding for that fancy college degree, after all. You had a decent resumé with slightly-more-than-decent references. But after your sixth application to various companies in the city returned no results, you began to worry.

As it turned out, employers didn’t really care all that much about degrees in Computer Science and Game Development. Not when they had to narrow down their options in the shit job economy to other candidates with flashier degrees like Business and Accounting. And now, nearly five weeks into unemployment, the pickings are slim. The amount left in your savings will likely only cover rent and necessities for this month if you’re frugal, and after that, you’ll have to make your way to the nearest dumpster and pick out a nice cardboard box to call home.

Unfortunately, you're not one of the privileged souls out there with family to rely on when you’re down and out. Life had sobered you up to reality at a young age. Your mom never did live up to her title as such; she never put in any effort to connecting with you, caring for you, or loving you beyond what was necessary to keep up appearances.

It was clear even at such a young age that she wanted nothing to do with you. You were a blight on her life, a responsibility she never really wanted, and she made it known in as many passive aggressive ways as she could get away with without your dad noticing.

Your dad, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of your mom. He loved you in a way that was loud and all-encompassing, and he made it known to you in any way your little mind could understand. Trips to the park, countless stuffed animals and toys, more books read at bedtime than you could count on your little fingers, bear hugs and kisses on your forehead as he tucked you in for the night. He made up for all the love you lacked from your mom ten-fold.

He was your safety blanket, the first and only best friend you'd ever had. But life was cruel, and it made sure you knew that. You'd never forget when your dad collapsed that first time during your sixth birthday party. The second of silence that followed that seemed to stretch for hours before the panic ensued. The sound of the sirens blaring as the ambulance screeched to a stop in front of your house.

He was always so tired after that day. The trips to the park went from three times a week, to one every other week, to none at all. The animated way he would read your favorite bedtime stories was replaced by your own little voice while he laid next to you, his eyes closed as he nodded his encouragement.

"The a- animals saw the tree and knew that Fox was still a part of them. Owl raised his gran- his gran-"

"Grandchicks, darling." His voice was barely there when he'd help you pronounce the words you struggled with.

"Owl raised his grand... chicks on the br- branches. The tree gave love to everyone who loved Fox."

"And so, Fox lived on in their hearts forever," he mouthed along with you, a shiny bead trailing down the side of his face. You traced it with your little finger, and he gave you one of his most tired smiles.

He was gone by the time you'd turned seven. His body was too riddled with cancer for him to withstand it anymore. He left the world with one final, unsteady caress on your cheek and a barely whispered "I'm sorry, pumpkin." Your mom left the room, left you as you cried and cried and cried. She made one of the nurses drag you out to the car.

It didn't take long for your mom to pick up habits after that. The kind of habits that made the house smell like chemicals and made her sleep for hours and hours, or the kinds that made her breath smell gross and sour when she'd yell at you for leaving your room. If she wasn't passed out on the couch she was gone for hours at a time, late and long enough that you learned how to tuck yourself into bed. You didn't really like bedtime stories anymore, anyway.

She met your stepdad around the time you turned eight, a wanna-be drug lord with a serious heroine addiction. You figured maybe him and your mom were meant to be in that regard. She needed someone to rely on, after all. The addiction made it impossible for her to function on her own, let alone raise you. A couple months after that, the neglect evolved into abuse.

Your mom was often too out of it to realize or care what she was doing, but on the rare days she was lucid, she made it a point to let you know it was all your fault. You’ll never forget the way she’d look at you, her eyes distant and slightly unfocused as they trailed over your cuts and bruises.

"He always loved you more than me," she'd murmur, almost sounding sad, before her eyes would refocus, sharp with anger and loathing. “This is your fault, you know. If you’d never been born, I could have been happy. Your dad could still be here. We would have been happy without you." Young, impressionable you believed it more and more each time she’d spit those words at you, right before her hand cracked against your cheek, your step-dad laughing as he watched. 

You learned how to disassociate by the time you were nine. It was a skill you valued a lot as you got older, made it easier to drift through your life however you pleased before you decided to get your shit together.

Now, freshly 24, you’re able to recognize that your mom likely just projected her own feelings towards herself and life in general onto you. You were an outlet far more than you ever were a daughter to her. But no matter what you know now, the facts don't always make reality easier to cope with, and they don't erase the memories. You didn’t go to her funeral when she finally died of an overdose a few days after your nineteenth birthday, and word on the street was your step-dad didn’t either.

Her death was what spurred you out of the life you'd been living up to that point, a glaring reminder that you were on a path to becoming just like her. It was maybe the one good thing she'd ever done for you.

Your fault. All your fault.

Your eyes fully blink open as the echoing remnants of those words die with your unconscious mind, quickly shoved in the box you keep locked away in the back of your mind with all the other shit you never really tried nor wanted to unpack and face.

***

Thursday. It's Thursday.

You notice the date displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen, absently taking note that it’s already the middle of October. You think that should be more impactful than it actually feels. Sighing, you shift your attention back to the task at hand, scrolling through the first page of job listings you’d filtered as “Sort New to Old” and unfortunately seeing nothing fucking new at all that you haven’t already applied for. You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes out of irritation, tiny little bursts of colors appearing behind your eyelids from the force.

“Fuck this,” you mutter to nobody but yourself and stand abruptly, a newfound determination born from nothing but the dejection and exasperation flaring up inside you. If you haven’t had any luck online, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places. Maybe good, old-fashioned face to face interaction is what you’re missing. Companies still did that in this decade, right? The possibility is better than nothing, you guess.

You peel off the sweatpants and baggy shirt you’d been wearing for a few too many days, take a much needed shower, and dress in something you feel is appropriate and fitting enough for a depressed and desperate individual searching for a job who is trying to look put together and not at all depressed or desperate. Whether or not you convey that, you aren’t sure, but you’re out the door without a second glance.

The sunlight feels like it’s cooking your retinas the moment you step outside, and for the first time in awhile, you wonder how long it’s really been since you’ve left your cave. The street you live on is right outside the main heart of the city, but it’s still alive and busy with people hustling back to their 9-5s after their lunch breaks, coming and going from the few cafes and restaurants, or just out for walks in the mid-October chill.

You take a moment to observe, let your eyes adjust, realize the world has in fact still been turning around you since you’ve been holed up, and then set off down the sidewalk in the direction of the busier part of the city. You start simple. Modest. Coffee shops, ramen houses, small stalls and tourist traps. You even try the lone fucking GameStop that’s somehow still in business.

You’ve resorted to the barest of minimums, all of which telling you they’re not hiring or you’re “over-qualified” for the job, whatever the fuck that means. Each bell chiming over your head when you exit leaves you feeling more dejected than the last. It’s not until you’re at a crosswalk waiting for the little green stick figure to pop up on your way back home, fully intent on spending another night buried in despair and self-loathing, that you see it.

A lone flyer haphazardly stapled onto the pole below the crosswalk indicator, the red color of the paper so faded and the words so hardly legible you’re sure it’s been out there awhile.

Now Hiring

Nine Lives Nightclub

Apply in Person Only

It doesn’t give you much to go by, like, at all, but you’re so desperate for any type of income at this point that you’ll try anything. You realize the word “anything” maybe shouldn’t literally mean anything though after you pull out your phone and google Nine Lives.

It’s located on the shadier side of the city, the area you wouldn’t dare be caught in alone without at least a can of pepper spray and your keys wedged between your fingers, even during the day.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, assessing your options, but it’s not long before you’re turning around and walking back the way you came, passing through the vibrant part of the city and eventually into the emptier, more industrial side. Your pace becomes more cautious, your attention more focused on your surroundings and the people inhabiting them as the welcoming, well lit ambiance is replaced by cracked brick walls and long, dark alleyways the deeper you go.

It’d be hard to miss it. Nine Lives is nestled in the corner of a dead end, the vibrant neon sign boasting the name flashing in a dark red the same color as the flyer. It’s almost blinding in the setting sun and sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the gray, dingy spaces surrounding it.

You can tell right away, all the other many red flags aside, that this place is seedy. Somewhere the people shunned from the main city go to do things that are heavily frowned upon a few blocks up the sidewalk. The type of place where everyone turns a blind eye to anything and everything because they’ve all committed sins of their own.

If you were smart, like you think yourself to be, you’d turn the fuck around and-

“Um, hello,” you murmur to what you assume is the bouncer at the front door with all the confidence you can muster. It admittedly isn’t much. His gaze is faintly disinterested as he tilts his head forward to stare down his nose at you, his eyes beady and black. His head seems too small for his ridiculously muscular frame, obnoxiously on display in the red tank top he’s wearing that seems to qualify more as a sports bra than a shirt. His blonde hair is short and chopped haphazardly, and the cold smirk he’s now leveling you with seems to say he knows you’re intimidated by him.

“What’s a little mouse like you doing in a place like this?” he asks in a tone that makes you want to shiver, his gaze unabashedly roaming over you from top to bottom. It makes your skin crawl, and you have to hone every bit of confidence you have left to answer him evenly.

“I saw a flyer about a job opening here. I wanted to see if it was still open.” He crosses his arms over his hulking chest and seemingly assesses you for what is longer than strictly necessary, his gaze hard and unrelenting before it shifts into something like amusement. It just serves to set you more on edge. “Still open, alright. Think the boss’ll love to meet ya.” He says it in a way that sets a faint alarm bell off in the back of your mind, but before you can dwell on it much, he’s shifting his huge frame out of the way of the entrance.

“Just go in and straight to the right, to the bar in the corner. Ask for Kurogiri.” You nod once and duck your head, unable to hold eye contact with him any longer. “Good luck, little mouse,” he chuckles as you hastily pass by, a harsh sound that grates your ears. “Hope they don’t eat ya alive.”

***

The first thing you notice, oddly, is there are no windows, and the next, more obvious thing is how busy it is even on a Thursday. The bass of whatever dark house mix they’re playing is loud and reverberates through your entire being, the ground subtly shaking beneath your feet. It’s completely dark, save for the red and white neon lights flashing in random strobing intervals over the surprisingly large space, and there’s a fog drifting through the room that adds to the already unsettling atmosphere.

It smells like a mix of weed, liquor, and smoke, not as unpleasant as you expected but not necessarily good either. It’s an onslaught on all your senses, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You'd had your fair share of experience with nightclubs back when you weren’t a complete recluse and admittedly fairly self-destructive, but never anywhere like this. Only the types of clubs more upper-class people frequented, the kinds in the more upscale parts of the city. The safer parts that the men you once used for empty entertainment preferred to stick to.

This… This is fucking overwhelming, to say the least. Dangerous, if the people packed in like sardines are anything to go by. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen a couple of these faces on news broadcasts for various crimes of varying intensity.

You push through the crowd towards the bar after the initial stun wears off, ignoring the looks you get; some of annoyance, some of less than admirable interest, all of which set you even more on edge. Fuck, have you really stooped so low? Goddamn Endeavor Dynamics, goddamn Enji, you'd make him curse the day he ever decided to-

“What can I get you?” the overly cheery blonde girl behind the bar asks you, looking just old enough to even be in a place like this, let alone working in it. Her wide smile gleams as the strobes pass over her face, and you swear for a second her eyes glow yellow. “I- Um, I’m looking for Kurogiri?” It comes out more like a question, as uncertain and lost as you feel. “I’m here about a job opening.”

The girl perks up even more if possible, the messy buns on top of her head bobbing in time with the excited nod she gives you. “Ooo, yay! There’s way too much testosterone floating around in here!” She wastes no time maneuvering around the bar, abandoning the other poor bastard to man the bar by himself. He throws a disbelievingly panicked look her way, but she’s far too busy grabbing your hand and yanking you away from the crowd to notice or care, leading you towards a staircase in the far corner of the club.

“I’m Himiko Toga! Oh, you’re so pretty! I already know we’re going to be great friends!” You’re bewildered by her enthusiasm and seemingly immediate like of you but give her your name anyway, offering her an unsteady smile as she unclasps a red rope and then swiftly replaces it after you pass through.

She tugs you up the stairs faster than you think someone of her stature should reasonably be able to move, and as you hit the landing, you realize she’s brought you to what you think is some sort of VIP area. It’s far less crowded than downstairs, but there’s still a few shifty looking people lingering around. It’s quieter, which you’re grateful for, but still just as dark; the strobing lights below don’t quite reach up here, and the only real source of light is a couple of dim sconces on the walls that may as well not be lit at all.

There’s a balcony lining the entire top floor providing a view of the swaying crowd below and a few dark red leather couches scattered around the space. Black velvet curtains line the back wall, matching the surprisingly clean black marble floor. There’s a small bar on the right wall with a few stools in front of it and a lone door in the far left corner that leads… somewhere.

Toga pulls you along too fast for you to really get a look at anyone, but you can tell the people milling around know her well based on the various hellos and nods thrown her way. You do manage to get a look at one person as you pass by, a tall guy about your age with jet black hair and the most shocking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. More shocking than that, however, are the angry scars covering the skin you can see. Burn scars, you think. You realize you’re staring when you notice he’s smirking at you, a gleam in his eyes that both unsettles and intrigues you as he raises his glass to you. You look away quickly, stumbling after Toga.

She doesn’t stop until she reaches the bar, only one man behind it. He’s wearing a white button down with a green vest over top and a black tie, something that strikes you as odd compared to everyone else in this place. Dated almost, like he came from a different era. “Kurogiri, my friend here is interested in our job posting!” Toga beams at him, her teeth surprisingly sharp.

Her volume has caught the attention of the few people lingering around, all of whom seemingly more interested in this budding conversation than you think they should be. You ignore them despite the eyes burning a hole in your back. You swallow dryly, offering Kurogiri your name and what you hope is a confident smile, but you can tell it doesn't quite hit the mark.

“I see,” he says almost robotically, his voice void of any emotion. The full force of his gaze turns to you, his dark purple eyes scrutinizing you in a way that makes you want to squirm. The color is so unnatural that you wonder absently if he wears colored contacts. You remain still with effort and meet his gaze head on despite the instinct to do precisely the opposite, your drive to not be homeless the only thing keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor.

“Do you have any experience working in a place like this?” Your already fragile smile falters slightly. You hadn't expected that question, but you push to keep your voice confident as you opt for honesty. “I don’t, but I’m a fast learner. I pick things up very quickly. And I have open availability.” You tack the last part on hastily to hopefully sweeten your chances. After a moment of hesitation, you continue. “I- Um, I really need the job. I promise you won't regret it.” It pains you to say, makes you feel as weak and vulnerable as you sound, a spiral already coming on and ready to suck you in. Failure, failure, failure.

Kurogiri stares at you for what feels like ages, and you can feel the spiral start to take hold before Toga speaks up again. “Come on, Kurogiri! She’s my friend, and we need another girl in our group! There’s too many of you guys skulking around, it’s depressing.” She almost sounds petulant, making you again question if she’s even old enough to be here. She nods her head toward the dark corner on her left and gives him a meaningful look, but you can’t make out what she’s looking at.

Kurogiri glances towards said corner and then returns to stare at you a moment longer, his blank expression giving nothing away, before he finally puts you out of your misery. “Very well. You’ll start tomorrow night. Be here at 8pm, and do not be late. You do not want to displease him.” He doesn’t clarify on who exactly he’s referring to, instead picking up a glass you’re sure is already clean and beginning to polish it, effectively ending the conversation.

Toga squeals, bouncing up and down in excitement. It baffles you that she's seemingly more excited about this than you are. “Yay! Oh, I’m so happy! You’ll love it here!” She grabs your hands and grins up at you, and you’d be lying if you said her enthusiasm wasn’t rubbing off on you a little bit. Maybe it won’t be so bad. You offer her a tentative smile of your own, letting her lead you over to one of the couches as she dives into everything she claims you need to know.

She rambles on about the basics; what you’ll be doing (a server, basically), who you’ll be reporting to (Kurogiri, who is apparently not the actual boss but the infamous He who is yet unnamed), and the people you should make it a point to get to know (her friends, who apparently are here every night. You ask how they don't get tired of it, and she just laughs like you'd told a very funny joke.) “Oh! And make sure you wear… well, not that.” She gestures vaguely at your current outfit of choice, the one you’d chosen with the expectation you’d be applying to places not like this. “Just take a look at some of the clientele if you need inspiration!”

You try not to grimace, having already seen what some of the “clientele” down there were wearing. You guess you should have expected as much, if her own outfit was anything to go by. She wraps up her rambling and offers to walk you back down but you decline, thanking her for all her help. She pulls you up into a hug, all but yells when she tells you how excited she is for tomorrow, and you think you’re already kind of getting used to her overt friendliness. Maybe you’ll even make a friend out of this gig.

