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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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an ode to winter | dabi.

♡ pairing: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: manga war arc!au, single-parent!au, unplanned pregnancy!au, angst, fluff, smut.

♡ summary: touya todoroki had broken a lot of things, your heart, promises, your window a few times, but you swore he'd never leave your child feeling that way. but when he wants back into your life, will he take no for an answer? And do you even want to say it?

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( literally 5k of it ), MANGA SPOILERS IN THE EXTENDED ENDING, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of semi-toxic!relationships, struggling with parenting, blackmail ??, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, losers ), handjobs, oral sex ( female receiving ), fingering ( female receiving ), choking, branding, squirting, spit!kink, needy touya lol <3

♡ author’s note(s): OK so this started out as a fic for my bestie @ozzy-bozzy but then turned into this long ass vent fic bc i do be struggling!! i’ve barely written for touya so apologies if his character is off. special thanks to @bakugous-trauma for beta reading n @doinmybesthere for the summary and beta reading and thanks for 4.7K MWAH <3

♡ masterlist | requests

the snow had fallen heavy that day, its flakes dancing along the window panes while you’d brought her into the world. you hated the cold, the way it nipped at your nose and stung at your cheeks, how it could freeze over a heart so badly that it would take years to thaw it out. you’d complained about the ice sheets that frosted your windows to the doctors, the ones on the roads too, but they’d simply wrote it off as your anxieties related to bringing kori home for the first time in such weather.

funnily enough, your daughter much resembled the cold in many ways. you’d named her ‘kori’; meaning ice, since her hair was white as the crisp blanket of winter outside and her eyes a piercing shade of aqua marine, that for a while, had no meaning written behind them except for a cool curiosity that you knew didn’t come from your side of the family. she wasn’t warm either, the first time you held her, her flesh against yours was almost a painful spark of frostbite— you expected that it was related to the lineage she came from too.

you thought that you’d resent kori when she was born; for the struggles that her new life had brought to you. you’d given birth alone and afraid, having lost friends and contact with your family due to keeping your pregnancy a secret. if they had known who caused you to end up in this situation in the first place, you were sure you’d have lost them all anyways. you hadn’t a chance to attend maternity classes due to the hours you worked in order to ensure yourself and your child’s financial security. although, prior to her arrival, dabi had told you that if you chose to give your daughter the todoroki name; you both would be looked after when the right time came.

and like a fool in love, you’d believed him, avoiding the apologetic gazes of the doctors and midwives who’d delivered your baby as you filled out her paperwork and birth certificate. one nurse even asked you if you wanted to contact endeavour for support, and you couldn’t blame her— the rumours of your child potentially being that of natsuo todoroki’s had spread fast through the hospital and it was a given, figuring his bad boy college reputation. natsuo and his ventures into the college life were no stranger to the media, so it didn’t surprise you nor the doctors to believe that this wasn’t the first time a girl had given birth alone to a todoroki child. you suspected that if there were any, enji todoroki would have paid them off.

so you let them believe what ever false truth that might have plagued the hospital walls about yourself and your daughter— not having the heart to tell them that you’d probably receive a much larger sum of money to keep hush about the child that you mothered and the child who’s father belonged to endeavour’s deceased, eldest son.

so you realised, thumb held by the chubby hand of your sweet infant girl; that you couldn’t hate her for the mistakes you’d made and the mess you’d become tangled up in— you could only promise to do your best in raising her despite the odds and difficult circumstances, you could give her the life and childhood that her father never had but most certainly deserved.

“miss yn...”

your midwife; himari enters the room, calling for you— tearing your gaze away from the hypnotising sea-foam eyes belonging to your daughter, the way she looked at you only reminding you of dabi. you’d told him once that his eyes always took you to the mediterranean sea, to which he’d laughed and mentioned you’d never seen it before. when the pair of you realised that this was true, the boy with the black hair and intoxicating stare made an oath to you, that he would take you there someday so you could bask in the warm sun and dip your toes into the clear oceans. you only hoped that this oath still remained true.

“miss yn...” himari tries again, this time stepping further into your hospital room. your thoughts had carried you so far away that you hadn’t realised how close she’d gotten as she lingered by your cot. her hands lay flat against her pale blue uniform, nails you note—neatly trimmed— and a smile that would have made you feel comfortable had you not known she’d volunteered to care for you because she too believed she’d be paid off by endeavour. you almost felt bad that she thought the silly lie was true and that she had a shot at a big time bonus but it was funny to think that no one would believe her when she eventually took to the news to claim that she cared for the next heir of the todoroki empire. “it’s says here, that kori is scheduled for feeding— i was wondering if you wanted to continue breast feeding or try pumping a bottle or two today?”

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum with hesitance. feeding kori was something you’d never discussed with dabi, some of the nurses had assured you that it was possible for you to do both— so that you could grow closer to your daughter and form a tight bond whilst also giving the opportunity to others to feed her when need be. there weren’t many others, but you figured that dabi might want to give bottle feeding a whirl when he finally returned from the league business. the business that had made him miss his little girl’s birth.

kori gargles from hunger in your arms, drawing your attention back to her tiny form. a stray strand of hair curls against her forehead from underneath her blankets and swaddling— the end you notice has a slight tint of red to it. the icy shell around your heart thaws. glancing back up to himari; you grin with a decision in mind. “i’d like to try breast feeding again, we can use the pump tomorrow.” you say, voice quiet.

“do you need any help getting her to latch?” your midwife asks, aiding you into a comfortable position to feed kori.

“no,” you smile after getting settled, pushing down your gown to expose your breast to your little girl. “i’ve got her, i can take care of her.”

you say the words more so to yourself than to himari, a hidden reassurance that you’re more than capable of raising your daughter on your own.

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

the snow melts, the flowers bloom and the seasons change. your daughter grows with the swift transition of the weathers too, her hair is a little longer now but the small curl of red against her forehead remains hidden and the same. her eyes open wider, still that deep shade of ocean blue, she can sit up on her own, throws toys out of her crib and her favourite movies are bambi and bambi two. they’re the only things that she watches, which you hate, because they remind you of her. an innocent child who loses one parent and is left in the care of the emotionally closed off other.

you hadn’t realised how much you would need dabi, but still he is nowhere to be seen.

raising kori on your own proves a challenge, especially now that she’s a little bigger— it was easy after she was born; she was quiet and only made a fuss when she was hungry or needed to be changed. went down easy too, that was until her wails reared their ugly head as soon as the colder parts of winter hit. no matter what you did, the girl would cry for hours on end until her face would hurt from how scrunched it was and her fingers would turn red from the grip she had on your hands.

since her birth, you and kori had to move three times due to the noise complaints about her consistent crying throughout the day, evening and night. by the time february rolled around, you’d ended up in an apartment not so far from dabi’s old neighbourhood— it was a shitty area with high crime rates and an eerie feel to it that made you clutch your purse tighter when you walked home from the late night shifts— you had never had any intentions to raise kori in a dump like this, you wanted a better life for her than what dabi had, but your shabby two bedroom apartment in the dark side of town would be enough for now.

the rent was cheap since your current boss at the local grocers market was close friends with the building manager, but your boss was also a sleaze who thought offering you an extra 10% off of your weekly shop and an expired coupon for the coffee joint down the street would be enough to get into your pants. he was just another thing on your list that you hated about the world, about the current life you lead but you needed to keep him close to keep your rent low and a roof over your head.

besides, it had been a few days since you last saw him at work— the asshole was probably taking a few days to himself while you and your colleagues practically ran the store.

you can’t leave kori with a sitter; they never worked with her. your daughter was far too temperamental for the average person and would spend one night with her before taking their pay and quitting. the only person able to handle your beloved little girl was the old lady who lived two floors above yours, mrs. yamamoto. she was a sweet woman, widowed by fifteen years and had taken a liking to kori that one time you’d helped with her groceries when she couldn’t make it out in the february winter after your little girl was born.

it seemed kori liked mrs yamamoto as well, she was only ever quiet in the woman’s presence and you put it down to how high she had the heat up in her apartment. one time, it was up so high the power in the building went out for an entire night— which was hell for you since kori wouldn’t stop bawling. however; you appreciated the help, you’re sure that without the help of the elder woman you would have been far under the surface— drowning in regret.

but sometimes, it’s easy for the darker emotions to slip through the cracks— take a choke hold over your sanity. there would be nights where guilt would consume you and tears would flow heavily down your cheeks while your daughter slept. it was hard being alone, no one to confide in about the troubles of parenting or to reassure you that you were doing a good job at taking care of your child.

it didn’t help that winter was coming up again, kori’s first birthday fast approaching. the sudden milestone only made you wish that dabi was around more — it hurt you to know that there was possibility he’d run out on you and his responsibilities as a father but part of you believed that your lover was better. the eldest todoroki son appeared way too excited throughout your pregnancy to leave you with nothing.

despite not being able to make it to appointments due to his criminal nature, dabi had somehow manged to find the money to get you a 4D ultra sound of your baby, telling you a few odd jobs here and there allowed him to scrape the cash together. you never asked what it was that he did, afraid of what you might find in the eyes of the man that you loved so much.

why did you allow yourself to love a man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day if he hadn’t broken into your home? his seafoam eyes a glowing shade as he threatened your life through shards of broken glass and then wails of cop sirens outside. were you just as broken as he? had you not realised it yet? you could blame this whole mess on the fact that he kept coming back, but you always let him back in. dabi was a broken man who only knew blood and grit and grime and you were the girl with a chance to lead a normal life— yet you poured all of your heart and all of your soul into loving him because you were so sure that you could fix him.

and every single time you’d convinced him, convinced yourself that what you had could be normal and domestic— dabi would slip between your sheets, pinning you to your bed with your name heavy on your lips and the emotion of love painted into the turquoise flecks in his eyes. they burned with passion while his heated cock sunk between your plush thighs and welcomed him into your warmth. the moans you’d share while your skin slapped together, creating a bubble of safety where you were the only two people on the world.

dabi made promises against your swollen lips as his fingers swirled hidden messages of desire into your slick, puffy clit. he couldn’t give you the ring, the wedding or the house with the white picket fence and dog barking at the post man in the front yard— but he could give you every part of him from the good to the bad, the beautiful to the ugly and he would seal that promise with a throaty groan of ‘you are mine and i am yours...’ into your ear as you came together.

but it seemed that like all things, dabi’s promises were broken like shattered glass— never meant to be kept or eternalised. the shards cut your delicate fingers, the pain numbed as you were left to pick up the pieces and be strong for the small life you were now responsible for.

you were careful to not let the door fly in and hit the wall opposite as you unlocked it, stumbling into your two bedroom with kori’s chubby legs locked around your hips and bag full of groceries in your other hand. “look princess,” you coo down at your daughter sweetly, watching as she drools all over your staff lanyard from work. “we’re home!” bending down, you dropped the produce off by the door before heading off to your living room area, propping kori in front of her toy mat.

smiling down at her, you brush the pure white hair that curls over her cobalt eyes and kiss her freckled cheeks— heart swooning at the way kori giggles in your arms. she’d been on her best behaviour the entire week, keeping out of trouble with the staff at her daycare and mrs yamamoto in the place upstairs, so it was only right that you treat her.

“you hungry babygirl? want mommy to make your favourite, hm?” kori is barely old enough to talk aside from a few babbles and repeats of mama but that doesn’t stop you from asking.

“mmmamamamaa!!”

you press another kiss to her baby fat cheeks before heading to the kitchen to prepare her favourite dinner— spaghetti. ever since kori started eating her solids, she hadn’t been a picky eater and you noticed that her appetite much resembled dabi’s, who couldn’t afford to be fussy about any of the meals you’d made for him before he disappeared.

making the sauce is easy, a dish you’d prepared from when you were a child and used to cook with your parents— you retrieve the ingredients from the groceries and pull out the stuff you’ll need to cook them. you mince the vegetables easily like you’d been taught as your mind gets away from you.

you wish that dabi was here to enjoy the domesticity of your current life— maybe him being around would lift the dark cloud over your life. sometimes it hurt to know that he would be missing out on moments like this and you could imagine him sitting by the couch while kori played with her toys and you cooked for them both. in this world, he’d laugh at her fascination with colder toys and magnets— make a joke about how much your little girl resembles him and kiss your cheek when you served them both up their favourite meals.

tears pool in your eyes at the thought of your wish never being granted and that’s all it takes for you to slip and cut your finger while chopping up the garlic. “fuck!” you boss, dropping the knife and squeezing your hand around the wounded digit. you know that the clattering of the knife has scared kori, and from the way she looks at you, you can already tell that she’s seen you injure yourself. “god, fuck...that hurt.”

there’s a pause in time, while you rinse your cut under the tap, cold water soothing the sting before kori starts to wail like her life depends on it. in a rush, you grab a tea towel in hopes that it’ll stop the bleeding and head straight for your baby, hoping that you’ll be able to soothe her. by the time you reach kori, her eyes are red with tears and snot dribbles from her nose down to her chin while she babbles loosely all the new words she’s learned— in a whiny tone.

