#I need to step up my painting game that was a painful process and I don't think its supposed to be that hard

[duchell]

Right on top of those notes

[olomaya]

More Activities Activity Table

Eat, Play, Learn! Family Fun for Everyone!

2-Sep Update: Thank you @jeebeehey for the French translation. Please redownload if you'd like them.

Updated for redownload (27 July):

Fixed an issue where the interaction cancels out if a toddler doesn't like the food. Thanks to @zemyna for catching!

Added the non-English stbls. Sorry, I swear I'm not one of those Anglophones that thinks English is the only language (I actually speak 3!), it's just a small step in the upload process that's easy to forget.

This is the final part of my little Kids and Toddlers mod series. It's meant to complement the Coloring Book and the Toddler foods mods so you will need those for this.

When I started this, I didn't think through how many new animations or custom details it would entail and I as continued, I kept having to add more and more. There are like 60 animations and 40 image assets 😭 hence why the two main files are so large for a mod.

What I've done is added more activities to the Activity Table after years of being annoyed that the Activity Table we have in TS3, despite being the EXACT SAME table from TS2, does not in fact allow your Sims to draw on it. EA, so lazy!

Anyway, what this does is add 4 new interactions to the Activity Table: Coloring, Arts & Crafts, Puzzles and the ability to serve toddlers food so they can eat there.

The activities are for toddlers and kids only but Teens+ can join in the puzzles if it's already been started by a toddler or child.

Note this will work with any of the Activity Tables in the game or Store but the puzzle will look weird as it's placed in the same spot as where the blocks are. You can use it with custom/cc activity tables provided only the mesh has been edited (for example, if slots are changed or removed, it may not work).

Credits/Thanks: The glue bottle, crayon, CAS paint items and one of the arts and crafts image assets are from @aroundthesims. Thanks as always to Sandy for her generosity and creativity in making Sims content! I originally only wanted to add the option to color/draw but this set of hers inspired me to add in more features. (hmm, maybe I shouldn't be thanking you then considering what a pain that was 🤔😅) All other objects and images are from TS4. Custom animations are by me using TS4 and TS3 as bases.

All buyable objects (table, crayons, puzzles) can be found in Kids Room/Toys.

Check out my other mods in the Kids and Toddlers series: Coloring Book for Kids, Toddler Bed, Toddler Foods and Snacks.

If you run into any issues (and YOU'VE READ THROUGH THE INSTRUCTIONS) please let me know!

Please read below the cut for all the details on features and how to play.

Download here | Alternate Link: SFS

Coloring: Toddlers and Kids can color if there is a crayon box on the lot. Just like using a coloring book, coloring a picture will take up one crayon. Coloring increases painting skill for both. When completed, the final project will be in their inventory.

Arts & Crafts: Toddlers and Kids can do an arts and craft project. Not additional object is needed. They go pretty crazy with the glitter and glue so it can be dirty stuff if they don't have the neat trait. This activity decreases their hygiene and they will get covered in glitter paint when done. Similar to coloring, when completed, the final project will go in their inventory and they get painting skill while playing.

Puzzles: You need to buy a puzzle box and have it on your lot to do puzzles. There are two puzzle boxes but they do the same thing. And they stack! (I love stackable things) There are 3 puzzle types: Easy, medium and Hard. Toddlers can only do Easy puzzles. Children can do either easy, medium or Hard puzzles depending on their Logic skill (for Hard, logic needs to be 3 or higher). The puzzle difficulty will also determine how long it takes to complete the puzzle. Teens+ can help with puzzles but they can't start a puzzle on their own. Toddlers can kids can start a puzzle on their own or help another Sim with a puzzle. Puzzles increase Logic skill for all those playing it but will increase faster for whoever starts the puzzle. If a puzzle is completed, everyone who helped put it together will get bonus skill points. If there is already a puzzle on the table, there is no option to start another, you can only help with the current puzzle. There are different puzzle images (15 in total) but there's no difference between them. The only thing that matters is puzzle difficulty. If the Sim who started the puzzle stops for whatever reason (you or the game cancels the interaction), everyone else helping will stop as well.

Eating: Children+ can serve toddlers meals or snacks. It works the same as my Toddler Foods and Snacks mod. They will place the tray/bowl on the activity table and then call the toddler to eat. If the toddler is hungry, they will go over and start eating. Otherwise, they can always eat it later.

Known Issues:

Animations aren't perfect (but what in life is?) so there's some clipping, especially on the toddlers when they kneel.

The comically large puzzle piece accessory jumps around a little and sits kind of weird in the toddler's hand. I suspect this is because the game is using the adult version of the object animation. I've noted it for fixing whenever I do a second pass on the mod.

The food tray is upside down. Setting object rotation in-game messes up the routing for the table so I'm leaving it as is as it doesn't really bother me.

If there is a food tray or bowl on the table, you shouldn't be able to do anything else there because that slot/part is being used but I had this happen once where my tester child started coloring there. It didn't happen again but if it does happen in your game, simply cancel out the interaction and route them to another part of the table.

The puzzle leaves a shadow even when it's pile form because the shadow mesh is there but you only see it until the geostate changes.

This is not an issue but the alternate material states for objects are only available in high so if you play with graphic settings for objects on medium or low, you're going to see the default image for the puzzles or pictures.

Tagging for reblogs: @kpccfinds @katsujiiccfinds @pis3update

[pukanavis]

[18Trip] Toi Shiramitsu Mayor Novel "The Day I Became an Angel" Chapter 1 | The Ritual Room

Part 1 | Part 2

*Before you choose to continue, please note that the novels contain major spoilers for the main story of the game, and it is recommended that you only read them once you have finished the main story!

There’s a ritual that Grandfather told me about, one that the heads of the Shiramitsu family have passed down for generations.

It’s a mandatory process in order to be blessed with the powers of an angel, apparently.

Subsequently, I was determined to try my hardest. Once the 9 day long ritual ended, they said that an angel—Oshisha-sama—would settle within my body. I told myself without a shadow of doubt, that I would make it through.

“Ah…aah…uhgg…”

When they first locked me away, I felt scared, panicked, I called out for my brother to save me, and wept for hours. When I no longer had the strength to even cry, I finally began to feel a semblance of peace. I was cold, tired and starved, but I promised myself I would persist. At times, I couldn't hold back the strange groaning sounds that slipped out. And yet, and yet…

“Uu…aah…”

The mucous membranes in my parched throat dried out, making it painful to even draw a breath. I was so thirsty that spots began to fill my vision.

I told myself to keep going.

“Aah…”

My fingers, devoid of nearly all their strength, clawed at the ground. There was a strange design painted across the floor. Mother said it was a summoning circle that would bring forth Oshisha-sama.

I scratched at the circle, almost as if I were tracing the lines.

In order to earn Oshisha-sama's favour, it is imperative that one must be near death. Oshisha-sama won’t come otherwise, they say.

“Does...Oshisha-sama like it when...people are on their deathbed…?” 

My voice was hoarse. It didn’t sound like it belonged to me. It reminded me of the wailing ghosts I saw around town, the ones that had suffered miserable deaths.

I thought it was a little strange that Oshisha-sama liked people on the drink of death. He is an angel, after all. I had always imagined angels as beings that saved those in need.

“Ah, ah…aah…”

Even so, Oshisha-sama was going to save me from this pain. He and I would form a bond and then…and then…uhm…?

My head was screaming. I struggled to form a coherent thought. I was trying my hardest not to fall asleep, but my consciousness began to slip away from me. My body was trying to make me rest, but I couldn't. It was the one thing I couldn't let happen.

I leaned against the wall in an attempt to keep myself awake but with no strength left in my frail neck, my head slumped backwards.

My eyes landed on the sole tiny window in my cell, the only thing that allowed light to seep through. 

The dark, cloudy sky beyond it seemed to go on forever.

“...”

They say that the family my brother and I were born into—the Shiramitsu family—have been possessed by angels for generations.

Many of their children showed a sense for the paranormal and possessed clairvoyance, psychic abilities and a talent for divination…they used these powers to provide aid to others and steadily amassed a following of believers.  Mother and Grandfather say that our family is famed within those areas.

“It is the duty of the Shiramitsu family…to help people.”

Just as they had told me, I too had psychic abilities. I could see ghosts and phantoms and even speak with them if they were open to it.

Ani-sama doesn’t have any psychic power…I must have hogged it all to myself while we were in Mother’s tummy.

Instead, all the masculinity and coolness that I lack went to him. Ani-sama has always been my very own shining hero…

“...”

My thoughts were a scattered mess and it began to feel like I may never again be the way I once was.

Maybe I really had been just a step away from reaching my limit. I could feel unconsciousness creeping up the longer I remained in that state. Grandfather warned me not to fall asleep, but what fate would I meet if I happened to faint?

Would I become a failure if I lost consciousness? Would they be mad at me?

No, no, I’m not afraid of anyone being upset with me. What scares me is failing and not being able to become a source of help for everyone.

I have to keep going. I have to do this, for everyone. I have to.

But…but my body, it wants so so desperately to just—

“Toi!”

“...!”

—The sight I saw at that moment…

“Toi, are you okay!?”

The sight beyond that little window—

Before I knew it, the skies had cleared and light began to pour past the glass.

“Ah…”

The shadows cast by the barred window piled onto one another, swallowed by a single silhouette. Backed by the gleaming moonlight, was my brother—

“Toi, Toi…!”

It was as if a new God had just descended onto Earth.

Oh no…what do I do now? I was waiting for Oshisha-sama, but God had shown up ahead of the angel. Maybe I had already died… No, that couldn’t be right.

“Ani…sama…!” I called back.

My brother's face crumpled with guilt. He called my name in a pained voice. Ani-sama was distressed…because of me.

Please, don’t make that face. Don’t feel sad over me. I’m okay.

I wanted to hold him in my arms.  I wanted to assure him everything was okay. I wanted dearly to touch him one more time.

I wanted to take away my brother’s pain, no matter what may happen to me. I wanted to heal his sorrow.

I didn't even need to be the one to do it. Please, someone, anyone—

And then it happened.

“Are you my next host?” a voice echoed in my head.

Part 1 | Part 2

[aden-iat410]

IAT410 - Personal Process Week 7

For week 6, I was a little swamped with other work, so I spent all the time I could allocate that week on the grunt enemy and the Guards.

The guard was fairly simple, they just need to run and shoot while standing still, so I made a simple shooting animation where the shoulders kick back from the recoil. The walking was a little more tricky, since the gun look a little wierd exh time i tried to convey it shacking side to side. I did eventualy get it looking decent, so moved on to the grunt.

The grunts are slow moving, xombie like creatures. To convey them shambling, I used extra frames where they overextend their movements. when walking, before returning to the stand in the middle of their walk, they bend a lot into the step. Also, they have a long wind up to their attack.

For Week 7, I spent a bit more time on the sprites. I worked on th eplayers frenzy animations as well as the first pass of the tileset for level 1.

I first made the transformation into frenzy, I wanted to convey that this is a painful process, so the character looks up and screams as they convulse into their monsterous form. The dash was pretty simple, just adding a litle bit of wwindup into the dash.

The lights attacks were also pretty straight forward, the first one a slash, then for the second the character morphs one hand into a fine blade. Then in the third and final a double slash with two bladed hands.

The heavy attack was a little harder, I wanted to convey that the players hands were bieng fused into one ginat spike ball, but it can be hard to visiaully show that when everything on the player is red. This might be a animation I revisit.

The walk cycle was a bit easier to convey, it follows the basics of the player alive walk but with a little more movement in the arms and hair.

Lastly I worked on the tileset, it has a number of the imprtant pieces in level one. However its missing inner corners for the various wall types. Another problem is that the gates and lock are probably not going to be includede in the tileset, they will probably have to be game objects, and likely in need of a redesign.

I also started building the first level of the game in engine. I added a ground and wall layer to the map, and started painting, however I noticed a potencial problem with the wya that collision is set up, since my wall tile only place the walls at halfway through the tile, it means that the wall is farther in than it looks. This is an issue that I will have to find a solution too in the upcoming weeks.

[bells12]

So I feel the need to apologize to artists everywhere on behalf of non-artists.

And I am not an artist. I have had my drawings mocked by young children (and they were right to do so). You know the asshole who compliments your art by saying "I can't draw a stick figure"? I'm that asshole. I think I'm creative, but my execution is poor. I can't cut or fold straight.

With that said, I always volunteer to do the Halloween/Christmas decorating for my departure at work. I worked at a preschool during college, so I love making stuff and this takes me back to that mindset. It's a lot of paper crafts, cute, but nothing to write home about. And it was instilled at me during the time at the preschool to make different things, show initiative, don't have the kids coloring all the time, don't have mass produced things, see and let them do what they can. Hence the paper crafts.

But holy shit is it exhausting.

Our theme for Halloween was candy. So I decorated one of our doors with Nerds. I found the Nerds online, I printed them out, I traced them (because I'm a piece of shit), I colored them in with paint markers, I found out my paint markers were all used up and it made them look ugly, so I ordered new paint markers, I repeated all those steps, I can't color, so I had to do a few coats. I got told by management that I can't leave things out on my desk. The cleaning lady constantly made jokes about how my job is so easy I can color. I had coworkers comment on my job being easy. I accidentally found foot fetish Nerds on Google (why is the rhyming dictionary blocked by work, but I can see Fur Affinity Foot Fetish Nerd Images?).

And it's a lot of work. My wrist would hurt, my back would hurt, right in between my shoulder blades would hurt. And I wasn't doing "nothing". I was doing this in between processing wires, posting ACH files at certain times during the day, processing mobile deposits, all the while being in the phone queue for dispute calls and questions about wires and ACH's and checks.

And that was one fucking door. I had another door, 22 posters to make look like Starburst Wrappers, working on my Pumpkin, and figuring out what to do with the wall (I literally cut out shapes and made a gumball machine).

And now I'm doing everything again for Christmas.

So I can't even imagine what artists go through with their supplies, their body aches and pains, mistakes that may happen and set them back, douche bags who don't think it's a "real job" or think that it's all fun and games. The jerks who say "it won't take you long" or "I'll color it in myself". Because yeah, it took me over a month to throw something together that's up for a day at the most, so do not disrespect artists or their work!

[fun-with-melody]

Sissification for Dummies

Sissification for Dummies

Want to become one of my sissys?  I have a simple 3 part system called sissification for dummies guaranteed to help you through this transformation. Firstly lose the attitude girly. It’s time to rock it Melody style. Drop the brat attitude and any kind of ideas that you know anything about being a lady. Trust me you don’t. That’s why I’m here to teach you! So sit back my little dainty whore and get your panties ready sweetie it’s going to be a fun ride! By the end of this journey, you will be the perfect little strumpet! Follow me down this rabbit hole and let’s get to work!