You wind your way back the way you came, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone, and descend the stairs, your heart in your throat. You’d finally fucking done it. It certainly wasn’t your first pick by any means, but at least it was a job. A source of income. And it was only temporary, right?

You’re too caught up in your own mind, trying to ignore the fact that your mom would have frequented a place like this and hoping you’re not on a path back to your own self-destructive tendencies to notice the pair of eyes trailing after you from the balcony above.

***

He’d been watching you from his place in the corner since he’d heard Toga’s grating voice babbling about yet another incompetent fool interested in the opening. Kurogiri had put those flyers up weeks ago, and it had been a constant revolving door of rejected idiots ever since.

None of the ones that had been interested so far had been good enough. None of them had been special. They were all too excited, too bubbly or too loud. Too fucking irritating in every sense of the word. They all had one underlying thing in common - too much life left in them, an annoyingly glaring light in their eyes that told him immediately they had no place here, no place in his presence.

None of them would have been up to the job anyway, the true job behind the facade they were putting on. He's fine with that, if he's being honest. He still doesn't understand why Master insists on doing things differently now. They'd been just fine the way they had been for years. Sure, they've had to indulge a little more lately to keep up with the number they now have in their circle. And sure, maybe it's been a little more difficult to cover their tracks. And fine, he's mature enough to admit that the amount of missing persons cases in the area have increased enough as of late to maybe cause some problems for them if they aren't more careful.

But things were fine. Are fine. He doesn't want some nobody at his beck and call every time he needs a pick-me-up. He prefers sticking to the randoms below, the ones he can swoop in on in the midst of their drug and alcohol induced hazes and drag them away into the shadows before they can realize what's happening. Fast, easy, efficient, no brainless coercion involved. One and done and he's set for another week.

But Master says it would be safer to have a constant source, for now. A drip he can leave alive and take a little from each day instead of adding more numbers to the growing missing persons list in the area. Long enough for the news to die down a little bit, and then things can go back to normal. The others could travel to other cities if they needed to. He preferred to stay local.

He figures Master has been around long enough to know what's best, if he's to be rational. It's why he's blindly followed him for so long, not to mention he owes him everything. He wouldn't have what he does now if not for Master finding him when he did. Nine Lives had been built for the sole purpose of enshrouding him in the shadows while he adjusted to his new life and doubled as a base of sorts for Master’s hobbies, as he so elegantly puts it.

An easy way to get what he needed while he learned and grew into himself, somewhere he could easily prey on a few lives at a time that likely had no one at home to notice they'd gone missing. It just happened to be a plus when it ended up attracting certain individuals that he and Master could benefit from keeping around. 

The ones currently in his circle were handpicked by him alone before he'd brought them to Master for final judgement. He'd seen something in all five of them, something that told him they were just as ruined as he had once been. Desolate and empty, but still longing for a taste of the divine. An insatiable desire for something more than mere humanity could offer, an escape from the world that had wronged and abandoned them.

That was something he could understand more than anyone, and he'd given them what they’d wanted, in time. Only after they'd proven they'd stick by him, offer their servitude in exchange for the opportunity to have something grand.

But he'd somehow miscalculated somewhere along the way, and now five on top of himself, Master, and Kurogiri had become too many to remain as inconspicuous as they were before Shuichi joined. And now, here you are as consequence, a reminder of that rare failure, another worthless human he'd never see again once you're turned away like the last. It makes him itch just thinking about it, makes him want to claw at his own fucking skin at the sight of you knowing you'll be no different than the rest.

And then you speak, your voice so timid and quiet he would've missed it if not for hearing like his. "I- Um, I really need the job." The way you say it gives the impression that you're down to your last resort. Like nobody else out there wants you. Already, you're different than the others based on that sentiment alone.

He looks at you a little closer then, daring to shift partially out of the shadows, his head tilting to the side slightly as he eyes you. You look like you're trying to come across as confident, but he's been around long enough to know when someone's pretending. The slight tremor in your hands, the waver in your voice, that look of uncertainty in your eyes as you speak, it all gives you away. More importantly, you likely have nothing left to lose if you've willingly stepped foot in here when you look like you want nothing more than to be anywhere else.

You look like you're one more bad thing away from crumbling, like this is the last opportunity you have before there's nothing left. There's no light in your eyes no matter how long he stares. He starts to consider then that maybe he was wrong about you.

So far, you've ticked none of the boxes that would have him wanting to throw you out the door himself. It helps that you're also not bad to look at. Unassuming, but not plain by any means. He'd maybe even call you beautiful if he wasn't so disturbed by that word manifesting in his mind. But that's what you are regardless of what he does or doesn't want to call it, the only word that fits the quiet way you carry yourself, the sadness that seems to cling to your soft, fragile features.

He shifts his gaze to Kurogiri, who has now glanced to him thanks to Toga's irritating ability to read anyone like a book. The exchange lasts a mere millisecond, just a simple nod of his head that would be imperceptible to anyone else, but Kurogiri understands. He always does.

You perk up a little at the good news, but it's overshadowed by Toga's incessant enthusiasm. He can tell you don't understand her yourself. If only you knew how long they'd all been waiting for him to come around and choose someone, then maybe you'd understand. He watches as she drags you away out of his current line of sight, surprised at the way his body twitches like it's primed to follow. He doesn't like that, the way his subconscious doesn't want to let you out of his sight. But you were his now, weren't you? Whether you knew that yet or not. And he's always taken care of his things.

It's not until you've disappeared down the stairs that he allows himself to leave his corner, scowling at Toga before she has the chance to make any comments. She just gives him a pointed, saccharine smile before she fucks off, mercifully sparing him from whatever bullshit she'd had primed to say.

He watches you from his spot on the balcony, observes you as closely as the distance and strobing lights allow. It’s not that difficult with sight like his, really. He again notes that wariness about you, more obvious now that you think nobody's looking, like the world has wronged you somehow. He banks on that, hopes for it. Maybe even preys on it, just a little.

There’s a slight downturn to your lips, a little v between your creased eyebrows. Your eyes are clouded over and your shoulders are slumped slightly as you move through the crowd, surprisingly graceful despite your absentmindedness.

He finds himself wondering what you’re thinking about so intently, what could possibly be bothering you, and then promptly wonders why the fuck he cares. Already, you’re making him notice you, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish. Maybe Master was on to something after all.

Yes, he confirms, there’s something special about you. He can’t put his finger on it yet, but he knows something’s there, hiding beneath that demure air of yours. You’re like him somehow, the old him. Lost and forgotten, the weight of the world on your shoulders that he hopes you’d do anything to alleviate. His gaze tracks you all the way until you disappear out the door, and even then, it remains lingering on the spot you’d just been.

He feels something then that he hasn’t felt in a long time - anticipation.

***

The music continues to blare behind you even as you make it past the exit, the massive bouncer throwing a knowing smirk your way before he focuses back on the line queuing to get in. It’s a particularly haunting beat, one you could see yourself getting lost in if you were more like who you used to be and less like who you are now.

The lyrics echo in your mind and your bones long after you’d made it back home.

If I were you, I’d find a place to hide.

If I were you, I’d stay inside.

If I were you, I’d run for your life.

***

note: well, hello if you've made it this far, and thank you for sticking around to the end of this first part. this is the first major work I've ever posted, and I have high hopes for it. I have a lot of ideas swimming in my head for this story, so there's a lot to come for dear reader and our enigmatic red-eyed man.

I currently have the next part in the works as I post this. unfortunately, it is not beta read, so I apologize if there are any errors.

the song at the end is run. by arya x, if anyone is interested.

see you in part two.

[teslaproperties]

A Complete Guide to Properties for Rent in International City

International City is one of Dubai's most dynamic and budget-friendly neighborhoods, offering a blend of affordability, diversity, and modern living. Its unique clusters, inspired by countries around the world, provide a variety of residential options for those seeking properties for rent in International City. Whether you’re a single professional, a growing family, or an investor, this community caters to all lifestyles.

In this guide, we’ll explore the types of properties available, the benefits of living in International City, and why Tesla Properties is the go-to real estate company in Dubai UAE for finding your perfect rental.

Why Choose International City for Renting?

International City stands out as a vibrant, well-connected community that blends cultural diversity with practicality. Here’s why it’s a top choice:

1. Affordability

For those seeking cost-effective housing options, International City offers some of the most affordable apartments for rent in Dubai without compromising on quality or amenities.

2. Strategic Location

Situated in Al Warsan, International City offers easy access to major areas like Downtown Dubai, Dubai Silicon Oasis, and Dubai International Airport, making it a convenient hub for commuters.

3. Multicultural Community

The area’s architecture reflects global influences, with clusters named after countries such as China, Italy, and France, fostering a vibrant multicultural atmosphere.

4. Essential Amenities

Residents enjoy access to supermarkets, schools, healthcare facilities, and recreational areas, ensuring a comfortable lifestyle.

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International City provides a range of residential options to suit diverse needs and budgets:

1. Studio Apartments

Ideal for singles or young professionals, studios offer compact yet functional living spaces at competitive prices.

2. 1-Bedroom Apartments

These apartments are perfect for couples or small families, offering more space and privacy.

3. 2- and 3-Bedroom Apartments

For larger families, these spacious units provide ample room and are often located near parks and schools.

4. Villas for Rent

While less common in International City, villas offer luxurious and private living options for families seeking more space.

Benefits of Renting in International City

1. Affordable Living

Compared to other neighborhoods, International City provides excellent value for money, making it a preferred choice for budget-conscious renters.

2. Convenient Transportation

Well-connected by major roads and public transport, the area offers hassle-free commuting options to key destinations across Dubai.

3. Family-Friendly Environment

Parks, playgrounds, and proximity to schools make International City a great choice for families with children.

4. Investment Potential

For those exploring real estate investment in Dubai, properties in International City are in high demand for rentals, offering attractive returns.

Renting vs. Buying in International City

While renting is a flexible option, International City also offers opportunities to invest in property:

Properties for Sale in Dubai: International City features affordable apartments for sale, ideal for first-time buyers.

Villas for Sale in Dubai: For those seeking more luxurious options, villas in nearby areas are available.

Luxury House for Sale in Dubai: Upscale homes in Dubai cater to those looking for premium living standards.

Whether you’re looking to buy a house in Dubai or simply test the waters by renting, International City is an excellent starting point.

Tips for Renting in International City

1. Define Your Budget

Set a clear budget to narrow down your options and avoid overspending.

2. Identify Your Needs

Consider factors like the number of bedrooms, proximity to work, or access to amenities when choosing a property.

3. Work with a Trusted Real Estate Company

Collaborate with a reputable real estate company in Dubai UAE, like Tesla Properties, to access verified listings and expert advice.

4. Review Lease Terms

Understand the lease agreement, including rent, security deposit, and maintenance responsibilities, before signing.

Why Choose Tesla Properties?

Tesla Properties is a leading name in Dubai’s real estate market, offering a seamless experience for renters and buyers alike.

What Tesla Properties Offers:

Extensive Listings: From apartments for rent in International City to luxury villas, Tesla Properties caters to all needs.

Expert Guidance: Personalized recommendations based on your lifestyle and budget.

Hassle-Free Process: Assistance with property viewings, negotiations, and lease agreements.

Market Insights: Advice on the best residential projects in Dubai and emerging trends.

Exploring Other Real Estate Opportunities

If International City doesn’t meet all your requirements, Dubai has a wealth of options to explore:

Luxury Apartments in Dubai: High-end living spaces in Downtown Dubai, City Walk, and Palm Jumeirah.

Villas for Sale in Dubai: Spacious homes in upscale neighborhoods like Emirates Hills.

Real Estate Investment in Dubai: From commercial properties to residential units, Dubai offers lucrative opportunities for investors.

Final Thoughts

International City offers a perfect blend of affordability, convenience, and diversity, making it an attractive destination for renting properties in Dubai. With its strategic location, vibrant community, and range of residential options, it caters to a variety of lifestyles and budgets.

By partnering with experts like Tesla Properties, you can navigate the rental market with ease and confidence, ensuring you find the perfect home that fits your needs. Explore a wide range of properties for rent in International City with Tesla Properties and start your journey to comfortable living today.

[paper-mario-wiki]

I'm sure you've been asked this before, but I need a source who isn’t wildly out of touch with what it's like to be a normal person. how financially viable was it to move to japan as a 20/21 year old? did you move there with assistance from a study program? were you able to afford everything relatively easily without an extreme amount of financial stress? sorry for being nosy. I dont need specifics, I'm just terminally curious for a firsthand account from a person who isn't independently wealthy or a 70 year old retiree. ❤️

For one semester of tuition I (my parents) paid:

$5000 without scholarship

$3000 with scholarship

Scholarship was granted on the basis of academic promise and financial guarantor status, and some students had their fees reduced by 75% and 100%.

Tuition was the thing my parent's helped me with the most, as they had saved up for all my siblings to go to college, and only my sister and myself did. But like I said, there was also significant tuition help for students worldwide at my school. Everything else I paid myself.

Before I moved I made sure I had no less than $5000 in pocket money for paying my move-in fees at my apartment, getting a Japanese phone, bank account, insurance, and a bike. After that, home appliances and necessities. When you make your budget, you always want to over prepare. I made sure I had $1000 wiggle room on top of my budget because once youre there, YOURE THERE and home is a long puddle away.

My rent was $600 for a small 1 room apartment (pictured here) that I would have paid less for if I spoke Japanese (paid the gaijin tax by going through an english speaking rental company)

I chose this apartment because of its proximity to the Karasuma subway line, which I could ride directly to school. There and back was about $4 a day, as I went all the way up town. I paid about $40 in utilities on low-use months, and up to $120 on high-use months.

Monthly insurance was $70 without student subsidy, I believe closer to $10 monthly with it. This covers basically everything healthcare-wise.

Food was cheap in Kyoto specifically. Most restaurants had meals under $10, and if you're moving there for school theres a high liklihood you'll be in the city, which means you'll rarely be more than a 3 minute walk from a convenience store which has lunch sets you can take home or reheat and eat in the konbini's sitting area (not guaranteed to have one but more frequent than not having one). I spent maybe a few hundred monthly on meals, mostly because I couldn't cook due to how small my kitchenette was (it's that little stall in the back left corner of the room in the picture).

As an international student, if you're performing above a certain threshhold in your studies you can get a baito visa, meaning on top of your studies you can work a part time job for up to 20 hours a week. This can help a lot, and I knew a few people who worked at clubs, as translators, and as baristas.

If you are making money, you are expected to either pay tax to Japan, or your home country. This is something I absolutely cannot give advice on.

All that said, in my case, living in Japan as a solo adult was easier and significantly more affordable than living in the US with 3 roommates.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

International Affair

Welcome to my shameless self-insert series🤭 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34).

Summary: For their summer break, Y/n decided to spend it in a little town called Westview. It was there when they met Wanda Maximoff. A woman in her 30s with two kids, who seems to be attracted to the college student despite being married.

New York University's tuition was fucking ass. It really is, at a whopping $64,000 tuition fee per year. And that's only the tuition fee, the total estimate of studying in NYU plus living cost was probably over $90,000. Exactly it's fucking insane. Despite receiving a sponsorship from their parent's good friend and also financial aid from NYU, he still needed to figure out how to pay it back.

Sometimes they feel like smacking their head for choosing to study in a city where it's known for its back bank breaking living cost. Can you blame him though? Those tall buildings, shining lights, bustling nightlife, sounds of gunshots, and a huge opportunity for a creative person such as themselves, along with a dash of capitalism. Y/n couldn't help but be fascinated. That American dream that he had been chasing since he saw the Devil Wears Prada.

It was now summer vacation. Instead of going home for the summer, Y/n decided to join this Homeshare Summer program. Basically an elderly person provides home for students to share during the summer. The benefits are plenty, but most notably, cheaper housing rent. His roommates also joined this program, together they sublease their apartment. Adding extra funds to their breaking bank account.

In return, the students must help their elderly host with basic domestic needs. Mostly light household tasks; preparing and sharing meals, tidying up, chores, walking a pet, etc.

Y/n ended up matching with someone in a small town called Westview somewhere in New Jersey. As much as he loves New York, he wanted to spend his summer somewhere else in America.

He matched with a lovely widow named Melina Vostokoff. He learned that she has 2 daughters, both whom are adults with their own respective career. She needed a companion, understandably so, and Y/n was more than happy to assist her in anyway she might need.

"Y/n." Melina called.