“baby, don’t cry mommy’s got you,” you murmur to her, reaching out to the little girl with open arms. your heart breaks at the way her bottom lip wobbles in a watery pout. kori crawls into your arms, white mop of soft baby hair buried into the junction between your shoulder and your neck— her tiny body shakes with awful heaves and cries while her tears dampen the old hoodie of her father’s that you wear, effectively ruining the fabric. “come on honey, it’s okay! momma didn’t mean to scare you...”

she snivels in your arms, quiet for only a second while you walk around the apartment bouncing her. walking kori up and down seems to soothe her for the most part, a trick that worked when she was first born and had her horrible crying fits. “good girl, mama’s got you...” you continue to soothe her, brushing a finger under her white lashes to remove her tears. all is well for a second and it seems her tantrum has calmed, until she grabs onto your wounded finger and makes you curse in pain again.

“shit!”

“m-momma-!” kori whimpers, face creasing in pain as her cheeks start to heat up again. you fear that if you don’t do something soon she’ll bust a lung from crying.

you shake your head in an attempt to calm her down, baby sobs striking right through your body and resume bouncing her, hoping that it’ll work. “shhh kori, honey, it’s okay— mommy’s okay and so are you...” in the process of comforting her, you somehow trip over the discarded knife, sending it flying into the cabinets across from the island and making another loud noise that further spooks kori.

at this she screams bloody murder, the sound of her little chest heaving giving you a splitting headache. you were tired, tired of your daughter’s crying , working long hours with no help and raising a child all on your own. you were tired of the pain spreading through your head and your body and your heart. you needed an out or break at the very least.

you should feel guilty for what you’re about to do, heading for the nursery with a heaving baby in your grip. you can’t think of anything better to do than put kori down for a nap and hope that her crying tires her out— you do your best to pry the little girl from clinging onto your clothes and tuck her into her crib as she sniffles, quickly backing out of her room before she can call for you and make you feel even worse than you already do.

you close the door quietly behind you, somewhat sliding down it while your own sobs take over your body— shaking you violently as you hug your knees to your chest. you don’t know how long you sit there, biting your lips and holding onto in your whimpers while tears stream down the apples of your cheeks, but eventually

you find yourself drifting off with dreams of your happy family.

you jump awake a few hours later, surrounded by a thick darkness from the sky outside. the hum of the city streets helps to bring you back down to earth as you rub the sleep from your puffy eyes and blink away the exhaustion. you don’t quite remember when you’d fallen into a slumber but you figure that kori must have eventually, judging by the quietness that surrounds your apartment.

the blanket of the night allows your guilt to burn brightly in your chest— you shouldn’t have left her alone. scrambling to your feet, you stumble over to the kitchen counter and grab your phone to read the time. 11:06pm. it’s just about time that you check on your daughter, but with two steps of heading to the nursery and you’re met with foreign sound that doesn’t quite fit in with the usual creaks and squeaks of your apparent.

happy gurgles belonging to your baby creep out from underneath her bedroom door, low humming or singing to accompany her sweet sound. humming that you don’t recognise. with a pang of fear to your heart, you reach for the knife on your kitchen floor as a weapon of defence— this would go down nicely with the police. a single mother on self defence...yeah, that could work out.

the knife shakes in your hand as you approach kori’s nursery, barely steady even when you push open the door.

“...touya?”

nothing could prepare you for what you’d see after walking into that room but when your eyes fall witness to your love standing in the centre of the room with a little tuft of white hair cradled to his bare chest. the air around you tingles with warmth as if dabi has heated the place up with his quirk and your little girl curls into him as if she’s known him all her life. but she hadn’t, he hadn’t.

all at once, your heart heals just as it breaks— it’s been so long since you’ve seen the villain that you can’t help but notice all the changes in him, the way his eyes droop a little more with exhaustion and his hair dusted with a the slightest bit of white. he was noticeably thinner too, maybe from being away from a warm bed and good food for too long...so a half of you was relieved that he was home, the other— hurt and betrayed.

“hey beautiful,” dabi’s timbre voice fills your entire being, stimulating your senses into a dull tingle. his lips a drawn into soft smirk as he rocks kori back and forth, your baby’s eyes flutter with the gentle indication of sleep. “how’ya been?”

if you weren’t frozen in shock, you would have given the villain a piece of your mind. how dare he...after all this time apart from you, from his daughter...ask how you were doing? your eyes flutter to the open window behind the oldest todoroki son, as if you need to look away from him to convince yourself he’s real and he won’t disappear when you look back.

proven right by meeting the cool, chartreuse sea of his eyes— your throat runs dry as all you’d ever dreamed of saying in this moment, flees from your mind. “what are you doing here?” you say, trying to sound firm even though your voice falls through.

touya stays quiet, twirling a long finger through the small curls on his—your daughter’s head. “i was in the neighbourhood.” he mumbles, gaze tearing away from you to focus on the content infant he has in his arms.

you should feel angry, you should be screaming and kicking at dabi— forcing him out of your home with your child safe in your own arms but your body doesn’t will you to. hurt seeps through your veins at the casual aura in his tone. of course dabi would treat the situation as if it never existed and that he’d been with you the whole time. the pain of seeing him with her as if he’d been in kori’s life from the very start wraps around your heart in a poisonous grip and squeezes hard until you’re choking back a sob, letting it sit in the base of your throat.

you refuse to break in front of him.

“you need to go. you need to put her down and you need to leave.” you attempt to assert yourself in a harsh bark, almost making dabi jump. he’d never seen you like this before, but then again he hadn’t seen you in a year. he could only imagine what motherhood had done to you, especially facing it on your own. touya hesitates, kori shifting in his soft grip— one he didn’t even know that he had as a villain but you steady yourself and repeat your words. “touya, i said you need to leave.”

“why? so you can fall asleep and leave her crying on her own again?” the villain spits out, harsher than he intended. he watches your face fall and your body curl in on itself and he feels bad. dabi had promised you a lot of things since realising he loved you, and not hurting you like his father hurt his mother was one that he’d just broken. relenting, the dark haired villain eases kori from his pec and tucks her into her crib.

there’s a beat of silence and then. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

“yn,” he sighs, running a hand through the light roots of his hair as he leans over his child’s crib. the young father tilts his head, scanning kori’s face while he identifies every characteristic she has from the family he’d done his best to free himself of. “i’m sorry, it’s just— just that she was cold and crying, so i took off my shirt and held her and she warmed up and—“ dabi pauses his quiet rambling, finally looking up from the slumbering baby tucked away into powder blue silk and locks eyes with you. “and she probably has my mom’s shitty quirk. and i can’t get over how much she looks like them, how big she’s gotten.”

touya finds his shirt after admitting that, throwing on the thin white material before closing the window he came through. he moves with the swiftness that comes with his job, and it’s almost peaceful to watch. you stay plastered by the door, torn between falling right into the palm of his hand and demanding the answers that you and your daughter deserve.

it makes you feel a little sick when he gazes down at kori with pride, it makes you queasy at how easy she was to handle to him. touya todoroki doesn’t know half of what it was to raise his child...but did that make you a bad mother? was there something he shared with kori that you didn’t? dabi hadn’t known what it was to love someone other than himself until he’d met you, but you’d spent your entire life around family and friends who took care of you and made you feel cherished every day. you had all of that before you had dabi, and you’d given it all up for him.

shouldn’t you be the one to easily put your daughter down for a nap? to soothe her tears? and for him to come so briskly into your lives and take care of it all when he doesn’t even know what you’d been through, hurts most of all.

“you don’t even know her,” you start, tremble to your bottom lip as the sob in your throat builds up and threatens to burst. “you never saw her after she was born, never cut the cord, never knew her weight. you don’t know how tiny she was when she came into the world, you don’t know because you didn’t come!” with each word, stray tears manage to escape from your tired eyes, but you’re too fixated on dabi to bother to wipe them. it hurts to cry, it stings even as they stream down the apples of youth cheeks but you don’t move.

“yn, sweetness, i—“

“i know how much she weighed when she was born, four pounds and thirteen ounces. she was so tiny i was scared that she would break—“ you’re gasping now, almost choking yourself out on the pain that burns brightly in your lungs and claws its way up your throat. “i know her favourite foods, what fabrics irritate her skin, her favourite stuffed toys, how she likes to be swaddled in her blankets at night or that her curls make her face itch but they’re practically untameable.”

you start to heave, losing breath with every word and dabi does nothing but watch, keeping an eye on kori to make sure she stays sleeping as he steps towards you. “i know that i love her more than i’ve loved anything in my entire life, despite how much i suffered alone bringing her into this world. and i know that i named her kori after the ice that frosted the windows of my hospital room while i waited for... you.”

touya remains emotionless while you descend into madness, letting you cry it out. “i’ve been watching...”

you want to scream, beat his chest and blame him for how insane you’ve become. “watching isn’t enough touya, she needed you. i-i needed you.” you whimper, falling limp against the door frame as your hands move threateningly towards your hair as if you’re going to rip it out from the root. “...you couldn’t come and visit? not once i-in the eleven months that she’s been alive? not once while she’s been breaking me down and giving—“

“giving you a hard time? i tried, i took care of you from afar...i’m the one who made your boss disappear. the one who put his hands on you.” dabi sneers towards the end of his once gentle words, standing a breaths width away from you. you hate that you crave the same touch from him as he gave to kori, but you’re still so mad at him.

eventually, it all becomes too much and you succumb to the tears that wrack your exhausted body. you sway with each choked wail that tumbles from between your chapped lips and dabi surges forward to catch you after kicking the knife from earlier away, letting you sink into the warmth of his embrace. he feels like home, smells like safety and not a word is uttered as he brings you to the floor and cradles you like he did with his daughter.

dabi doesn’t need to say sorry when he shows you through how close he holds you to his heart.

when you finally calm down, dabi lifts you bridal style to your bathroom and draws you a bath with the salts and lavender extract from the cupboard above the sink. neither of you speak except for when he softly offers to help you undress— to which you decline— and when he tells you he’s going to fix something to eat.

you knew damn well that the villain could not cook, he hadn’t been when he was little since endeavour took away the entirety of his childhood and you’d only taught him the basics when he was still on the run and stopped by your place from time to time. his favourite thing back then had been to watch you cook to the weird music you kept playing, hips swaying to the beat and a sparkle in your eyes— but you didn’t do that anymore, he could tell those days were long gone.

dabi orders in takeout in the end and you have half a mind to curse him out for using your money— but the day’s events have exhausted you beyond your wits end, so you eat with him in silence atop your double bed after dressing in an old shirt of his. “stay the night.” is what you tell him, scared that he’ll leave. he puts his cigarette out on your balcony. the doors usually stayed locked so kori couldn’t crawl out on her own but you opened it for him since dabi liked to smoke and you hated the ash.

he promised to quit back then, and he hadn’t now.

“i’ll stay.” dabi says, throwing the butt over the ledge and stripping his clothes as he follows you to bed. he decides not to mention he wanted to stay anyway. you peel back the covers enough for him to slip in behind you, heated arms wrapping around your waist and settling on your tummy, where he rubs small patterns into your skin. the villain’s chest is overwhelmingly warm against your back— reminding you of the days where you would spoon and he’d wait with baited breath for kori to kick.

both of you lay together, wide awake in the dark for goodness knows how long. touya’s breath balmy against the nape of your neck and if you focused hard enough, you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. he pretends to sleep, refusing to acknowledge that his proximity to you affects him in the worst of ways— evident in how his prominent hard on presses against the swell of your ass.

rolling over, your heart skips a beat at the way your love’s eyes still manage to glow brightly in the dark— ignited by the flames of his quirk and emotions of angst from the past.

they flicker as he looks to you, pale skin illuminated by the silver moon slipping in from your balconies, scars as enticing as ever. tentatively, you reach a hand out to cup his face, not kidding the apprehension that paint his matured features even as you run your fingers down the scars on his jaw. “been a while since we’ve been like this,” is all you can muster up, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek while your free hand snakes between your bodies in an attempt to pleasure the man.

fear strikes you right in the chest, leaving you panting as dabi flips you onto your back quickly, pinning your wrists against the bed. “don’t,” he growls, almost feral in tone and in his eyes. “don’t do something you might regret in the morning.”

you lay still, staring at the man above you in an attempt to read him. doing so had always been hard, but tonight you can see every detail of his life and every part of him. the fear of being his father and disappointing another group of people, a broken man torn between the people he loved and the life he led— you could finally see him. you wondered if it hurt him to be away from you and his child, if he ever thought of you.

you take a deep breath, fabric of the sheets fuzzy in your ears as you shake your head up at him. “i could never regret being with you,” you sigh, dabi’s gaze lowering. “i just need you...”

your proclamation is all the permission dabi needs before he ascends on your neck, almost whimpering at the taste of your skin against his tongue. you know that he’s avoiding your lips, scared that things may not feel the same if he kisses you there— as if your love might have fizzled out from the months that you’ve been apart. the villain’s mouth is hot against your skin, sharp teeth sinking into the column of your throat— it’s not hard for him to find the spots that make your back arch and body tingle, the dark haired man would be embarrassed to admit that he had your body mapped out in his brain. you were all that he thought about in the months between then and now.

you miss his lips, but you fear that if you push your love to far he’ll clam up and withdraw from you completely. you can’t lose him while you have him now. in the meantime, your bodies press against one another hotly, burning while dabi paints shades of blue and purple deeper than his eyes against your flesh before lapping at each love bite with an odd tenderness people wouldn’t think he possessed at first glance. as he works, touya loses grip on your wrists, allowing them free roam across the expanse of his back.

your nails leave light tracks across his back, trailing up from his muscled back to the nape of his neck— curling in the white roots of his hair in an attempt to tug him up to your lips. “baby,” the old pet name tumbles from between them before you can catch yourself, laboured from where you’re short of breath. “please kiss me, please..”

with newly mussed hair, dabi is still for a moment before leaving one last mark at where your jaw meets your neck— wet tongue lolling over the fresh bruise while his large palm move back to cup your head. a thumb belonging to a scared hand runs over your bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh down while he watches your face for a reaction. “are you sure that’s what you want, beautiful?” the villain chuckles into the dark of the night, pink muscle running over his own lips to wet them in anticipation. “you want your man to kiss you?”

your senses go into overdrive, desperate for any kind of contact from the man above you— he feels so close and yet, a million miles away, even with his body making its way between your thighs and your chests pressing together eagerly.