Sissification: Dressing the Part

Part one of the sissification for dummies system is dressing like the cheap little slut you are. Items needed are tutus, hair bows, stockings and fuck me pumps, and additionally pretty girl lingerie. It’s time to party girls! Like a real lady you must know what’s needed so let’s just suck it up tootsies! It’s all about the pain and being uncomfortable because let’s face it sweet tits. Beauty is pain! Next up panties! Tuck it fold it or twirl it in a bow those little dikletts gotta go. Put on those hot pink panties and let’s ride! Lend yourself to the process to see what it’s all about! Loving yourself and really liking what you see in the mirror is the name of the game!

Sissification for Dummies Facial Care and Makeup

Part two of the sissification for dummies system is putting on our whore paint! Firstly wash your face then moisturize using a good facial moisturizer! This first step is needed to get all the oil off ensuring a perfect finish! Basic supplies include lipstick, blush, lots of concealer and powder. These items are the basic bitches of all makeup applications. The must haves of any women’s gear. The next level shit includes mascara, eyeliner, and fake lashes. I know we can do this together and with some time, thought, and preparation you too can first be a painted up whore just like the real ladies! Sit back, turn on the natural light, and blend, blend blend. It’s time to look the part you cheap little tart! When you see yourself your smiling you will certainly see the sissification for dummies system work!

Sissification It’s All About the Toys

Part three of the Sissification for dummies system includes hardware. Yes, ladies the good stuff to really get those pink rosebuds a puckering! Firstly Butt Plugs, dildos, and also stretchers oh my, these toys certainly will catch your eye! Variety is the spice of life sluts so surely one cannot have too many.  Hoes undeniably remember to always be a lady and start basic and small and work your way up! We so don’t want to especially ruin your little tiny butt! Afterward, grab whatever catches the eye and lube it, suck it, or stick in dry. Thus this guarantees to make you scream with joy when you get to use a toy! Lastly, toys are so fun I just know you will keep cuming back for more sluts!

Stick with the program and eventually learn to be a pro slut and start playing with edging and keeping yourself on your toes! This is how the Sissification for dummies system works and if in doubt you can always call me and get on one assistance! enjoy yourselves you dirty bitches!

Melody

1-877-450-5897

[inkskinned]

playact the right mindset. that's what you need, the right mindset. buy the organizational notebook and the markers and the special labels. tell yourself it's real this time, donate a bunch of clothes. buy paint, buy chapstick. overspend on bath-and-bodyworks vanilla rose.

every day is the same day. the largest number of suicides occurs in the springtime. it's going up to 90 on Friday, and then it'll come back down to 35. did you read the news today? did you get my email? did you see the big game? did you cry over that big ache, or just step over it with the same lope you've developed, flinching over your familiar wounds.

put the laundry away. leave the leftovers lounging in the container, unwilling to throw it away (food waste) but unwilling to eat it (food poisoning). schedule a blood donation. schedule a call with the doctor. schedule a therapy appointment.

leave all the knives untouched. eat directly out of the deli meat container. sit in the shower. ignore the bills. ignore texts from your bosses. drop everything into the sink and splatterpaint the walls with water. draw a smile in the condensation, give it cat ears. call your mom. hold a pencil sharpener and think - there are things i know about this device that others shouldn't. go out and walk your dog.

up and down and up and down. they paint the recovery process as a big red banner. okay/not okay. it's usually less i'm great and more a constant process of okay fine i'm getting better. little lighted pain points scattered in tacks all over the floor of your life.

this is the tradeoff: walk on the broken glass; get to the other side. get to see your dog run in tight rhapsodic circles; have to put all the razors into a box with a lock. get to laugh like your head will fall off; have panic attacks every morning like clockwork. race each other to the concert; stare down the diet pills and pass your hands over. hug your mom; hangover on a thursday. sit quietly at peace to friendship dinners; shift in place at the pharmacy waiting for your monthly concoction.

it isn't always beautiful. it will not always feel worth it or lasting or eventual. it will just feel like a slog. uphill and through mud. something bad can always come.

but it will be yours. private, entire.

spring comes. your life in a winter depression at your feet; less joyful than the choirs of little flowers. and when you pick yourself up each time, you do the picking-up. you do the walking. you do the self-care and the self-salvation. you do the keep-going.

"is this what you made with your life?"

it isn't a grave. it isn't a grave, yet. yet - it isn't a grave!

turn around. face the sun. same day, different heart. get up and keep going.

[dark-night-insomniac]

「Her warmth」

|Dreamcatcher Gahyeon x s/o reader

genre: fluff / no warnings / 1.2k words

———————————————

Finally your week is over, you've never had one this busy before. You worked at the same company as your girlfriend, Gahyeon. You were an artistic director at Dcc and most of your crew was off this month, meaning you had all the work to do yourself.

Most nights you were too busy to hang out with Gahyeon or call her and she'd be asleep by the time you were home.

But tonight was friday night and you were hoping to surprise her at the dorm, and maybe even stay the night there.

You needed to see her, you missed her so much, and being able to stay the night would be perfect seeing how you felt at the moment.

You felt exhausted, and to top it off, you had a migraine. It had started when you first stepped in to work this morning and had persisted until now.

You walked up the stairs to the girl’s dorm and were finally able to knock on the door.

You breathed in and waited only a few seconds before you got an answer.

Gahyeon was probably waiting for you because she immediately opened the door.

You smiled through your pain as you layed your eyes upon her.

‘’Hey princess’’ you smiled, making her slightly blush

‘’Hi jagi!’’ She smiled before cooeing and bringing you into her arms. Bouncing on her own two feet in the process.

Her warmth is anything you ever needed to turn a bad day around. You laid your head on her shoulder and breathed out.

‘’Long day?’’ She asked with a pout, you simply nodded

She looked up into your eyes before leaning to leave a sweet kiss on your lips.

You hummed blissfully against her lips, not wanting to pull away, chasing her lips once she did, making her giggle

She gently caressed your face with her hand

‘’Wanna go to the living room, say hi to the girls?’’

‘’Of course’’ you smiled

You followed along, her hand now holding yours gently.

As soon as you peeked through the living room the girls came to you, hugging you with smiles painted on their faces.

‘’Not working too hard I hope y/n?’’ Sua nudged you

‘’I try’’ you smiled

Yoohyeon tugged your sleeve after hugging you

‘’Hey i finished my house in minecraft can i show you!’’

You had introduced yoohyeon to the game when you first met her, you knew she was a gamer and so you showed her your favorite games.

‘’Yea of course’’ you giggled lightly

You were taken away from gahyeon by the tall puppy, making your girlfriend scold the older girl.

‘’Hey they just arrived! Bring them back to me quickly’’ she exclaimed before letting herself fall down on the sofa next to Dami.

You followed- or were pulled by yoohyeon to her room.

She quickly opened her computer and managed to open the game in a record time.

‘’Look!’’ She exclaimed, pointing at her newly built mansion.

You raised your eyebrow

‘’Did you copy my house over there’’ you pointed at the screen.

She looked down with a small smile, you noticed and looked at her now squinting both eyes.

‘’Did you?’’ You knew she did but you wanted to hear it from her.

‘’Its not the same color!’’ She tried defending herself making you laugh

‘’It's fine yooh, now we're like twins right?’’ You smiled trying to make her understand you weren't actually annoyed

‘’Yea!?’’ She smiled, looking up at you hopefull

‘’Come on let's go back to the living room with the girls’’ you suggested

She jumped up and followed you.

You walked back to the living room and pouted when you didn’t see your girlfriend.

You still sat down next to Jiu and talked about your day with her.

A few minutes later,

You heard the bathroom open and turned your head to finally see her.

The pout on your face was apparent again, involuntarily.

You made grabby hands at her, revealing her gummy smile to you.

She turned around and sat on your lap.

You pulled her closer, putting your arms around her and placing your chin on her shoulder, leaving a small peck there.

She reached for your hair with her right hand, now caressing it.

For the first time today you felt relaxed. You tried listening to the girl’s conversations but you were too tired and entranced by gahyeons warmth in your arms.

A few minutes later Gahyeon turned her face to look at you. You were almost asleep, barely holding on, your eyes closing for minutes at a time.

She swayed a little in your embrace to get your attention, earning a whine from you.

The girls looked over while gahyeon was laughing at how unintentionally loud your whining was.

Minji and Siyeon cooed at the sight

‘’You should bring them to bed Gahyeon, if you dont want to carry them there’’ Jiu giggled

She smiled and turned her head to leave a kiss to your ear

‘’Do you want to go to my room baby?’’ She whispered

You opened your tired eyes and nodded within the crooks of her neck.

She got up and pulled on your arms to help you off the sofa.

you lazily followed her, stumbling around.

She looked back at your figure and giggled.

Once in her room you stood there and waited for her to close the door.

She approached you and put her hands around your back to pull you closer

‘’I know you're tired but I've been missing your lips on mine’’ she smiled before looking up at you.

She then gently pressed her lips against yours making you immediately hum against them.

Her mouvement was slow but deep and passionate, wanting to let you know just how much she loved you.

As she kept kissing you, you started becoming hazy. Being so entranced by her, as well as being so exhausted from your week, your body was slowly slumping against her.

That is until she realized you were almost putting your entire weight on her.

She put her hand against your chest and laughed at your sleepy state before pinching your cheek.

‘’Come on’’ she pulled you to bed, laying on it first and opening her arms for you to join her.

You let yourself fall on the bed and scooted closer until your head could lay on her chest.

She placed her arms around you to bring you closer and then pulled the covers over the both of you.

‘’Goodnight baby I love you!’’ She smiled down at you

You mumbled the words back, feeling yourself drift to sleep already.

She kissed your forehead before closing the bed lamp for the night, you reciprocated with a kiss to her collarbone and mumbled a love confession once against, hoping she knew just how much you loved her for simply existing

[realcube]

msby boys finding out their s/o is pregnant

navi | masterlist | taglist  

thank you to anon for this wholesome request 

content warning ♡ pregnant! reader, sexual references, swearing & fluff

characters ♡ sakusa, atsumu, bokuto & hinata

kiyoomi sakusa 

♡ he faltered

♡ there was half a minute of silence between the two of you; him just staring at your stomach while you gazed into his eyes

♡ he was almost certain that he misheard you, so he felt inclined to inquire, ‘huh?’ as indifferently as he could, though he wasn’t doing a good job of concealing the shocked expression on his face 

♡ ‘i said i’m pregnant, sweetie.’ you giggled, admiring the emotions he displayed on his face as it wasn’t a sight you got to see often

♡ sakusa continued to stare at you, eyes wide 

♡ though he knew what you meant, apart of him insisted that he was mishearing you 

♡ his wide-eyes were fixated on you, his lips slightly agape as he tried to process what you just said and what this meant for the both of you 

♡ the only emotion you could read of his face was shock. at first, you were sure that he was happy but he was just taking a while to accept it, but now that a few minutes had passed and he was still yet to say anything or even smile, you were starting to second guess yourself

♡ despite the fact sakusa had already agreed that he was on board with the idea of having a child many times before - in fact, there were nights where he’d admit that he can’t wait to start a family with you - but you still worried that perhaps he has now that had a change of heart

♡ that was until you noticed his eyes become unusually glossy and red, along with his cheeks adapting a somewhat red tint, ‘if this is a joke, (y/n), it’s not funny.’ his ordinary, monotone voice was now slightly shaky and low 

♡ ‘it’s not a joke, ‘iyoomi.’ you laughed, feeling your own throat go dry and your cheek flare up upon seeing how emotional sakusa had become

♡ before the tears spilled from your eyes, you felt sakusa’s arms slowly snake around your waist, place an elongated kiss on your forehead then rest his chin on your shoulder 

♡ he held you close enough that you could feel his rapid heartbeat thud against your chest and his wobbly breath tickle the back of your neck

♡ he stayed like that, silent, for a good few minutes 

♡ when he finally pulled away to admire your stomach, you noticed how his damp cheeks glistened in the light and you couldn’t help but smile

♡ although he wasn’t very vocal about how happy he was, his actions spoke a thousand words

♡ he’d insist in home-cooking all your food now because he didn’t want to risk you getting food poisoning 

♡ when he’d come home from practise, absolutely exhausted, the first thing he’d do when he gets home is  wash his hands then cut you some fruit 

♡ when he has free-time, he used to just watch TV but now he’s picked up a few hobbies of reading childcare books, tending to your every need/want and researching good baby names

♡ also, he’s so gentle with you - like, he was gentle with you before but this is a new extreme

♡ excluding the time he almost tackled you to the ground when you suggested atsumu as a baby name

♡ like he baby-proofs the house like a month into your pregnancy lmao 

kōtarō bokuto

♡ the corners of his lips slowly curl into a bright smile, ‘pregnant?’

♡ you cocked your head to the side slightly, then hummed, ‘yeah. pregnant.’

♡ ‘like..with a kid?’

♡ you snorted, playfully rolling your eyes, ‘i’d hope so.’

♡ ‘like..with my kid?’

♡ ‘our kid - but yes.’

♡ a while passed and he had yet to do anything besides stare at you in pure adoration so you prompted him by opening your arms 

♡ to which he immediately responded by throwing himself onto you, ‘I’m gonna be a dad?! like seriously?!’

♡ luckily you were sitting on your bed so you fell back onto that but you were still being smothered by his chest 

♡ ‘bo!’ you squealed and squirmed under his weight and tight grip, glad that he was as cheery as you had hoped but not appreciating being suffocated 

♡ he suddenly pulled away but kept his large hands glued to your shoulders, revealing the tears that were already streaming down his cheeks and dampened your shirt, ‘really?!’

♡ ‘yes, bokuto. i am 100% pregnant.’ you declared for the final time before bokuto cupped your face with his hands and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, not stopping until your lips were basically swollen

♡ he’s just so hyped during the first few days of your pregnancy and he’s just super duper ready to become a dad!

♡ like he’s already practising his dad jokes 

♡ but then you remind him that he’s gonna have to wait around 9 months before he can actually see his baby and his hair literally deflates 

♡ ugh how rude of you 

♡ can you not like...make it grow faster?? please??

♡ once you explain to him that’s not how babies work, he kinda accepts it and just focuses his attention on you

♡ he kinda does some research on babies/pregnancy but not prior, he just does a quick google search when he needs to 

♡ but the intention is definitely there bc he googles the most trivial of things like ‘what to make pregnegant ppl for breakfast?’

♡ ‘what do pragnant ppl need from the supermarket?’

♡ ‘can my pregenunt wife have peanut butter?’

♡ ‘how to spell preaignant’ 

atsumu miya 

♡ DEEP denial

♡ he thinks you are playing a prank on him bc you don’t ‘look pregnant’

♡ even when you show him your positive pregnancy test he’s like ‘and how much did that cost?’