"Yes, Mrs. Vostokoff?" Y/n looked up from their laptop, they were sitting on the dinner table editing some footage.

"Oh dear, please, I told you to call me Melina."

"Sorry, Melina. Force of habit." He said with a smile. "What's up?"

"Would you please send all this batches of cookies around the neighborhood? I already have a list of houses on where you can drop them." Melina is known for sharing batches of cookies for free around the neighborhood. Why? Out of kindness.

And also the fact that she loves baking, but ended up not being able to finish it all. So she shares them around the neighborhood.

"Sure, Melina! I'll do that right away."

So he sets of to drop off delicious dessert for Westview citizens. Melina had told them that this was a good chance to ask around for a summer job as well. Which is what he had initially planned to do anyway. Finally they reached the last house, Maximoff Household. They weren't so lucky with the other neighbors, but last one's a charm right? He rang the doorbell.

A person then opens the door. "Hello, I was just-" Holyfucking shit. This woman was absolutely gorgeous.

"May I help you?" She ask, god her voice is sexy.

"Uhhh..." Snap out of it! "Sorry! I'm Y/n, I'm the student staying over the summer at Mrs. Vostokoff. She told me to drop off her Bi-Weekly batches of cookies."

Wanda wasn't stupid, she noticed their nervousness and found it adorable. "Lovely to meet you, Y/n. I'm Wanda, Wanda Maximoff." She offered her hand.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Maximoff." He shook her hand.

"Do you go to Westview University?" She was rather intrigued by the younger one.

"No, ma'am. I actually go to NYU, I'm studying film production."

Wanda raised an eyebrow and smiled. "How impressive. Though I must ask, why choose to spend your summer here?"

Damn... her smile.

"Mainly a much cheaper living cost, other than that I figured It'll be good for me to explore other parts of America. New Jersey is not far so it's a good place to start."

"Ah, an International student I see. Is it one of those Homeshare programs?"

"It is!" The student beamed.

What a charming smile he has, Wanda thought to herself. "Say, how old are you, Y/n." She ask while leaning against the door frame, her tone was... rather flirty.

"Um... I'll be turning 21 this year." Wanda hummed at the answer. For what reason Y/n doesn't know either. "Here are your cookies, ma'am." Well shit, he was getting nervous again. Obviously, Wanda staring at him with a look he can't quite pin.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. My sons absolutely love Melina's cookies." She took the container from them.

"Well that's no surprise, I could live off from those cookies alone." They said while laughing lightly. "So I take it you've lived here for a while?"

"Yes, I've lived here for years with my twin boys and husband." Damn it, they thought. "Anything you would like to know?"

"Yes actually! I've been looking for a summer job, but I haven’t had any luck."

"Well, lucky for you, a friend of mine who owns the Cafe in town is looking for a new Barista. She just recently opened the position."

"That's great news! Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Maximoff." They said with a smile, Wanda had another idea in mind.

"However, I think they're only offering part-time. If you're looking for some extra work, I may need a few... help around the house. Would you be interested?" She asked with a devilish smile.

Y/n, being too excited at the possibility of finally landing a job, failed to notice the flirty undertone in Wanda's sentence. "Absolutely!"

"Splendid! Come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss the details."

"I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Maximoff. Thank you again!" The young man said with a bright smile, he started walking backwards onto the sidewalk.

"See you tomorrow, Y/n." Once they turned their backs on her, Wanda bit her lip. She had multiple things in mind for Y/n to help her with.

I did a quick research on the law of international students working in the US. I didn't get into detail but it basically said yes but there are restrictions. So ignore the actual laws, and y'know just - whatever man it's a fanfic :') When I saw the estimated cost of studying in NYU i almost cried-

Also I hope you guys don’t mind I go with a more masculine reader for this one (i really want to be called a good boy by Wanda)

I hope the reader description doesn’t confuse you guys, if it does. Its ok, i self inserted myself and im very confused abt my gender-

[legacygirlingreen]

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: When introductions go wrong, watch as Tech slowly has to earn back your good graces after he insults your abilities as a mechanic. From friendship to something more, eventually the two of you find some slice of heaven on Ord Mantell despite all odds...

Warning: Smut! Tech and reader are definetly not virgins so not first time (unless you wanna count first time together). Mild dom/sub vibes. Casual/playful spanking. Don't worry Tech's still really sweet. Mentions of Omega being kidnapped by Cad Bane and events of Bracca.

***no use of Y/N!!***

Notes: This is my first time posting for Bad Batch content so I really hope that everything goes okay! I want to thank my awesome friend @strawberrypinky for bearing with me and encouraging me despite her not having watched TBB before! It's so wonderful to have a friend who's so supportive!

Definitely pulled some inspo from some AMAZING fanart that I've seen on here. There's this wonderful image of Tech with tattoos by @cloned-eyes and so many incredible ones by @eggdrawsthings like this who often draws Tech with his cute little undercut!

Word Count: 16.5 words (I apologize for my inability to do porn without a plot!)

Ord Mantell wasn’t the nicest part of the galaxy, but- 

It is home..? 

It is tolerable..? 

It is a steaming pile of bantha shit? Yeah that’s probably as close as you could get to describing it. 

  No one intends to live in this sketchy city in the mid-rims: you just end up here. That’s how you got here after all. After having a few good years working on Coruscant, designing starships for Senators and the Aristocrats of the Republic. But then the war started. The Republic discovered they had been funding an army of clones, and all those privatized contracts dried up, rent went up and you’d been forced to leave the planet of lights. 

  After your ship had a malfunction, ending up in the space port just outside Cid’s place, the Trandoshan oddly taking pity on you, allowing you a place to crash in exchange for repairing her arcade machines… and the dish washer… and rewire her a new security system… and so much you lost track before word got around of your mechanical engineering skills. 

  Rotations kept going and it wasn’t long before you found yourself with a small shop, running jobs within the city on household appliances, droids, ships - you name it. It wasn’t much, just a tiny building full of spare parts, a work space, a front with some small devices to sell. Not to mention the small loft apartment above it - not that you actually made it up there, often falling asleep burning the midnight oil at your desk - but it was still a home. 

  Only occasionally getting robbed or having some creeps passing through town hitting on you being the few things that threw a damper in what turned out to be a decent enough existence. And as sketchy as Cid might be, or the cast of characters she keeps around, you still kept a soft spot for the lady. Always repairing whatever she claimed needed fixing… it was usually nothing. But you’d let her pour you a drink while you ‘fixed’ the slots for the hundredth time. After being tossed out of the highlight of the galaxy, you were finally at peace with where you wound up. 

  That was, until they showed up. 

  Bolo had stopped by in the morning, claiming Cid had broken the slot machine again, to which you said the usual: I’ll stop by after I finish this. 

  This being a machine for one of the only doctors in town. While most of the folks on Ord Mantell were less than ideal, the few good people made it worth sticking around. The doctor needing a medical device for internal issues fixed being an actual emergency over Cid’s loneliness. However, that rationalization soon would be something you’d regret. 

  Hours melted away, soldering iron finishing off the last of the repair. Standing from the desk, cracking your back and fingers prodding at the crick in your neck. Soreness being the reward for a hard day’s work. Well that and the small burns and cuts on your fingers. But that was an occupational hazard of doing repairs. 

  Slipping a coat on with the blaster you kept for protection underneath it was a quick delivery, with a joyful thank you - and a thank you pie courtesy of his lovely wife - and you finally made it to Cid’s. 

  You recognized the armor immediately. Having heard a few weeks back about the end of the war, you wondered what would happen to them. The clones. The ones that took your job. Took any chance at a promising career as a ship designer, because free labor is better than cheap labor. 

  Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

  All with their helmets removed, one near the bar turned to face you almost immediately. His face half covered in a tattoo as he made eye contact. You scowled, turned away, pushing your unresolved anger onto the man as if he personally was the cause of your misery. 

  Next to him was a clone that looked more metal than man. What had the Republic done with their clones if he wound up this bad? You thought to yourself, watching as his pale eyes glanced over your frame. The coat rack behind you suddenly reminds you that perhaps it best to remind these men you meant business. 

  Slipping off the outerwear, holster and gun on full display over the tight, oil stained work suit, you once again turn to examine just how many clones were in the parlor. A very large one, entertaining… a child? You knew for a fact these men were clones. Having been hit on by enough, regretfully having slept with a few before you skipped town - you had seen enough brown eyes to last a lifetime. 

  Then the joyful call of your name, Bolo and Ketch welcoming you over as Cid emerged from the back with yet another clone. 

  “Took you long enough,” she said, an almost undetectable smile working on her face as the others watched the interaction. 

  “Well, some of us had real work to do,” You tell her with a fake annoyed expression, stepping closer to the bar. 

  “You call tinkering in that dark room, work? When I - a paying customer - requested services,” Cid said. That caused the laugh to burst from your mouth, startling the watchful eyes of the new strangers. Soon Bolo and Ketch joined in, slapping the bar excitedly. 

  “I think I would be concerned if you did actually pay me,” You say through a chuckle, grabbing a tool off your belt as you turn towards the open room. “So where’s this slot machine that’s broken?” You emphasize the word, knowing it was likely from the one wire she always slightly disconnected to make you feel better for drinking without paying.

  “Same one as always, you know the drill. But hold on, I want you to meet my new boys. They are going to be running some jobs for me in order to keep a low profile with everything that’s going on,” Cid said, gesturing to the small squad of clones. 

  “I thought you said you would keep our business discreet?” Face-Tattoo growled as Cid waved him off. 

  “She’s a trusted acquaintance. The last stray I took in. Now look at her-” Cid started as Ketch spoke at the same time as her. 

  “A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

  Bolo reacted immediately, laughing till he started coughing. The largest of the clones joining the Ithorian in laughter as you scowled at them. 

  “Cid it almost sounds as if you like me when you put it that way,” you warn her as she shakes her head, pushing you towards the slot machine. 

  “Eh don’t get carried away. Anyways, introductions. This is bandana-” she began as he grumpily spouted out, “Hunter”. 

  “This is muscles,” she pointed to the large one, who said “I’m Wrecker!” offering a smile and a hand, which she awkwardly shook. 

  “That’s tiny-” Cid pointed to the small girl, lingering near the one she called Wrecker. 

  “Hi! I’m Omega! You are really pretty-” she said, offering a hand as well. Her compliment catches you off guard from all the time with Cid’s sarcasm. 

  “Oh, uh… thanks kid. I like your uh… enthusiasm” you try to give her a compliment, the politeness so foreign it came off forced but the kid didn’t notice. 

  “Not sure what to call that one but he’s more metal than man at this point-” she pointed to the cybernetically enhanced one. 

  “Echo” he said plainly and you nod, appreciating the simplicity in his response. 

  “And this is goggles” she said, gesturing to the last one, who didn’t bother to look up from the device he was working on to even acknowledge you. 

  “Charming,” you reply sarcastically, finally drawing his attention as he watched the tail end of your eye roll. His own eyes fixating over the unique attire you donned along with the tools on your belt, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about your occupation. 

“His name is Tech, not Goggles,” giggles Omega. 

  “Ah, I see you are already acclimated to Cid’s show of affection. She must really like you all. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, Cid-” You began, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible if there were now going to be clones at the parlor. Despite these one’s looking… vastly different, they still played a role in why you left. 

“Fix, then drink. You know the deal,” she explains. 

  Nodding you quickly sliding on your back, you open the circuit board, quickly locating the same wire that was always ‘altered’ prior to your arrival. Just as you went to reattach it however, a voice near your head startled you, the yelp leaving your lips as the wire’s exposed end shocked you. 

  “Ah!” filled the parlor, everyone’s attention turning towards the slot machine which Tech had inadvertently shoved himself underneath alongside you as he began troubleshooting the issue. 

  “Perhaps you should consider replacing the whole circuit board and wiring system if this one machine persists with issues. I am inclined to doubt your mechanic skills if you continually have to come back for repairs on the same device.” He spoke bluntly as you dropped the tool in your hand, anger rising to the surface as he stared at the machine, hands starting to trace the circuit board when you lost it. 

  “What are you doing?!” You demanded, finally drawing his attention, when Tech realized he had invaded your personal space a bit more than he intended. 

  “Oh, I was curious if my knowledge of engineering would be helpful given you seem to lack the knowledge in order to fix this devic-” he started but you weren’t hearing it, sliding away from him instantly as you brushed yourself off and stood, angrily stomping in the opposite direction.

  Cid called your name but you weren’t hearing it, reaching for your coat, tossing it on despite the many eyes watching your hasty exit. “Clones!” you gritted through clenched teeth, eyes rolling as you started up to street level. Steps on the stairs being the last anyone heard of you as you left a wake of confusion. 

  “Way to go Goggles” Cid chastised him as he stood, having propped himself up when you stomped away. 

  “I fail to see the issue. I merely pointed out the flaws in her previous attempts to fix the slot-” Tech began to defend himself. 

  “I don’t think insulting her was the right move,” Hunter groaned. 

  “Yeah, why did you make fun of how she fixes stuff? She was really pretty.” Wrecker said, sheepish look. 

  Echo remained silent, watching as Tech did not grasp what had happened, once again firing into an explanation as to why he believed he was not in the wrong.

  “If one continually has to return to fix the same device, I believe it only fair to question the validity of their credentials. Why else would it-” Tech spoke, only to have Omega step towards him, gently placing her hand on his armored shoulder before she said, “Tech, I think that for the two of them, fixing the machine is Cid’s way of asking for her company. That’s why it’s always the same device that’s broken-”

  “What you are saying is that the slot machine is a humorous bit of sorts?” He asked, glancing back at the way the panel lacked 2 bolts on its cover. When he looked at the spot, now vacated by you, he noticed you left a wrench on the ground. Walking towards it, he bent at the waist, picking it up and examining it. Carved into the handle were some initials, he assumed must be yours. 

  “It seems Tiny is smarter than you are Goggles,” Cid said with an eye roll, walking to the backroom, leaving the clones with the two regulars who awkwardly watched the interaction. 

  “I did not mean to appear rude-” Tech sighed, fingers probing his temples as Omega looked at Ketch. 

  “You know her don’t you?” Omega asked. 

  “Yeah… I can take it to her place on the way home. She tends to hole herself up there for days at a time-” Ketch explained only to have Omega shake her head. 

  “If you could tell us where it is, I can return it.” The small girl informed the group, immediately having Hunter protest, but Echo nudged him, pointing at Tech. 

  “Fine but take Tech with you,” Hunter realized Echo was alluding to Tech being granted an opportunity to apologize. 

  “I still believe it best to wait until morning given the nature of this town being less than ideal,” Tech protested. 

  “It’ll be fine Tech, we can take them!” Omega said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and her newly acquired bow. 

  “I’m assuming them to be the metaphorical enemies we may run across?” He sighed, reaching for his helmet but Omega yanked him harder. 

  “Omega my helm-“ he yelped and she kept dragging.

  “It’ll be fine. Besides, if you are going to apologize it’s better to let her see your face when you do so,” omega explained. 

  “Why does seeing my face matter?” He groaned, the two of them coming to the street as Ketch pointed them in the direction of a street, giving them a piece of paper with your shop logo before leaving. 

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you’re handsome,” Omega spoke with a mischievous grin, still tugging her brother along as he stumbled behind her. 

  “That is rather doubtful,” He told her, sigh passing over his lips as he realized it would likely be the same story he’d known many times at this point. Any time they were on Corrasaunt, they did worse with the presence of Regs, and the few women that glanced their way were always going for Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter. He had lucked out in some ways, that Echo seemingly did just as bad with women, the two of them only rarely completing the mission so to speak. On the rare instance he did find himself, it usually felt awkward, unsatisfying and with them forgetting his name by morning. Despite being well versed in how to assist women, it always felt forced and against his nature to behave in the more dominant nature most females found appealing. Not that Tech was going to be the one to explain the intricacies of sexual relations to Omega. He was certain via scientific means that she was aware of how the act worked, but beyond that it felt more like a conversation between her and genuinely anyone else. 

  “I think that’s it!” She pointed out, and he raised the crude drawing on a napkin they had acquired that showed the logo of the shop. Above the shop was a light in what he figured to be a small domicile she occupied. 

  “I believe you are correct, however it may be best to attempt entry from the back. It appears there is a set of stairs that lead to-” he began, only to have the girl bound off without him for the alleyway, a slight skip in her step. 

  From within your apartment, you were angrily stomping about, tossing random parts into a crate. Circuit board, wires, tools. Who was he to question your ability to fix the damned machine? Fixing to make your way back to the parlor, you were dead set on proving him wrong. 