“touya—“ you breathe, barely able to finish your sentence before the man himself delves deep into your mouth. his lips move with hesitance at first, sucking on yours slightly and parting for air more often than he should but you grip him by the whites of his hair firmly and tug him further into the kiss. your tongue dances along the seam of his lips, prying them open as you seek permission for entrance— dabi groans lowly as you tug on his roots and force your way into his mouth, tasting him as if it were your last time.

you swallow each of his moans that mingle softly with your own, while your tongues dance together messily— the kiss were and sloppy as if the two of you were out of practice. your worries fly out of the window from there, it’s good to know that neither of you had been with others during your time apart instead you feel like a teenager making out with their highschool crush for the very first time. dabi’s hips rut into the plush bed beneath you both and you can tell that even the slightest touches are riling him up beyond belief— it’d been almost a year since he’d felt you against him in any way and it didn’t help that you were so ready to accept him.

that you still wanted him.

whimpering at the thought, the villain pauses against your lips to catch his breath— panting softly. you can feel him pulling away, questioning if he deserves to be with you after everything he’d put you through. so, cupping dabi’s jaw, you let your free hand slip between your heated bodies and glide your fingertips along the waist band of his sweats.

“yn, i ain’t so sure about this,” dabi sighs, body twitching at the proximity of your hands to his hardness, his eyelids flutter shut and lock away his beautiful blue eyes— holding fear, insecurity and desire. “what if ya’still regret this later on?”

smiling up at him, you thumb at his cheek and work your hand deeper into his pants, past his underwear. “you’ve been away too long baby, i would regret not being with you more,” you coo up at him just as you grasp at his hardened length, watching as dabi shudders in your grip. his cock leaks hotly against your soft palm from going untouched for so long, your fingers explore him— tracing down the thick veins on the underside of his length. “let me make you feel good tonight.”

“fuck, sweetness. talk pretty with that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours.” touya breathes heavily against your mouth, both of yours falling open in hot moans. cheekily, you run a thumb over his tip, circling the slit at the top. dabi collapses on top of you, burying his mop of salt and pepper hair into your neck as he drives his hips into your hand at his own leisurely pace. “y’better live up to those words—shit, don’t go letting me down, princess.” jade orbs finally open, heavy with lust and desire as the air around you tingles with a newfound desire to make each other feel good, settling on the planes of your marked and scratched skin.

your grip around dabi tightens while he fucks into your closed fist, wet sounds filling the room from where he leaks at his bright red tip— almost hot as his hands that dance up your sides and tenderly touch at your hips. so unsure, yet so needy. clear, thick precum guides the movement of your hand as it slides up and down your lover’s girth— he’s much bigger than you remember, swollen with an impending orgasm and dabi stutters when you reach further down his boxers to grip at weighty balls full of his seed, just about ready to burst.

he howls from deep within his chest, the noise only muffled from the drool that glides across his tongue before the villain’s wandering and scarred palms stop at your rib cage, settling just under your breasts. you don’t bother to stop pleasuring him even as his quirk ignites, blue flames burning right through your night shirt to expose your skin to the cool night air. without even a second thought, dabi’s mouth ascends on your tits, taking one into the hot cavern while his free hand seers marks over the other.

the thought have being branded by your man makes your hips jump and your hand squeeze his cock in your grip— a reminder of what’s to come later on. his strawberry tongue rolls across your hardened nipple and you yelp in surprise with the sudden feeling of cool metal across the exposed flesh. “y-you have your tongue pierced?” you squeal as dabi repeats his actions, loving the way you arch your back into his mouth and your heart rate speeds up.

“never know when a bit of metal’s gonna come in handy, sugar tits.”

you barely have time to formulate a response before your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and marking your raw flesh like a man starved of his last meal— you don’t let up either, quickly pumping his cock as he continues to leak, painting your hand with teases of his incoming release. you’re sure that his sweatpants and the sheets below you will be stained with his arousal from how much precum oozes from his dick, slicking up your hands and creating the perfect flashlight but you don’t dare to think of anything else but the way dabi’s face twists with pleasure as he desperately thrusts himself into the softness of your palm.

his cheeks flush red, globs of drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his tongue while his eyes grow fuzzy at each step he takes closer to orgasm, the very drool from his mouth covers each of your breasts as dabi switches between them— creating a layer of wet against your supple skin that shines under the moon. you flick your wrist around him, faster, harder— giving the villain everything you’ve got to make him feel good.

“shit pretty girl, y’gonna make me...cum,” touya shakes in your grip, eyes crossing and tongue becoming lazy against your marked up chest. his salvia pools against your skin while he pants and fucks your wet hand as if it were your pretty little cunt clamping down on him. “fuck, fuck, fuck. don’t you fuckin’ stop, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop...”

he barks out the demands, but there’s a neediness to his tone and whine to his voice that makes you grin with pride, even if you’re barely there from having your nipples stimulated beyond belief. “cum for me touya, please, wanna feel you come undone for me.” you beg him, ever so slightly and it’s just enough to push the villain over the edge, sending him into an earth shattering orgasm. you don’t dare to stop as you jerk him off, guiding down from his high as his cock twitches from release and paints your knuckles with the thick white of his seed. he mewls contendly into your breasts, slowing his hips while the world of colours dance behind his cerulean eyes.

“here with me yet?” you murmur to him, grasping his wild locks to tilt his head up towards your face— dabi looks so blissed out but the smirk on his raw and bitten lips tells you the night is far from over.

pressing a searing kiss to your sternum, your boyfriend’s pierced tongue makes yet another appearance as he trails the muscle down your soft tummy— biting your navel as he goes. “never left gorgeous, but don’t you fucking dare think for a second that this is over, y’got that?” he sits up quickly, grabbing hold of your doughy thighs and using them to pull you down the bed. the pads of his fingers start to burn marks into your skin, dancing along your legs and stopping just above the waistband of your underwear. “gotta stretch this cunt open before i give you my cock, remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

spreading your thighs nice and wide, you release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding as dabi’s hands finally come into contact with your slit, prodding at your slick folds from over your panties. lowering his face between your open legs, your boyfriend hums in satisfaction as he peels your sticky panties away from your pussy. “why, babydoll, you’re so fucking wet down here. this can’t all be for me, can it?” touya teases you, hot breath fanning against your unused sex while his fingers play with the string of your slick that coats them. “y’must’ve missed your man badly for your lil cunt to look this fucked up, s’pecially when i haven’t even touched’ya yet.”

you shiver and nod weakly, willing to say or do anything to feel more of your boyfriend against you. “s’all for you dabi, o-only you could get me this wet, n-no one else could take your place...” you mewl, hips bucking into the air while the man himself watches you grow needier and needier, hormones expelled into the air. dabi grins, leaning into your core once more to press his nose into your wetness, sniffing your spiked panties like the dirty man he is— only to then lay his pierced tongue flat against your folds, tracing your hole with the muscle while his nose bumps at your clothed clit.

“saved this all for me, huh? you’re so loyal, sweetness. waiting for me all this time…” he kitten licks at your cunt until you’re writhing amongst the already solid sheets, forcing his spit into your hole from over the thin fabric of your panties, creating a more prominent outline of your puffy lower lips as your thighs quieter around his head. they threaten to close as he works on you through your underwear— teasing and prodding at your sex to see if you respond the same way to his touches as you used to.

you force your shaking through his black and white locks, grabbing hold of his roots in an attempt to pull dabi back to your heat when he lifts his head from between your thighs— pushing your lips into a pout. “no, no no, baby, please— need you to eat my cunt, want your mouth on me, please!” you cry out, but you’re quickly pacified by his scarred hand which cups your pussy— seat of his hand grinding into your clit.

“god, if i had known you were still this eager to fuck me i woulda come home a long time ago, babydoll.” he chuckles, licking up your inner thigh and biting down on the plush flesh. “need’ta get rid of these though, they’re getting in my way.” the villain gestures to your panties, making you watch as his quirk burns it’s way through the silky material until it’s nothing but ash against your sheets. you gasp as soon as your cute little pussy is exposed to the cool air, missing the warmth of touya’s pink tongue against it. “better.” he sneers, eyes bright and glowing in the dark with a new sense of feral desire.

thick digits press into your tight hole at the same time touya takes to sucking on your swollen clit, forcing their way up your velvet walls in search for your pleasure spot. dabi chuckles against your sticky folds as you begin to whine, hips rolling up into your lover’s face while his tongue draws rough patterns onto your bud. you’ve missed him, missed this. the nights where the villain dabi would sneak into your home, becoming your touya todoroki between the four walls that you shared— where you would spend nights seeing stars by his hand or his cock and he would make you his over and over again. the memories have you clamping down on his digits like there’s no tomorrow, greedily sucking them in as he strokes at the walls of your sex and makes your whole body shake.

touya works hard at pleasuring you, apologising for his absence through slurping the juices from your folds only for you to gush and paint his scarred chin with more of your nectar. the way you taste makes him dizzy, he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs and never miss the outside world like he did before tonight. he wants to be good for you, make you feel good too and it’s not enough to feel the ecstasy roll off of your heavenly body in waves— he wants all of you, mind, body and soul to belong to him.

you can barely breathe, leaking with every swipe of his tongue against you and every twist of his fingers inside of you. you can feel everything at once, the euphoria crackling across your brain, high on the way touya makes you feel. “god, t-touya, don’ stop...feel so fucking good…” you heave in a drawn out moan, barely able to tell what’s up and what’s down as the villain pulls his fingers from your slick hole and replaces them with his tongue ( only after they’ve pushed down on your g-spot over and over again ).

“you’re not the one giving orders, sweet stuff, oh no.” dabi reminds you sloppily, looking like a child with no table manners as your nectar smears across his face. for his own satisfaction, he delivers a harsh smack to your pussy, watching as your entire body jolts and jumps up the bed. “your cunt is mine and i’ll do what i want with it, show you how much i missed it.”

his possessive words almost set you off, the knot in your stomach growing tighter with every pinch of your nub and every swirl on his tongue inside your walls, committing every ridge to memory. your body burns and you’re not sure if it’s from dabi pressing against you so hotly or because of the desire that fuels the fire inside you.

“yours, yours, yours!” you chant like a mantra, high pitched and whiny— your voice mixing with the crude sounds of your own pathetic cunt, that grows louder when dabi spits on your clit to add to your wetness. he lets it drip between your folds, fingers to busy with stimulating you to catch it before it slides between your lower cheeks, opting to use his tongue on you instead.

“ya’like that don’t you? missed your whinin’ pretty girl, fuck, even missed making you a fucking mess.” you keen into his touch, babbling incoherent praises to the man between your legs as he spreads you wider by the ass with one hand and forces his fingers back into your cunt with the other. his fingers curl into a come hither motion, repeatedly pressing down on your spongy spot as he sloppily makes out with your puffy nub— taking only one, two, three strokes to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull and your orgasm to wash over you.

your body convulses, shaking as you’re hit hard by your release— juices gushing all over your lover’s face even as he refuses to let up. “t-touya no...no no...can-can’t,” you whinge, tears clumping in your lashes. dabi spreads your lips again, using three digits instead of two to continue stimulating your clit until another release builds up inside your lower belly— clear liquid gushing out of your abused pussy and staining the sheets below.

he hums proudly, pressing a lasting kiss to your fluttering hole before reaching up to your lips to do the same, barely allowing you the time to catch your breath— chest heaving while you come down from your high. “so pretty when you squirt for me like that, sweetness,” dabi moans into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him. but as soon as he comes, he’s gone— rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips so your ass sits in the air for him. “gonna take my cock now, kay?”

“kay,” you mumble into the sheets, brain too fuzzy to resist as the villain manhandles you the way he wants.

after shoving down his sweatpants, the eldest todoroki grips the peachy soft flesh of your ass— smacking it a few times with his heat activated palms to watch the flesh jiggle and his handprint sink into the skin. you lean back, watching over your shoulder as his cock stands at full attention, hard from seeing you come undone on his fingers and tongue. it burns bright red at the tip, another fat glob of precum making it shine and making you dribble with anticipation. “y’such a fuckin’ slut, my beautiful slut… hungry for my cock even after i’ve wrecked your lil pussy so bad,” dabi says with a cocky lilt to his voice, the very tone making your hole clench around nothing. he taps his sticky cockhead against your slit, running it up and down your cunt three or four times— groaning as it slides between your cheeks. the sensation causes your back to arch as you wail, fingers gripping the bed covers so tight that you almost cause them to tear. “don’t you worry baby, ‘m gonna make up for lost time, you don’t have to miss me anymore.”

there’s a double meaning to his words that you don’t ask him to elaborate on, too caught up in the way he teases your hole as he dips his length in— only to pull it right back out. “don’t tease, need you badly,” you plead, earning yourself another harsh spank to your raw ass cheeks.