♡ he deadass acts as if he wasn’t the one who’s been trying to get you pregnant and raving on about how much he wants a family with you for the last few months 

♡ but he just doesn’t want to believe you bc he know he’ll get way too happy for his own good and he’s afraid to be let down

♡ plus, it was one of those ‘a blessing of this magnitude couldn’t have happened to me - of all people - so this is probably either a cruel joke or a hallucination.’ moments 

♡ he’s just so far gone that after your eleventh attempt at trying to convince him that you’re pregnant for real, you just give up

♡ so y’all just go around your business somewhat normally - except atsumu was more skittery - until your baby bump started to become more prominent

♡ one day, he came back from practise, noticed your bump and pulled you into the most passionate, heartfelt kiss before placing a gentle kiss upon your stomach, a buoyant grin gracing his features

♡ though he doesn’t say much since he is at a loss for words, he mutters a few sweet nothings into your ear as he carries you to the bedroom

♡ for a joke, he pretends to be gutted if you’re libido production decrease but really, he couldn’t care less

♡ but if it increases tho- 

♡ expect him to take full advantage of that 

♡ also, if he didn’t already treat you like his goddess, he does now 

♡ work has moved down his list of priorities and you + his baby are now at number one 

♡ usually he keeps his phone on silent/stuffs it into his bag while he is practising but now he insists on keeping it on full volume, out on the bench, just in case you call him for an emergency 

♡ same goes for texts; he will literally stop mid-set to rush over to his phone if he hears it vibrate 

♡ bokuto thinks it’s sweet but the rest of them get pretty annoyed of his antics quite quickly but whenever they try to call him out on it, he’s like ‘is your wife 6 months pregnant? no! i didn’t think so. i should be on paternity leave right now so be glad i’m blessing you with my presence.’

shōyō hinata

♡ he cannot stop thanking you

♡ as if you’re doing him a favour, which - depending on how you view it - you are

♡ he’s literally on his knees with his hands clasped together, tears of joy streaming down his face as he looks up at you in pure adoration, ‘thank you, (y/n)!’

♡ you tilted your head to the side and stared at him with a perplexed expression, ‘you’re welcome?’

♡ it’s a while before he moves from that position but when he does, it’s only so he can press his ear against your stomach to see if he can hear the baby 

♡ ‘shō, i don’t think it’s body has even formed ye--’

♡ ‘shh! it’s speaking to me.’ he chuckled then proceeded to squeeze his eyes shut, intensely listening to whatever the baby had to say 

♡ you quirked a brow, waiting for him to finish and once he did, he sprung to his feet and threw his arms over your shoulders to pull you in for a hug - in which he had to stop himself from squeezing you too tightly in fear of hurting you, as if pregnancy meant that your bones were now made of glass

♡ he’s just so happy that you agreed to bear his children 🙏

♡ also, seeing how excited you were to tell him about your pregnancy really prompted him to step up his husband-game 

♡ from now on, he loads the dishwasher, does both of your laundry, cleans the house on his own and cooks most of the food 

♡ he acts as if being pregnant means you are no longer able to do basic tasks but his real motive behind doing these things was not only to take the pressure off of you but to also prepare himself for father life 👍

♡ also, to prepare him for shopping for his kids’ clothes, he goes out and buys you maternity wear 

♡ he does this like...3 weeks into your pregnancy though so the clothes just sit and catch dust until a few months later when you actually need them 

♡ and although he is a bit of a pain to go stroller/pram shopping with (he just says buy whichever one goes the fastest), you let him take the reins when it came to buying/preparing the baby’s room and it came out beautiful!

♡ like the cradle was good quality and firm, the rug wouldn’t irritate the baby’s skin, the walls were painted expertly and the plushies/toys he picked out - unbeknownst to you at the time - kept the baby entertained for ages

♡ oh and no matter what day/week/month you are in of pregnancy, he will always look at you and your bump with the same amazement and gratitude as he did the first time you told him

[jeonggukkiepabo]

CRYSTAL SNOW ❄ MYG

SUMMARY: Christmas has always been a stressful time for Yoongi: buying presents, decorating the tree, baking cookies, you name it-Yoongi does it. It wouldn't be so difficult if Yoongi had someone to help him, but all he has left in his life is his beautiful daughter Ara.But maybe this year, he won't be all alone.

GENRE: christmas fluff  ❄ a bit of smut

WORD COUNT: 7,3k

WARNINGS: f l u f f, single parent yoongi, kindergarten teacher y/n, oral, satoori, domestic christmas vibes :(, mentions of death

AUTHOR’S NOTE: the secret collab is finally here! thanks @kimtaehyunq​ for letting me join💞 i’m so excited to read the other fics as well! & thank you Mags for doing this amazing banner I think this is the prettiest banner I've ever had. 🤧 Tysm love💞

MERRY CHRISTMAS

People usually say she looks a lot like her father, but all Yoongi sees in Ara is his wife. Wherever his daughter goes, his wife's ghost follows, the memory of his teenage love and the wonderful years they spent together until she left their lives.

Min Dasom died almost one year after Ara was born, her death coming too sudden for anyone to bid their last goodbyes-leaving her husband and baby heartbroken and alone.

It was awful, Yoongi won't be able to forget that one night the police called him, telling him that his precious wife drowned in the ocean during her monthly trip to the beach with her friends. 

Ever since that call, Yoongi has never stepped near a beach again, never felt hot sand between his toes again, never went swimming again.

It was hard, being a single parent and Yoongi was tempted to give up many times, but seeing Ara grow and bloom into the beautiful girl she is now, Yoongi is beyond thankful that he survived the pain and sorrow.  

He never drowned his thoughts in alcohol because his sunshine always looked at him with her sad little eyes, almost as if she knew what he wanted to do and hugged his legs tightly until Yoongi set the bottle away and picked Ara up and spent the night cuddling her.

Things got easier as soon as Ara was old enough to finally go to kindergarten, allowing Yoongi to work more hours and on a daily basis again. It's not like he needed a lot of money, it's just that Yoongi needs to work. 

He's used to working all the time, he's always been-because working doesn't give him time to think about the tragedy that is his life.

Money wasn't an issue for the Min family, Yoongi used to be one of the most successful pianists and producers in South Korea, but he gave up on that as soon as Ara was born, just to have time for his family.

His friend Hyunjin offered him a job as a songwriter and composer at his own label JinHit Entertainment. 

Yoongi could work from home whenever he wanted and needed to, but the studio Hyunjin set him up was way better and filled with new technology that Yoongi loved playing and experimenting with.

The acclimatization to her new daily routine wasn't easy for Ara because she wasn't used to having women in her life-until now, it has always been Yoongi and Ara. They ended up switching kindergarten two times before Ara came into the one that you've been working at for a while now-instantly falling in love with you.

The first few days with your new reference child we're quite… interesting because the little girl was full of action and so curious about every little thing in the room that you couldn't sit still and talk to her father for a while because Ara grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the next game she wanted to play.

Her father, Min Yoongi, sent you an apologetic smile as he watched you play with his daughter from a distance, giving you time to get used to each other and build a bond. You winked at him as you took a seat next to Ara and started to explain the rules of the board game to her-impressed about how well she was understanding them.

It didn't take Ara a long time to send Yoongi home, waving him goodbye and pressing a loud kiss onto his lips. "Go and work, Appa! Uncle Hyunjinnie waits for you to make good music!"

Yoongi looked at her with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're telling me to leave? Just to go and work? That is rude, princess."

You giggled and hugged Ara as she ran over to you, Yoongi long forgotten.

"Would you like to bring your dad to the door, Ara? I think he might be sad if you won't. Remember: he won’t see you for a few hours and you don’t want your dad to be sad during lunch, right?"

Ara giggled but nodded nonetheless and grabbed Yoongi by the hand. "Hurry!"

Yoongi looked at you in shock, desperately trying to hold in his laugh. "I think you gave me Ara's evil twin instead of my sweet little princess! Where is my nice girl that always kisses Appa goodbye?"

You shrugged your shoulders playfully as one of the other kids asked for you to help him with building a big tower out of building blocks. "Have a nice day, Mr Min. Oh and make sure you won't forget about our appointment on Thursday! I don't think it'll take longer than an hour, it's just to talk about Ara's development so far."

Yoongi was one of the few parents that were always punctual, not even a minute too late-and the only parent you've never felt any kind of rage towards. Not only that, but he attended every kindergarten fest, always prepared little cupcakes for Ara's birthday to bring with her to kindergarten and share with her friends.

May was rolling around quickly and you were as eager as always to craft some little gifts for the children to give their mothers. 

You prepared some candle wax and melted it so the kids could fill it in plastic forms and add glitter and scent to their preference, just to have a nice little gift to give. 

Most of the kids had fun, some of them were a bit grumpy because they got glitter all over themselves, but there is one little girl pouting and trying not to cry in front of them, not even touching the wax.

Ara.

It breaks your heart every time, knowing that Ara's mother died years ago and that she probably had no other woman in her life because you’ve already heard that her father works quite a lot. 

Squatting down next to the little girl, you gently pinch her stomach just to hear her little giggles. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you want to make a nice candle?"

Ara looks up at you, one single tear slipping out of her eye. "I don't have a mom, so no candle for me."

You coo, playing with Ara's hair as you stand up again, leading her towards the crafting table.

"That doesn't matter, Ara. I think your dad will be happy to get a candle too! We can pick a different color than pink, what do you think does he like the most? I’m sure we will find something!"

Ara taps her chin, smiling slightly as she thinks about Yoongi's favorite color. "Black! He wears black clothes! Always! Do we have black glitter, Y/N?" 

She scrunches her nose at the first few oils, but one scent really lights up her face. "This smells like Appa! Can we use this?" 

"We do, I didn't put it on the table because usually nobody wants it so it sits on the shelf, all by itself. I think the glitter finally deserves to be used!" You smile at the kid, grabbing the small container of glitter from the shelf and handing it over to Ara.

"We do have a few scents, would you like to smell them? Choose whichever you think smells the best and we can put a few drops in the wax,' you offer the bowl of different oils to Ara and help her open the lids.

Ara holds up the little bottle of rose oil and you smile to yourself. Black roses, that really seems to fit the impression you have of Mr. Min.

"Of course. Now, let's mix the glitter with the wax and we can put it into the mold. Alright, now stir it while i put in a few drops of the rose oil, okay?"

You guide her through the process, talking to her and listening to her rambling about the piano lessons Mr. Min gives her on a regular basis, just because Ara wants to be like her favorite man in the world.

"He is a great dad, Ara. You're so lucky to have him, I know that he must be sad sometimes too, but you're such a sunshine and help him as much as he helps you," you hug her from the side, enjoying the way Ara leans into the hug as well.

"I want a mom, but Appa is almost like a mom! He lets me paint his nails, goes to ballet with me and always bakes princess cookies for our tea parties!"

Ara giggles as she dips the wick into the liquid wax.

"Appa needs a woman to love, the only dates he goes to are work-dates with uncle Hyunjin," she says.

And yes, you think so as well.

One day around September, you decide that it’s definitely hot enough to prepare the blow-up outside pool for the kids, allowing them to change into their swimsuits and let them play around, even adding some bubbles to the water to let them experiment.

Mr. Min smiles at you, his gums fully showing and you can’t help but smile as well as you hear his words.

“And I think there’s no job that you could do better than this one.”

You’re sitting next to the pool on a bench in the shadow, reading some books to those few kids that don’t want to hop into the water as Ara jumps out of the pool.

“Y/N, come inside as well, it’s so nice!” She jumps up and down, her wet ponytail dripping onto her shoulders.

You pout, pointing to the kids next to you. “I can’t, you know that some of the kids are still afraid to go into the water with so many other children around. Maybe next time. Now, go and enjoy it, it’s super hot and I don’t know when autumn will come around and surprise us with bad weather!”

Ara nods quickly, hopping back into the water and continues splashing some water around with her friends, but she glances at you every few seconds. Then, she whispers with her two best friends before all three of them nod as they look at you.

Suddenly, they run towards you, surprising you with wet hugs and loud giggles, leaving your white summer dress almost see through.

Suddenly, there’s someone clearing his throat right behind you and you wish you could sink deep down into the pool once you see that it’s Mr. Min. 

“Girls!,” you can’t help but yelp, the cold water causing you to jump up from the bench. Yet, you laugh with them, the cooling really helping you with the heat.

“You can’t just do that, Ara. Look at my dress now, you can almost see through it, you’re lucky that the parents won’t come in within the next two hours, otherwise they would see me like this,” you try to look stern, but to be honest: you would have done the same if you were Ara.

“Ara, why did you do that?,” he asks with his calm voice and tries his best not to look at your hardening nipples under the dress. 

Ara’s bottom lip trembles as she looks at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just thought it would be funny…”

Mr. Min turns to you and bows slightly. “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have done that. And well, I came to pick her up earlier because we will visit her grandparents over the weekend. I should’ve informed you earlier. Is there any way I can help you with your… erm, dress?”

Mr. Min nods at you, picking up his-still wet-daughter as he looks you up and down slow enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin once again. 

You blush, shaking your head as you grab Ara’s clothes and hand her to her father.

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, it’s not your fault-and a water fight is too much fun to just not do it, right, Ara? It’s sunny enough so I’ll just bring the bench into the sun and I’ll be dry soon enough! I hope you’re having fun with your grandparents, Ara! Have a nice weekend, Mr. Min.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, really. You don’t know how many children happen to call one of us mom without realizing it. It’s nothing too wild, I’ve gotten used to it and I think especially in Ara’s case… It was supposed to happen, you know? I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your private life, but I suppose you’re not seeing another person and Ara isn’t growing up with other females, so she takes those she sees here as a female person to bond with, you know?”

“Thank you, mommy! Oh… I mean Y/N..,” Ara quirps as he turns around in her father’s arms, even though it doesn’t look like she’s really sorry at all.

“Ara!” Mr. Min gasps as he looks at his daughter. 

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t seen another woman ever since my wife died. Ara is the only woman in my life, the only one I give all my love to. She deserves it,” he sighs. “But you’re right, I think another female person would really help her with growing up. I just don’t want to introduce her to some random woman I might not even want to spend the rest of my life with. Is this egoistic?”

His honest words hit you, knowing how lonely he must be, all alone with his little girl and a bunch of work he has to do. “It’s not, Mr. Min. You don’t have to date just because you think it would be the best for Ara. There are many single fathers that raise their kids perfectly fine and I think you’re one of them! Ara never tells bad stories about you and I think you’re doing a really good job, spending all of your free time with her and allowing her to experience so many fun things. I’ve met so many ‘happy’ families that didn’t even manage to pack breakfast for their kids, so really, don’t break your head over something like this! I’m happy that Ara accepted me so much and that she always comes to me whenever she has a problem. This is why I chose my job.”

Over the next few months, Mr. Min is all that’s on your mind, even though you know how unprofessional it is, but he’s even kinder to you than he’s been before. You usually have a small chat with every parent whenever they bring or pick up their children, but Mr. Min makes sure to always catch you and ask you about your day, if there’s anything new in your life and you can’t help but ask him about his work and the songs he’s been working on as well.