  In the midst of your sharp movements a knock at the apartment door startled you, causing you to stumble and ram your toes into the leg of the nearest table. The expletive ringing through the air as you hobbled towards the door, hand on the gun in case some creep had followed you. Pulling up the image display you had installed for security you saw the girl from the parlor and - 

  Door sliding open, you leaned against the frame to prevent putting weight on the throbbing extremity. 

  “Can I help you?” You grumpily scoffed at the pair, the little girl undeterred by your perturbed nature while the Clone, much less confident now glanced around awkwardly, his arms clutching his sides. 

  “We came to return your wrench,” she smiled up at you, her innocent brown eyes sparkling with the low lighting of your flat reflecting. Dammit. 

  “Well, that is unexpectedly kind I suppose. I assume Ketch told you where I live, so why not just let him do it?” You ask, still unsure why she sought you out to return something as simple as a wrench. You had hundreds. Still feeling the pain in your foot, you began to worry that you had actually broken or fractured something, given it had lingered, so as you looked down at the young girl you once again shifted weight, a slight hiss exiting your lips, nearly undetectable, but with the way Tech was scrutinizing you he noticed. 

  “Oh, I just thought that maybe since you and Cid are close, our squad could become friends with you-” Omega began only to have Tech interrupt her, stepping between the two of you. 

  “You are injured,” he bluntly said, gesturing down to your foot. 

  “Yes. I do not get visitors, especially this time of night, and certainly not men who have insulted me coming to my door. The knock startled me,” you hissed out as you straightened up, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you as you glared at him. 

  “Tech did not mean to be rude-” the girl began sensing the shift in hostility between the way you had spoken softly to her and the way tension grew the second Tech spoke up. 

  “I’m sure Tech-” you cut her off and test the waters by using his name before continuing “-doesn’t need you to apologize on his behalf. He’s a big boy. He can do it himself,” You glance down at her before once again turning to face him, arms crossing over your chest. “Unless of course, he isn’t sorry?” You challenge him to speak up with your tone. 

  “I-” she spoke after the beat of silence, only to have the man interrupt her once more. 

  “I believed myself to be perfectly within the bounds of questioning your skillset given the information I had at the time, being your frequent return to the parlor-” He began and you rolled your eyes, back of your head leaning back to meet the frame of the door as you scoffed. 

  “So you came to further insult me.” You said as he paused momentarily to look at you. 

  “No, I was-” Tech began and you waved him off, dismissing him. 

  “Sure sounds that way to me Brown Eyes,” You push off the frame of the door despite the pain in your toe, to get as close to face level as possible, despite his extremely tall frame. “I’ve dealt with enough clones to last a lifetime. And my experience has always been that of arrogant, inconsiderate men who think too highly of themselves and too lowly of me,” you lean in closer to his ear so only he will hear as you whisper, “especially for men who continually failed to finish me off…” 

  Leaning back you smirk watching the realization, possibly even horror cross his features as the tips of his ears burn red. 

  “Omega, go back to Cid’s-” he stuttered out as you laughed. 

  “Not this time of night Tech. Ord Mantell is far from the worst place in the galaxy but that doesn’t mean it's safe for her to navigate alone, especially with what’s on the horizon.” You warned him, eyes glancing up to the sky. 

  “Whatever do you mea-” Tech began, watching in horror as Omega’s hair began to slightly stand up as she giggled, while a large flash of light overhead. 

  “Electrical storms. I am surprised you didn’t note them in whatever archives I suspect someone of your calliber to have examined about Ord Mantell before or shortly after arrival,” You mention, looking down at the young girl. If it was just her, you would have no issue letting Omega in. But the extremely tall trooper wasn’t exactly in your best sights currently. Sighing you step aside, gesturing to come inside. 

  “I have not had proper time to examine known information on-” Tech straightened up as you interrupted him. 

  “Save it. Just get inside. They get downright nasty. I may not like you very much, but I am also not a monster who’s going to let you get electrocuted in the streets,” you scoffed at him, allowing the pair to pass through your flat’s entryway. 

  “Wow you have your own room!” Omega joyfully exclaimed, rushing around to look at your sparse belongings and wall decorations. Some random plans, some spare parts, a few drawings, a few photos - nothing abnormal. 

  “I can’t say I make it up here most nights to actually enjoy it, so apologies about the mess,” you hush out. Tech’s eyes were wide as he had trained them onto the back of your small sofa. Getting closer you realized what caused his nervousness as a bra tossed over the back came into view from where you’d flung it one evening. Crossing ahead of him, you reached for it, shoving it into the cushions. 

  While Tech commed back to the rest of their team, informing them the plan to wait out the normal evening storm here, you double checked no other artifacts of awkward origins to be lingering about. 

  The apartment wasn’t much, just a bed in the back corner behind a screen, a small kitchen with one burner and a stove, along side a small refrigeration unit. A refresher behind a door right at the entry way and some sparse furniture. Mostly, the space just spilled over spare parts from downstairs. 

  “Omega stop meddling in belongings that are not yours, it’s rude” Tech warned as he came back from discussing with Hunter. Omega hadn’t sat still, running around your flat as new items of interest took over her young mind. 

  “She’s fine,” you tell him, leaning against a wall looking at how he shifted slightly under your scrutiny. 

  “Tech look! It’s our ship!” Omega shouted from near one of the windows and he moved towards her, assuming her to be pointing outside in the direction of the hanger, but as he got closer he saw a small model of the standard ship, along with some drawings on the wall. 

  “Well, technically Omega we use a heavily modified version and this is the standard model of the-” he started as you chuckled. 

  “Omicron Class Attack Shuttle,” You tell him, coming to stand on the other side of Tech. 

  “How do you know have these? They are for military usage only, and I calculate the probability of one ending up here during the war to be quite low,” Tech asked. 

  “She helped design it.” Omega mentioned very plainly as Tech’s eyes bulged, turning to the young girl in time to see her fingers pointing towards some of your old sketches, signature and date marked many moons ago. 

  “But that-” he came closer to what Omega pointed out, heart beat picking up as he realized not only had he flown a ship you apparently helped design, but he had just earlier insulted your knowledge of mechanics. 

  “Was a lifetime ago. But yes. I used to live on Coruscant and worked as an engineer. Until contracts for civilians dried up. When I left, my ship had a malfunction and this was the safest planet to land for repairs. Haven’t left.” You explain to him, shifting the weight back off the injured toe, which you could feel swelling in the confines of your sock. 

  “These drawings do not match the standard regulation manuels for the shuttle. Why are they different? They closer resemble some of the modifications I have personally installed.” Tech asked you, fingers tracing over the worn schematics as he noted a different configuration for the main compressor and hyperdrive. 

  “I was only a junior engineer at the time. My supervisor demanded the changes be made no matter how much I protested. That’s why I was surprised to hear you boys fly one, but I suppose your modifications have extended it’s life. The changes my team made were less than ideal. But still, it’s my favorite ship I’ve designed,” you explain, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety to bring up the past like this. 

  “Fascinating… What other ships have you designed if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked without looking up from the remnants of your old work. 

  “There’s a data pad right there on the table. Not sure if it’s got enough power to charge up, but it has the schematics of what I worked on. I’ll warn you, it’s mostly shuttles for senators or higher ranking military personale. Not many are military craft,” you explain pointing out the data pad, noting the Omega had disappeared from view, finding her sitting on the sofa as she smiled and waved to you. 

  Moving across the apartment you sat next to her, curious why 4 clones were traveling with a child. 

  “So what’s your story kid?” You ask her, watching as Tech poked around your small corner of relics from time spent as an engineer, his fingers picking up some of the small models as he continued to flip through the data pad he got working with a small transportable battery pack, muttering out undistinguishable words ever few moments. 

  You split your attention between half listening to Omega’s explanation of how she was a clone like the others to watching Tech’s half smile as he glanced over your old work. Strangely enough when he wasn’t insulting you, he was handsome. Different from other clone’s you’d met in the fact his face was more angularly and thin. Hair and skin lighter in color than the others, he looked so familiar and yet so unique. 

  Suddenly a weight on your shoulder broke you out of the trance you had developed as you stared at Tech, who was still distracted as he propped himself up against the wall. Omega, having fallen asleep, was leaning on you as her breathing evened out. 

  You knew sleep wouldn’t come with the strange clones in your apartment so you carefully lifted her, as she weighted very little, and began to move her towards your bed. Least you could do was let her sleep on a real bed for the first time in a while. Tech’s eyes flashed when he saw the movement, not saying anying as he watched you carry her.  Setting down the datapad he realized you would not be able to move the privacy screen while your arms were occupied, so he adjusted it out of the way as you bent a bit to set the young girl on the bed, pulling the recently washed covers up around her. 

  Omega’s eyes cracked open slightly as she smiled and snuggled down into the bed before drifting back to sleep, the two of you bearing witness to how sweet she looked as sleep overtook her young body. Nodding your head he stepped aside, allowing you both to leave the designated area for the bed and he once again closed the screen. 

  “You did not have to do that, my calculations show that the storm is likely to pass within the next few hours,” Tech whispered as you shrugged. 

  “When was the last time she slept in a real bed?” You challenged. 

  “Point taken. I do have several questions on various ships I examined while looking through your datapad, but I feel it inappropriate to ask given I insulted you earlier,” He said in a hushed breath as you nodded. 

  “So how do you plan to rectify that hotshot?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to shift your tone to playful as you nudged his shoulder, forgetting he had on plastoid as it made contact and immediately stung.

  “I am uncertain. I do not have data to base interactions such as this upon in order to determine the best possible course of action,” He whispered out as you sighed, going to put on the kettle. 

  “It’s as simple as saying you are apologetic,” you explain to him calmly, realizing now that perhaps Tech lacked some social awareness despite that big brain of his.  You were used to it in the field of engineers. Kind people who weren’t always the most adept at dealing with emotions.  

  Tech’s eyes watched as you began to heat up water on the stove, the slight hobble in your step still apparent. 

  “I apologize for being rude. You are still injured from earlier,” he nodded to your foot. 

  “I’ll live. But thank you for your apology. Tea? Calf? What’s your poison?” You ask him nodding to the water. 

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to trouble you with either on my behalf,” he said simply as you rolled your eyes. 

  “It's no trouble at all. Besides with how nasty those electrical storms are you are going to want to get comfortable. Feel free to take off the plastoid, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be in all the time,” you tell him. 

  He simply stands, not wanting to argue, carefully removing the pieces and stacking them in a neat pile on the floor. You take out two mugs from the cabinet, deciding that he seemed like more of a cheap ration calf man, much like yourself, so you spoon it into the cups and pour the water on top before setting one down in front of him before grabbing the sugar from the pantry and setting it out. 

  “Thank you,” Tech mentioned, ignoring the sugar and just began to sip it as is. 

  “No problem, so these questions?” you came to sit on the adjacent barstool, nodding towards the schematics he had pulled up. 

  Tech felt his stomach drop seeing you so close, leaning over the holopad ready to answer his questions when only an hour ago you were content to ring his neck out. Having someone to discuss his area of expertise with was rare, especially not someone so pretty… 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  Several rotations and jobs for Cid under the Batch’s belt, you’d formed a very unique relationship with the clone to say the least. When getting along, things were great. However, you still occasionally found yourself frustrated with his affinity for saying things, while true, that came off as callus or dismissive. 

  Such as the most recent issue. Tech let you poke around the modifications he’d made to their ship in some down time, during which you pointed out a better alternative for the power cufflinks. This led the man to get defensive, jumping to an explanation that once again challenged your expertise. Leading to a speedy exit from the hanger and ignoring his feeble attempts at knocking on your door, Tech left Ord Mantell to meet Rex on Bracca with you still very much angry at him. 

  He’d sent a message, to which you ignored on the private com channel he set up for you, as you warned the boys that while you adored Cid, she wasn’t particularly known for being trustworthy. Despite your occasional frustration at times with Tech’s less than appealing behavior, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. 

  Going off-world for an unknown amount of time to remove a device that might cause us to lose bodily autonomy and certain cognitive functions that were part of our programming. It is imperative we do so, however there are unknowns with such a procedure. Things may not go according to plan. ~ Tech

  You didn’t respond, set in your stubbornness as you ignored his message that matter of factly stated his plans. Your largest complaint about the man, despite his very kind nature overall, was that he struggled admitting he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. 

  After a few hours you received another ping. 

  Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

  You sigh, continuing to twist the bolt holding together the maintenance droid someone recently allowed you to have, trying to fix the pile of scrap so you could gain some relief with fulfilling projects. 

  Another ping came in less than an hour later. 

  I apologize for once again hurting your pride. I am unused to dealing with those who are not my brothers, and they have acclimated themselves to my more undesirable traits. It is not an excuse, but please know that I am attempting to correct such habits in the name of maintaining our friendship, as it is something I am coming to value. ~ Tech

  You look at the screen. He was trying his best and you could recognize that. It softened the anger you felt. You weren’t fully ready to discuss with him however, leaving the message open on your tablet, losing yourself in the work in front of you as your mind tried to form a proper response. 

  [Incoming message from Tech]

  Wrecker’s inhibitor chip activated. Things were more intense than I initially anticipated. He did not hesitate to try and harm us. Omega was frightened by his actions, however no one was injured beyond him briefly rendering me unconscious. That being said, I am fine. We are waiting for him to wake up. Still unsure the safety of this procedure as his vitals have not stabilized. I will continue to keep you posted even if you are neglecting to respond. ~ Tech

  Staring at the screen the sudden concern for the safety of their team outweighed you silly argument with Tech, fingers forming a response, and hitting send despite the several crafted responses you had spent the last hours mentally cataloging. 

  From the ruins of the jedi cruiser on Bracca, Tech was surprised as he saw an incoming response from you, sitting up immediately as he read it. 

  I am sorry for not responding. I needed time to mentally process your apology, as your words do hurt sometimes. That being said, we do not have to discuss things further. I hope Omega is doing better. I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been for her. Tell her she's got a girl's only night when she returns filled with all the street food her heart desires. Let me know when Wrecker wakes up. Please try and stay safe. Drinks are on me when you all get back to Ord Mantell. 

  Tech smiled down at the message, leaning back some in the seat. He didn’t want to push his luck by responding to you. You were kind enough to offer an olive branch and accept his apology once more.

  Soon Wrecker woke up, prompting the others to take turns removing their chips. Tech wasn’t sure why he felt the need to wait to be last. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that things would be alright? Perhaps he was more nervous than he anticipated. But when it was finally his turn to lay down, his last thought before drifting off was of a pretty mechanic back on their new home waiting for him. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  “This is the Havoc-Marauder - *static* please, come in,” the vocal element of your com began blaring through the otherwise quiet shop as you continued to repair projects. Boosting the signal you reached down to the tablet, pressing the button, trying to figure out why the boys seemed so distressed. 

  Tech had informed you that they were all able to remove the inhibitor chips successfully and that they were going to attempt to recover valuable assets from the ship before their departure. Not worried about the plan, you were surprised to hear the fear in their voices as you waited for a response. 

  “The empire showed up and in the chaos of it all, a bounty hunter named Cad Bane took Omega and injured Hunter. We are trying to locate where they may have taken her, since it was off-world. Do you have any contacts who may know more? We can’t get a hold of Cid-” Echo spoke through the coms instead of Tech. 

  “Actually, I have more information that may be useful” came Tech’s faded voice from the back of the transmission, as you allowed him to speak. “Omega is more valuable than we realized,” Tech spoke, leading a winded Hunter to question why, as you held your breath waiting for information that may be useful. 

  “I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first generation DNA-” Tech spoke, and while you weren’t fully versed in cloning or the Kamino process, you assumed that made her more valuable than the others. As Tech continued to explain for the others to understand, you reached over for the long range transmitter and sent a message to an old friend, who quickly read and began typing. 

  “If she’s vital to the Kaminoans cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her-” you heard Echo say, confirming the suspicions you already had. 

  “So how do we find this bounty Hunter?” Wrecker grumbled just in time for you to speak up. 

  “I may have an idea, if anyone’s up for it-” you offer, wishing more than anything the boys were in range to see them instead of just hear them. Something about putting eyes on them would’ve been a comfort, but you’d settle for their voices. 

  “That is why we contacted you, so please,” Hunter mentioned. 