“shut the fuck up and let me fuck you,” the words are harsh against his tongue, but dabi utters them softly as he relents to his wishes. his cerulean gaze flutters down to where your bodies begin to join, his large hand gripping his length before he starts to push into your dribbling entrance. “god, you’re s’fuckin’ tight, you might as well be a virgin.” pussy spasming at his words, you leak against touya’s cock, creating a lewd squelching sound as he pushes more of himself into you. the weight of dabi’s thick girth causes painful, yet delicious burn which he eases by rubbing soothing circles into your clit once more. “been s’long, i outta fuck you open again, huh?”

“uhuh, take me again touya. make me yours, all over again.” you slur over the spit drowning your tongue, eyes fluttering shut when the villain’s hips surge forward his dick brushes against your cervix. his rough, calloused palm grabs your neck from behind, forcing you down into the sheets while he bottoms out inside of you and pushes the last of his cock past your entrance. the two of you groan in unison, touya sitting heavy inside of your walls before you muster up the energy to say. “move.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, whilst dabi was enjoying the feeling of being engulfed by your soft, warm insides— cock twitching in relief from time to time— he finds it within him to pull back from your selfish cunt to thrust into you with all his might. the force pulls a broken squeal from between your bitten and bruised lips, your hips pushing back against dabi to keep him inside of you. the pair of you move in sync, bodies dancing in a sensual grind between lovers that moulds your cunt into the shape of your boyfriend once more. “oh fuck yeah baby, oooh, missed your cunny s’bad…” dabi yowls loudly, listening for the squashy sounds of your sexes moving against one another. “christ, you like when i talk about your pathetic little pussy like this?”

you bite down on your lower lip, embarrassed by your own bleats of pleasure when he degrades you like this. annoyed by your lack of answer, touya grabs onto your hips and pulls you off of his cock, only to slam them back into you seconds later. his pace is unforgiving and relentless from there, forcing your body up the bed with every thrust into your core. “yes! like it, love it, missed your cock so bad touya!” you cry, holding onto the sheets for dear life as his dick drags along your pleasure spots and his hands burn marks into your ass and hips.

weakly, you attempt to match his thrusts. circling the meat of your ass back onto dabi and squeezing around the head of his girth every time it plunges into your sopping pussy. your arousals mix as he pounds away at your hole, a thick string hanging between your bodies and dribbling down your inner thighs, tainting innocent skin. the wet noise reverberates across the room, creating a passionate symphony with dabi’s deep, pitiful moans.

even though it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate like this, dabi still knew all the ways to get your body going. he took you from behind but still let his marred hands wonder and explore the planes of your skin, pinching here and there, marking your body as his to use and his alone. there’s love hidden beneath his rough touches, little signs that he missed having you so close to him— having you split open on his cock while you dripped on his pelvis and ruined your bedsheets, was his own way of unleashing his pent up emotions of love, anger and despair onto you and you wanted it. you wanted his good and his bad while he fucked you like his life depended on it, balls deep inside the pussy of the woman he loved was where he was most vulnerable with you.

“s-shit, sweetness, you’re such a pretty mess, so fucked up on my cock, can feel you clamping around me like my greedy bitch should.” you’re stuffed so full, clenching every time touya drives his cock deeper into your gummy cunt, head prodding at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. he’s losing his mind at how you choke out his iron hot girth, clear liquid seeping down your thighs at every thrust. “you’re my beautiful brain dead baby, letting me fuck you like this, yeah? missed you baby, missed this,” despite his words, touya is no better than you, mind hazy with thoughts of you creaming around him because of how good he’s made you feel. him, and no one else. you saved yourself for him after all these months, the least he could do was bring you to cloud nine.

he does so by angling his thrusts up to meet your pleasure spot every time, howling your name in the way he knows you like just to feel your hot cunny spew more of your juices out against his tummy. “missed you, thought about this for months,” you lament, elbows that kept you up finally giving out as your body tiredly collapses into the sheets— dabi’s balls still clapping against your ass. he follows you down into bed covers, chest pressing hotly against your back as the jackhammers into you from behind. “thought about your fat cock in my tight pussy, t-touched myself to you...made being alone worth it, made waiting for you to come home worth it. ‘cause i get to see your beautiful face when you fuck me…” you barely register what you’re saying, babbling incorrectly while the temperature of your body rises with your level of arousal.

behind you, touya’s cheeks burn with a new feeling. deep down, all he wanted was to be validated as a lover to you, he’d always been deemed as the bad guy incapable of feeling anything for anyone other than himself. but you, you had proved him wrong so many times and he still found your words hard to believe. yet, it felt good to know how much you loved him. snaking a hand down to your face, the villain squishes your cheeks together and brings you up to his own face despite the arch to your back— he keeps up his sinful pace, your lower cheeks bouncing with every push and pull of his length while he drips a globule of his saliva into your pouting mouth. “shut up,” he grunts harshly, although love is written across his cobalt eyes.

you smile up at him dopily, keeping eye contact with him as you swallow gratefully. “anything for you,” his hands slip from your squashed cheeks to your throat, cupping it as he holds you against him. more arousal pools in your lower stomach, turned on by the thrill of him being able to end your life right then and there, all it would take would be one flame but you know more than anything that dabi loves you and would never hurt you. “i love you, touya todoroki. i a-always will.”

your admission makes dabi’s heart stop in his chest, heated pants tickling your ear as he continues to take you and claim your body as his. with newfound vigor, he links his free hand with yours that lays against the bed and rams his cock into your core as hard and as fast as he can, determined to make you cum. “i—oh fuck, i love you too, sweetness…” the arsonist can feel the way your cunt flutters around his girth at his confession, tears building up in your eyes once more. god, you were so pretty like this, arched for him perfectly in the moon, stars illuminating every curve and dip on your body— showing off the stretch marks from where you’d carried his child. everything about you turned him on in the best possible ways and everything about you that turned him on, also turned out to be everything he loved about you.

your stupid big heart, your stupid big eyes when you say that you love him, your stupid smile when he used to kiss you and hold you and even now when he fucked you. touya todoroki was in love and in the worst possible way but he couldn’t say he regretted a single moment of it, not when you stayed true to him after all these months of being apart. you raised his child and you loved him all the same and a part of him is grateful that you never turned your back on him like everyone else he’s ever loved.

so the least he could do is make love to you, push his creamy cock into the depth of your core while kissing down your spine to watch you shudder oh so cutely. it’s messy and sloppy and the pair of you should feel nasty for the stench of sex in the air, lingering against your skin. but you don’t, how could you? not when love and adoration tingles in the air as well, it’s messy because of the unadulterated emotions you feel for one another— deep in vulnerability is where dabi grinds his cock slowly into you, hitting all the right places that make you scream his name into the night. makes him mumble incoherent praises against your bruised neck and squished cheeks as he lewdly licks a stripe up the column of your neck to behind your ear.

you gush around him and he grunts with ecstasy into your ear, tightening that knot in your stomach as you both step closer to your highs. “you like the way i fill this cunt up, huh? yeah? when i hold you like this, when i fuck you like this?” dabi mutters to you lewdly, holding onto his sanity by a thin thread as his own release sneaks up on him. “tell me you like it...fuck sweetness, please.”

“i love the way you fuck me touya, fuck! only you can make me feel this good,” you moan to appease him, bouncing back against his cock while his hips begin to stutter and your eyes begin to cross. it’s true, you love belonging to him, being able to bring him such pleasure and you know he feels the same way. the villain prods at your g-spot over and over again, stealing your breath away as he pulls you up and into your chest, changing the angle of his hips to bring you to the last hurdle. “baby—ohmygod—-touya! ‘m sososo close, don’t stop...don’t stop, gonna cum, give it to me, give it to me please!” you chant, eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head back against his shoulder and search for his hand, voice rising with every octave as you get closer and closer.

“fucking cum for me sweet girl, shit, cum all over this fucking cock.” dabi manages through gritted teeth, grasping your hand while the pace of his thrusts grow inconsistent.

that’s all that you need to hear before the damn breaks and arousal floods through your entire body courses through your veins. white dances behind your eyes in flashes as your release flushes out of your pussy and drips between touya’s balls, coating them in a layer your honeyed slick. you slump against your boyfriend, not able to mutter a word as you convulse in a silent scream and squeeze both his hand and cock alike.

gently, he pushes you down to the bed and pulls his cock from your intoxicating heat— his free hand clasps around his cock, palming himself towards a swift release. “yeah, oh fuck yeah, fuckin’ love you baby,” he cums on your back and your ass, thick, potent and milky seed landing on your flushed skin before he collapses beside you and exhaustion settles in his bones.

you black out for a few minutes after, fingers still intertwined but dabi manages to slip out long enough to retrieve a washcloth that's damp and warm to clean you both up with. you wake up just as he crawls back into bed with you, kissing your hairline while he makes himself comfortable. “almost thought i’d killed you for a second,” the villain jokes, slinging a loose arm over your bare waist and pulling you to lay on his chest.

“you couldn’t, even if you tried.” you counter sleepily, drawing star shapes on your boyfriend’s naked stomach. a comfortable silence sweeps over the room, despite the thoughts that linger on your mind. looking up at dabi, you notice him drifting off but still can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “why didn’t you ever come back?”

you feel dabi’s chest rise and fall with a deep sigh, fingers coming up to scratch at your scalp— something that used to help you to sleep when you were together before. “i was figuring out a way to get out of the league, to be with you and kori.” he says after some time, catching your eye as you give him a confused look. “shigaraki doesn’t know about her, i never told him. but i knew from the moment we found out about her, i didn’t want her to be a part of the life i’m involved in and knowing how the league works, they’d find a way to make use of her.”

you stay quiet, not knowing what to do with the new information and dabi’s reasoning for staying away for so long. on one hand you were grateful to him for keeping your daughter quiet and safe but part of you still wished he’d given you a sign to let you know it’d all be okay. grabbing your chin, he forces you to look up at him—passionate flames burning in his eyes. “i need you to trust me on this one sweetness, i promise nothin’ will happen to you nor kori. so long as i’m around.”

“pinky promise?” you ask him sweetly, feeling the truth to his words.

you hold up your pinky to the villain’s face, smiling through exhaustion as he rolls his eyes down at you. “pinky promise, babydoll. now get some shut eye, kay?” touya links your pinky with his, scoffing when you make him kiss them.

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

the bed is cold when you wake up the next morning.

the panic sets in quickly, speeding up with the chirping of birds from your balcony outside. you shouldn’t be tearing up over the childishness of a pinky promise. he always made you promises but never actually kept the and as quickly as dabi had waltzed back into your life, he had left you alone and in the cold once more.

gathering yourself together, you stumble out of your bed— avoiding any mirrors that may show the cascade of marks dabi had left against your skin from the previous night. you feel embarrassed and ashamed that you let him back into your life so easily, especially now that you had kori to think about. tears start to well in your tired and puffy eyes as you head to the kitchen, thinking that a mug of coffee will calm you down before you prep your daughter for the day.

but as you wander out of your room, the familiar sound of your baby girl’s laugher drifts through the air— seemingly coming from the kitchen. the sweet melody calls out to you and suddenly your casual stride to the kitchen becomes a brisk walk so you can reach her faster. “kori? baby? did you climb out of your crib again—?” you call out to her, stopping in your tracks when you round the corner.

dabi stands in the middle of your kitchen, still shirtless, with kori balanced on his hip— in one hand he holds a small blue flame, which you’re sure he believes is safe enough for kori to play with while the other steadies your baby girl while she claps and squeals. a first. you’re not too sure when the last time you’d seen her happy was, but you figure her father’s presence had something to do with it.

“i was going to make you breakfast, but the little shit woke up and i didn’t have enough free hands to make you a grilled cheese.” touya smirks over at you, diminishing his flame to grasp kori’s hand and use it to wave at you. she squeals happily, curls bouncing and eyes lighting up in a similar way to her father’s. your heart melts at the sight of them being together, seeing the mannerisms that they share and how joyous they seem. they both grinned the same way, shared the little twitch in their noses and even their sneezes. kori todoroki was an exact replica of touya todoroki, right down to the tiny red curl she had lost in her white locks.

“you know, i thought you’d left,” you make your way across to the island where dabi sets his daughter down and check her temperature— just in case her sudden change in mood is down to any sickness. “the bed was cold when i woke up.”

“didn’t i make you a promise last night, sweetness? i’m not going anywhere,” the arsonist reminds you, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you wipe at kori’s pudgy baby cheeks and give her the once over again. “if you’re checking the kid’s temperature, she's usually pretty cold because of my mom’s quirk. something ice related will be coming through, but she must’ve inherited your strong constitution. guess she has a normal body temp when i’m around ‘cause it balances her out.” while dabi explains the inner workings of kori’s incoming quirk, she claps and babbles excitedly from her place on the island— making a game out of throwing her toys off of it. all of dabi’s logic makes sense and you seem a little more relieved knowing how to take care of her from here.

picking her up, along with her stray toys, you set your baby down by her playmat again and switch on some baby-safe cartoons while you fix yourself and dabi some coffee, kissing all over kori’s face beforehand. he had whined when you pulled away the first time to give your daughter some attention, it was almost comical how the big bad villain had pouted then. “i wonder if there’s anything of mine she inherited or if it’s all you and todoroki genetics.”