“Ah, it’s really stressful right now. I’m working with this band that’s debuting soon and we have to prepare and finish the entire album I wrote about five songs for. They’re really good but still so young, I think the oldest is 16? Or was it 17? Whatever, that’s like ten years younger than me! I think I’ll grow grey hair soon when I keep on working with such young idols,” he sighs playfully as he helps Ara to put on her shoes and jacket. 

“I mean, you’re not that old, Mr. Min. Don’t worry-as long as you keep that handful smile you will look like you’re straight out of some perfume poster. But I’d love to listen to one of your songs! I mean, if you’d let me,” you smile with honesty as you hand Ara her backpack. 

Mr. Min shrugs, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he opens his Spotify account. He types something in and turns the screen towards you. AGUST D, it says. You scrunch your eyes at the name, trying to remember where you’ve known it from, but it doesn’t ring a bell right now. 

“I’ll make sure to listen to some of your songs, I hope they aren’t too sad though, I prefer my music to be more… pop and rock?”

You cringe at your own words, hoping that the man knows what you were trying to say. 

And fuck, you did like it. Turns out that AGUST D wasn’t some softie that plays guitar lullabies, no. 

Yoongi cracks a grin, then winks at you playfull before he takes Ara’s hand after she said goodbye to you.

“I think you’re going to like it.”

AGUST D seems to be one of the best rappers in the music industry that you’ve ever been listening to. He sounds so aggressive and fast that you needed to listen twice to some of his songs to understand what he was saying, but you ended up adding much more songs into your playlist than you’d like to tell him.

But you did tell him.

“Oh, I’m not doing that crazy rap thing anymore. It was a phase, I guess. By now, I use the name to help smaller musicians and trainees, produce their songs and write their lyrics. It’s better to do so with a bigger name, but AGUST D died a long time ago, I guess I killed him.” Mr. Min says the next day.

"I mean, as long as you keep all of them on Spotify, I'm alright with that. Most of those songs match my aggressive driving vibe and I can't imagine driving to work without it." You try to joke before you realize what it must've sounded like. "Oh lord, I didn't mean it like that!" 

You blush, trying to hide your reddened cheeks in your palms, but Mr. Min just laughs it off.

"Don't worry, I get what you mean. I usually play Love Talk as soon as i leave this building."

He even has the audacity to wink at you before he leaves with a grin, causing Ara to coo.

"Appa really likes you if he teases you!"

And the teasing goes on and on, there’s almost no day without a snarky comment from Mr. Min or a sarcastic comment from you-but neither of you takes those words to heart because that’s what you need in your lives, someone to laugh with, someone to make jokes with.

Even though there are plenty of other children in your group and so many parents you talk to daily, the only one you’re happy to see in the afternoon is Mr. Min.

The summer is long gone and fall said goodbye a few weeks ago, December came around and your little crush on Mr. Min isn’t as little anymore-and you can’t help yourself but wonder if he might be into you as well. You’ve shared a few noons talking about Ara’s development and if she’s ready for school next September, but most of the times you didn’t talk about the girl for more than thirty minutes before one of you switched the topic to something more private as the man leans closer to you and locks his gaze with yours.

You’re not as nervous around him as you were before and you can feel him starting to open up towards you as well. Yet, you’ve never met outside of the kindergarten, knowing it would be way too unprofessional and you’d never want to ruin the wonderful bond you share with Ara just because you’re desperate to jump into her father’s lap and call him Daddy too.

You’re not one of those women to go into a club and have a dirty one night stand with a random stranger, but you’ve been too busy to actually go and meet people, so you’ve kind of gotten used to being alone, even though you’re really missing late night cuddles and Disney marathons.

It’s Saturday afternoon and you’ve been strolling through the mall for a while now, looking for some christmas presents for your friends and family-but also wanting to treat yourself because work has been more than just exhausting lately.

You’ve been handling the entire group alone, having a lot more smaller children because new kids have been coming to kindergarten and having to deal with so many parents alone can be pure hell. Sadly enough you’re living all by yourself, only having a few close friends that don’t understand why you’re even doing this underpaid job and your last relationship crashed almost two years ago.

The mall looks amazing, beautiful christmas ornaments are hanging from the ceiling and there must be someone playing the piano somewhere because the soft melodic tunes fill the entire mall, reminding you of Mr. Min once again.

You just stepped out of a lingerie store, something you’re really passionate about even though nobody but yourself sees you in it, but you love the feeling of lace on your skin, love how beautifully the soft colors compliment your skin and love imagining Mr. Min ripping the soft material off you.

The small paper bag in your hand, you look around for another shop that might hold the next christmas present for one of your friends. 

“Appa, please! I already have a picture but we need you to have one too!”

You know that voice too well to ignore it, searching the area for the small owner of it, giggling as you found her. Ara and Mr. Min are in the Santa area of the mall that gives you the ability to sit on Santa’s lap and take a picture with him as you tell him your biggest christmas wishes.

But the little girl is not sitting on Santa’s lap, she’s trying to push her father towards the man with the fake beard, clearly wanting him to sit down on that lap.

You giggle, walking towards them just to find out what’s going to happen.

“Ara, I’m too old and heavy for poor Santa, I think he prefers girls your age-wait, no not like that. I think he likes boys and girls-ugh. You’re driving me crazy, princess. Look, there’s a few other kids wanting to have their time with Santa as well, why don’t we just leave and try to find some more presents from the giftshop here, hm?” The man tries to talk his daughter into leaving the uncomfortable situation, but Ara is as stubborn as ever-she always gets what she wants, especially from her father.

“But… I want you to have pictures with Santa too!” She pouts, looking over at the confused Santa before she hears your giggle. “Y/N!”

Mr. Min turns around, a shocked expression on his face and a soft pink tint on his cheeks.

“Oh, Ms. Y/L/N. What a surprise.”

You giggle even more, stepping closer towards them. “Hello Ara, good afternoon Mr. Min,” you bow slightly before accepting the little girl’s hug. 

“I see, you really want to sit on Santa’s lap, but Ara doesn’t want to let you because she’d be embarrassed.” 

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Horrible, those children. I mean, I just want a nice christmas picture with Santa, but you know how they are… right before puberty hits them.”

“Y/N, Appa doesn’t want to take a picture with Santa, would you sit on his lap and take a picture for me?” Ara looks up at you with her big eyes and like always, you can’t say no. Instead, you hand Mr. Min your bags-not thinking about the fact that one of them is from the lingerie store-before taking Ara’s hand and walking over to the smiling Santa.

The picture is quickly taken and not even five minutes later, Mr. Min hands you your bags, whispering, so Ara wouldn’t hear you. “I think the peach one will suit you the best.”

Ara nods and rips the bags out of Mr. Min’s hands to show you her cute dresses and bows while the man just stares at you with an open mouth. Did you really just say that to him? 

You gasp, hiding the bags behind your back but who are you to deny the fact that this man is the exact reason you stepped into the store?

“Thank you, I hope someone will get to see them before Christmas. It would be a shame to waste those pretty pieces for some lame mirror selfies,” you smile innocently before squatting down next to Ara. “Did you buy something nice yet?”

“Appa, we wanted to get hot chocolate, can Y/N come too please?”

Yoongi is speechless once more as he quietly follows his daughter and her kindergarten teacher towards the mall’s cafe-realizing that he shouldn’t have chosen his tightest pair of skinny jeans because somehow, they got quite uncomfortable as soon as you arrived.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his daughter before he picks up all the dresses that Ara tried to shove back into the bags. “If she wants, she’s welcome to join, but I think you should ask her first, maybe she is busy.”

You blush at the invitation, not sure whether to accept it or not-but you’re not one to decline on hot chocolate. Smiling at Ara, you nod. “Show me where to get the best hot chocolate, I’m craving something sweet and thick down my throat.”

He watches you as Ara grabs your hand and swings them around with a soft giggle, heart warming as he sees your fond smile.

Ara talks about you a lot-hell, Yoongi asks about you a lot whenever Ara doesn't want to talk about you but watch her favorite show.

It's unprofessional and probably not allowed, Yoongi knows, but Ara leaves for school in March anyways, so who cares? 

It's obvious to the both of you that you're interested in each other, the flirting and teasing coming to a point where Yoongi can't wait for another snarky remark of yours.

And now that he has the chance to sit and talk with you outside of your workplace, you just chose to buy a bag full of fucking beautiful lingerie (yes, Yoongi looked inside, no, he doesn't regret it).

Ara leads you into this beautiful cat cafe that apparently has "The best hot chocolate and bubble tea, but it's too cold for bubble tea… Can they make hot bubble tea?" as Ara says, earning a harsh "no" from Yoongi, because that's something he wishes for as well.

"Go find a place with Mr. Y/L/N, Ara. I'll get your order, yeah? What can I order for you?" Yoongi looks at you as he pulls out his wallet, giving you some time to read the menu.

"Oh, the candy cane hot chocolate, please! And please, as long as we are not talking inside the kindergarten, call me Y/N. I mean, you've seen my underwear, I think you deserve to call me by my name."

Yoongi blushes, nodding and rushes towards the cashier to order your drinks. You smile at the man, then at the cats-they look somewhat similar-before you sit down next to Ara who is currently petting four cats on her lap.

"They're adorable," you coo, "Do you have any pets?"

Ara nods with a big smile and hands you one of the cats, a pretty one with orange fur and big eyes. 

"I have a turtle! Gukkie gave it to me and Appa didn't like it first, but I love her!"

You enjoy the cat's purring as you gently stroke her chin. "A turtle sounds lovely, I hope you can show it to me one day."

"Oh, that won't be a problem, I can invite you for dinner and Appa will get shy and red in the face, but he wouldn't say no because he's super soft for-" "ALPACAS! I'm soft for alpacas, haha, here we go, three hot chocolates."

Yoongi appears with a pained expression as he places your hot chocolate right in front of you.

"Thanks, Yoongi," you smile at the man and Yoongi swears that his heart stopped beating for a second. "I'm soft for Alpacas as well."

Right after you all finished your drinks, Ara decides that it’s time to walk through the mall once more, just to make sure that Santa is still there and will take another picture with hot chocolate-filled Ara. 

“Did you enjoy your date with Y/N, Appa?” She looks up at her father as you walk towards the mall. Yoongi trembles, blushing brightly. “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a date, Ara. Don’t assume things like this, it’s rude,” he mumbles as he gently pets her head to make sure she isn’t hurt by his comment.

You giggle, whispering loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “I really liked it, Ara. Your Appa can be funny if he wants to.”

The picture with Santa comes out pretty, even though the man groaned as two grown adults decided to sit on each of his legs, the bright smiling Ara kneeling in front of them. But it’s really worth it, because Yoongi’s smile never leaves his lips this evening, gums showing beautifully on the picture and you quickly make sure to get a copy of that picture as well.

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “So was this a… you know?” It’s endearing, how shy he suddenly seems to be. You’ve never seen him like this. Stressed, overworked and happy - yes. Shy and blushing? Never.

You nod with a soft smile as you lay your hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I’d like that to be a ‘you know what’, Yoongi.”

You can't even tell when the two of you officially started dating, but you'll never forget the first kiss you've shared during one of your walks-thanks to Ara for snapping a picture of it. Yoongi's hands wrapped around your waist, eyes clenched shut and lips curled in a soft smile as fresh snow fell down on you.

Seeing Yoongi at work wasn’t as weird as you had expected it to be, it’s quite the opposite. He’s attentive and lovely, bringing you fresh croissants or donuts every morning or puting little chocolate for you and Ara in his daughter’s lunchbox.

He’s caring, picking you up after your shift to invite you to dinners and walks through the forest with Ara, because that little girl just loves walking in the fresh snow that has started to fall recently. She takes pictures of your footprints with Yoongi’s phone and makes him promise to print it for her to hang up.

“Of course I can, Ara. You’re already wearing your sleeping clothes and you’ve brushed your teeth with Appa, so hurry up and pick out the book you want me to read!” 

Ara grows closer and closer to you, until that one day where you stay over the Min’s house for dinner, she asks you to bring her to bed.

“Can she, Appa? I want her to read my favorite bedtime story to me! Please, Y/N,” Ara looks up at you with a pout, her beautiful eyes-that remind you of Yoongi-sparkling with admiration. 

That girl really makes your heart melt, combined with the soft smile that Yoongi gives you. And suddenly, you feel like you’re meant to be here, helping that man that you’ve grown so close to, helping the girl that lost her mother way too early and maybe even helping yourself with accepting that love really comes unexpectedly.

You gently tuck the soft blanket over Ara and place her favorite stuffie next to her as you smile at the girl fondly. "Sleep well, Ara," you whisper quietly, trying not to wake her up.

"Kissies, please," she mumbles sleepily and makes grabby hands towards you.

"Ara, I-" "Please," she whines and opens her eyes, tears starting to build up.

"Okay, it's okay, Ara." You swipe her hair out of her face before you plant a soft little kiss onto the girl's forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Y/N. Will you be there tomorrow morning?"

Your smile fades, unsure if you really want to tell the little girl the truth. 

"Probably not, I have to get ready for work. You know that I love to wear dresses on Thursdays and I didn't bring mine. But we will see each other in the kindergarten!"

"Okay," she whispers before she falls back into a quiet slumber.

Yoongi has cleaned the kitchen in the meantime and poured more wine for the both of you to enjoy in front of the fireplace.

"She really adores you," he says as you sit down next to him, sipping the rosé Yoongi bought just for you.

"And I adore her. She's an angel. Thank you for allowing me to spend so much time with her, Yoon."

Yoongi blushes again, shaking his head. The greyish blonde hair got messier as the evening passed. "No, Y/N. You're the first mother-figure Ara has, I have to thank you in both mine and Ara's name. I know that dating a single father is a lot, but you're accepting my family so well… I never thought I'd find another woman in my life again. Ever since my wife died, it was hard for me to even look at other women, let alone build up something like a relationship with them because I always felt bad. But that's what she would have wanted for me. To love again, to not waste my last handsome days," his lips curl into a smirk before he shakes again. 

Then, his sharp eyes met yours and soften within seconds. 

"I… I don't know if it's the right time, we've known each other for two years, we've been officially dating for only three weeks, but I think I won't change my mind about it-no I know that I won't change my mind. I love you, Y/N. And I know that Ara loves you too."

You gasp, lips beginning to tremble once your eyes meet Yoongi's. "Yoongi…," you whisper before you place your glass on the table and basically jump onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"I wanted to be the one to tell you first. I love you so much, Yoongi. I've had this stupid crush on you ever since you saw me in that wet dress, ever since you've shown me your music. Ever since I've seen you being the wonderful father you are-and that's so sexy, you can't even imagine."

Yoongi smirks as his hands find their place on the curve of your ass. "Sexy, huh? Me, doing the laundry and cooking dinner? Or me walking Ara to kindergarten with the homemade lunch boxes? That turns you on?"