  “Well, I had a friend back when I was on Coruscant. She worked closely with the cloning operations medical staff, and was transferred to Coruscant at the start of the war. She said there’s several decommissioned Kaminoan facilities throughout the galaxy. If the Kaminoans are the one’s after Omega, shouldn’t they want a secure location that only they are aware of? At the very least, it’s a starting point. She was able to inform me of 3 she knew about. Two in close proximity to your location. The other is closer to Ord Mantell if you wish for me to check it out-” you explain only to have Tech cut you off. 

  “Negative. With a bounty hunter as dangerous as Cad Bane I do not wish for you to go anywhere near that facility. Transmit the coordinates and we shall examine the closer one’s first-” he said. 

  “If Omega is at that facility, you all will miss her transfer between the bounty hunter and Kaminoans. That’s not worth chancing it. I can decide what risks I wish to undertake on my own-” your voice raises to accommodate the frustration you feel.

  “Regardless it is not a job you should undertake given your skillset is not that of combat,” he tells you, the others growing silent as you dismiss his concerns. 

  “I am transmitting the coordinates. See you all when you get back. Let me know if something happens.” You state bluntly, and as Tech goes to question you once more, you cut the call, not wanting to hear his concerns. You didn’t want Omega injured or removed from her brothers. He wasn’t going to stop you from looking. That wasn’t Tech’s call to make.

  Quickly rushing around the messy flat, you collected what you through you may need before going down to the hanger which held your rusty bucket of bolts. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Rarely having time to work on it, you knew the ship needed a massive overhaul, but that could come after you saved Omega. 

  It was when you came out of hyperspace in your small shuttle that you received another transmission. 

  “Omega was able to get away from the bounty hunter but we aren’t sure for how long she’ll be free. She is at the location closer to Ord Mantell, in the Lido system but we are uncertain if we will reach it in time-” Hunter spoke feverishly as you looked down at the planet’s surface. 

  “Then it’s a good thing I am already here,” you tell them, flying close by to the facility seeing three ships already landed, meaning the transfer was happening or soon to be over, and that a possible third party was involved.

  “I thought I cautioned you to stay on Ord Mantell where it was safe,” Tech said, anger laced in his tone as you set the ship down on an abandoned platform, reaching for the baster you kept on you at all times. You may not be the best at fighting, but you did have the ability to cloak, as you developed a small experimental hood that utilized the same technology as your cloaked shuttle. It would have to be enough to locate Omega and hope you all could slip away from the bounty hunter before someone realized you were here.

  “You did. But it’s a good thing I elected to ignore it. Do hurry, I will try and find Omega or at the very least stall until you all can reach the system. Over-” you called, turning off the device so that the sound would not give you away and slipped outside. 

  You didn’t make it very far before you heard shouting and Omega fell onto the platform adjacent to your own after awkwardly riding atop a small droid - possibly a techno service droid but it was too far away to notice. Rushing towards her before she could get very far, you removed the hood disguising your head. 

  “Omega!” you shouted, drawing her attention as she turned and quickly ran back in your direction, a small limp in her step which must have occurred at some point during her escape.

  “You came for me!” she leapt into your arms, as you reached for a small multitool from your belt to cut her binders. 

  “Of course I did, your brothers aren’t that far behind, we need to get out of her-” you started, only to be cut off as you watched in horror. The droid, which Omega was running from, had activated a panel on the platform your ship was on, causing it to fall into the ocean depths below, preventing your escape.

  “I just paid that off,” you cried watching it fall as Omega dragged you down a small set of stairs, noting the pods for escaping the Kaminan facility just ahead. 

  “I’m sure Tech will help you fix a new one, we need to hurry, the bounty hunter who tried to get me on Pantora is here fighting the one who took me. We don’t have much time” she mentioned, the two of you cramming into the pod before one of the bounty hunters could emerge. 

  Just as the pod was activated however, the little droid who destroyed your shuttle appeared in the viewport, demanding to know where you were going. Omega didn’t respond, angrily typing until the pod launched, her falling into your lap and you held her tightly and the droid flew out of the view. 

  “Do we have any control over this thing?” You demanded to know, the little girl turning in your lap as she shook her head no, loud blaring of an emergency alarm filling the pod. 

  “Alright, we aren’t going to panic. If we survive the landing your brothers will be here soon enough okay? So just hold on-” you try to reassure her, running a gentle hand through her hair as you continue to fall towards the ocean. Not sure if you even believed your attempt at calming her, you didn’t want your final moments to be filled with fear before the unknown of what came after all this. 

  “I’m scared-” she said quietly, eyes closing as she snuggled into you. You didn’t respond, pulling her close, the scent of blaster fire lingering on her frame. You were going to be okay. The boys weren’t close behind. Everything would be fine-

  Suddenly a loud thud came over the top of the pod, stalling the descent. Pulling the blaster you looked up, pushing Omega as far behind you as it would allow in the cramped space, ready to shoot if it was the bounty hunter who’d locked onto the escape pod. When it opened however, and the smoke cleared, Wrecker leaned his face into view. 

  “Omega?! Are you in there?” He shouted, looking down as his eyes landed on the both of you. Putting the gun back at your side you lifted her into his waiting arms. Once she was being lifted out of the pod, you began climbing the small ladder, as Wrecker welcomed her back. 

  “Tech your girlfriend is in here too-” he said cheerfully, Echo reaching down to help pull you out as well. 

  “Wrecker that is inappropriate as we are not courting-” Tech yelled from the cockpit as you found footing inside their ship. Hunter, who was still heavily bandaged turning to you as Omega greeted Echo from within Wrecker’s arms. 

  “You came to help. Why?” He asked you, pain still evident in his voice from whatever injuries he sustained. 

  “Because she needed it.  I didn’t really do much if I am honest, just covered her exit-” you explained as Omega solemnly looked at you, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “I am so sorry about your ship,” she said as you shook your head. 

  “Don’t worry about it kid. Ships are replaceable. You aren’t.” You told her, ruffling her hair as she made her way to Hunter. Suddenly the waterworks started and he checked on her as you moved back, to allow them a reunion. You couldn’t imagine how frightening it must have been for her the last few days. 

  “Thank you for helping us find her. We would not have been able to do so in a timely manner had it not been for you.” Echo complimented.

  “No need to thank me,” you began, only to have a clearing throat behind you prevent you from speaking further. Tech was leaning up against the wall leading into the cockpit, his face turned completely to the side, facing the control panel. 

  “If you’ll excuse me-” you told Echo, following Tech's stomping footsteps as he led you into the cockpit, promptly shutting the door behind you to allow privacy. 

  “Before you berate me can you at least-” you started, only to feel arms pull you, quite awkwardly, into a plastoid covered chest. 

  His helmet was off. You could tell by the way his breath ruffled your hair gently as he leaned his face down along the top of your head. Once the initial shock wore off, your arms moved behind him, tightening around his back in that section between his armor and utility belt, feeling the warmth as his body gave off from beneath the black suit. 

  Sure he was a bit musky from having gone a few rotations without a refresher to clean up, but he was here, solid and strong. Under the lingering scent of sweat, ash, and grime you could smell that GAR issued soap they kept on board, which always clung to him and became apparent when you leaned in to see the datapad over his shoulder. 

  “Thank you. Despite being reckless, your actions and intel were able to help us retrieve Omega,” he whispered against your hairline, his lips barely brushing the skin there as he spoke. The featherlike contact, making you shiver, goosebumps raising along your skin. 

  Not anticipating his gratitude, you didn’t respond initially, soaking up the rare affection as you noticed Tech didn’t often seem to enjoy people in his personal space. Any time you got too close he’d clear his throat, shifting away. Any time you’d accidentally brush your fingers against his own, he’d wipe his gloved palms over his thighs as if to remove any traces of you. This jump to initiating contact catching you off guard. 

  “I don’t regret anything. She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” you tell him, fingers finding the area just below the chest plate as you rub your hand up and down his back slowly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t say anything, even if it did bother him, as you remain there for a moment longer. 

  “While Omega is a large priority of mine, I argue that your safety is also important,” he said, uncertainty laced in his voice. 

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I am glad you all are safe. I was worried when you said Wrecker temporarily went rogue.” You admit to him, removing your cheek from the harsh chestplate, putting your forehead there instead. Removing your arms from behind him, you prepared to end the embrace, despite not really wanting to. 

  “We are fine,” he said softly, noticing you pulling back as he dropped his hands slowly. 

  “Really? All here now? No missing limbs-” you start to tease as you pull away, finally catching a glimpse of him as you chuckle. “Oh. Missing hair though it would seem-” you point up, noticing the way he now sported a shaved patch on almost the entirety of one side of his head, where a small bandage covered a section just back from his temple. 

  Tech’s gloved fingers immediately sought out the side of his head, grazing the patch as he looked down, almost embarrassingly as his arm fell back to his side. 

  “Rather unfortunate but it’ll grow back. Although, Echo did take off more than I believe to have been necessary. Small price to pay for the removal of those chips. After seeing what it did to Wrecker, I do not mind having the peace of knowing that it will not affect me in the future-” He began to ramble, only to trail off as he noticed you lean up some, inspecting his hair with an unreadable expression. “Something wrong?” he asked, uneasiness setting in.

  Not responding, you looked closer. Reaching your hand up gently, fingertips tracing a similar path that his own had, his eyes growing wide as you inspected the short hairs now on that side of his head, which contradicted the opposing side, where it remained slicked back. Small smile on your face as your hand fell away, but you kept close proximity to his stunned face. 

  “Not at all. I don’t hate it actually,” you slyly smile as his eyebrows shoot up in response. 

  “I find that hard to believe-” he states plainly as his eyes drift away momentarily before coming back to search for the truth. A part of him partly expects you to be playfully teasing him, as he’d come to accept that as part of your personality.

  “Be that as it may, if I were you, I’d consider keeping it,” you tell him honestly, eyes glancing back to his own from within the confines of his goggles. 

  “Really?” he pressed, uncertain as he imagined it looked horrid, since he’d only felt around for it with the chaos that persisted after they removed the chips. 

  “I like it. It’s rugged in a way that is quite handsome,” you tell him honestly, stepping back from the almost trance you were in caused by the change in his appearance. Your cheeks burning red at the honesty you had spoken. The quick departure from his personal space made you miss the mirroring pair of pink tinted cheeks on the soldier. 

  “Oh,” he said, almost surprised as you turned away to rejoin the others. When you opened the door back to the main hull you barely heard Tech’s soft voice say, “fascinating…” as his fingers once again grazed his short hair with a childlike grin gracing his face. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  You were going to kill Cid. That was, assuming the Pykes didn’t kill you first. Not only had she conspired to have the bad batch steal spice to get rid of Roland Durand, who had moved in and taken the city in their absence. Fortunately your shop, not valuable without your knowledge of how to use the spare parts, had been spared, but not Cid’s. 

  When things had gone south, they lost the spice in an old mine shaft filled with a hive of irlings. Returning to the parlor, Omega were held in order to make the boys co-operate, and yourself to make Cid. 

  Hands bound next to the Devaronian male who instigated the whole situation, you couldn’t fully fault his anxiety. If the batch wasn’t able to recover the spice, you were as good as dead. So was Omega. Which is why you put your trust in them, praying to the maker Tech could figure out a solution that left you all to walk away. 

  You tried to remove the image of Tech’s very angry face as the leader of the Pykes told them that Omega and you would remain with them as collateral, his eyes snapping to yours as his hand reached for the pistol on his hip and held it up ready to fire without a second thought. Something about it was so incredibly protective. As someone who’d been on their own for such a long time, it made your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

  “Don’t try it. They’ll kill you,” Roland warned, your eyes snapping to Omega who was eying an abandoned gun on the floor near where you were all bound. 

  “I hate to agree but he’s right,” you whispered, gesturing for her to stay put. If there’s one thing you knew, it was to not mess with the Pykes. 

  “If your friends don’t return with the spice, we’re all dead. That’s what happens when you meddle in other people’s business,” he said very pessimistically. 

  “Us? You’re the one who took Cid’s parlor from her-” Omega began to argue, and not wishing to participate in their spat, you leaned your head back.

  Ever since you all had rescued Omega from the bounty hunter, things had been different with you and Tech. Not incredibly so. He resumed the distance physically he always kept between you. It seemed he truly didn’t wish to invade your space and kept you from doing the same. That being said, there had not been an argument to date. Not even a slip of tongue from him that indicated a lack in your skills. 

  A part worried that he regretted it, or was possibly trying to keep you from making another advancement. You aren’t sure why you had complimented him, and despite the positive reaction it seemed to warrant, things had gotten somewhat stagnant. More awkward when you were alone, as if he was unsure. At this rate you left it in his court to decide. You made up your mind some time ago in that cockpit that you had feelings for the man, regardless of if he returned them. 

  You hoped he did. After all, he had decided to keep his hair buzzed down on the sides once it began growing back in, since you mentioned that you found it attractive, the shorter hair accentuating his more prominent features like his sharp jaw or chiseled cheekbones. That’s got to count for something, right? And when they were away on missions, he still messaged when he could check in or chat on long flights. You assumed that was a good sign. 

  There had also been an uptick in time he spent at your shop or flat. Sure, the others did as well. Omega often came by since she needed escapes from her brothers. Wrecker loving to come pilfer food from your pantry. Echo occasionally needed help with malfunctions in his mechanical arm or legs. Hunter was the one you saw the least, and never alone, but he tended to keep to himself. However Tech was there at seemingly every free moment he had - fixing stuff alongside you in the shop, occasionally reading up on manuals late at night in your flat as you briefly spoke about ideas for projects to help their jobs with Cid. 

  Just as nightfall began you all were ushered to the hanger, the Marauder visible you were pushed outside, landing on your knees next to Rolland and Omega. The boys exited the ship, Cid on their tails as Wrecker began to unload the spice. Glancing up at Tech’s worried eyes you felt relief knowing that the hard part was over. 

  Once Wrecker unloaded the last crate, one of the Pyke’s came behind you, knife in hand as you grew nervous. The Pykes weren’t galactically known for playing fair, and with Omega off to the side, you worried that they might punish you for Cid’s rash actions. 

  Tech watched, fingers reaching for his weapon as he saw the fear in your eyes. You made eye contact with him once more as you waited for whatever outcome may present itself, hoping that they would do their best to take care of you if it got ugly. Feeling movement on your wrists, you were relieved when they cut the bindings, pushing you forward. 

  “Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved,” they spoke, as you reached forward, Tech’s hand pulling you next to him as Hunter grabbed Omega. From over Cid’s head, you watched as they weren’t finished with the Devaronian, and you didn’t really care watching him deal with their anger. 

  “Are you unharmed?” Tech’s eyes found yours as you stabilize yourself, nodding to him. From the corner of your eye the others attempted to defuse the situation, to no avail as Roland had one of his horns shorn and the Pykes left. 

  The way Cid turned, offering everyone drinks as if she hadn’t looped you all into her mess, angered you. She’d almost gotten you, Omega, and the other’s killed because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself in the face of a gangster. 

  Fire and brimstone in your blood, you felt your hands shaking as you let go of Tech’s arm. “I just want to go home,” you said, pushing his armored chest and began stomping away from the others, who were heading inside the Parlor, excited things had worked out. 

  Tech watched your retreating form, understanding your frustration but confused as to why you hadn’t wanted to celebrate with the others. After all, things had worked out, no one was injured. His voice calling your name wasn’t enough to halt your exit from the hanger, as you continued walking away from him. 

  Tech shot a glance at the others before diverting from their path to follow you back to your apartment, quicking his strides as he attempted to gain on you. You weren’t really sure why you kept on, ignoring his calls for you to wait. Perhaps anger at Cid. Maybe frustration at the situation. Or a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on - either way you kept walking, rushing up the stairs as he was hot on your heels. 

  Just as you opened the door to your flat with a shoosh, Tech shoved his foot in the door before you could close it, pushing his way inside before you could lock him out. A bit presumptuous, but a small part of you felt relief seeing him make it in before you shut the world out. 

  “You heard me calling after you,” he said bluntly. 

  “I did,” you tell him, catching your breath from running, scowling when you realized that he didn’t have the same issue. Curse those genetically modified lungs. 

  “So why did you keep going?” He asked you, staring down at you. His helmet still held in his hands as you shifted your weight to the other leg, uncertain how to answer. 

  “I am not sure,” you tell him honestly. He pauses, before speaking. 

  “Do you wish for me to leave?” 

  You shake your head. 

  “Do you wish for me to stay with you?” 

  You nod. 

  He lets out a deep breath, setting the helmet on the table right near the door and probing his temple with his extremely long fingers. 

  “Should we just sit? Talk? What can I do? I need direction on how you wish to proceed,” he quietly begged as he set down the heavy backpack and removed the utility belt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here and easily began stripping down to his blacks. 