“well, her pretty smile certainly didn’t come from me, babydoll.” dabi muses with a light chuckle, arms trapping you against his chest once more as you continue to make you both some much needed caffeine. the coffee machine whirrs as you sway together in the early morning sunshine, warmth from the sun brushing against your skin and touya’s hair tickling your neck before he presses kisses over your fading love bites while kori’s annoying shows play in the background. everything feels complete and at peace. you feel like a real family. “i could get used to this, this life with you.”

you spin in dabi’s arms, cupping his cheeks and taking in his face for the millionth time in the last twelve hours. “then stay, or at least visit some more now that you’re back. you may not feel it, but kori and i need you. everything has always been better when you’ve been around touya… and i mean that. stay.” you stare at him with pleading eyes, standing on your tiptoes to stare him down and communicate just how much you needed him here with you both.

and for once in his life, touya todoroki feels the most loved he’s ever really felt. here in this shitty two bedroom apartment with his angelic little girl and his beautiful girlfriend during the winter season— touya knows this is right where he needs to be. “i’ll stay, for as long as you’ll fuckin’ have me.”

“forever, then?” you ask, eyes lowering to your boyfriend’s lips.

“forever it is, babydoll.” the villain nods, following your gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with a promise written into your sweet kiss.

extended ending

you thought that the best kind of weather was when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds but the air around you was still as cold as a december’s day. the breeze is enough to make your nose run just a little, but occasionally the warmth of the sun’s rays radiates across your skin like a warm blanket, balancing it out.

it was the kind of weather where people didn’t know how to dress, some wore mismatched shorts and jerseys whilst others were decked out in scarves up to their cheeks and sandals where their toes flopped out. it was the kind of weather that reminded you of dabi and kori, they were your warmth and your cold, they balanced each other out and made your family whole.

kori sits on your right hip as you push the car door closed and wave goodbye to an accomplice of your boyfriend’s— your driver for the evening. your little girl’s curls are combed back into two even pigtails, dark blue bows in each one while the red lock of her hair ( now, much longer ) curls against her forehead stubbornly. she looks so pretty, all fancied up a dress that dabi had chosen for her on this particular occasion, the lace irritated her only slightly but the decapitated endeavour plushie her father had gifted her served nicely as a distraction.

you bounce her once, cooing down at your baby before you look to the hospital in front of you— a look of determination in your eye. ever since the night touya had visited you and swore to stay, he’d kept his word to the best of his abilities. being a villain was still a major factor in your relationship, he came when he could stayed if his job permitted it— taking care of your daughter when your shifts were long and even going as far as to learn his and kori’s favourite recipes to cook on the nights where you couldn’t or you didn’t fancy take out.

in the last few weeks his visits had become slightly more scarce with shigaraki becoming more and more demanding, but touya’s plan to leave the league was slowly coming to fruition along with endeavour and the hero society which had both carved a life of struggle for the three of you.

your boyfriend being busy had given you more time to reconnect with the friends you had lost over the last year, meeting up with those from college, mina and tsuyu ( who’d simply thought you’d gone off the radar ) for kori’s first birthday. they absolutely loved her and your sweet girl loved all the attention she was getting. you even had the chance to reunite with your parents, who were more remorseful that you felt you couldn’t come to them for help than the fact that you’d gotten pregnant during college.

of course, they all asked who the father was and you simply told them that he had died ( which was half true ), using the excuse that you were embarrassed to be widowed and with a child at your young age.

shaking your head, you enter the hospital and recite the words that touya had made you practice the night before. you were here by endeavours orders and needed to see mrs.todoroki. your lover had used some sort of hack to put you on the list of visitors for his mother but one look at kori was all the guards and staff needed to let you through. a few nights prior to today, dabi had asked you to do one thing for him before it all went down, kissing your knuckles over some sushi take out.

so despite your nerves, you would go through with this for him, especially if it meant your family could be together. some guards escort yourself and kori to rei todoroki’s room, leaving you with a curt nod and slightly more polite wave to your daughter. the room itself is slightly bleak, a chair and some blue cushioned sofas positioned in an L-shape parallel to the blanketed bed. there’s a tv in the top left corner which and a set of draws underneath where a clear vase sits— containing blooming blue flowers.

rei looks up when you enter, grey eyes flashing with confusion despite the blank look on her face as kori babbles happily in your arms. “who are you?” she whispers, hands retreating from her flowers and folding neatly in her lap.

“oh! i’m yn, your son’s fiancé and this,” you beam kindly, further entering the room and being sure to lock the doors behind you. you nod your head down to your daughter who waves around her endeavour plushy— paying no mind to the situation unfolding. “this is our daughter, your granddaughter...kori todoroki! she’s just turned one and daddy thought it was about time she met you, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

“dada!!!”

rei blinks and you smile again. “she’s a daddy’s girl,” you explain and lift your hand to snow the small sapphire engagement ring on your ring finger. touya had proposed last night as well, certain your plan would work out. “and quite frankly, so am i! how can i not be when your son treats me so well.”

nodding slowly, the wife of endeavour looks down at her hands which you note, nervously fiddle with a stray petal. “so, natsu and you—?” you can see her trying to work it out, curiosity written across her features. you could see why the woman might think kori was natuso’s child— they looked a lot like each other just by first glance but rei was missing an important feature. the colour of kori’s eyes.

“oh no, your other son. the eldest one.” you correct her with a sinister shake of your head. swiftly crossing the room to set your daughter down in rei’s lap. you watch with an evil air of satisfaction as rei todoroki freezes with fear, as the mistakes her family paid out to touya suddenly come to the forefront of her mind. she wobbles with kori still in her grip and you shoot her a dark glare— reaching over to fix her flowers in their vase. “touya picked these out, always said that you loved them. such a pretty shade of blue, no wonder why they’re your favourites, right?”

“please leave.” she looks up at you pleadingly, shaking like a leaf in the breeze outside. oh how you wish your fiancé was here to see this but he had more important things to do.

rolling your eyes, you grab the remote to switch on the tv— pinching kori’s nose affectionately to make her laugh again. “come sit with me rei, let’s watch some tv to help you calm down.”

the woman nods weakly, barely moving an inch as you take a seat beside her with a smile. you skip channels a few times, pride swelling up in your chest when you finally land on the right one, touya’s broadcast flashing across the screen. he sits leisurely in a chair, shirtless with all of his beautiful scars on display— a painful reminder of his childhood and what he’d become. “i, touya todoroki, was born as the eldest son of endeavour. today i’ve killed over 30 innocent people until now, some to protect my family. my daughter, who i have not been able to see due to my father. i would like to let everyone know why i’d end up committing such a hideous act.” he speaks such calmness and clarity, and you can’t help but feel emotional at how he stands in front of the world.

kori grins, leaping up at the sight of her father on the screen and claps her hands. “dada!! dada!! lookie s’daddy!!” she squeals while rei struggles to breathe, panic set in her eyes.

you put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, offering her a sweet grin in an attempt to calm her before the oncoming storm. “keep watching, mrs.todoroki, touya said we’d be one big, happy family after this.” the words are sugar coated and sickly sweet, carrying the dark meaning across to your fiancé’s mother.

looking away, your heart swells while touya tears down the hero society and spills the truth for all of japan to see. you were grateful to the man he’d become— loyal to you, to your daughter and the dreams that you had. the satisfaction of seeing the real villains of the world fall was much greater than any hush money enji todoroki could ever offer.

fin.

— TAGLIST:

@husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @grace-todoroki @toshiuwu @whet-ones-write

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Making Ends Meet | dark!Mandalorian x reader

summary: you’re just a simple woman trying to make your way in the universe, with the universe’s oldest profession. unfortunately for you, a new customer doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut (dub con), kidnapping (?? kinda), prostitution, rough sex, pain kink, lots and lots of degradation, ooc mando being a meanie

please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you, dark fics aren’t for everyone and it is your responsibility to manage your own content consumption

If you were going to have any hope of making rent this month, you needed to book someone tonight— and not a cheapskate who’d try to stiff you after he’d already stiffed you, no, you needed a big spender, a high roller. You needed somebody who had extra credits to throw around and wore it on his sleeve.

You needed a guy like the one who had just walked in— with beskar on his sleeve. That’ll do quite nicely, you thought to yourself as you watched the Mandalorian cross the room to talk to the bartender.

Seemed like he was here on business, unfortunately, from the way he didn’t even venture a glance at you or any of the other women skulking about; but then again, you couldn’t be entirely sure where he was looking with that big helmet covering his face. It might not be the easiest sell, but you were determined to get this guy for the night— and, more importantly, his money.

Walking up to the bar with your best sultry saunter, you leaned in beside him and smiled as he turned his head to look at you. "Hey," you purred. "Haven't seen you around before. We don't get a lot of new faces around here… even when they're hidden."

He didn't say anything, which was a little concerning, but his head tilted down a bit as if he was looking at your body, which was a good sign.

“What brings you to Tatooine, hm? Business…” you trailed off as you ghosted your fingertips over his armor-clad forearm, “or pleasure?”

“Business is my pleasure,” he informed you sternly.

“And pleasure is my business,” you countered with a smirk. Before you could say anything else, the bartender returned with a sack in his palm that he tossed into the Mandalorian’s hands, something metallic jingling inside.

“For a job well done,” he explained with a crooked, toothy smile, “as promised.”

“Payday, huh?” you noticed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Never comes often enough, amirite?”

Your quip was met with tense silence as he slipped the bag into a sack at his waist. He turned to leave, but you reached out for his shoulder and stopped him.

“Wait,” you requested, desperation starting to taint your tone of voice. He spun and faced you again, and you tried to keep your body language relaxed and sensual in spite of your stress. “What are you gonna spend all that on?”

“My ship,” he decided after a quick moment.

“Why not spend it on yourself? You must be tired after working a long, hard day,” you sighed sympathetically, stepping a little closer. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take a moment to relax?”

It didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that, and you motioned to a wide, cushioned chair nearby. Amazingly, it worked; he walked to the chair with that swagger of his, the blaster at his hip suddenly so much more obvious with the way it swung with every step. As soon as he sat down, you put a leg up beside him, straddling him slightly but leaving enough space to (hopefully) have him wanting more.

“You must be getting hot under there,” you smiled, making sure the double entendre was obvious.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged.

“All this heavy armor... does it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m comfortable,” he denied.

“Good,” you purred before biting down on your lip as you rubbed his chest— or, rather, his chestplate. “You know, I’ve heard that Mandalorians are even harder underneath the steel.”

He paused a little before he answered. “Only in a few key places,” he finally replied, his gloved hand reaching to brush over your thigh. You grinned, knowing you finally had him.

“Why don’t you come to my room and show me?” you suggested.

“I imagine your time isn’t free,” he observed.

“Fifty credits for an hour, or a hundred for the whole night,” you enumerated.

“That’s a little steep,” he noted with a tone of irritation.

“It’s my price,” you shrugged, “take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” he decided, shoving you back and standing up to leave.

“No, wait,” you blurted out, “eighty for the night.”

“I don’t have all night,” he informed you sternly. “Twenty for the hour.”

“Twenty?!” you squawked. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, and pulled you into him. “A whore,” he answered with a rough growl, “and apparently not as cheap as you look.”

You swallowed dryly, irritated by his attitude but desperate for the cash you knew he had. “How often do you come through Mos Eisley?” you asked quietly.

“As rarely as I can manage,” he replied.

“If you pay a hundred now, I’ll be here every time you come in, for as long as you need,” you offered. “Standing order, permanently.”

It was difficult to negotiate with someone whose face you couldn’t see: you weren’t sure if the silence was him considering it, or just watching you squirm in his grasp for fun.

“A hundred,” he repeated slowly, “for whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want,” you nodded quickly.

“Whenever I want,” he added.

“Whenever you want.”

He let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand. “Show me to your room,” he requested suddenly.

You led him back behind a few tattered curtains, past the hall and up the stairs to your cramped apartment. It wasn't much, but the red silk draped everywhere and the incense burning in the corner certainly set the mood for the work you did. Your door slid shut automatically behind him, and normally this is the part where he’d kiss you or you’d kiss him, but that was sort of impossible in his current state. With an awkward pause, you waited for him to undress.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed instead— and it was even more dominant than you expected, but you were happy to oblige as you untied the strip of fabric keeping your flowy tunic together, letting it fall off of your shoulders and onto the floor. You didn’t have anything else on, just for the sake of simplicity, and he said nothing as he stepped forward until he was just inches away from you.

He quickly disposed of his gloves to touch you with his bare hands; his rough, warm skin over your waist and hips and breasts was a strong contrast to the worn leather, and even moreso to the hard, cold beskar. His skin was tan, especially considering that it rarely saw the sun, and you let yourself imagine what the rest of him would look like based on that long with the subtle dusting of dark hair that extended from his arms. Of course, in your mind, he was stunningly gorgeous, because it was more fun for you that way. The way he spun you around quickly and forced you to bend over the edge of your bed made you realize he wasn’t as interested in your fun, though.