You laugh, hiding your face in his neck as you lean closer to press your lips against his ear.

"All of that-and the way that you love Ara with all your heart, that's maybe the sexiest thing about you."

The man groans as he grabs you even tighter. "I never thought that sweet talk would turn me on even more than dirty talk," he laughs shakily as he wiggles his hips slightly to get into a more comfortable position that won't suffocate his hardening erection.

You sigh, sit up and run your hands through his hair. "Isn't all of this too early? I always tell myself that I shouldn't fall so fast, but here I am, ready to go every step with you."

Yoongi nods before he presses a peck on your nose. "Same, but we have all the time on earth. Ara wants us to get married by tomorrow, but I'm sure she'll survive it if we decide to postpone it for a few weeks."

You giggle as you look over your shoulder to the fireplace. "Did someone ever suck you off in front of a fireplace? Isn't this the definition of Christmas?"

The man underneath you gasps in shock. "No, but… I mean, I… You don't… have to?"

Laughing, you slide out of his lap and onto the floor, thankful for the soft carpet. "I want to, bubs. I wouldn't do something either of us isn't comfortable with. I assume you're alright with it?"

"Of course, but… I guess nobody ever did it because they wanted to, but because they feel like they had to?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, obviously disappointed in his previous partners. 

"It's as much fun and pleasure for me as it is for you, believe me, Yoon. Now lay back and enjoy, yeah?" You give him a calming smile as you open his pants carefully, then sliding them down his toned legs.

You press kisses all around his thighs to warm him up to the feeling, knowing that it has to be overwhelming to have some that close after all that time. Then, you gently remove his boxer shorts as well, leaving him bare and proud in front of you.

You groan as you start to stroke his cock, earning a low growl from Yoongi. "So beautiful," you whisper, then you take him into your mouth, getting a feeling for the weight on your tongue before you start bopping your head. 

Yoongi tries to contain himself, knowing that Ara could wake up every second, but alone the sight in front of him could make him come with a scream.

Instead, he cups your cheek, feeling the bulge that he causes there. Another groan leaves his lips. 

You look up at him, smirking-or trying to, with a mouth full of cock-and leading his hand into your hair, using it to push you down even more.

Yoongi's eyes lighten up. "Really?"

You almost laugh out, but you're doing your best to contain yourself and nod, placing your hands on his thighs to stop whenever you can't take it anymore. Yoongi is long and thicker than the average you've had before, but it's a challenge that's worth it.

He pushes you down slowly, enjoying the hot warmth of your mouth and then your throat as he pushes in-surprised that you didn't really gag around him.

Spit trickles down your chin as he moves faster, thrusting his hips to meet the movements of his hand and enjoying the gurgling sounds you make.

He comes far to quick for his own liking, shooting his load down your throat with a quiet groan. "Fuck."

You giggle as you swallow what he gives you, standing up to sit back on his lap to kiss him.

"You're welcome." 

Then, before you can grab your wine again, he flips you around and goes on his knees in front of you. "My turn," he smirks, eyes shining dangerously behind his fringe. 

"Yoongi, I-," you try to say, but he shushes you with a sloppy kiss.

"I know that I have to, but believe me: I love giving pleasure more than receiving it."

You pout, hands running through his soft hair.

"I didn't shave…," you whisper, a bit ashamed because you didn't come prepared, not thinking that this would be happening today.

The man in front of you raises an eyebrow.

"Do you think I am a 15 year old, pre puberty fuckboy that cares about shaved pussies? It's natural, love. Even if you can't believe it: I grow hair too, nobody is freshly shaved every day. I don't mind that, okay? Now, stop pouting and let me do my work, will you? Can you be a good girl and do that for me? All you've got to do is lean back, open your legs, throw them around my shoulders and let me devour you."

His shameless words turn you on, you can't even deny it-especially not when your panties are that damp. So, you naturally obey and help him to remove your pants.

"I told you, peach is your color," Yoongi groans in his deep Satoori as he looks at your clothed core. The peach colored lace has darkened from your arousal and the man can't help it but press his face against the material, licking one bold stripe over it.

Nobody has ever done that to you, rather pulled them off in a hurry because they thought that body fluids were disgusting, but Yoongi didn't seem to mind as he gently bites your folds through the lace. 

"God," you moan in pleasure as Yoongi finally pulls your panties to the side and spits onto your pussy, making it even wetter.

You're a whimpering mess as soon as Yoongi's tongue is on you, flicking and playing with your clit, collecting your juices and spreading them all over your pussy. You've read about that before; men eating pussy like they're starving, but Yoongi is somewhat different.

He eats pussy like he wants you to always remind it, to make you obedient and never being able to enjoy anyone else doing that job.

He does it well-of course. His tongue is as fast as he's been spitting rhymes on his mixtape, and you're more than thankful for that.

He doesn't even get to use his fingers before your orgasm approaches you, strong waves of pleasure hitting you as Yoongi keeps on kissing and slowly licking you through your high.

Then, he grins at you. "Round two, here we go."

And this time, it's not only his tongue working wonders, but also his fingers stroking you on the inside until they found your spot. 

You press your hands on your mouth to keep yourself from screaming out loud, hips bucking wildly as you come for a second time within less than ten minutes. And again, Yoongi guides you through it and softly caresses your stomach.

"Fuck, I love you," you pant as he comes back up and steals a kiss from you.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed properly," he whispers and takes a large sip from his wine. 

You can only agree.

You've started to spend the nights at Yoongi's more often, bringing Ara to work with you and helping Yoongi with her and the household whenever you can. Your relationship blooms beautifully and Ara is the happiest little bean when you're around.

Obviously, you spent Christmas with Yoongi and Ara as well, buying little presents and enjoying the comfortable atmosphere with the family.

Yoongi gave you a spare key to his house, so you're always able to visit them, spending the nights there and soon enough, you moved in.

❄❄❄❄

The Christmas after that, you surprised Ara with the adoption papers, telling her that now that she's in school and not one of your kindergarten kids anymore, she'll be able to finally call you Mommy (not that Ara minded before, you just felt weird and guilty about it).

And here you are now, preparing the huge breakfast for your third Christmas around, smiling at the ring that adorns your finger. 

"Smells fabulous, Mama," Ara says as she runs towards you and falls into your arms.

"Do you want me to help you with dessert, Mrs Min?" Yoongi asks as he presses a kiss onto your cheeks. You lean into his touch, shaking your head. "It's almost done. You can go into the living room, I'll be there in a minute to open our presents, bubs."

Yoongi prepares the fireplace, lightens some candles with Ara and lets his daughter hand out the presents. 

"I have one more for you, Yoon," you whisper as you hand him a small box.

"Oh? Can I open this first?" He tilts his head curiously, shaking the light box.

"Open!" Ara squeaks and sits down between her father and you. You nod with a fond smile as Yoongi lifts the top. Then, silence.

"Really?" He whispers with teary eyes.

"Yes, finally," you smile, "Ara, you'll become a big sister!"

Yoongi sniffs, hugging his family tight.

"And she'll be the best sister in the world. Merry Christmas, loves."

[sevendeadlymorons]

Demon Brothers & How They’d React to MC Breaking a Bone

Broke my ankle on Halloween so I thought this would be a convenient time to do a bone break headcanon :)

————————————————————

Lucifer

When you first told him, he was on it immediately

No leaving the bed, regular check ins, breakfast in bed

Personal butler for as long as it takes for you to recover

Will give you work you missed from RAD

He’d do extra research on how he could help you better

Gets you the best doctor in Devildom with help of Diavolo

If you wanted to get up, he’d be by your side helping you get to where you wanted to go

If you needed the bathroom, he’d wait outside the door and help you get back into bed when you’ve finished

If you need to bathe, but can’t do it yourself, he’ll gladly help and will turn away when you’re getting undressed if you ask him to

If you felt lonely, he’d sit with you and play his music to relax you and just ask you how you’re doing or even tell you stories about him and his brothers

When you’ve recovered, expect him to take a week long nap to recover next

Mammon

Honestly had no idea what you wanted him to do when you first told him about it

Probably just sent you to bed and pestered you every 10 minutes or so to see if you were ok

Lots and lots of research on what you did and how he can help

Wouldn’t think to call you a doctor until Lucifer steps in

Goes out and buys you snacks that he bought with his own money

Won’t tell you he spent his money to get you food though

Brings up some pain meds that Lucifer told him to give you since he’s clueless about this type of thing

Ends up stealing borrowing Levi’s games from his room to play with you if you get a bit bored

If you need the bathroom, this boy won’t know what to do

Awkward shoulder holding to bathroom

Won’t leave you alone, always by your side

If you tell him you need to wash yourself, and you need some help, he’ll become a blushing mess

Won’t open his eyes once while helping you and will be telling you to hurry up

Honestly, he’d probably move in to your room until you feel better

Very happy when you’ve recovered but is instantly back to being his tsundere self

Levi

Panic

Doesn’t know what to do when you told him

Tells you to go to bed, comes in 5 minutes later with his arms full of snacks, anime, manga, games, you name it, he’s got it

Won’t let you go through this alone

Asks several questions to his brothers on how he can help you and what he should do because let’s be honest, this shut in of an otaku has no idea what he’s doing

Will let you lean on his shoulder

Grabs your hand when he’s playing his game to comfort you

Will ask you how you’re feeling constantly

Freaks out and apologises a thousand times if he accidentally touches your broken bone

In your room more than he’s in his now

If you need to go to the bathroom, he’ll be hiding his face in his hands and blabbering nonsense

Eventually will help you when he sees how much you’re struggling

Like Mammon, awkward shoulder holding to bathroom, except not really touching you, just hovering behind you so you don’t fall

Lord help this boy if you ask him to help you wash yourself. You’d probably need to help him after he’s passed out from shock

In the end, Lucifer ends up helping you

Is sad when you’ve recovered as it means he doesn’t have a legitimate reason to cling to you 24/7 but he’s glad you’re better and won’t have to help you to the bathroom again

Satan

Helps you as much as he can when you tell him what happened

Advises you to stay in bed and he’ll be back up soon with medication and water

Sits on your bed with you and strokes your hand to soothe you

Uses a pain relief spell to help settle the pain

Researches how to treat broken bones with you

Agrees to let Lucifer call you a doctor

Let’s you sleep but doesn’t leave you alone, instead, sits in the corner or by the side of your bed with a stack of books to read just in case you wake up

If you do, he’ll read you to sleep, if you wanted

Let’s you play with his fingers or his hair if you get bored and he’s busy reading

All attention is on you if you call for him, no matter what he’s doing

Will bring you some of his homemade food to cheer you up

May even look up human food recipes to make you feel more at home

If you need the bathroom, he’ll lift you up and support you with your arm round his shoulder

Will wait outside your door until you’re done then put you back into bed

Is the one that brings up the fact you need to wash yourself, and will happily help you if you need it

Won’t look if you tell him not to but insists it’s easier for him to help you if he can see where he’s cleaning

Glad you’ve recovered, but has gotten used to the warmth of your room and will often come in to read with you again

Asmo

Fusses you straight into bed when he finds out what happened

Helps you get dressed into more comfortable clothes even if you didn’t ask him to

Spends the entire time that you’re injured by your side, pampering you and chatting with you

Once a week, he’ll insist he paints your nails and does a face mask night

Invites Solomon over to take care of you in his place if he has plans elsewhere

Doesn’t let any of his brothers touch you

Worries about worsening your skin and forces you to sleep early with him, giving you little cuddles, making sure to avoid your injured bone

Goes to Lucifer or Satan for advice on what he can do for you

If you ask him to help you to the bathroom, he’ll hold your hand to support you with his hand around your waist

Will wait outside the door until you’re finished and make sure nobody comes in

Way too excited when you ask him to help you bathe, and quickly ushers you to his private bathroom for more “comfort”

He will not look away if you ask him to, no chance

On the other hand, after you’ve finished, it’s the most relaxed you’ve felt in a long time

When you’ve recovered, he’s thrilled and will immediately make plans for you and him to go somewhere together

Beel

Doesn’t exactly understand how or what you did to hurt yourself but after some explaining, he’s your personal butler

Don’t even expect to walk anywhere now that you’ve told Beel you broke one of your bones

He’s your personal wheelchair for as long as it takes for you to recover

He’ll carry you everywhere, watching out that he doesn’t touch your injured bone and hurt you more

He’ll take you straight to bed and bring you food several times a day to make sure you’re well fed and not hungry

Feeds you the food if you struggle to do it yourself

Goes to Lucifer to ask him for medication to give you

Belphie often joins in to keep you entertained

If Beel needs to go workout, he’ll carry you with him and sit you on a chair so you aren’t out of his sight

Literally never leaves your side, you’re stuck with him

If you ask him to help you get to the bathroom, he’ll carry you to the door so you can go and then wait outside the door like your personal body guard until you’re ready to go back

If you need to wash yourself, and ask him to help, this boy will be flustered but will happily help you if that’s what you want

Very shy throughout the entire process and will cover his eyes if you ask him to

Will help you get dressed if you can’t

Cuddle pile with Belphie at the end of the day, making sure to stay clear of your injured limb

Sad when you’ve recovered but that won’t stop him from spending the same amount of time with you

Belphie

Calls you clumsy when you tell him about your injury

Takes you to the attic so you two can get some peaceful sleep as he believes sleep is the best medicine

When he’s awake, he’ll fetch you food, water, medication, whatever you ask of him

Very protective over your injury, won’t let anyone that’s not Beel or him near you

Invites Beel to help with you often

Let’s you play with his tail or hair if you get bored

If you need the bathroom, he’ll give you that “what do you want m to do about it” look, until he sees how hard you’re struggling and will come to your aid very very quickly

Most likely falls asleep outside the bathroom door

If you need help washing yourself, honestly, he probably isn’t the demon to turn to. He’ll be too busy smirking at you or falling asleep to do anything useful

Beel has to intervene eventually

Wouldn’t even notice you’ve recovered until he sees you walking around by yourself, but he doesn’t care much, he’ll still drag you into bed with him

Secretly disappointed you’re able to leave the bed again

[linkspooky]

...And they were brothers.

From the start, Endeavor has pitted his own children against each other. Now we’re seeing the complex dynamics of an abusive household, Todoroki Shoto Endeavor’s  golden child and Todoroki Toya Endeavor’s scapegoat, play out on a battlefield. At first glance, Shoto looks like the good brother fighting on the side of the heroes, and Toya the bad brother who cares more for plotting villainous revenge than anything else. However, it’s more complicated than that: a look at abusive dynamics and the character foiling between Shoto and Toya underneath the cut. 

Before I begin, a brief explanation of the golden child and scapegoat dynamic. 

Abuse isn’t just a thing that happens. It’s a power dynamic. The Todoroki Household is considered an abusive household, because all the power is held by one man, Todoroki Enji. An abusive power dynamic can be explained simply as a person who uses the power they have others to their own advantage.