  You didn’t respond, using your toes to put pressure on each of your heels as you slipped out of the worn leather boots and made quiet footfalls to your bed, sitting on it as you looked out the window. The electrical storm your devices predicted would be starting any minute. Despite the more destructive tendency they had, you thoroughly enjoyed watching them - even if they knocked out the power temporarily from time to time. 

  Tech watched you from near the entryway, your legs tucked up near your chest as you stared out the window, chin resting on your knees. Following behind you he made his way to your bed, neglecting how uncertain it felt as he lowered himself onto the comfortable surface. Never having sat on it before, he was surprised the way he sank into the plush material of your duvet. Sitting at the end of the bed, while you had propped yourself up near the wall, there was still a sizable distance between you both.  

  “We don’t have to talk if you do not wish, but may I try something-” he asked and you nodded, not tearing your eyes away from the first few flashes of light. 

  Gentle hands pried your shoulders away from where your legs were pushed up, as he pulled you back with ease. Positioning his body between yours and the wall, Tech arranged you between his long legs, leaning you back once more onto his chest. Arms dancing along your waist, he wasn’t sure if he should fully hold you or allow you to just rest against him, but something internal told him that this position was appropriate given the circumstances. 

  You made the call for him, pulling his arms up across your chest, sinking back into him more, eyes drifting close momentarily as he brushed the hair from your right shoulder to over your left. Soon his nose found the back of your neck as he leaned into your body, picking up the faint hint of the perfume you must’ve applied there hours ago. 

  “I am sorry that you got caught in the crossfire between Cid, Roland and the Pykes,” he whispered against your skin. 

  “It’s Cid’s fault, not yours,” you whisper, enjoying the way his exhales felt against the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t speak immediately, pulling you tighter to his chest as you feel his heartbeat along your back.  

  “Had we not agreed to assist in stealing the spice to begin with, none of it would not have occurred the way in which it did,” Tech admitted the error in judgment which nearly cost you and Omega your lives. 

  “You were trying to help out Cid-” you tried to reason.

  “Which would’ve destroyed me if you had gotten hurt due to my poor decision to do so,” he whispered. 

  “Why is that Tech?” you whisper back, eyes watching the electrical storm pick up outside the window. 

  Once again he let the silence linger. Nervous to speak or not wanting to hurt your feelings with his response - you couldn’t be quite sure. Turning slightly, so that your shoulder rested against his chest to look at his face for answers. With the reflection of the window you couldn’t see his eyes.

  Deciding to be brave if he wasn’t, you lifted your hands, fingers probing the edges of the goggles that always adorned his face as you quietly asked, “may I?” He only nodded as you lifted them very carefully up and over his head, setting them down on the bed next to you. His eyes had closed when you started to lift them, so you had yet to see his eyes unobstructed. Not pushing him you turned back towards the window, allowing him to speak when he gathered the nerve. 

  “I don’t like the thoughts of you getting hurt because I-” he started to murmur once more, a baited breath entering your lungs and staying there as you waited for him to continue. The air stinging your lungs as you realized he had paused once more, softly blowing it back out past your lips as you repeated the action once more. 

  Tech gathered as much nerve as humanly possible. He could easily be thrust into high stress scenarios. Battles? No issues. Firefights with gangsters? He always had a plan. But when it came to you? He had no baseline to establish it from. Sure he had been intimate before with strangers when the opportunity presented itself. He found it to usually lead to an unsatisfying place in which he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Usually forcing himself to touch them despite feeling repulsed at being that close with someone. But when he was in proximity to you things were different. 

  That spark of electricity often cited as being drawn out by a member of the opposite gender was present, catching him off guard every time your fingers crossed paths. He found your sweet aroma to be so intoxicating. The flash of your smile, utterly adorable. The face you made when you concentrated on a repair - where your tongue darted out of the corner of your full lips - to be nearly stunting. Everything about you he found captivating. 

  I care for you. 

  You almost didn’t hear him whisper it, as the volume was so minimal it barely passed over his lips audibly. Turning to face him once more, you saw the nervous eyes of a caged animal, finally unguarded by those yellow frames. 

  Brown. But not dark and unwavering like Hunters or tinged with the grayish hue of Echo’s. Wreckers one good eye had a more blue undertone and Omega’s were nearly hazel. But Tech  - Tech’s resembled honey. His iris illuminated with each flash of lightning from outside the window. And then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power went out, leaving you both in the dark as you continued to remain in his arms. Only sound being the matching pair of unsteady breathing.

  “Tech…?” you whispered, while he looked back down at your anticipating face. 

  “Yes?” Tech questioned, knots in his stomach as you hadn’t responded to his admission of caring for you. 

  “Would you do something for me?” you posed the question. 

  Tech was certain you were going to kick him out, despite the storm, or at the very least make him go downstairs to leave you alone. Your silence only told him that you were likely formulating a way to let him down gently because surely someone one like you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a clone. Clones stole your promising future. He frequently was unaware how to speak to you. His frustrations occasionally came out poorly as his jealousy for your knowledge plagued his mind. His blunt nature, often at odds with your proper socialization. You were perfect and he was just a copy of a man who was long gone, and a relic of an army that had been corrupted. 

  Distracted by his racing mind he almost didn’t hear you whisper it at the conclusion of his small nod. 

  Kiss me. 

  Tech did a double take, his attention snapping to you as your eyes locked with his own.  He couldn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat as your angelic eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. The distance between you insurmountable as, despite the seated position, he would always tower over you. His gangly limbs and narrow frame creating such a divergence between your sizes.

  “You want me to-” 

“Kiss me. Please.” You begged, eyes trying to catch his own to reassure him it is what you wanted. 

  You were growing concerned with the way his mind seemed to still be running astray. Perhaps he meant he cared for you in a similar way that he did Omega. Oh maker, what if he meant it that way. Suddenly you were glad the lights were off. That way he couldn’t see your crumbling self esteem and wavering confidence. You were certain when he spoke the way he had, paired with the many small moments mounting over the last months, that he liked you. Only now to realize he most likely hadn’t meant it in a non romantic way. 

  “Tech, I am so-” you began only to have his warm, ungloved hand find purchase on the side of your cheek, lips meeting yours in fury. 

  The first thing you noticed, when the shock wore off, was that his lips were so incredibly soft. How could a soldier, constantly on the run from danger, be this plush and inviting? That sharp wit and wise energy always spilling past these lips - the same ones that insulted you when you first met - now on your own in a heated embrace. 

  Soft sighs exiting your lips, entering his mouth as Tech opened his own to invite tongues to this lovely endeavor. He had hardly needed to caress your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you both fell into that wonderful song and dance of exploring each other’s mouths. 

  Breaking away due to the unfortunate need for air, you tried to see him the best you could with the limited lighting situation. His hand falling to the side of your neck instead of on your cheek, he pulled your forehead towards his, resting his nose against your own. Eyes searching yours for any sign to end this interaction. 

  “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he admitted with a small chuckle, almost embarrassed of the words falling out of his mouth. Surely they resembled the words of a love drunken fool, not a soldier and engineer such as himself.  Perhaps that is because they came from his heart, not his logical mind. 

  “Please do that again,” you beg him, a smile working its way on your face as you trail a hand up his chest, finding stability by wrapping it around the back of his neck. Your breathing having leveled out from the heated exchange, just as he instigated another one. 

  This time, he didn’t wait to request entrance to your mouth, tongue slipping in almost immediately. As soon as he began kissing you once more, your hand traveled up into the brown locks that sat just against his collar, tangling in them, separating the obnoxious gel he insisted on using to keep it from matting inside his helmet. It made you long to see him first thing in the morning or right after getting out of the refresher - when his hair was wild and carefree. 

  That wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to come undone as he effortlessly pulled you from being on the bed in front of him into his lap, legs going around his thighs as you perched yourself against him. Tech’s wandering hands began as soon as your bottom left the bed, his large palm tracing over the skin of your clothed ass, caressing it before his fingers flexed, digging into the roundness as he groaned into your mouth. 

  Tech, despite his reservations for touching anyone, had always enjoyed the roundness of an ass under his feelings. Especially an unclothed one. His brothers, arguing for a pair of breasts as more appealing, but he would always remain on the team that supported his large hands grabbing the meat of an ass.  

  For someone so lanky, and much thinner than his brothers, Tech certainly had a hidden strength to his frame that you hadn’t anticipated. Briefly on display as he lifted you into his lap with ease, he continued to further prove his ability as his demanding hands found your hips and squeezed, bicep flexing as your free hand landed on his left arm. 

  You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it either, but breaking away from his lips as you trailed kisses over his cheekbones until you found the skin of his earlobe, nibbling it between your teeth all while he groaned. Watching the always poised and put together pilot turn to putty under your mouth and body, making that wet spot of arousal in your undergarments grow by the second. 

  As you continued to trail the nipping to his neck, you mumbled out something about his shirt being in the way, fingers reaching under the top near his lower back as you tried in vain to remove it from his body. Pulling back, since he had developed that unexplainable sense of urgency at your kissing, he stripped it away with skilled ease, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. 

  It was odd. When he normally removed the parts of his armor in your flat, they were carefully and methodically unlatched and organized in a neat pile. Now, rocking into his lap as you stared down into his wild eyes, the dynamic propelled into a direction you never could’ve dreamed. Something in the pair of you had shifted from just awkwardly maneuvering around each other to actively lighting that fuse within your bodies. 

  He didn’t allow you the chance to examine his unclothed top however, as he quickly reattached your lips to his, pulling you closer as his head tipped ever so slightly to the side, accommodating the clashing of teeth and tongues in the fury. Still anxious to know exactly what he was like under that thick black suit or vest he always wore, you allowed your fingers to act as your eyes in the moment, all while getting such a lovely taste of his mouth while you exhaled through your nose which was harshly pressed against his cheek from the intensity the kisses you’d both developed.

  Your hands trailed along his flamed but extremely solid body. Fingers finding purchase along the defined lines of his chest, and the valley that separated two pectorals that were much harsher than you would’ve anticipated given his much thinner frame. Sliding down, that same hand counted six definite sections in his abdomen as well, as you removed your lips from his in hast to such a much needed breath of air while your mind stilled. 

  Eyes finally seeing just how wonderful tanned skin of a soldier could be, you enjoyed the lovely view of dark hair trailing down just below his navel and into tight pants. The nearly vacant patch of hair along his chest meaning he either removed it or didn’t have it wasn’t a bother - you didn’t really love overly hairy men any way - as you gasp. He was the perfect blend of scars, moles, muscles, and… tattoos? 

  The chuckle that tore from your throat at the sight of black ink along his skin, was met with that ever so quizzical eyebrow as he flushed at your laugh. 

  “I must admit that laughter at the sight of one’s nakedness does not instill confidence,” he noted as you shook your head. 

  “I hadn’t expected you to have tattoos, it was more of a shock than a jest,” you comment, sliding back ever so slightly while remaining on his lap to get a good view. 

  “Why would you assume I would refrain from body modifications? You have seen Hunter’s face, and you’ve heard me mention our brother Crosshair-” he started as you placed your index finger along the seam of his lip, effectively silencing him with a sultry stare and the simple action. 

  “You just seem so much more straight laced than your brothers, I hadn’t expected you to cover yourself in something as trivial as artwork. But, that being said, I can’t help but find it so incredibly alluring…” you lean down to the simple ‘99’ tattooed along the same shoulder his armor detailed a similar marking, lips familiarizing yourself with the lines as you pulled back. 

  “I can assure you, despite my reserved nature, I am hardly straight laced, as you say,” he quipped, relinquishing the time he allowed you to study the marks in his bronze skin. He’d let you examine them some other time, possibly even with explanations of their origins. Right now, he was growing impatient. 

  Pulling you forward by the back of your neck, he changed his mind at the last moment, deciding that your collar bones sticking out of the shifted top you wore looked delectable, sucking them between his teeth as you squirmed along his lap once more. Satisfied with the mark it left in his wake, Tech found himself in your sex-hazed gaze once more. 

  “Tell me that you wish for this to continue. Please. I am not sure I can find it in myself to behave like a gentleman if you wish to stop much further than this,” he groaned, voice strained by a tone you had never heard from him. Tech’s voice was quite different from his brothers. The husky tone he now used, reminiscent of a crackling campfire as it came from the back of his throat, and laced itself into a pleasured groan. 

  “Please. I want this- I want you,” came your whisper into his jaw, lips grazing the sharp bone there.

  I want you. 

  Tech couldn’t remember a time he was truly wanted. Usually his hookups stemmed from mutual boredom or someone realizing his brothers weren’t interested in them. A system of happenstance, of convenience of simple chance and mutual need for release. But to be told that he was desired, and that an intimate connection was wanted with someone he actually cared for on a personal level? A first.  

  And as for you, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but things certainly got lonely on Ord Mantell. Those friends on Coruscant slowly lost interest once you departed, leaving you with just Cid and acquaintances. The rest of your time alone in a dingy workshop or flat hidden away from the world. That was until Tech and the others came around. He brought a sense of belonging you hadn’t known. He brought company you’d been craving. He made you feel seen, appreciated and cared for.

  He brought his hand up under your shirt and bra to cup your breast. 

  One of the first things you had noticed about him, all those rotations ago, was how long and dexterous his whole body was, but particularly his hands. Fingers so thin and nimble, wound with callouses, scars and distinguishable marks from his times tinkering. It had been rare to see him without gloves, but that barrier’s first time being removed showed just truly how captivating such a mundane body part could be. 

  These were the hands of a soldier. A man bred specifically for war. These were the hands of a pilot, who’s tight grip upon the steering wheel had saved thousands of lives. These were the hands of a fellow engineer and mechanic who understood the complexities of how your mind worked. These were the hands of a man who cared for you. 

  And those hands currently were squeezing your nipple with the perfect amount of firmness to make you purr. 

  Deciding that the only thing in the world you wished for right now was the feeling of his chest on your unclothed one, you pulled back, hands finding the bottom of your top as you flung it just as unceremoniously as he had done with his own. Tech wasted no time in finding the latches on your bra, unhooking the material and tossing it to the side as his hands finally held the weight of both your breasts within him. 

  Despite his larger than normal hand size, your breasts fit inside his palms like a perfect handful, while his thumbs continue that onslaught along your nipples, his lips finding that wonderful spot below your ear that makes you breathe heavily. 

  Your own hands, still running through his caramel locks while he worked your body with such expertise, tugging every now and again as he groaned against your neck between kisses and leaving smaller marks that would likely fade in only a few hours. 

  “Are you adequately protected?” came the husky question into your jaw, followed by another nip. 

  “Implant…” you hummed out, head falling to the side to accommodate his mouth as he snickered slightly in response. 

  Lifting you from his lap with no warning, Tech’s fingers found the latches of your pants with no problem, undoing them and tugging them down your legs as you wobbled from where you stood on the floor. Once they were lowered enough, Tech abruptly stood next to you, steading your arm as you stepped out of them, his feet stepping on the trousers in order to help you remove them easily. 

  Your face turned to meet his own, his body towering over your own as he looked down at you. Despite the full head’s distance between you both, and the darkness of the flat with the power being knocked out, you could still see the way his eyes darted from your full, unclothed breasts to the newly revealed skin of your legs. 

  One of his hands found purchase along your chin, tipping your face up even higher as you rose along your tiptoes to match his height the best you could. His other hand started along your mid back, trailing down until he found your panty clad rear, rubbing along the now exposed right cheek. 

  “Would you allow me to take charge here Mesh’la?” He asked gently, his hand still caressing your skin reverently, but despite the unexpected softness of the words and actions, you felt that with the look he gave you there was something more. Something almost predatory in his eyes. 

  “What does that mean?” you ask, unable to shake the curiosity at his use of the language you presumed to be Mando’a. 

  “Such an inquisitive mind you have…” he chuckled, using the hand on your chin to move your face to the side. Your eyes drifted close as he pressed a sweet his to the side of your face, trailing down more until he reached your ear. “I can’t get enough of that mind of yours,” he admitted, nibbling your earlobe once before continuing, hand tightening around your ass as the tone shifted. “Beautiful. It means beautiful. Which is exactly what you are, my mirdala girl…” he whispered so gently as he pulled back, hand dropping as he wound them both around your lower back. 

  “You keep using words I do not understand, and you have to realize I will continue to ask what they mean,” you tease with a small smile, hands finding his shoulders as you lock yourself in the embrace. Tech still had on trousers and you only had on underwear, but something about the stillness of it all, yet with contradictory the electrical storm raging outside, was strangely peaceful. Tearing clothes off one another and jumping into bed was one thing, but this, this was building towards something much more intimate. 