You yelped a little at the unexpected force, and again when he slapped your ass out of nowhere.

“You’d better make it worth my while, after I paid a hundred credits,” he grunted.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly, looking back to see him slipping to fingers underneath the edge of his helmet.

“Don’t turn around,” he growled. “Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” you nodded nervously as you whipped your head back to face in front of you, staring diligently at the dark red comforter beneath you, “I— I won’t.”

You heard the rustle of clothing and a sigh of relief— noticeably one not modulated through the helmet speaker. Unceremoniously, his helmet was tossed down onto the bed beside you, bouncing and rolling a bit before it found purchase on your quilt.

Next must have been his trousers, as you heard his heavily-equipped belt fall to the floor just before the subtle little grunt you’d come to know as the sure sign that a man had freed a throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers. He roughly kicked your legs apart, grabbing your hips and using them to hold you up as he started to grind his bare cock against your slickened folds. You could tell by the way his shaft spread your lips that you had no chance of taking him— he was too thick, you couldn't even tell how long he was yet but he was definitely too thick.

He must have realized something similar, because he pushed you forward a bit; you realized he was looking down at your pussy, which made your face burn with embarrassment.

"Get yourself wet for me," he instructed firmly.

You didn't think you would ever be able to get wet enough to fit him. "How?" you asked.

"I don't care how, just do it. You have thirty seconds."

You gasped a bit but shoved your hand between your legs and frantically rubbed your clit— it didn't really feel that good, with the pressure and fear overwhelming your senses instead of pleasure. And he didn't make it any easier on you by literally counting each second. You got a bit wetter, sure, and you'd already been turned on from earlier, but it was still not gonna do you much good against the monster he intended on putting inside you at any moment.

"Fifteen," he continued counting, his voice dropping so much deeper all of a sudden. "Fourteen."

Halfway out of time already and you weren't that much more wet than when you started. Your mind was racing with thoughts of everything sexy you could manage to conjure— his voice did help, the deep timbre reverberating right up your spine as anxious fear started to blend in with forced arousal. You tried to focus on the ways that being fucked by a faceless, mysterious stranger was sexy, rather than the ways it was terrifying.

"Ten," he counted, his voice changing as you heard him smile— you weren't sure how you could hear it, but you could. "There you go, I can see it now."

You whimpered a little, the sound catching in your throat as fingers suddenly teased your entrance, not quite pushing in but threatening to. As they swirled around your folds, a lewd wet sound filled the air, mixing in with your heavy breathing and his dark chuckle.

"You hear that?" he asked, and you nodded quickly. "Just a few seconds left, make them count."

Rubbing faster, you felt your hips start to rock of their own volition, similarly to the way your walls were clenching around nothing in search of being filled.

"Three, two, one," he finished as you felt the thick head of his cock start to push against you. You dropped your hand, knowing you'd need both to stabilize yourself. "You want it?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," you answered, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"Beg for it," he instructed coldly.

"Put your cock in me, please—" was all you could get out before the words stopped in your throat as he suddenly pushed in. You were barely processing the first inch as he barreled past your resistance to shove the next few in. It already felt like you would run out of room inside your body before he ran out of cock.

"F-fuck," you hissed, "slow down. You're too big." You hoped maybe he'd take pity on you if you phrased it as a compliment. You were wrong.

"You're a whore," he reminded you, "can't you take it? It's all you're good for, anyways."

That got you to shut your mouth as he thrust himself completely into you, finding the end of you easily with the head of his cock while your hands clutched the bedsheets for dear life. You winced but managed to suppress a cry as he started to fuck you, not quite fast yet but so much deeper than your brain could process. "Ffffuu-uuck," you stammered, the sting starting to fade but the overwhelming pressure never really letting up.

"How's it feel?" he asked, almost sounding like he could moan but holding back. "Don't lie."

You realized, then, that he didn't want you to fake pleasure like most clients did— he wanted to see your pain, and know he caused it. He enjoyed hurting you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and whimpered your honest reply: "Hurts."

"Good."

His balls slapping against your clit only added to the overwhelming sensations you were trying so hard to ignore, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable all of a sudden. You could tell your walls were clamping down on him as pressure built in your gut and threatened to push past the point of no return. Your moan was so much louder than you expected it to be, broken and guttural and animalistic.

He pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp. “That’s right,” he instructed through his teeth, “fuckin’ scream for it.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed loudly.

He leaned forward and it felt like his body would surround yours, somehow, especially when he reached down to roughly grope one breast and then another. He never stopped thrusting through it all, even when his head fell exhaustedly between your shoulder blades— it was so odd to be able to feel his forehead and hair on your skin but have no idea what his face looked like at all.

The telltale signs of orgasm were arriving in your body— your thighs quivered, your voice cracked, your walls and clit throbbed with need. It felt like you could read every detail of his cock inside your silky wet heat, like the ridge of his leaking head was rubbing up against your swollen g-spot with every thrust. You felt as if being so full of him had forced you to vacate your mind, too, to accommodate his size— as if that were possible.

Either he sensed your peak approaching as well, or he just had convenient timing. "Wanna feel you come around it," he grunted. "Can you come for me? Or are you completely useless?"

“‘M close,” you warned him as your answer, shame sending a shiver up your spine even though you felt guilty for it.

“Then come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now.”

It was odd how that actually did push you over the edge, his brutal thrusts and degrading words creating a perfect storm inside you as the friction became too much to bear. You sobbed as it wracked through you, arching your back absent-mindedly, clenching your legs together as best you could with his legs in between them. He didn’t stop fucking you through it, which meant that the sensation built to the point of ‘too much’ extremely quickly as your attempts at begging for mercy were lost to breathless moans. Overwhelmed, your body collapsed onto the bed limply, your hips only staying up because he held them up, like your weight was nothing to him at all.

"Yeah, just like that,” he taunted, “fuckin' come on my cock, fuck— you're just a dumb slut, huh? You love getting fucked like the desperate, needy fucktoy you are, is that it?"

"Y-yes," you whined weakly, cheeks burning at the feeling of him using your body— or maybe it was from the head rush caused by the afterglow of your orgasm.

"You like it when it hurts,” he posited. “You want me to hurt you."

"Yes— don't stop, please…" you whimpered, quiet but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

“Not gonna stop,” he promised, “‘til you’re full of my come.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, voice sounding hoarse and thin. It had been a while since you lost your voice because of a session… and since you had walked funny for a few days afterwards. This one was definitely going to do both.

As his hips started to slam harder and faster into yours, you really hoped it was a sign that he was close; his raspy groans made you sure of it, though. You could feel his cock swelling and flexing, incredibly, and it made you a little light-headed but it made your overstimulated walls throb around him as well.

With one deep, exhausted growl from the man behind you, a warmth began to spread through you from the inside out. When he released his grip on your hips, you fell onto the bed with a sigh and a thud. A hand appeared in your peripheral vision to snatch the helmet off of your bed, and it only took him a few moments to stuff his softening cock back into his trousers and magically be dressed again. Funny how he looked exactly the same as he had half an hour ago, meanwhile you were confident you looked totally fucked-out and fucked-up.

“You’re a good fuck,” he offered a monotone compliment as he pulled on his gloves, staring down at you as you slipped your robe back on and tried to ignore the warm sticky feeling between your legs.

“You’re… intense,” you replied, chuckling a little. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

He didn’t respond, or leave, but just stood there looking at you for a minute as you stood up and adjusted yourself, trying not to limp noticeably because you figured he didn’t need any more ego. “‘Whenever I want’ only applies when I’m on this planet,” he observed suddenly, interrupting the silence, “which I try not to be.”

“You can come around as often as you like,” you explained. You froze when he appeared behind you, reaching his arms out and caging you in against the wall the second you'd turned to face him.

“But wouldn’t it be so much more cost-effective if you were with me all the time? On my ship?”

You whimpered a little as he leaned in closer, and you felt his gaze on you through the dark visor of his helmet even though you couldn’t see it. “That… that wasn’t the deal,” you whispered nervously.

“The deal’s changed,” he growled, ignoring your yelps of pain as he manhandled you and pinned you to the wall by your neck before you could even try to fight back. “Whatever I want, whenever I want,” he growled, “that’s what you said. I’ll hold you to that.”

The leather gloves creaked softly as he tightened his grip on the sides of your neck, forcing your lips to fall into a useless gasp for air. Your hands reached out to claw at his chest, a silent plea for release, but he wasn’t having it.

“Whatever you want,” you barely managed to croak out as your vision started to go dark. “Please, Mando…”

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever, please,” you cried, tears stinging your eyes. He let go, finally, and you crumpled at his feet. Somehow, you’d managed to sell yourself into slavery— for a measly hundred credits. This whole thing had begun with you needing to make rent, and it ended with you realizing you wouldn’t return to your apartment again at all.

He didn't need to shackle or bind you to make you follow him to his ship; his power over you was nauseatingly effortless, but you weren't about to try to run from an unhinged warrior like him.

You'd always wanted to leave Tatooine and explore the galaxy… this wasn't exactly how you'd imagined doing it, as a Mandalorian's whore, but there were worse fates. Like being a Mandalorian's target. And you planned on doing whatever he wanted you to if it meant avoiding that.

#dark!mandalorian #dark!mandalorian smut #dark!din djarin smut #the mandalorian dark fic #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin x y/n #dark!din djarin x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a pretentious ass - that's the only way you could possibly explain the man. That being said, you needed a job to help pay for grad school, and the position of being his TA was the only thing available. You'll suck it up and deal with it, but the last thing you'll do is let this man get inside your head in the process.

WC: 1012

Rated: M (rating will go up)

Chapter Tags: dialogue heavy, “i dont give a damn about my reputation”, psychology talk

Check out the masterlist in my bio for more info & chapters!

🧠

“Please - I’ll take literally anything you’ve got,” you beg the hunched-over man behind the desk. Bills had begun to pile up at your tiny apartment off campus, but given you were knees deep in your graduate program you were too busy for a full-time job. Due to your constant presence in the university library you figured it made the most sense to just get a job at your school.

The clerk huffed at you and typed into his desktop. You could see the reflection of the screen in his bifocals. Other younger students milled about as you wait; you just hope that they don’t sense your impending panic.

“Well,” the man drones. “There is only one avalible position. It’s as a TA in the psychology department.”

“YES. I’ll take it, seriously, I don’t even care who it’s with, please.” He just looks at you over his glasses at the outburst. He types for another minute.

“I’ve sent the information to your student email, please have all the documentation filled out as soon as possible. This position has been open for some time now, so the start date is this Monday. All the details are in the email.” You don’t bother questioning why nobody wanted the job to begin with, too excited that you found a way to pay the bills.

“Thanks so much” - you read his name tag - “Roger, you are my hero.” Throwing your hands up in relief, you bid him a good night and head home. You didn’t hear him mumble “your funeral, kid.”

Bitsy, your roommate was already home when you burst in the door, bottle of cheap wine in your hand. “And tonight, we celebrate!” you announce. The two of you met in a required English course your junior year. You had gotten a two-bedroom off campus before your senior year. After graduation she entered the workforce as a journalist; you continued with your studies.

She whips her head from the tv at you. “You got a job?” You nod and do a little dance as an answer. “It’s about time, rent don’t pay itself, sweetie,” she sasses.

“Hey,” you point the bottle at her, “I haven’t let you down yet and I don’t intend to.”

She just laughs. “Nah I know, you’re the best roommate I’ve had in a long, long time.” Her New York accent is in full force tonight. Bitsy mutes the tv. “So what is this job?”

You snatch two mugs from the cabinet and plop next to her on the threadbare couch. “TA in the psych department.” You pour both of you generous glasses before chugging half your own and refilling it.

Your roommate squints at you suspiciously. “Do you even know anything about psych?”

She’s got you there. You feign offence at her question; “Of course, I took that one introductory course in undergrad with Stratton. I loved it, but I didn’t have room in my schedule to take any more. I know more than you think. And I did go to that shrink for a while.” She nods at you, knowing you didn’t like to discuss it much.

“Is she who you’ll be working for?”

“Um, I don’t know, didn’t ask.” You open your email app on your phone. “Roger, the love of my life at the student center, emailed me the information about the job. Let me check.” Bitsy waits as you search through the documents on your phone. It doesn’t take long.

Assignment:

Dr. Laszlo Kreizler

Courses: Introductory Psychology, Abnormal Psychology, & Criminal Psychology

“Who is Doctor… Kreezler?” Bitsy gasps. You furrow your brows at her reaction, confused. “What?”

“You’re working with Kreizler?” She cringes.

“I guess?” You look up to see her face. “I don’t- Bits, what's the big deal?” Now you begin to panic.

“Dr. Kreizler has a reputation on campus…”

And? “What is he like, a manwhore or something?”

“Jesus, the complete opposite. Everybody hates him - he grades impossible, requires that you come to see him during office hours and half the students leave ready to cry. He’s genius, but a dick.”

She continues, “I once heard a guy in the dining hall talking about how the professor called out this freshman in class and asked all these personal questions about how her grandfather dying fucked her up or something. He tries to get into everybody’s head. Never heard a good thing about him. I wouldn’t be shocked if he had a forked tongue and horns to go with it.”