An abusive teacher is someone who steps out of line and acts inappropriately with a student, who they are responsible for because they have power over them. An abusive parent will use their authority as a parent to act in a way that’s not in a child’s best interests. 

Abuse is also a cycle. It perpetuates itself. The reason abuse is cyclical is that, in an abusive dnyamic, fights or disturbances can’t resolve in a healthy way so usually things will go back to status quo and power will be held by the abuser again at the end of the disruption. 

I’m simplifying here to try to make this as understandable as possible, but abuse is a power dynamic. It comes down to a question of: Who holds power in the household? 

In the Todoroki Household, it’s Todoroki Enji who holds all the power. 

In a narcicisst’s household, everyone exists to serve the narcissit. This is quite literal in the Todoroki Household. Enji only had children so they could take on his dream of being number one hero and he could live vicariously though them. 

Let’s strip away all the fantasy paint in this scenario and define it in more realistic terms. Enji thinks he is entitled to something: the title of number one hero. Enji is unable to handle the feelings of being denied the thing he wants, so instead he sets up a family. 

Enji’s family exists for his emotional benefit. He expects his family to “give him something.” He only had a family in the first place, because he thought he was denied what he was owed. Enji had a family for selfish reasons, and thought they existed to fulfill his ambitions, his intention from the start was to use them. So, it’s no wonder more traditional forms of abuse (wife beating, child abuse) rose out of these circumstances. The Todoroki Household is built by Enji, and at the center is Enji a narcissist. 

(I do more nuanced takes on Enji’s character in other meta, but this isn’t the time or the place to talk about it here). 

The household is centered around Enji, he’s the most powerful person in the house, and he expects the household to give him what he wants. When he’s denied what he wants, he’ll rely on abusive tactics to get it.

There are many types of abuse. Tactics used by abusers include: private criticism leading to doubt and hurt; public criticism leading to shame or humiliation; threats of emotional or physical withdrawal leading to abandonment; withdrawal of money or sexual contact that leads to a devaluation of financial power or decrease in sexual self-esteem; verbal threats that can begin a process of fear; verbal and physical tirades or tantrums (i.e., power displays) that can leave the victim feeling helpless; and finally, physical aggression that can lead to fears of physical death.

In the process of a relationship where a man uses these "tactics" on a woman, any or all can be used in any order, at any time. Usually in the beginning of the relationship, criticism and withdrawal are the two most used tactics that lead the man to have an increased sense of power and control, and the woman to have a decreased sense of power and control. [Source] 

Endeavor is denied what he wants. Endeavor gets impatient.He denies that Shoto is even properly in pain, and claims he is just faking it. Endeavor uses physical aggression as an intimidation to get Rei back in line. We also know this happened, Rei fought Endeavor hard for Shoto’s sake at first, but over time became more fragile and more mentally unstable. 

My point is not to detail Endeavor’s abuse because we already know it happened, but to show the underlying motive behind the abuse, abuse is a pwoer dynamic, Endeavor was acting to maintain total authority and control in the household. For the narcicisst everything in the household exists to fulfill the narcicisst’s needs. 

The children as Enji sees them all exist to fulfill his ambitions, so he can live vicariously through them, therefore he doesn’t see their pain. He doesn’t see outside his own ego, because tending to Enji’s needs comes first. He scapegoats one child, ignores the other two, and then the child he does pour his love into he cannot see how much his love and attention is actively harming this child. When Shoto doesn’t want to accept Enji’s attention, he sees Shoto as ungrateful and rebellious. How dare you Shoto, I’m putting all this time and effort into raising you, I’m giving you all of these advantages in life and you don’t repay me????

My point in going into this much detail is that no matter what happens, or how the victims turn on each other in the household, the architect of the abuse, the one who created this situation is Enji. If the victims blame each other, then it benefits Enji because his position at the center will remain unchallenged. 

Which is why... 

“It’s not better or worse to be the golden child. Both face the psychological whiplash of being raised by a narcissist. The GC becomes the conformer to the extreme, with the intense pressure to measure up, and when they don’t they receive cruelty. The SG becomes the rebel who receives almost constant cruelty and shaming. 

The scapegoat and golden child are created because the abuser has a set of impossible to fulfill and aribtrary standards. One of thsee children meets those standards and one of those children does not. 

Why divide people up like this, though? 

As I said, it’s a power dyanmic. We have already seen this play out in canon once before in the richly detailed telling of the Shimura Household. A household where abuse is taking place will be an unstable environment, because it exists at the whim of an abuser. If there are more than just abuser and victim in the house, people will inevitably notice the fractured mood. This is exactly what happened in the Shimura household, there was a problem that everyone saw but nobody talked about.

The Shimura household was constantly being disrupted by Kotaro’s abuse on Tenko, however, an abusive dynamic maintains itself by denying the abuse. Rather than confront Kotaro who holds all the power in the household, the weaker Tenko is blamed. This is Tenko’s issue that clings with him all the way until adulthood, instead of just calling his father out for his improper behavior, his family all sided with his father and told Tenko to stop picking fights. 

The process will continue as long as the man denies the impact of these tactics on the woman and the woman also denies being victimized. He will deny the impact because of acculturation and insensitivity; [Source.]

Instead of challenging the abuser, the victim is told that it is his fault, he needs to stop provoking the abuser, he needs to stop crying, he needs to stop being so sensitive, the feelings of the abuser are catered to over that of their victim and the dynamic is miantained. By finding a scapegoat to blame for the unrest in the household that is happening because of the abuse, nobody ever challenges the abuse directly. 

In other words divide and conquer. If the abuser pits victims against each other, it’s practically guaranteed that nobody will challenge him or confront him on his behavior and he’ll continue uninterrupted. So, in the Todoroki Household where there is a golden child and a scapegoat it continues like this: 

So in the family, the Scapegoat and the Golden Child become these roles assigned by the narcissist in order to play the game of Extract Narcissistic Supply through Triangulation.

Triangulation is like driving a wedge between people. Basically, the game involves two or more people who get pitted against each other and usually they don’t even realize what’s happening. They’re just aware of the conflict between each other and there’s always this conflict. [...]  The narcissist wants the loyalty of everybody and the narcissist wants everybody fighting amongst themselves. [Source.]

This is why every Dabi fan in the series is saying that Shoto, and Toya were set up to fight against each other, because they were. Enji keeps Shoto separated from his siblings, to maintain control. The scapegoat will blame Shoto for his circumstances believing if they hadn’t been born their fathers attention would be theirs, and the golden child will blame the scapegoat for their rebellion, and their own actions done in reaction to the father’s abuse. HOWEVER. In fighting each other. blaming each other, it is Enji who will escape ultimate blame. 

Which is why ultimately scapegoat and golden child don’t really matter, they are  both victims of the same abuser. Shoto and Toya are the same in the way they were abused and their reactions to abuse, it’s only circumstances that differ with them. 

1. Shoto and Dabi Is the Same

Edit by @miriio​

Shoto and Toya are the same, not just because they’re both brothers with the same fire quirk, but because they’ve both been moulded by Enji their entire lives, and their personalities, values, are all in reaction to that. Abuse scars everyone it touches. Arguing about whose scars are worse are besides the point, rather Shoto and Toya mirror each other because they both cope with the stress of abuse in similiar ways, despite their entirely different positions in the household. 

In chapter 204 when faced with a foe who won’t give up, Shoto Todoroki flashes back to his father, and begsin to use his fire qiurk. 

We are shown earlier in this chapter Enji’s attempts to once again assert control over him. Enji texts Shoto multiple times having gone behind his back to get his number. Enji insists that he be the one to teach Shoto prominence burn. (Enji also uses the tactic of understating the past abuse saying he was “misguided” in the past). Shoto while fighting against Tetsu^4 is also fighting against the memory of his father, and uses his flames to his absolute limit in order to prove that they are his flames. He even goes so far to warn Tetsu that he’s not holding back and could cause severe burn damage to his body. 

This also mirrors an earlier behavior when Enji pushed Todoroki before his fight with Sero, he overdid his ice quirk to the point of freezing the entire stadium. There’s an idea with Shoto that just because he is starting on the path to healing, and learning to cope healthily, that he never lashes out, or responds to his his father’s violence with violence. That is simply not true. 

Shoto’s character arc is not complete. He is still dealing with this. As far back as the fight against Class B, he was getting what look to be trauma flashbacks in the middle of the fight, and could have even possibly been triggered by Tetsu’s relentless beating down on him. 

Shoto and Toya maintain a similiar pattern of behavior, in that they intentionally are docile, and hold back their strength in a fight. Shoto used to never use his flames at all. He also usually uses them far less effectively than his ice quirk. 

Toya also, uses his flames sparingly in a fight (albeit for different reasons, his flames will burn him as he has no way of cooling himself like Shoto). However, when pushed in the situation, especially emotionally he will go all out. He’ll use the fire with far less regard for who he burns or even for burning himself. 

Toya doesn’t use his flames at all, until he does and then he has no sense of moderation. 

Besides the way they use their flames, and their bad relationship with their own flames, (Shoto holds them back, Toya is burned by them.) They also both tend to overuse their quirk when they get emotionally riled or are lashing out. Their fire is a metaphor for their emotions, but more on that later.

Shoto and Toya exhibit several behaviors, the similarities are especially strong between Shoto and Earlyroki. First and foremost, they both insist on doing everything alone. 

They’re both (Dabi, Earlyroki) highly individualist people who purposefully distance themselves from others, and deny any closeness to others because  they need to feel strong on their own. 

Shoto and Toya are people who have lived their entire lives fighting their controlling father over agency over their own lives in different ways. Toya fights Endeavor’s rejection of him, and Shoto fights Endeavor’s smothering and insistence that he take his legacy. The reason they cut out everybody else from their lives is because (1: their father dominating and controlling them they never learned to make connections with others, 2: they live their entire lives focusing on battling against their father). 

However, the methods they use to fight their father are what their father taught them, because ultimately it’s all they know. Children who are raised in an abusive household grow up improperly. They don’t know healthy means of dealing with their emotions because they are never taught these. Developmentally, they are stunted and this can even have effects late into an adulthood so it doesn’t actually matter that Dabi is in his twenties (especially since he died in his teens). 

Shoto, and Dabi are to an extent what their father made them to be. They are staunch individualists, who rely on the strength of their quirk to get what they want, like being the strongest truly is the only thing that matters. This behavior is shown in the both of them, but especially with Earlyroki. There are parallels. The way they both deal with small fry villains. 

The scene where they both take out minor villains by entirely dominating them with their quirk is a parallel set up between the two of them.

They also both have a tendency towards dissociation to try to deal with past trauma: IE, trying to move themselves away from their feelings and insist their not feeling anything in order to avoid their feelings.

At their worst, Shoto and Toya show off several of the same behaviors. These are all symptoms of abuse. Their shared inability to regulate their own fire is a metaphor for the fact that neither of them were taught how to properly regulate their own emotions. 

A healthy adult is able to handle stress, and negative emotions in healthy ways. They can put a lid on it, deal with it at a better time, think and sort through them. Shoto’s emotions always, always, always, come out during a fight even if he insists he’s letting go of the past and his father. Dabi and Shoto show behavior where they are either completely emotionally remote and unreachable “off”, or they are flipped “on” and completely unleash themselves. The point of these states of being is that Toya and Shoto are themselves unstable, because they were not fully developed emotionally, because they did not grow up in a household where their emotional well being was put first and foremost. 

They grew up in a household where they catered to Enji’s emotions first and foremost, and because of that both Shoto and Toya have trouble finding themselves in their fire. They also show several other symptoms, dissociation, social isolation, and a belief that they have to be strong and handle everything by themselves. Dabi cannot accept cooperation, and neither could Earlyroki. IN effect, Dabi is still fighting against the idea that he is weak that was beaten into him by his father, so of course relying on others is the sign of that same weakness. They both let their flames burn because they feel the need to be strong. 

2. Shoto and Dabi is different

I am making the argument that they are emotionally very similiar, and they both are who they are in reaction to what Endeavor did to them. They just take a different tack in the way they frame themselves. Dabi the villain, Shoto the hero.

Shoto mentions very early on his quirk could be used to kill people, but he won’t, because that’s not a heoric action to do.

Dabi says that he’s killing these villains for a purpose. We learn later what that purpose is, to get his body count up to thirty in order to further stain Endeavor’s name.

In other words, Shoto fights against his father as a hero, Toya fights against his father as a villain. This also reflects the golden child / scape goat dynamic. Shoto on the whole conforms, Dabi on the whole rebels. Shoto is still in the middle of hero society.

Shoto’s strategy has always been that he has to work around Endeavor to get what he wants, which leads to Shoto cooperating with Endeavor on many occasions. He interns with him because he’s the number two hero. He often has his boundaries violated by Endeavor wanting to act like father son in public and Shoto not being comfortable with that. 

Shoto’s strategy is to exist within the same framework that his father created, but learn to be his own hero. In this strategy he gives Endeavor what he wants almost as a trade for what Shoto still needs, which is practice and training to become a hero on his own terms. 

The golden child conforms, the scapegoat rebels. Shoto tries to accomplish what he wants inside of hero society, whereas Dabi pushes his agenda as a villain. Shoto lives to become a true hero, and wants to become a hero for his own reasons not because his father pushed him to, but because All Might inspired him.

Toya not only declares that there are no true heroes, but he dedicates everything to tearing down what he sees are false heroes. His strategy is one of rebellion. Toya is aware of the arbitrary and hypocritical labels of hero and villain in this society, and because of that goes out of his way to show someone how villainous the actions of a hero can be.

However. Shoto wanting to become a hero. Toya becoming a villain from necessity. 

Isn’t as black and white as it seems. Toya has what Shoto lacks, which is awareness, the ability to criticize society and the situation he was in. Enji isn’t the only one to blame for the abuse of the Todoroki household, the society that allowed it to happen is also to blame. Shoto is capable of unknowingly inflicting violence on people who are just like him victims of abuse because he lacks Toya’s outside perspective.

Shoto, that kills people.

Shoto, that also kills people.

The point being it easily could have been Dabi that Shoto stabbed to death with an icicle, or burned alive to the point where half of his body was smoking. It could have been Dabi who has the same scars as him, who was burned by the same man. It’s only chance that he was going all out against Shigaraki instead of Dabi. Shoto can’t see villains as victims of the hero system, even though he was a victim of the same system. 

Shoto hesitates when he learns that it’s Toya but what is the difference here? He was ready to use lethal force on Shigaraki a moment ago. Has anything truly changed? Dabi is still an enemy trying to destroy hero society. He still kills innocent people. He’s just now a villain that Shoto happens to know personally. 

My point is that Shoto’s conformity can set him up against victims of the same society. The same way that, Dabi’s rebellion can lead him to harm his own family.