  “Clever. I called you my clever girl,” he nods your direction, fingers trailing up and down the expanse of your exposed back ever so slightly. 

  “Ah,” you thrum out as your lips tug at the corner into a small smirk, barely visible in the low lighting. “Your clever girl? I wasn’t aware you had claimed me. Sounds a bit possessive don’t you think?” 

  “I suppose it could be considered possessive, although I do not see you running away from the notion. I am to assume that not only are you fine with that, but based on the way your grip in my hair has just tightened and your pupils have dilated, that you want that. That you want me to claim you in some way,” he notes, and you realize he is correct. His attunement to your body language is uncanny as you hadn’t realized you had done so. Unable to form a response, you nod gently. 

  “If you wish for me to stop, at any point, all you need to do is say so. Do you understand,” Tech let one hand fall from your back, reaching for his belt and once again you nodded, causing him to pause. 

  “Verbally. I want verbal consent. You can do that for me right my clever girl?” he used the phrase once again and you shuttered. Something about the way his voice dribbled with arousal in the fact he found your mind to be brilliant brought forth a surge of confidence. 

  “Yes. I trust you Tech,” you speak calmly and clearly despite the shaking in your hands. Anticipation building to the point your body could not contain the excitement of what he had planned. 

  You barely caught the smirk on his thin lips before he gripped your hips and spun you around, pushing your back down as you got the memo, laying yourself across the bed as you heard the sound of the belt buckle being undone and pants abruptly being shoved to the floor. 

  Once again his hands resumed that gentle and reverant stroking along your backside as a hum spilled from his lips. Looking back over your shoulder you saw such a glorious sight. Tech’s hands wrapped around his length as he stroked it slightly with one hand while holding your ass in the other. He glanced up from your bottom to make eye contact briefly as he took his bottom lip under straight white teeth. 

  Pausing momentarily he saw the thin scrap of underwear disappearing between your lower cheeks and decided now was a good time to rid you of the offending material, grabbing them and tugging them down slightly until they landed near your knees, allowing you to step out of them. 

  His hand resumed its position on your body, but this time, it gently nudged you up onto the bed, and you complied with his nonverbal request, positioning your body just slightly up on the bed as you held yourself up on your knees. From behind you could hear the way Tech sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth as his hand found that spot along your backside once more. 

  You had deduced early in this exchange of kissing that he likely was a man who preferred a bottom to breasts. Most men had a likeness to one over the other, and Tech was no different. The knowledge made you feel proud, arching your back ever so slightly as if to present it to him in the most appealing way you could given the position. 

  “You look so wonderful like this. I wish you weren’t behaving so nicely, so I would have an excuse to bring my hand down on you and mark you right here. However I would feel guilty doing such actions when you are being so perfect,” he admitted and you smiled at the wall, glancing back over your shoulder at him. 

  “Who said you can’t anyway. I hardly need to be a brat in order for you to spa-” you began the permission and he quickly resolved himself to take it the second you had granted it. The smack, not nearly as hard as you were anticipating but still firm, filling the air and stopping your sentence midway as you let out a squeak at the contact. 

  Your biceps flexing as you locked your arms to maintain your position on the bed, holding yourself up as his hand soothed the red flushed skin with care and attention. Tracing the hand up, you felt him rest it along your upper back as his fingers hooked over your shoulder, and near your knees you felt the mattress dip ever so slightly. 

  Tech covered the expanse of your back with his body, his left arm coming up to the side of you as he braced himself up just hovering over your back, his right hand moving to brush your hair over your shoulder so that his nose could trace along your upper back. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering along the skin of your shoulder blades as he lowered his mouth to kiss your back a few times gently. 

  “So pliable for me…” he praised as he continued to issue praise in the form of tender kisses that slowly made their way ending with your sweat-dampened temple. 

  Tech had always had sexual relationships from behind. There was an impersonal attitude that came with engaging in the act similarly to the way animals did. Not seeing the woman’s face, and only focusing on the connection of his body with theirs - it made him feel less awkward about the exchange. But something about the way his body caved around yours felt right. He was touching your body with his own almost completely, and he nearly fainted when he realized that he was enjoying the contact. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the damp nature both your bodies had developed in the precursor to intercourse, he felt delighted knowing he’d caused such reactions. So against every previous metric in his mind for engaging in sexual relations, he manuvored your body to your back, so that you could stare up at him as he lowered himself on top of you. 

  Tech wasn’t sure how to quantify the way his stomach began to flutter at the way you stared at him, nor the way your velvety skin along his felt, other than bliss. Something about the intimacy shook him to the core. It made him want to come undone and he hadn’t even slid into you yet. 

  You were surprised as his ability to be tender, as his index finger pushed the hair back from your face, cupping the back of your neck to lift it from the pillow as he pulled the longer strands of your hair - which you’d uncomfortably been laying on - above and around your face like a halo. How he’d realized you were slightly uncomfortable with the tugging caused by your back, you’d never know, but you’d be grateful for long after this exchange nonetheless. 

  “I’ve never met someone who had made me experience what I am feeling at this present moment,” he admitted, his nose leaning down as he gently caressed your own. Keeping it there, his forehead soon pressed against your own as his eyes searched yours for a reply. 

  “What are you feeling?” you whisper, eyes focusing on his right iris as the pupil waivered slightly larger before he continued speaking. 

  “Bliss. Euphoria. Revelry. Perhaps those are words that I could use to quantify it, and yet-” Tech began, hand searching for yours as you allowed him to wrap his fingers around yours while you stared at him expectantly. Your legs widening to accommodate him as you feel his tip slide between your folds and line up expertly with your hole. You are uncertain what he is trying to say, and in all honesty it appears that he is as well. His eyes drift close as, in a rare turn of events, his body wins out over his mind, and he presses within you before completing his thought. You can’t stop the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, no point in remaining open if his own are closed anyway. 

  You had expected him to slide in slowly, as his sweet words and actions leading to this point had been cautious almost, but instead he is direct in the way his cock slides into you as if it’s coming home. As if he’s returning to a place he was always meant to be. The stretch is gone in an instant as he plows into you abruptly at first, but pausing as he reaches the entrance of your womb with his tip. “They do not come close to describing the way I feel right now,” he whispered, making your eyes fly open once more as you stare up at him.

  You have died and gone to the afterlife. The Pykes most certainly killed you and left you in an alley on Ord Mantell. That is the only logical explanation for the way you were feeling. The only thing you can do is affectionately tighten your grip on your joined hands as you raise your hips slightly, giving him permission to move. 

  Tech didn’t need to be encouraged twice, sliding in and out of you with joy as he held himself up with one of his arms. Your head falling back into the pillow as you lose yourself between his calculated thrusts, he decides that not being able to look into your eyes while he continues to make himself at home within your body isn’t what he wants.

  You feel his grip slipping from your hand and anticipate it will go to your breasts for a playful tug, but when you feel his fingers on your jaw, pulling your face back you once again look up at him, curiously. 

  “I. Want. To. See. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he commands and you feel a shiver that starts near your neck and travels the length of your body as you nod, legs widening even further as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. 

  His hand abandons your chin as he places it along your side, raising your body at the hips so you can meet his thrusts, your eyes staring deeply into his own. Tech had surprised even himself in demanding to see you staring at him while he plowed into you, but something about watching your face as he pushed you both in the direction of release made him feel a pride he’d never known before. With each lewd noise coming from where you were joined, to each whimper or sigh leaving your lips, to the sweat he felt along his brow from exertion - he felt more of that blossoming heat in his stomach at the passion between your bodies. 

  You feel similarly, as you wrap your legs around his thin waist, holding him there so that your union is only intensified and he can reach that absolutely tender spot within your walls that becomes electric when he begins to repeatedly stimulate it over and over again with his steady thrusts. “Tech…” you whimpered as he continued his movement, no external indications that he is approaching orgasm, despite the fact it is true. 

  “Say my name again, please-” he whimpers as you nod, once again saying his name while he pushes inside of you especially hard, a yell tearing from your throat as your hips chant up after his retreat, wanting another harsh thrust. He delivers it immediately, his body pushing you into the bed as he begins frantically diving into you with reckless abandon. 

  “Where?” he demands, your hips held in his hand as his fingers squeeze harshly. You can tell he’s close now, the fire in his eyes doing nothing to dull the flames of desire that both of your bodies are feeling as he plunges into your warmth.

  “Inside-” you give him the permission and once again he does not hesitate to take it, his hand abandoning your waist in order to rub feverish circles upon your clit so that you approach orgasm the same time he does. Your voice calls out his name loudly as you feel every nerve ending within your body set ablaze. He responds to you, chanting yours in response as he pushes his load so deeply within your walls you gasp at the way his tip quivers against the opening of your womb. You feel the throbbing inside until he slows to a stop, body collapsing on top of yours as you both gasp for air. 

  His breathing, erratic against your neck as you push his now half gelled and half wild hair off his forehead while you slow your heart rate the best you can. He’s growing soft within you, but you can tell that even while flaccid he’s still larger than the average man. Tech eventually pulls back from your neck, eyes searching for yours as his hand cups the side of your face lovingly. 

  “You are incredible,” he comments kindly as you blush, feeling as he begins to slip from within you, his spill landing somewhere on the covers below you. You don’t really care. You can clean it later. 

  “So are you,” you return the compliment as he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more, this time only using his lips in order to show affection not reignite the passion of your endeavor. 

  “Yes, but I was genetically engineered that way. You have come by your splendor naturally,” Tech replies as you laugh, lights immediately flickering back on as you both startle at the suddenness of seeing each other without the dulled darkness of your flat. 

  “That is one way to put it. Still doesn’t make you any less wonderful Tech,” you tell him, immediately feeling more self conscious with the added light. This becomes something he notices almost immediately, as he leans up to get a better view of you. Your body was covered in small love bites and a few bruises from where he’d gripped a bit too hard. Lips swollen from his kisses and sweat covering all of you. Hair disheveled and yet - you looked like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

  “And I thought you were lovely in the twilight, but my dear you look positively exquisite,” he encourages you as he lowers his mouth to your brow before kisses between your eyebrows and then over each closed eyelid. 

  “Such a way with words,”  you say sweetly and he immediately begins snickering as you blink confused at his outburst. 

  “If I recall, the first time we met, I insulted your ability to fix Cid’s gambling device” he reminds her. It seemed so long ago he had done that, and from then you had only grown closer. Finding a mutual understanding. Finding friendship. Finding the beginnings of love. 

  “You did,” you scoff at the memory. 

  “I remember crawling under the control panel and when you yelped, thinking that I thought I was going to stop breathing,” Tech admits and you are surprised. 

  “What do you mean?” 

  “I just couldn’t help but think that I had suddenly found myself in close proximity with a very beautiful woman. And that feeling only intensified once I discovered your love of engineering. Since then it’s grown to a point I find it distracting,” Tech explains and you smile. 

  “Oh so you really like me then,” you chide, almost childishly as he rolls his eyes at your antics. 

  “I believe the fact that my seed is actively leaking out of you to be sufficient proof as to my interest in you,” he bluntly states. You grimace looking down at the sheer quantity of said mess. It was more than you realized. 

  “Would you like to get in the refres-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off abruptly as you laugh. You figured he wouldn’t enjoy being unclean. He lifts his body off of you with ease and holds out a hand to help you rise from the bed. 

  “I am going to want a full detailed report on all of these,” you tell him, finger tracing one of the tattoos on his shoulder. 

  “I believe I can arrange that,” he chides with a small peck to your forehead, pulling you along to the small shower stall your flat has. 

  As he walks just ahead of you, you can’t help but think that this blossoming romance might have been worth the emergency landing on Ord Mantell all those years ago. 

The end.

[marihem]

Hiiiiiiii!!! I need your frans AUs injected into my veins POST HASTE. I'm lowkey missing your Roommate AU rn! Your probs super busy with art and comms, but I'd love to hear about any of your head canons for how their specific story goes and if they'll ever realize their affections for each other (if ever)

AAAAAWWWWW I'm really glad to hear that dear anon 🥹🥹 Thank you for thinking about them even while I'm on a break from them ^^ (unbelievable, what kind of a parent am I smh). I am indeed a tad bit busy with the comms but it's mostly because I'm juggling with college works on the side...or rather it's the comm works that should be the side work, you know, priorities. And also because I'm a hella slow drawer that it's actually painful to see how damm slow I am haha

Aaahh Roommate Banter AU...to set the scene, it takes place in a universe where there wasn't any war between monsters and humans and they've always lived in cohesive (like Deltarune). Frisk is an adopted child of Asgore and Toriel Dreemurr who are now seperated (lol) but are on good terms. Frisk is closer to Asgore who's the mayor of their small town which motivated them to pursue in Political Science. Sans and Papyrus are just orphans who, after some hard work, live stably in their home and jobs. Frisk and Sans were in the same neighborhood for a long time and in later events, they both decided to rent an apartment together that is near Frisk's university (going back for Master's in political science) and Sans' job (intern at the Ebbott City Lab). And they were roommates...(please say the Line for me)

And honestly, I don't have any plans of a story for this AU. This is more of a slice of life style thing with no plot. I could go into stuff about the Sans' job at the Lab and what Frisk does with their knowledge to contribute to upgrading their town and community together with Asgore. But I'm too dumb for that and all I wanna focus on is these two lil guys. Maybe they will recognise their affection for each other some day and do something about it but until then, this is what you'll have. Because I'm a lover of slow burn who lives for the build ups and times before the getting-together, who thinks a slow burn should take 150k words MINIMUM (still haven't gotten it), all you'll get from me is the prankings, the pinings, the bickerings, annoying roommate moments, etc etc. with no plan for them get together :3 I'm sorry! ✋️✋️

Anyways thank you for being interested in my blorbos ^^ I had to make a doodle for you! I wish you a wonderful day/night pal <3

[mgghoney]

pairing// matthew gray gubler and reader || wc// 614

summary// shared trinkets, shared gifts, double the joy

"Matt I bought us trinkets."

"Wait, show me—" You hear the sound of a car as he turns on the camera, attaching you to his screen as he hums. "You're gonna hear wind."

"Wait, is that a convertible?! Oh my god!" You yell.

"You sound a lot better than yesterday." He laughs.

"Yeah. I feel better too." You peer at your screen, blinking. "Can I get a car tour when you get home?"

"Yeah." He hums. "It's dark out. Can you still see me?"

"I'll see you in the flashing lights of Miami." You blink. "That should be a song name."

"I got you a little something. Well, some... things. Different film?"

You gasp. "No!"

"Found a nice little old shop while out. Talked to one of the locals to see if she knew a camera shop around the area. Real sweet, by the way. She was a fan's mom. She also had a dog." He hums. "I ended up getting a handful of film rolls that looked nice regardless of camera. I would've handed him the film to process, but I figured you'd like to do that together."

"Ugh, you're so sweet." You mumble.

"I hit a red. What did you get?"

"Okay, so I got a bunch. You can pick when you get back." You dangle them on your fingers the best you can, holding them up as you show Matt the little trinkets.

"They're opalescent." He raises a brow.

"You know that's how I like them." You hum. "Oyumaru-looking trinkets are my favorite. Anyways, I have sea-inspired ones, and then I have a sun, a star, and a moon. You're taking the sun, no arguement. I also got this super cute star. Also this adorable looking fish with the huge lips. Anyways, you'll get to pick granted I don't give half of them away when it—"

"How heavy is your load this semester?"

"...Matt, don't clock me like that."

"Doing the math to see how much you're going to spend." He looks over the car, making a turn. "Will it help if we meet up?"

"It would help if you'd come back."

"I go where the wind takes me."

"Should intern for you." You hum, shaking the trinkets off. "Will you call me crazy if I told you I didn't actually wanna graduate so fast?"

"The luxury of time." Matt stops again, watching you. "Take it from me."

"Old man."

"Yeah, yeah." He hums. "Do you need financial help? I can—"

"No." You cut him off. "Matt, I know you're wonderful, but I can do it. Also, moving out of New York is definitely going to help."

"Yeah. Costs quite a bit, hm?"

"Beautiful city, but the prices are." You grimace.

"You won't be around anymore?"

"If I'm back home, then it won't make—"

"You wanna rent my other apartment?"

You pause, blinking at him as you hear him pull into a driveway.

"Sorry, your what? Matt, I'm not about to get anywhere involved with you financially. I don't want that." You hum. "I'll survive. I promise. I'll get my degree and I'll see where I go next."