Okay now you are definitely panicked.

At your paled complexion Bitsy backtracks “Oh but I’m sure he’s not all terrible? I mean you know, underclassmen - fail one test and the professor is evil…” Her words did little to ease you.

You spent the rest of the night and bottle researching Dr. Kreizler. He had no social media and there was only one picture online, but it was blurry. All you could make out was dark hair and a beard. He had been teaching at the university the last 4 years after moving from the University of Munich in Germany. You were able to find a few articles on one of his PhD theses, A Study of the Alien Mind: The Role of Societal Flaw in Creating Monsters Among Men. Skimming some, you note that he is very intellectual and wordy in his explanations.

Opening up the Rate My Professor website, you look him up.

“I’d give 0 stars if I could - he is the worst!!!”

“Literally f*ck this guy”

“Read my ass off, came to all office hours, still barely got a D in his 100 level”

“Not as bad with upper level courses, but only if you know how he works and can deal with his temper. Don’t expect higher than a C tho”

“watch out or he’ll try to psychoanalyze you in front of the entire class”

You blew a long breath out and closed your laptop. The clock on your bedside table read almost 2 am. I need this job, I need this job, I NEED this job, you chant to yourself.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo my love #laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #the alienist #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #scuttle-buttle

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years ago

Text

Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years ago

Text

Rent P1

TV SHOW: PISTOL COUPLE: MALCOM X READER RATING: SMUT AF!!!!!! LIKE SERIOUSLY AF!! KINKY SMUT AF!

I heard the door to my apartment, initially, I panicked as any woman alone would, but by the meer sounds of his steps I knew who it was, he had a key. He'd always had a key I suppose to an extent he had to It was… technically his house. London isn’t cheap even a cardboard box off baltic avenue has an eight hundred pound deposit, So if you wanna live here for work and such you have to take what you can get. And what I could get was the little apartment upstairs from the now infamous SEX shop. It was a nice place to live compared to other such places, but like anywhere it had its catches. I heard his steps, his thick soled shoes on my bare wooden floor, muted at times where he stepped over a rug, the swish of his tight pants as he shifted and moved within them with every step, I could smell his aftershave already he always smelt the same like cigarette smoke, leather, dust and husky mahogany and slightly sandalwood aftershave and part of me shivered my spine and the other made me excited.

"It's the twenty-third" his voice spoke expectantly I spotted his reflection on a silver pan I had already washed on my draining board, he stood his butt perched on the back of my red sofa, his black leatherette pants loose around his skinny legs, his pale white slightly greyish shirt the design in it so old and faded it was impossible to read, his blue button down half done and half undone his arms across over his chest, a sly smirk across his lips.

"I know" I nodded focusing on my dishes in the sink with the soft bubbles across my hands as I worked

"You've been avoiding me" his voice thick with a smirk

"No I-" I began about to turn but I felt his body pressed against my own with no escape

"Don't lie to master" he warns

"I haven't been avoiding you"

"Liar" he growled, digging his nails into my hip "do you have the rent or not?"

I shook my head and his smirk only grew

"Humm, you know something?"

"What?"

"I was hoping you didn't" he whispered in my ear "over the sofa. Now" he smirked before he walked towards my bedroom but I stopped him in his tracks trying not to smile

"No"

"What did you say?" He smirked eagerly "did you say no?"

"I did" I nodded trying hard not to blush holding my legs together with a little and I heard a low chuckle and he stepped back to me

"... Fine. You wanna be a brat. You get it like a brat" he smirked, slapping my ass hard digging his nails in as he took a grip of me "you move an inch. I'll take the next four months rent, In advance princess" he warns

"Yes master" I nodded

"Better" he smirked, kissing my neck before marching off to my bedroom. I didn't know what to expect but I did as I was told. I heard him walking back and I tried not to shiver in my excitement he pulled my wrists hard behind my back he tightened a buckled cuff around my wrist and then did the other being forced to hold my hands behind me unable to move from the chain connecting both black fabric shackles he smirked kissing my neck as his hands tugged up the back of my dress to see my panties

"You… you shouldn't be up here too long," I said "Vivienne might wonder where you are"

"She's out with her friends tonight" he smirked "...besides, What Viv doesn't know won't hurt her"

"Malcolm"

"Yes, Babydoll?"

"I - I'll be paid tomorrow from-"

"No. You know the rules, you don't pay your rent, master gets to have his fun" he smirked "and you're a month behind, so we get to have lots of fun tonight" he smirked grinding himself against me in only my panties where he had tugged my dress so far up he grabbed my hair and pulled me back from the kitchen pushing me on my stomach over the back of the sofa "hold." He ordered forcing the fabric of the skirt of my dress into my cuffed hands, I held the fabric already trying not to giggle feeling so exposed in my little lace panties with my skirt up bent over the sofa back he slapped my ass not to hard gently at first his hand smoothing where he slapped moments after, he slapped me again this time harder but still gently soothing it with his hand after "maybe I should slap you for every pound of rent you owe me" he smirked "but I don't think your cute little booty could handle that much" he smirked getting harder more aggressive and soothing me much less often having to bite my mouth trying not to scream from the stings of pain "why so quiet babydoll? You're usually screaming by now? Or is your pretty ass much more used to it now" he smirked, leaning over me to press himself against me and kissing my neck a little "how about I go get your heart?"

I didn't want to answer but he saw me bite my lip and tighten my muscles slightly hearing that word

"Ummmm baby doll does want her heart. Okay" he smirked giving me another hard spank before he walked towards my bedroom I tried not to look but as he returned I almost squealed at the sight of him stood leant against my door frame his undershirt gone, his button-down undone almost completely and his cleaves rolled tightly to his elbows, he smirked holding the red leather paddle with the heart cut out designed to leave heart-shaped marks in the skin, he ran his fingers across it teasingly before his dark eyes looked up to me "hum, you get any more excited you'll be dripping down your legs babydoll" he smirked before stepping over very authoritarian, "count for me babydoll"

"What?' I asked a little confused

"If you have to ask, you say yes master not what?" He warns spanking me with his hand digging his nails in

"Yes master"

"Good girl, count how many for me babydoll, if you count them all for me master will give you a very nice present" he smirked his finger stroking my clit through my panties as he said the word 'present' instantly I felt a hard spank with the paddle the rough leather across my skin, the intense spank leaving the gap of the heart shape undoubtedly red in my skin, so hard I could feel the stitching fraying across one side where he always used it with the same hand

"Uh!" I gasped feeling the harsh sting "one" I said between breaths he did it again this time harder keeping a hand on my cuffs and the small of my back to keep me still "uh! Two!" I gasped trying hard not to enjoy it but I couldn't help it, each time getting harder, more aggressive, more demanding, until it because that I was screaming at each spank tears in my eyes my butt throbbing with pain "uuughhhhh! Eighteen!" I screamed and he only smirked more, never saying a single word to me "nineteen!' I squealed, feeling another "Malcolm! Master please!" I screamed but he only chuckled, ignoring me "twenty!' I screamed at the top of my lungs and as I did I noticed the paddle beside me on the sofa, I felt gentle little peppered kisses across my butt but they hurt as he only kissed the little hearts left on me leaving me extremely red and sore

"So pretty." He cooed between kisses before within meer seconds he ripped the skirt of my dress from my hands and ripped the seam that connected it to the top of the dress, not a hard task as he had done it before so it had been fixed over and over, he pulled me up to stand my back against the sofa as he looked at me he kissed up from my knees before he reached my panties where he licked his lips and attacked my clit aggressively through the panties lace with kisses, and nibbles and sucks

"Ahhhhh!" I squealed in shock

He pulled back as I squealed and he stood smirking at me looking at me stood like this, his hand went to his back pocket getting something else the moment I saw the small but extremely powerful bullet I shook my head and he only smirked more "would you rather I get your heart back?" He smirked in my ear and I shook my head "speak"

"No Master"

"Good, now you're gonna be a very good girl babydoll." He smirked, turning it on full and slipping it into my panties moving it around until it found my clit and instantly my body reacted "there we go, and masters gonna watch you" he smirked "and if you scream. Master will make you ride on magic the rest of the night" he whispered In my ear

I nodded but he gripped my ass hard digging his nails into my forming bruises "yes master"

"Good, so babydoll. Cum." he ordered kissing down my neck and shoulder I was so distracted by the pleasure of the little toy working so hard in my panties making my whole panties vibrate his kissed contained all over the top of my body often stroking his fingers across my waist, my ass and my breasts, I knew how close I was and he knew too as he pulled back leaving big dark hickies on my neck and began undoing the little buttons at the top of my dress snapping each as he undid them until it hung completely loose he pushed it down not enough to do much more then push the top of my dress down a little letting both beasts jump free hung out from the remains of my dress he smirked chucking slightly at my breasts as I bit my mouth hard trying not to scream even if I was so close "ummmm babydoll, your dripping down your legs. Hummm is somebody gonna cum for her master" he smirked gently touching the toy to move it slightly against me back and forth and that was enough to make me squeal clamping my legs together he stepped back to admire what he had done to me as I rocketed into my orgasum. I leant against the sofa trying to stay stood up as he smirked at me licking his lips like a vampire, mostly his eyes looked to my breasts exposed from my dress and at my panties the vibe still going driving me crazy, my panties soaked from my squirt that I must have done as I came it still rolling in droplets down my legs "so beautiful. Such a pretty babydoll. You tried?"

"Yes Master" I whined

"Okay, come on" he smiled holding my hand he went and sat on the sofa tugging me to sit with him on a cushion so as not to hurt my already bruised butt but even if I was comfortable for a moment I knew this wasn't the end of it.

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buckybeardreams · 3 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James “Bucky” Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark’s Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn’t want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he’s determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Words: 1622

The bar where Tony worked wasn’t exactly high end, but it wasn’t awful. He kinda liked his job, even if his boss was an asshole. His coworkers were great and he got free food on his break, so it wasn’t all bad. Tony was a server, Clint worked at the bar making drinks, and Bucky worked in the kitchen. It was a small place so it was usually just the three of them.

Realistically, there should have been more employees. Obie was just cheap and refused to hire any more people than was strictly necessary to keep the place running, even if it would run much smoother with a bigger staff. They did have three part timers, twins that attended the local college and Thor, an older Norwegian guy who was always in good spirits, that filled in the gaps in the schedule. Tony was wiping up a table when Brock walked in and Clint whistled, calling Tony’s attention to him before pointing to the door.

“You’ve got a visitor, pretty boy.”

Tony glanced over at Brock and broke out into a grin. Brock smirked when the petite Omega ran up and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Tony accused, but he giggled when Brock scooped him off his feet and set him up on the bar.

Clint rolled his eyes at them.

“Get your ass off my bar,” Clint snapped. “Only paying customers are allowed to get all handsy on the bar.”

Brock rolled his eyes and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slammed it down on the bar.

“Why don’t you grab me a beer while you’re at it, baby?” Brock smirked at Clint who just smirked back, not nearly as annoyed as he pretended he was.

Brock asked Tony how his shift’s been going and Tony proceeded to tell him about the asshole customer that kept trying to feel him up and how Clint had just about jumped the counter to chase him out of here. Bucky had beat him to it, leaving the kitchen to yell at them for being creeps and throw them out. Even with only one arm their cook could be downright terrifying when he wanted to be.

Tony cut off his recounting of how Bucky defended his honor and then Tony got all upset, because he could totally handle himself and he did not need an Alpha to swoop in and save him, when Clint set down Brock’s beer and pulled him in for a kiss. Brock didn’t stop him immediately, but he pulled back with a groan after a few moments.

“Sorry, angel, but I’m taken,” Brock said regretfully, pulling down his collar to show off a mark that definitely had not existed when he went out last night.

Tony’s eyes widened comically and Brock was too busy snickering at his expression to notice the flash of pain that flickered in Clint’s eyes. Clint swallowed and busied himself behind the bar, so he wouldn’t have to think about what that meant for him and Brock, or about the mark on his own neck that still haunted him when he saw it in the mirror.

“What?” Tony squawked. “I thought we were going to be bachelors forever.”

“Yeah, well, I guess forever has come to an end.”

“We made a pact!” Tony whined.

Brock rolled his eyes.

“We were eighteen, barely more than pups when we made that pact. Besides, you’d feel differently about it, too, if you met your soulmate. I saw him and I knew just like that that we were made for each other. So I dragged him into the bathroom and sucked him off and then I let him take me home. It sounds totally skanky, but I swear it was more romantic than it sounds.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Tony scoffed.

“You’re gonna love him, Tony.”

Tony huffed.

He definitely would not love whatever asshole Alpha had brainwashed his best friend, turning him into a knot loving, Alpha pleasing houseOmega.

“Whatever, just tell me how long I have to find a new roommate,” Tony grumbled, feeling bitter about the whole thing.

He knew that Brock being mated now would mean he would move in with his Alpha. That’s just how it worked. Brock gave him a guilty look.

“He’s coming over to help me move my stuff in the morning,” Brock admitted. “Don’t worry though. I’ll pay rent as many months as it takes until you find someone new. It’s just, well, you know how it is with soulmates. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without him.”

“No, I don’t know, actually,” Tony snapped.