Dabi’s rebellion is just lashing out. The scapegoat because they are the lowest position in the whole family, because they are isolated, can sometimes associate the abuser’s actions with the whole family. We saw this with little Tenko. Tenko resented both his abuse father, but also his little sister for tattling on him, his mother and grandparents for not comforting him and taking any steps to stop his father. When you are the lowest rung on the ladder, when the stress of the whole household is taken out on you, you tend to see every member of the family as the same. 

Dabi absorbs the stress of the whole household. When he inevitably retaliates because nobody can keep that stress inside of them, and Dabi has been taught no healthy means of dealing with that stress, he is pitted against both other members of his family and Endeavor himself. 

Dabi’s rebellion will hurt other people in the household, he has no regard for Shoto whatsoever, he sent Ending to Endeavor who ended up kidnapping Natsuo, he also is probably going to cause Rei’s setback.

However, at the same time Dabi’s lashing out is inevitable. Dabi was made to bear the stress of the entire household when he was blame and ousted as the scapegoat instead of his father Endeavor. Dabi is dealing with those emotions alone, lashing out on them alone, he only sees his own pain, but that is because to begin with, and all this time he has been suffering alone. 

That’s where we get to the main difference between them, Shoto now has support, and Toya doesn’t. 

Shoto even says back as early as the stain arc, which is the arc that Dabi first emerged in the aftermath of, that the problem with Earlyroki is not that he was angry, but that he was dealing with that anger all alone. He says it, that being all alone warps your vision, to the point where you can only see yourself.

Dabi is cut off from others, he might care about them but he severs those feelings away from himself. He has been isolated at least since he died, and maybe all his life, and even the connections of the league can’t bridge the gap between himself and others. Dabi is someone stuck in permanent Earlyroki phase because to him he lives his life for one purpose.

Shoto has been allowed to develop as his own person, because he let others in. The biggest difference between them can be illustrated with their fire. Dabi says his flames are Endeavors flames. Shoto is told that his flames are his own. 

However, Shoto did not reach this consclusion on his own. He was told this by someone else. Shoto could not even take the first step until someone showed him the way, so who is to say the same can’t be true for Dabi? 

Dabi has been separated from his family, homeless for ten years, and he literally died that one time. It’s likely that in all that time nobody has told him something so simple as “Your flames can be your own.” Dabi doesn’t know he can have a life outside of revenge against Endeavor because he hasn’t been shown it, he’s only ever known his father’s abuse and his fight against it. We don’t know if the league can reach him or not because he hasn’t been entirely honest with the league until right this second. 

There’s a reason that the camera is cut like this. 

Shoto’s scar, the damage inflicted on him, and Enji’s unscarred side. It makes a point. Is Dabi really the enemy in this situation? Is Dabi the ultimate villain? He plays the mastermind but he’s not. 

Both Dabi and Shoto were burned by Endavor’s flames. It was Endeavor who created the situation and pitted them against each other in the first place. Which is why hero or villain, golden child or scapegoat it honestly, should not matter. Dabi and Shoto are not each other’s enemies, they were just made to think that way by Endeavor’s actions all the way back from when they were kids. 

If Dabi is blamed for his own rebellion. If he’s villified for it. If Dabi is made out to be the bad one for reacting the way he did, then, it’s no longer Enji’s fault for abusing him in the first place. After all, Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shoto were similiarly abused and they didn’t react that way. Maybe Dabi just had bad vibes. If Dabi and Shoto are fighting each other, neither of them are fighting Enji, and the society he represents which enabled Enji’s abuse. While victims blame each other for their own reactions they don’t confront the abuser. 

Endeavor burned them, and Shoto, and Dabi are coping with those lifelong burns in different ways. Instead of trying to kill each other, they have much more to gain from sympathizing with one another. Shoto’s path to become a hero and surpassing his father, should take the course of being a hero who rescues. We’re even shown in this arc how horribly violent Enji is towards Shigaraki, a victim of similiar abuse to Shoto. Shoto would become a better hero, from listening to Dabi’s perspective and learning about the flaws in hero society. Whereas, Dabi needs to learn that he has a future beyond dragging his father to hell with him. Shoto was only able to open up to other people because someone forced their way through his walls and told him that his flame was his own, and Shoto can be the one to open Dabi’s eyes that his flame can be used for more than just destruction.

Shoto’s desire for a hero is not wrong, Dabi’s desire to confront Endeavor’s abuse is not wrong. Both of these things are necessary. To make a person stop behaving badly you have to confront them about your behavior. However, it’s not healthy to linger in your pain forever because you won’t be able to move on and heal. 

Shoto is someone who can tell the all important words to Dabi. Your flames are your own. Didn’t you want to be a hero? 

PS. It’s really hypocritical to say that Dabi is wrong for announcing what Enji did on public television, like... Shoto tells his backstory to literally anyone who asks. Fuyumi casually discusses the fact that Natsuo thinks their father killed their brother with Shoto’s two friends from school. THEY ARE ALL LIKE THAT. THE TODOROKIS WILL TALK ABOUT THEIR DRAMA IN FRONT OF ANYBODY. 

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝘼/𝙉: This is my piece for my very own collab 'Ice Cold Heart' and also my excuse to delve into some more canon rather than fanon Hawks, because canon Hawks has been clouding my mind lately and I needed to get this out

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Hawks/fem!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Angst, mentions of sexual themes

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

"I'm in love with you"

The precious meaning of a phrase is only defined by the weight you decide to put on it. And today you have decided that with your words you'd give birth to what's only going to give you and him pure, undefined pain. An elephant in the room if you may, an ogre of emotions that otherwise would be unwanted to stand between the two of you.

You think 'otherwise' as if it's not unwanted already. The unrequited nature of your sentence will linger in your heart more than you'd like to admit, but you're ready to lift your eyes and meet his golden ones, ready to be judged with the coldness of his gaze, ready to be treated like you've expected you will when coming into his office.

You still have that hidden truth to spill to him, and it surpasses the one you spilt already, but you hold your dry tongue in your mouth for now.

What could possibly only hurt like a kitten's scratch -his mute, his echoing silence- is rather twisting numerous sharp daggers in your chest, twirling over the wound of your feelings, ravaging any hope for salvation you had been left with. You wonder how your friends ever managed to convince you that the hardest thing about confessing was the part where you had to build up your courage.

Your courage never suffered from a hit as you walked to his office, despite being terrified for what you had to say to him. Paperwork in your hands and none of a nervous trembling in your lips, iron clad feet clashing with the tiles of the building. You've made your decision to get rid of all those feelings, not wanting to spend another night bent on his desk or sprawled under him, only for him to act like he barely knows you in the office and then to be all greedy and sweet in public events.

His games, that god awful behavior of his, the way he chooses to use you -even if you feel like you use him to, to turn him into something that he's not with your imagination- you're tired of everything. And then there's also the fact that he's a traito-

"Aha"

The answer to your confession wasn't supposed to affect you either for better or for worse, rather this confession was an egotistical act, Mirko, or any of your friends previously said, that one had to endure in order to take the next big step. Whether that was a step accompanied by your desired person, or a step to redeeming the anathema a rejection could have caused.

Frankly it wasn't that the golden orbs staring back at you were rejecting. If anything, they didn't bore into yours in a way that left you hollow, but they didn't fill your heart with dreams either. And what your original intentions begged to stand up for was that you didn't care of any significant reciprocation.

You wish you didn't care where those words you had uttered had left Hawks, or in what inner conflict they had found him in. But you know, he won't be in any conflict about what you have to say, what you've kept inside for too long, what has bled onto your morals like a run over animal on the street, left to rot and seep into the road as it disintegrates under the sun or the cold.

Unbeknownst to you, deep down in his head, Hawks doesn't know how to feel, or how to react; its all too sudden for him to process. The way you spoke of it so casually yet, so lightheartedly, your tone suggesting that you let your most vulnerable object of thought slip through your fingertips, like you let it fall out of your head and shutter on the ground.

"I-"

It isn't much, just the start of a sentence that he hopes he could compose, but the way your brows furrow at the sound of his voice does nothing other than startle him.

You should have known, he's not going to give in to such demands. Love, relationships, he doesn't have time, space, a mindset, doesn't need you to be that one for him, he wants all the stability he can get when he wants it, however he wants it and he's gone when he gets it, swift as a bird, cold as stone. That doesn't necessarily tickle a nerve inside of him, you know the rules, even if he feels bad about you suffering like this there's nothing he can do -he doesn't even know how- and he chooses to let you speak, get it out, before he has to go and be a hero for the day.

"No, no save it," You wave him off "here's my resignation"

The authority in your voice isn't the one he was used to. As his eyes blink, honey colored orbs taking in the un-glory of your posture, he's met with the sight of your hands hugging around your own form; the ultimate sign of vulnerability, uncertainty.

"You don't have to quit because you fell in love with me"

'You fell in love with me' he speaks of the words so little, as if they're dirty, as if you're in this with yourself and they're so suffocating that he can't stand them, only to softly graze your ear with vore intentions, to tell you that you don't have to quit, to urge you to not take this too serious.

Your feelings aren't serious.

"I do" You speak, trying to jab him back with some crafted poison in your tone. But you know what you're going to say next will definitely do it for him, it'll poison him we'll, whether it makes you endangered or not. "I was on patrol when I saw you doing business with Dabi, so save it."

The weight of those words is what finally serves as a huge hit to your courage. You've outed yourself greatly and now the chewing on your bottom lip is profound and painful to a great amount. Hawks' face is contorted in a terrifying darkness, thick brows clenched above his eyes and lips pushed into a thin line, nose scrunched.

"Listen-"

"I just don't want to be a part of this"

That's when he knows he has to be forgiving.

Hawks isn't used to you, a fierce warrior of a hero, clenching your jaw tensely or furrowing your brows in sorrows. He isn't used to you being so upfront with your emotions either; whatever the two of you have shared in the past has been in words of reluctance and mind states of regret, each one desperate to prevent your hearts from getting hurt.

He knows his heart won't get hurt though, it's shielded way too well inside his chest, in such way he feels hollow, driven by anything other than the stupid organ. You should have known, he tells himself, before you got involved so deeply, but he left you with no time for thoughts like these, wiggling you under his wing while biting your skin instead of pecking it.

Just as Hawks has always known that he's going to hurt you no matter you rejecting labels or bottling feelings up and absolutely forbidding the mention of them, it's obvious that things can't go his way. He isn't used to you eyeing him with pain gathering in the corners of your eyes, but he's willing to play the part you're setting up for him right on the spot. Even if he has to admit, the thought of being painted in this color jabs him just like knowing things won't go back to the way they were between the two of you.

He doesn't mind. He had to let it go because by the time you know about the truth you won't even remember his face, or the way his voice sounds, and he shouldn't think about this but he does, in a way, in the very back of his head.

His mission, he thinks, is far more important than his personal life -it's a top priority for greater good.

Once greater good is achieved he's going to be able to invest in a personal life that involves feelings and excitement and even the noble pleasure of being able to choose between priorities. Right?

So, whatever he's feeling now -the tight knot in his throat, the painful lack of oxygen in his throat, his gut twisting and churning and his limbs alternating from spasming to going numb- he has to ignore.

But for the worse part he doesn't really know how to act. The confession that has startled him is still lingering on repeat in the back of his head, fueling the small ignition of a flame that begs to put you on a pedestal, or rather, it began to make his mouth move on it own, to tell how that he too wishes he could be with you as more than this secretly exclusive arrangement you've set.

Maybe, his heart pleads, maybe he can tell you about his mission and clear up the confusion.

He wonders if that would be a part you'd want him to play for you.

"I won't give you away. So long as you don't involve me in this, I don't have ulterior motives for protecting civilians."

"I-" He starts, darkness bottling up in his gut, stomach falling after going utterly numb. Somehow he knows he's not going to utter a word if he keeps acting like that.

"Hawks-"

"You'll get over it."

It's sharp and it's short and it sends heavy, lethal daggers to your chest, so much that you can feel your heart beginning to slip from in between your ribs, out of chest and onto the floor of his office. It'd be a mess to clean, the blood if your agony and your heartache rightfully on his floor. For him to look down on, this time, physically.

"I will"

He knows his words hurt, just by the mere look your face contorts and he won't utter a word about what you just said, he'll link you to Endeavor and when the time comes you'll know. His cause is greater than your heart breaking, greater than chasing after that small arrangement he's made so he can get physical release from time to time.

It's better not to react. Not to terrorize you into anything for if you're afraid you might out the wrong truth to the heroes in your circle and his plan -the commission's plan- will fail and the heroes will lose this war. And he can't lose.

You want to look at him with menace and disgrace, not to atone him for the way he's making you feel; crashing your dreams, poisoning your morals and your thoughts, living down to your expectations so much that you don't know what to think of him.

Like he did when you saw him after closed doors, cold and unapproachable, to the point he's scary. Manipulative so much that you found your way under him without even realizing how fast it happened, what impact it had to you to get involved with him. You just want to be out, unwielded from his spider's web and latch yourself into something real and kind, to serve your purpose as a hero. As a human.

When he opens his mouth again you're not scared anymore, of what he may do to you, of what will happen next.

"Hand me your papers so I can sign them"

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it.  To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth.  But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me.  What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them.  A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen.  What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining.  Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance.  You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me?  I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such  a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee.  Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.”  (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence.  The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way.  And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty.  To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

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[lucemferto]

I think that post you reblogged about Ghostbur emphasizes why some people are sick of the current state of angst. Not because the story itself is miserable, but because a lot of it has started to feel like it's more for shock value/evoking an emotional reaction from the audience rather than telling a good story. And both can be done, don't get me wrong. Setting out to tell an emotional story is fine. S2's exile arc was horrible and depressing, but it was the first time we'd had this level of uncomfortable realism in the form of c!Dream's textbook abuse.

I've noticed a lot more ccs coming into the new lore not just with new styles, but playing up the misery. Sure, they had struggles before, but suddenly c!Fundy is plagued by nightmares and can't sleep, and Sam is psychologically tormented by the weights and failures of his job and warden, and Quackity is torturing someone and is emotionally isolated from his former loved ones, Ghostbur is doomed to an eternity of suffering for having done nothing wrong but been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some of these things make sense for the story and are reasonable enough, but it's that it's happening to so many characters in different ways that's started to make the story emotionally exhausting for many.

There was depressing stuff before, but I feel like ever since Tommy and Ranboo especially stepped up their angst game, everyone's been following in making their character psychologically tormented in some kind of isolation. Like for example, Tommy's death. The purpose of it was to push him into killing Dream so Wilbur wouldn't come back, which inadvertently gives Dream exactly what he needs to do so. The thing is, these ideas were already there in Tommy's head.