"Will you let me visit?"

"I'll give you an air mattress if you'd like." You hum.

"The comfortable one?"

"Yes." You hum. "You're not going to leave me unless you decide to."

"I would never."

"Then you stay."

"You wanna see my place?"

"You should rest." You smile. "Please come home soon. I miss you."

"Miss you too. I mailed you a postcard. Hope you like it."

"I will."

"Yeah?"

You laugh. "I will. Rest well, Matt. Don't let the beg bugs bite."

"I'll give them a squeeze if they do."

"Night."

"Night."

[auspicioustidings]

Lost Boys

1. Horror Fan

Summary: Shameless COD Lost Boys AU as an excuse to try writing some smut because @ohbo-ohno has been killing me.

Words: 3.7k

CW: Dubcon bordering on noncon, rough sex

One thing about Santa Carla she could not stomach? All the damn locals.

She was used to working in Coney Island and she had thought this boardwalk out in California wouldn't be much different. She had been immediately proven wrong when she had arrived a week ago, moving in to a falling apart cabin out on the edge of town that Keegan had sworn up and down would be her dream home if she was willing to fix it up. He hadn't really explained how he came to own the place, but then he was the definition of a carny if she ever knew there to be one. She was pretty sure there wasn't one amusement park that man had not worked at, although conversations always seemed to draw back to Santa Carla.

It wasn't like his charming convincing had been the only reason she'd found herself here. She loved Coney Island, had practically grown up on the Thunderbolt, was damn near inconsolable when they shut it 5 years ago. But Coney Island now was not the same as the one she grew up with, everyone who worked there felt it. The rides were falling apart, closing or being torn down. Two people she knew had been shot this year alone. The place turned into an open air brothel at night it felt like, and not in the fun way back when it had all been music and moonlight and sex and rock and roll. It was sad.

Plus she was dirt poor, the decline of the amusements meaning she wasn't picking up as much work. If Keegan had wormed his way into her head with all his talk about how dangerous a neighbourhood she lived in, how much safer an actual house would be, how if someone would renovate it he wouldn't even charge rent because it would really help him out since he was currently travelling, well then she had been stupid enough not to pick up on the obvious trap.

Falling apart and very eerily decorated cabin aside, her first day on the Boardwalk felt like a series of increasing red flags. She loved the scent of the place, the bright cars grinding against their chains as they were dragged bodily up to the summit of the coaster under the hot sun, the sticky sweetness of candy apples being cut through with the salt the surfers dragged with them from the sea, the slight undertone of something mischievous, something even sinister. Any boardwalk she had been to had that same undercurrent, the same lurking sense of danger that sent her heartbeat running in excitement. This one it was dialled all the way to 11.

"Oi chiquita! I've not seen you around here before."

She turned. Surfer, well 2 of them actually. The one who had spoken was older than her in a way that really made his handsomeness cause her to scold herself. No sleeping with older men on your first day in a new city, even if the accent was like molasses. The one next to him was younger. Both incredible looking if she was honest, Keegan had not been kidding when he had said the people in Santa Carla were deathly attractive.

"Maybe I'm a tourist" she replied.

"Ah a pretty thing like you visiting all alone? You'll get eaten right up" said the other, both of them looking at her with an amusement over a joke she was not in on.

"Good thing I'm so bitter then, reckon I'll get spat right back out."

They laughed and she kept a light look of friendly amusement on her face, internally thinking that these guys were rude as fuck. She near jumped out of her skin when she felt a breath at her neck, whipping her head around to find a female surfer had sniffed at her throat.

"Ella huele dulce, ella sabrá más dulce" the newcomer purred.

"Atrás Valeria" the older man snapped.

"You're so up tight Alejandro" Valeria laughed meanly before turning to look at her, eyes dragging up and down in heated appraisal. "If you get bored of them, you'll come find me won't you dalzura?"

With that the woman sauntered off towards the beach, all arrogance and sex appeal. It wasn't like she hadn't heard her fair share of pick-up lines and come ons, it was practically a given when you worked at places like these, but it was rarer for a woman to come on to her and rarer still for the woman to have such an aggression about her. She'd be lying if it didn't cause a little spark of excitement to zip up her spine.

Alejandro and the other man watched Valeria go with something like suspicion.

"Be careful after dark, the boardwalk gets crowded with all sorts" the younger man said with a knowing wink.

"If you're still around tomorrow in the sunshine, me and Rudy will be on the waves" Alejandro added before they both took off after Valeria, seemingly intent on getting into some sort of fight.

Odd trio she thought, but most people who lived near places like this were. The locals only got odder as the day went on.

An absolute giant of a man in a hood whose eyes had narrowed in on her when she passed him, an exhibit in a freak show. The chains on him must have been for show, but the way they strained when he had lunged at her actually did make her jump.

The Southern man who seemed to have some sort of control over all of the game stalls, told her when she had tried out the ring toss that his shadows had been telling him she had won most of the games she had tried but not taken any prizes. It ran a chill up her spine the way he eyed her when he introduced himself, the name Graves spilling off his tongue like whisky.

The one who actually gave her a job, Alex, seemed normal enough, the only thing out of the ordinary being a false leg. Well normal enough until it became apparent he was very knowledgeable about Santa Carla being the murder capital of the world. She didn't like that he spoke about it like it was something exciting, but as long as she had money in hand to operate a carousel she could overlook his quirks. He told her she could work the evening shift after watching her carefully run through things, proving that this was all familiar to her. This one had brass rings, she knew she'd probably spend her evening ducking out of the way of them when rowdy ride goers decided they would rather hit someone than redeem the ring for a free ride.

--

With the last wash of sunlight she wandered the shops around the area, sliding into a video store just as night fell to see if she couldn't find something to watch when she would get home after her first shift. Maybe Hellraiser was out on VHS now, she had missed it in the theatre and Keegan had told her it was fun.

"Hello there. John Price, how can I help?"

Back in New York it wasn't uncommon to hear a British accent, but this was the first one she had heard here. The man it came from was tall and had a hell of a beard. Bit eccentric looking with a fishing hat on his head, but with the people she was coming across today that seemed par for the course.

"Hi sir! Is Hellraiser out yet?" she asked as politely as she could muster. She knew that she was as much a carny as Keegan and that it tended to make respectable older people intensely dislike her from the get go if she didn't do everything to assure them she was an upstanding young lady.

"Horror fan?"

"A friend recommended it, to be honest I'm not sure what it's about."

She heard the bell going off, more people coming into the store. Her eyes caught on them, not least because one of them was in a skull mask. Tall as well, God so many people on this Boardwalk dwarfed her. Mr Price reacted very much like he knew them and was keeping an eye on them. The one with the mohawk was staring openly at her, leaning over to whisper something to the one with the moustache. Probably trouble makers, young men who lived in the area and were generally a nuisance on the Boardwalk. It got her back up a little, she had always hated people like them bullying everyone else, menacing businesses in the area because they were bored.

Mr Price had his arms crossed as him and the masked one stared at one another. To try de-escalate whatever this was she put a hand gently to one of his forearms.

"I'm happy to take any recommendations from you though."

Her attempt both worked and failed. Mr Price did turn his attention back to her, giving her a soft smile that all but made her melt. He seemed like a genuinely lovely man, the first one of the day. It was somewhat ruined by the boisterous laughter of the one with the mohawk.

"Look at this wee lassie, speaking all bonnie" he laughed, his rumbling accent and mocking putting her firmly in a place between annoyed and aroused.

He took a few steps forward, getting into her space. God he didn't half loom over her and he was not even the tallest man here. With him on one side of her and Mr Price on the other she felt like a prey animal. She could not tear her eyes away from the Scottish man as he grinned down at her. He was magnetic in the way watching an acrobat was, it felt like someone could die at any moment but she couldn't help but look. His rough hand carded through her hair and settled at her neck and she was sure he was about to kiss her. There was something terrifying about his presence the more she was in it, if he kissed her she thought her fight or flight might fail her and go instead to freeze.

"That's enough" Mr Price said, snapping her out of the odd trance she felt she was in. "You have a shift to get to love, on you go" he continued, putting a firm hand to the small of her back and steering her a little to get her moving towards the door.

The other man only moved when the one in the mask wrapped a gloved hand around the back of his neck, squeezing like she imagined someone would do to an errant mutt. It wasn't until she was out in the open air and gulping in breaths that she realised she had never told Mr Price she had a shift that evening. Word must travel fast here she supposed.

--

Her first night on the Boardwalk had put her out of her mind. God it was like being punched in the face with the ghost of what Coney Island should have been; swarmed with bodies that choked out all the oxygen, making it difficult to breathe anything that wasn't thick with the taste of the writhing masses. It made her sick in a way that bordered on delirium.

The carousel was always full, the music throbbing all the way into her molars. The bright colours flooding with artificial light meant she couldn't see much beyond the machine, feeling like she existed on a tiny island of horses and bodies. Touch was the only sense she felt she could trust now, a sensation that was what made her fall in love with this line of work in the first place. She would drag her hands past the horses, grip the brass rings so tight it made her knuckles white before returning them to the dispenser for the next person to try their hand, walk against the direction of the floor just to feel the breeze prickle goosebumps on her skin.

The hand on her arm felt searing hot.

"There you are, didn't even introduce yourself before you were running off like a scared little doe."

The man in the skull mask had a voice like gravel, speaking right into her ear to be heard over the music. It made it feel intimate knowing that the sound of him would not travel to anyone else, that it was only for her. She could not let him know that she was scared of him, of any of them. If she was going to work here, she needed the locals to know she could hold her own, that she wasn't someone for them to mess around with.

"I'm not scared, certainly not of you" she lied, puffing out her chest.

"Prove it."

He left her standing there dumbstruck, shaking and feeling slick between her legs from the way he had growled it into her ear. The moment he was off of the carousel it was like he had melted into the crowd beyond. Alex showed up at some point, she didn't know how long it had been, and told her that he would take over. His eyes were bright and excited and it made her want to throw up.

--

He was waiting for her, the skull mask man. Her stomach was doing flips at the sight of him on a bike. She thought it might fully turn itself inside out when the Scottish man materialised behind her, pressing his nose to her pulse point before tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. Sharp, they felt sharp.

"Ghost says yer naw a fraidey cat, reckons you'd be willing to prove it" he cooed into her ear, big hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her onto the back of the bike behind Ghost. "Better hold on, he's naw going tae go slow."

Before she could get herself right back off of the bike one of Ghost's hands grabbed her arm, wrenching it around his waist and holding it there in a vice grip. When the bike took off she had little choice but to wrap the other arm around to avoid being thrown off, screaming into his ear to let her go. He did, putting his second hand back to the handles. At the speed they were going it didn't help, she had to keep clinging. She heard the howling of the Scottish man, on his own bike speeding along next to them.

She was scared out of her mind but the solidness of the body she was wrapped around and the hard vibrating of the seat between her legs was torturous in a way that was so sickeningly incompatible with her fear.

When they stopped she was dazed, trying to resist the whine that wanted to escape when the engine cut out and the bike stilled beneath her. The body in front of her shifted, moving until he was sat facing her. She put her hands to his shoulders, meaning to use them as leverage to push herself up and off the bike but instead The Scottish man pushed her back down from behind, his hand quickly moving from her shoulders down her front.

"Fuck baby, ye enjoy that huh? Could see ye grinding down whenever Si revved up" he groaned, groping roughly at her tits.

This was wrong, she should not be here. She should not be doing this. The adrenaline was so she could get out of this situation, not so she could moan loudly when his fingers found her nipple and fucking twisted.

"I already know you're soaked, can smell it pet" Ghost said, almost cruel, before biting off a glove and shoving a hand into her pants. He stroked two fingers up the length of her cunt, making sure his nail caught her clit the second time and laughing at her when she cried out at the sensation. Watching him withdraw his hand and show his glistening fingers to the man behind her made humiliation burn through her.

"Open up Johnny."

She was caught in the middle of them as Johnny took Ghost's fingers in his mouth, moaning as he messily suckled her off of them. There was no music here, no crowds to cover the noises of Johnny sloppily choking himself on Ghost's fingers, his saliva dripping onto her shoulder.

"Please Si, please let me eat her" he begged around Ghost's fingers and fuck if that didn't make her clench.

"Patience Johnny" Ghost scolded in response, withdrawing his fingers and grabbing at her jeans, pulling them off of her. It was a little awkward with how they were positioned, but once he got one leg off of her foot he just left her jeans dangling from the other, not bothering to get them all the way off now that he had the access he wanted.

The cool night air smacked onto her bare skin like an open palm. He rucked up her shirt next, pushing her down until her lower back hit the bike in the process so that her head was hanging off the end, lined right up with Johnny's dick which was visibly straining against his pants.

She tried to bring herself back up only to scream when a hand slapped hard onto her pussy, the thin fabric of her soaked panties doing little to soften the blow.

"Stay fucking still doll unless I tell you otherwise" Ghost growled at her.

He didn't take her panties off, just shoved them out of the way so he could spear two fingers into her. She yelped, trying to move back but only managed to grind her face against Johnny who growled long and low.

"So fucking tight" Ghost hissed, pumping his fingers in and out, "Johnny get her to relax would you?"

She could hardly breathe when Johnny leaned over her, clothed dick pushing relentlessly against her face, so that he could grip onto her hips and start lapping at her clit over her panties. She weakly pounded her fists against his thighs but if he could feel it then he wasn't reacting, seemingly lost in the task at hand.

"That's it, such a little slut for it, making a fucking mess of my bike."

It was overwhelming, the lack of oxygen, the feeling of Johnny sucking and licking at her clit like he was made for it, the fingers pistoning in and out, Ghost's degrading. Her hips tried desperately to buck up but Johnny only growled like an animal and held them roughly down as she came, not letting up for even a second.

The tears were streaming from her eyes by the time they made her cum again, a delicious stretch coming from Ghost adding a third finger. Johnny was rock hard against her face, rutting into her and starting to whine.

"Si, please. Please I'll be good. I'll be so good. Need her bonnie mouth around my cock or I'm gonna die. Please" he begged incoherently.

She was boneless when Johnny stood, giving her some breathing room. The pathetic whine she gave when Simon's fingers left her cunt should have been embarrassing, but she was barely able to formulate a full thought. The sound of clothing being adjusted should have been the first clue that they were nowhere near done. The sight of a throbbing cock at her lips was a pretty big second one.

"Come on, there ye go lass, fuuuuuck that's it" Johnny hissed as he pushed himself into her mouth. Nobody had ever been in her mouth at this angle, her head dangling upside down. He kept pushing in even when her panic response set in at the intrusion, hands battering against his legs and she gagged around him and tried to shift away, further towards where Ghost was sitting.

She screamed around the cock in her throat when Ghost rammed himself into her.

"I said stay fucking still!" he growled, leaving no time for adjustment before setting a hard and fast pace, every thrust sending her jolting back onto Johnny's dick.

Fuck it was so much, she was so full, she couldn't fucking breathe. Johnny had a hand around her throat, feeling his own bulge there as he fucked in and out of her.

"Steamin' Jesus, you take cock like a fucking dream bonnie."

The reverence he said it with sent her hurtling towards another orgasm, the pain still just on the side of pleasure.

"Fucking slut, trying to milk me aren't you? Want me to cum in this pretty little cunt and knock you up doll? Is that it?"

"Fuck Si, need tae cum, please let me cum."

Ghost was growling, not giving her a break as he fucked her through her orgasm to the point that the overstimulation was painful. Johnny's thrusts were erratic now, making it even harder to figure out when to breathe.

"Earn it, make her cum again."

She was pretty sure she would die if she came again, but Johnny leaned over her body and went right back to work, slobbering all over her clit as Ghost continued to mercilessly piston in and out of her. She tried to squirm, tried to do anything to get Johnny's mouth the fuck off of her. The hand around her throat squeezed.

"Fucking take it" he growled against her clit, a sharp sting from an incisor grazing against it jolting her before he sucked hard. She howled around his cock and felt herself squeeze hard against Ghost's as she saw stars.

"That's it, good fucking girl" Ghost hissed, burying himself to the hilt and letting that delicious squeeze milk him dry inside her.

She was so thoroughly fucked out that when Johnny came down her throat she couldn't swallow, just choking and sputtering as she hung limply off of the bike. When hands gently pushed her back up so she was sat upright the blood all rushing back down from her head made her pass out.

It could have been seconds or hours later when she screamed herself back into consciousness, feeling the sharp sting of teeth sinking into the flesh of her throat.