At the end of the Disc War, Wilbur showed up and showed great disdain at the idea of being revived (must've changed after another few years of torment) and brings up how Schlatt could come back, to which Tommy responds with a groaning "oh no" as if he's made a mistake by putting Dream in prison. While visiting Dream, Tommy never brings up Wilbur or the possibility of resurrection and was ready to never see Dream again, implying he was following Wilbur's (at the time) wish to be left dead. If anything, it would be easier to have Tommy to decide Dream was too dangerous to just be left in the prison, especially if he had no purpose to him (he was about to kill Dream before he mentioned the revive book, if the revive book is useless to him now, well...), and they could still spend that off time with the hotel with Tommy deliberating on whether it's better to leave him be or to kill him. Point being, Tommy's death didn't feel necessary. That amount of angst to push him towards a decision he was already going in the direction towards feels excessive. If it had been the catalyst for the story to jump off, maybe I would've felt differently, but it was nearly two months after that when Tommy actually did something. And now that Wilbur's going to be MIA from the internet for three weeks to a month after his bands EP releases, we'll have to wait further. I'm sure other ccs will do things in his absence, but wilbur's resurrection was kind of the thing everyone seemed to be waiting for, and he's not even going to be around for a while longer.

There's also the whole thing about the afterlife itself being actively awful, which doesn't imply anything good for the story even if all the characters are safe and happy by the end. I wish they went for a more neutral afterlife and made the resurrection process itself the thing that was painful, contrasting the unbiased nature of death with a severe violation of it. But oh well. My only hope is that there's a reason this afterlife is so fucked up.

You could still disagree, but I hope this paints a picture of why so many people feel the angst is excessive and has started to dip more into shock value territory.

Had this ask sitting in my inbox for ages. I really have nothing to add even after all this time, so I just wanted to put it out there for the world to see.

[dinpascal]

All a Game — Din Djarin

warnings: (18+) language/dirty talk, rough sex (piv), oral (m+f), hair pulling, orgasm denial, (kind of) hate sex (piv)  summary: As a fellow Mandalorian, you find yourself traveling with the bounty hunter and his kid despite the mutual dislike you seem to have for one another. Everything goes well (more or less), until he nearly gets both of you killed. He gets tired of your mouth. 

He was infuriating. 

Originally you had given him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to the (stupid) helmet debacle. If you had lived a certain way for the high majority of your life, your beliefs and sense of self completely and thoroughly twisted a particular way, it was difficult to simply step away from that when presented with something different — something that completely contrasted with what you staked your life on. 

In other, simpler words, the silver Mandalorian’s response to your face was as expected. 

However, as his arrogant and you’re-beneath-me attitude continued, the less patience you could continue to muster. He and his beliefs were superior to you just because he kept an oversized tin can over his head at at times? Don’t think so. 

You were just as much a Mandalorian as him. 

Nevertheless, here you were. Abandoning Bo Katan and the others for him and the little green bean foundling under his care and protection. While you argued it was for his sake, as no Mandalorian should ever stand alone, you knew it was primarily because of Bo Katan herself. While experienced and cunning, you grew tired of their quest you never saw happening — the retaking of Mandalore. It was a child’s dream. One you were no longer interested in entertaining.

Traveling with the nearly-mute Mandalorian held quite the learning curve. Neither of you were too thrilled with the other (considering the stark difference in beliefs), but there was enough respect for one another to quietly exist around one another. He would occupy himself in the cockpit doing whatever he did up there, while you fed the Child and listened to his cooing and babbling, occasionally offering your own opinions on subjects. You doubted his adopted father encouraged conversation much at all, given he wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself.

While the pair slept in their tiny, shared compartment, you were a few feet away in your own that he had (surprisingly) made out of another compartment that had originally been acting as some sort of storage. The little green bean would occasionally sneak out of his hammock and make his way to yours, often snuggling between your arms and snuggling his little body to your chest. 

The three of you fell into a strangely comfortable arrangement, until he agreed to a certain bounty that, apparently, required the both of you. While you were not too keen to the guns-for-hire career he had undertaken, you understood the need to survive and instead stayed behind to watch the little one while he was out. 

“I don’t understand who you could possibly be hunting that you can’t take on your own.” You had begun slipping your armor on, which had previously taken estate in your personal storage; there was no need to wear it when the majority of your time was spent in or near the Razor Crest. You could hear him rustling with something behind you, though you focused on the faded-scarlet color painted on your armor. 

“They want them alive.” He stated simply, as if those four words completely and thoroughly explained the situation. You turned towards him then, eyes already rolling and an annoyed look sent in his general direction. There were only a few things you missed when it came to traveling with Bo Katan and the others — one of, if not the most major, being conversation. 

“What about the little one?”

He glanced in the Child’s direction, currently drawing in his notebook he had been given when your companion had come across it in the shops of Tattooine. “He’ll be fine. No one will be able to come on board.”

You sighed. Of the few things you truly disliked about the Mandalorian, one of them was that he treated the little one as older than he truly was. It didn’t matter that he was soon hitting his 51st birthday. He was mentally as old as a two-year old child. He didn’t truly understand the difference between safety and danger. He was still trying to grasp the whole concept of using the vacc tube.

You must have pulled a face then, as you caught a muffled sigh and one of your blasters being pushed into yours hands. “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can return.” You imagined he held your gaze as you looked at him, his words offering a semblance of comfort and security. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, you tucked your blasters into their respective holsters and kneeled in front of the little one. He immediately softly cooed in greeting, head raising and ears flicking in your direction. He held a red crayon in one hand, seemingly drawing a big, red dust cloud. “Hey, green bean. You stay on the ship, okay? No opening the doors and exploring without us.” He released a sound you knew to be one of disappointment (the same one he made when you said dinner was over), ears and head dropping as if being scolded. 

You smiled and touched his hand, heart fluttering as his three fingers curled around one of your own. “Draw your daddy a pretty picture, okay? We have to fill the entire cockpit.” He squealed at the idea, head dropping and resuming his drawing without another sound.

The sound of the airlock hissing open is what eventually tore you away.

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“Will you shut up?”

Your chest heaved as you forced oxygen into your lungs, currently behind the cover of a large tree and the Mandalorian a few feet away, seemingly doing the same as his chest rapidly rose and fell. You sent him a glare that spilled nothing but poison, wishing more than anything that he could see your face through your visor. “You’re the one who didn’t know the stupid bounty had a crew! It’s one against twenty!” You hissed, doing the utmost to ignore the burning in your shoulder. One had managed to a blaster shot in the tiny space between your armor and knew blood was no doubt staining the inside of it. At the back of your mind, you begrudgingly noted you’d have to paint the pretty armor again, once safe and sound in the ship. It was a painstakingly slow process. 

The Mandalorian apparently didn’t feel that comment deserved a response, as he merely glanced from cover to the enemy before them. Their footsteps were nearing closer, close enough to hear the shouts they shared between one another.

“You’re insufferable!” You stood and dug into your pouch, eventually coming across the tiny discs you had developed yourself and tossing them about the bushes. If anything were on your side in your current predicament, it was the flush greenery the planet held. It didn’t matter your armor’s coloring was a stark contrast, it was cover nonetheless.

Your companion was forced to follow your lead, the sound of his blaster sounding off and quickly followed by screams of pain. As an ugly blue-colored Quarren neared you, you kicked out a foot to knock his knee out from under him. 

It was official. You hated the Mandalorian. 

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“You could have gotten us killed.” He dragged the body of the bounty behind him, knocked out cold and his arms cuffed. The two of you had hardly spoken on the way back to the ship, though there was no shortage of dirty looks (from you) aimed at the back of his helmet. 

Per usual, there was no response from him as the ramp for the ship descended. 

“All for what? A few hundred credits?” Discarding your helmet and tossing it aside, you watched as he froze the bounty in carbonite. It was official — talking to a wall was more entertaining than talking to him. “There are hundreds of different ways to survive! But no, you have to do this bullshit?”

Abruptly and suddenly, as quick as a flash of lightning, he was standing just a breath from you. “If this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you princess,” he spat, “Then, by all means, get the fuck off my ship.”

You stared into his visor for a moment, resisting the urge to take a step back and away from the aura of anger and distaste he was exerting. While you certainly weren’t his biggest fan in the galaxy, you weren’t ignorant. You were more than aware of how capable this man was. Nonetheless, you knew you’d be able to hold your own against him. 

“And leave the kid with you?” You laughed, briefly enjoying the amount of sarcasm it dripped. “He’d be dead in a parsec.”

“I seem to remember how completely fine he was without you.” If you were being completely honest, that one hurt. You’d grown so attached to the little swamp rat and the idea of him being fine without you around made your stomach turn. 

“You’re an asshole.” There was a brief sound of static before he laughed. As if you had told a fucking joke. He leaned even closer then, arm raising to lean his weight against the wall behind you. Briefly, the smell of leather and something untamed filled your every sense. It was intoxicating, you wanted to drown in it until it was seared in your very brain. 

“Yeah?” He questioned, helmet dipped so low you could feel the coolness on your forehead. “Say it again.” He dared, a leather-covered hand inching up until his thumb touched your throat. It was nothing but a touch, but a thousand goosebumps blossomed at the contact alone. 

“You’re an...” The breath whooshed from your lungs as the touch left your throat and down to your hip, spun one-eighty and chest suddenly pressed against the wall of the Razor Crest. A bite of metal stung at your back, his beskar pressing into the divot between your own. He remained painfully silent, though deft fingertips began to explore the crevice between your back armor and the waistband of your pants. “Asshole.”

Before the word was out of your throat and past your lips, the buckle that kept your back and abdomen armor was released and the red armor was left clattering to the floor. Large hands were shoving at your trousers until they were loose at your ankles, unsure of just what was happening until a hand roughly grasped your ass, so tightly you were positive fingerprint marks were left behind. 

His touch returned to your neck, pulling you against his chest and causing the back of your head to painfully clash against his helmet. “You and that fucking mouth.” He murmured darkly, his own hips pressing against your bare skin. His length strained against his own slacks, offering a sick kind of relief that was anything but. It was a promise, but one you weren’t truly sure he would give — you knew he was enjoying the torment he was putting you through. “I’m going to shove my cock into that pretty mouth and make you shut up for once.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat, purposely shoving your hips further against him. “Then do it.”

Before you could blink, you were spun once more and a leg skillfully kicked your own out from under you until you were on your knees. His visor was tilted low enough to know he was watching you, his head tilting just enough to say, “well?”. 

Without another thought, you were unclasping his slacks and releasing his cock. It sprung free wholeheartedly, his tip swollen a deep red and so pretty and so much. 

As if able to hear your thoughts, you caught the faint sound of amusement from him before his fingers curled into your hair and wrenched your head upwards so you were forced to meet his unseen gaze. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever been silent since we met, an’edee.” He took a short moment to trace his thumb over the nape of your head, securely and effectively collecting your hair into his fist. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t argue, lips falling open just in time for the slight jar he gave to your head towards his dick. He pushed no further than past his tip, giving you ample time to explore and appreciate. You did just that with silent glee, tongue swiping slow and languid laps, beginning at his shift and slowly upwards. He remained silent as you continued your slow exploration, the only indication that was he remotely affected being the slight twitch of his fingers in your hair. 

You lifted a hand to stroke his length with a lazy admiration, pushing your spit where your mouth had yet to touch... Yet. He was torturously thick and as your fingers traced the pulsing vein on the underside of him, he twitched and it seemed to surge forward on its own volition. As if it was attempting to push even more blood into his dick just to reach your mouth faster.

Nevertheless, he remained eerily but characteristically silent. 

You took him in your mouth once more, daring to take that much more and gently caressing what remained. It was hardly more than a caress, but enough to keep him interested and wanting. You set a slow, but steady pace, ferociously ignoring the fiery blaze that licked at your own heat. 

He stood there, still clad in his untouchable armor and blasters still in their holsters — untouchable. It didn’t matter his cock was in your mouth. He was still as much as in control as ever. 

It became a game. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to fall apart. 

Your gaze flickered back up to him as your pace quickened, more than aware that his own had never wavered from the sight of his cock steadily pumping into your hot mouth. You didn’t need to see through his darkened visor to know.

Just as you moved to caress one of his balls, still partially shielded by his slacks, he caught your wrist in a near-painful hold. A displeased growl echoed through his helmet, ripping you away from him and to your feet. You couldn’t help the wicked grin that settled on your lips, swiping your own spit from your bottom lip with a thumb. 

“You want to tease?” He questioned, one hand roughly guiding you to the table he tended to use as a make-shift worktable, bending you over it with ease while his other hand swiped for something against the wall. It wasn’t until the lights flickered shut and the sound of heavy metal clashing against metal stung at your ears, that you knew what was happening. 

He gave no warning as his tongue flirted between your folds, causing your body to naturally tighten at the abrupt intrusion. It was too good, too much, when there was little warning beforehand.

He lapped eagerly, rotating from languid, deep strokes of his tongue and abrupt, sharp sucking at your sensitive, singing clit. What his intentions were were incredibly clear. This wasn’t soft love between two people who loved one another. He was going to fuck you and tease your every limit, and make you love every fucking second of it. 

Each time your body would instinctively jump away, either from a harsh nip at your sensitive thighs or it simply being too much at once, an unforgiving hand would tighten its hold on your leg and drag you back to his mouth. 

In a matter of minutes, with his facial hair sharply biting at your skin and his unrelenting tongue, you were keening. However, he refused you any kind of release. The moment your thighs tightened or breath quickened, he would make a soft sound of amusement and deter his movements until your body sagged in anything but relief. 

At the third or fourth rotation of the infuriating game, you finally caved. “If you don’t let me fucking cum, I’m going to—,” He cut you off before you could finish, lifting himself up until his lips were touching the shell of your ear. 

“I thought you’d learned.” He used one hand to lick his fingers, rewetting his tip while the other caught you around your throat. Mid-breath, he impaled you with one thrust, seemingly unable to help his own gruff groan. “To keep that pretty mouth shut.” He breathed, using his grip at your throat to drag you back down with each thrust. 

A soft sound spilled from you each time his hips met your pelvic bone, promising you’d feel him for days, each time you moved. His pace was unrelenting, hardly ever giving you the time to even realize he was gone before he was thrusting back in. 

His teeth nipped at your ear as he fucked you near senselessly, quickly and nearly effortlessly drawing the orgasm you’d been begging for once more. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked like this.” A string of profanities fell from you then, so fucking close and wanting to cum so badly. If he were to give it to you, you would have given him anything. 

“Want to cum, pretty thing?” He questioned, the lewd sounds of your fucking only worsening as he continued. “Beg for it.”

You did so without question. “Please, please, please—” A sharp sound from your throat cut you off, just as his free hand circled your clit once and you swore you saw the heavens above. Your orgasm was ripped out of you, squeezing yourself so tight around him, his grasp on your throat loosened and his forehead fell against your shoulder. 

He came with a low grunt, pulling out from your warmth and spilling on your back. He stood unmoving for the faintest of moments, as if aware you still hadn’t returned to the present just yet. 

You released a shaky breath and touched your forehead to the cool metal underneath you. “Well, fuck Mando. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He instantly sighed and you imagined the curt shake of his head. “That fucking mouth.”