Of course he did know, and of course he didn’t really blame Brock for finding his soulmate. Tony couldn’t help but feel slighted though. This was a lot to take in and Tony was kinda offended that Brock would just show up and drop something like this on him. He knew that when it came to soulmates everything was sudden, but that didn’t make it easier on Tony.

“Tony, please, don’t be like that. I know you didn’t want this. I didn’t either. You know how much I hated Alphas, but then I met Sam and I don’t know… he’s amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know how it goes. You saw him and felt compelled to drop to your knees and present for him and the moment he knotted and claimed you, you felt whole, like the piece inside of you that was missing suddenly was filled by your Alpha’s presence and bite and his knot and let’s not forget his life giving cum,” Tony said sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ve heard the stories.”

“It’s not like that Tony.”

“So he didn’t knot you and now you’re obsessed with him?”

Brock groaned.

“No, he did, but it’s not as bad as you make it sound. I’m happy about this. Can’t you just be happy for me?” Brock pleaded.

Tony glared at the ground stubbornly.

“I have a table to wipe down.”

Brock looked hurt when Tony walked away and Clint gave him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry. He’ll come around. Just give him some time.”

Tony was upset when he got home and the light in their apartment was off. Sure, it was so late that it was practically morning, but he knew that wasn’t why the lights were off. This time he knew it was because his roommate, his best friend , who had returned home from the war and came to live with him, wasn’t here.

Tony felt like crying.

He dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes and let his coat fall to the ground. He didn’t care enough to pick them up and put them away. He didn’t care about anything. He just felt numb. Well, he felt hurt and betrayed and jealous, even though he’d never admit it out loud, but he also sort of felt numb, like he was feeling so many emotions that he just couldn’t process any of them.

He headed straight for the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, not even bothering to grab a glass, choosing to just drink straight out of the bottle instead. He plopped down on the couch and proceeded to drink his pain away, but ironically found himself just wallowing in his misery.

Tony always said that he hated Alphas and never wanted one, but the truth was that he hated how much he wanted one. Tony didn’t want to be controlled and have his independence stolen from him. He was terrified that he’d find his soulmate and they’d turn out to be some sort of asshole Alpha that wanted him to drop his whole life and be some damn houseOmega.

So yeah, Tony was glad that he didn’t have an Alpha, but secretly he hoped he had a soulmate out there. He hoped that his mate hadn’t died before they met and that they wanted him just as much as Tony wanted them. He hoped that they would have a fairytale ending, like in the stories that he heard as a kid about the kind and gentle Alphas that saved the day and rescued their Omegas. He hoped they’d meet and fall in love at first sight the way soulmates were supposed to and rush off to mate, because they just couldn’t go another second without each other.

Tony wanted all of those things, but he also cringed just thinking about it. He was not a damsel in distress. He did not need some Alpha to come and save him. Tony was just fine on his own. He’d survived this long without an Alpha, though he had to admit he would miss snuggling up to Brock, and Clint on the few occasions that Brock dragged him home and fell into bed with him.

Tony hadn’t fucked either of them, but he had no qualms snuggling up to them while they were sweaty and cum was still leaking out of Clint. He also had no qualms with sleeping on the other side of the bed while they fucked, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night. As much as Tony wanted to be fine on his own, he really hated being alone.

He didn’t need an Alpha, but he kinda wanted one. Wanted someone to hold onto, someone to cuddle with and be close to when the night fell and the darkness of his mind crept in like the shadows that surrounded them. Tony wished there was somebody there to pull him out of his mind as he spiraled, laying on the couch, an empty bottle on the ground. He was numb and yet he hurt so much. How was that even possible?

Ch 2

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tcthetouch · 4 years ago

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@mapleviewstarters

𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 – 𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 ... 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚜 .

『 nicole kidman. forty-eight. cis woman. she/her. 』 oh heavens, is that CORA WHITWORTH from FAIR LANE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -DECEITFUL & -MATERIALISTIC. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool FORMER MADAM, CURRENT... “ACCOUNTANT” and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +NURTURING & +RESOURCEFUL. i hope i see them around again! 『 may. 21.est. she/her. 』

did her parents name her after cora taylor ? no, kae and i just decided they’re dumb enough to name all their kids ‘c’ names. did i, trying to come up with ‘c’ names, name her after cora taylor ? yes.

background

triggers: prostitution (anything triggering that often goes with it is either very very skimmed over or not mentioned at all), pimping, possessiveness (is that the right word to use)/implied abuse?, drugs/briefly mentioned accidental fatal overdose (but if it makes it better the dude sucked)

honestly ? the triggers may imply there were worse things that happened in cora’s life, but... no. the worst thing that happened in her life was being born to the whitworths. not because they were like... jerks. but because they named everyone ‘c’ names. THAT’S THE REAL TRAGEDY IN THIS STORY.

Also. The first half of this intro is :\ a downer :\ but the second half is * thumbs up emoji * * money emoji * like the tone change is AMAZING.

Anyway, on the topic of the Whitworths, they weren’t bad parents! But they also weren’t stupendous parents! They were just largely… not around. So where Clara filled the love she wished to get with… flowers, Cora was like “I will try to fill mine with validation from external forces and… I don’t know, maybe adventure? Probably not.

Also scorpio sun, taurus moon bc astrology?? Ugh we luv it.

So she was decent. But she was bored. She wanted to do something interesting, not just mope around in their small town with the very few subcultures they had.

When she was 18, she decided that the small town life was simply Not For Her. much like my boy stephen crane, she wanted to actually study humanity. She packed up, of all places she could’ve “studied humanity,” she chose Washington, D.C.

But… you see… when you don’t have funds, a consistent source of income, or… really anymore than $20… you’re gonna study humanity SO WELL. Like, she was so set up to really study and experience humanity!

Let it be known… her parents obviously weren’t awful enough to be like “yes, go stay with questionable figures! you reap what you sow!” - no, they just… forgot!

A few people who she did not know offered a couch for the night. It was through various experiences among these folks, along with some general strange advice, that Cora realized she could enter a silently booming industry: sex work. The people she stayed with were usually very familiar with where the nearest red light districts were, some familiar with how to best tell undercover cops from regular johns. So she took this into serious consideration. She was still young – it seemed like a viable option, right? Easy money!

Turns out… it wasn’t! There are some strange people out there, aren’t there?

However, it did temporarily provide enough funds for Cora to rent a dingy little apartment. Until this one night when a man brought her back – but instead of proposing sex, as was obviously expected, he proposed a different idea: she join his ‘club.’ There’d be more protection, the pay would be even more lucrative, she’d have somewhere better to live within a matter of months… so, god, dear god, it didn’t take much thought for her to take him up on the offer.

Of course, he was a pimp. So… you know, things weren’t actually much better, but the clientele were richer! He didn’t lie about that part!

After around a year of captivity being pimped, this man took further interest in her as she became one of the more popular choices amongst his girls. He simply couldn’t let the star only be had by rich clientele! Yes, he slept with plenty of his girls, but she became favored as he began treating her as more of a girlfriend (with a creepy age different) who… you know, he still pimped out!

Being ‘closer’ to him was both advantageous and detrimental. Advantageous in that she witnessed more of the business side and various clients were rejected, detrimental in that… having to spend so much time with him, he introduced her to a world that was even worse. In spite of where she’d been for so many years by that point, she never really thought of drugs or gambling or anything else the underbelly provided other than sex work. But he introduced her to that side.

I’ll go easy on this, but… drugs. Period.

After another year of what seemed like something inescapable, now made worse, the best possible thing happened: he overdosed.

Y’all, we’re mostly out of the downer part of the intro!

With the money she’d gained being one of his stars, as well as that extra money he offered to keep her near, she knew what she had to do. Like… after a while, but we can skip that probably three-month-long gap: start her own brothel!

Using the money she’d received, she rented out a cheap empty building in one of the cheap red light districts. As far as most were concerned, what was once a bar was being converted into a nightclub. Which was, of course, a lie. A good front.

On the verge of bankruptcy by the time it was ready, she was most certainly desperate! But, lucky for her, one of the girls from her old pimp’s bordello followed her in. Soon enough, word spread amongst the community she’d once been so distant from – soon enough, her “nightclub” was filling up.

She would always have to pay thanks to the dead pimp, in a way. Had it not been for him and for how possessive he’d become, she wouldn’t have had a single clue on how to actually run it. And while she was still rocky at first, she gradually became better and better until she was on equal footing with other madams or pimps and was able to gauge clientele just as well.

In addition, had it not been for him, she wouldn’t have realized what was missing! Condoms were provided and deemed a necessity (although, to be fair, it wasn’t as though she knew everything that happened behind doors), the rooms that existed within the “nightclub” were listened to as well as possible to prevent violence (but rooms in other places? hotels, houses? nothing could be ensured, only hoped for - and hoped to be reported if anything happened so the client could be turned away), etc., etc. Ultimately, her girls were more her surrogate daughters – no matter how close or distant in age – than her paychecks.

But lmao she still took a hefty cut of their pay – a whole-ass 55% – less than what her pimp took, but still a LOT for performing no actions. And ss the brothel became more and more popular, that was SO DAMN MUCH. Just per WEEK, really!!

Everything was going so well!! For ten years, the brothel ran with minimal police interference. There were attempts at take-downs, but the brothel began to work like a well-oiled machine – true proof became rather difficult to find.

Until it wasn’t. Until they were clearly closing in. Until Cora was barely getting out by the skin of her teeth. If she and her girls were arrested… not only would they go to jail and all, but all of that money and all of that time? Wasted.

So she handed the keys over to the first girl who would take them – luckily, the girl she would never tell the others was the star (but… the others knew). Her official excuse? She was returning to North Carolina due to a family emergency (one that didn’t exist). If she just randomly fled, she’d certainly be guilty!

Catching word that Clara had wound up in Mapleview, Cora decided to lie low in the small town herself.

And yes, I made the TikTok meme real. Yes, she’s an “accountant.”

Only not really, she doesn’t use OnlyFans. Whenever she’s “commuting” to that place accountants work… she’s in some one town or another in the mountains, scouting talent. will there be a “nightclub” in mapleview soon?? actually probably not bc it’s so small. but one nearby?? YES!!

Old habits die hard!

But May, she may’ve been able to live off of the madam money for a few years, but it must’ve run out by now?

You’re right! I’m currently doing more research into this, but some years ago, she bought out and now owns a nightclub in Asheville!

But May, isn’t that a little far away to be there everyday? And what about her plans? And why would she still have to say she’s an accountant if being a nightclub owner isn’t taboo?

She has hired a manager she trusts greatly and goes down there to oversee things in person perhaps only twice a week! The manager reports to her!

The manager also knows of her plans and aids her in scouting talent! And she does have dirt on the manager as a backup!

And, considering what the club will be turned into, it’s best to keep it mum!

Honestly there are some other things I want to say, but I just remembered Tumblr’s read-more feature broke :)

tl;dr

(consult trigger list! much lighter in this portion but jic!) born to whitworths who weren’t awful parents but also weren’t stupendous parents i think they just sometimes forgot they were parents! decided to pull a stephen crane and go “study humanity” instead of like… go to college or enter the workforce… wound up in d.c. without much money. ppl in the sus districts were like “omg stay with me! s2g nthn creepy j offering a hand!” which was mostly true! some were like “sex work is lucrative.” she was like “omg ur right.” a young cora became a streetwalker. around 21, one of the johns was like “hi im not actually a john im a pimp do u want to be pimped it’s really cool.” and she was like “omg ya.” but he was pinocchio :\ that being said i feel like i shld mention that while this particular sex work wasn’t necessarily clean, guy at least made testing a thing. some years pass and he’s like “ur great im gonna act like ur my gf and that i’m the only person in ur world but also u still have to sleep w these guys bc i do love money.” good thing about that was that she overheard some of the business talk. bad thing was that he sucked and also liked even seedier things. some years go by and seedier things kill him tho! now catch cora, late 20s or early 30s idk, being like “well with this money… oh wow i have an idea.” was like “gonna convert this cheap empty place into a brothel i mean nightclub.” was almost broke after that but one of the pimp’s girls was like “wait i’ll come along!” soon had a lot of ppl. soon became successful and was actually as humane as a brothel cld be!! evaded the police narrowly, but evaded them. they started rly closing in at one point tho so she was like “oh no family emergency in nc here my best girl i mean u, girl, u r now in charge idk how that works my pimp just died.” went to mapleview. is an “accountant” and by “accountant” i mean that tiktok meme only more extreme bc she’s being a talent scout. old habits… die hard…

personality/misc.

if this bitch ain’t able 2 make her own way,,,, idk who is. (after moving to dc bc u kno financial status in boone wasnt awful or anything) real rags to riches story. benjamin franklin wld be so proud. she found the way to wealth.

probs sleeps on silk sheets covered in rose petals??

tbh tho?? absolute contradiction. manages 2 care a lot and also not care at all. rly depends on where the person stands. rly depends on the relatability. wld probs be a good mom but has no plans of becoming one!!!!!!!! too busy being an accountant!!!!!!

what,, is trust?? what,, is love?? (baby don’t hurt me)

i’m flying by the seat of my pants rn i suddenly got v distracted but!! maybe more will be added when tumblr FIXES ITS DAMN SELF.

connection ideas:

well we got the rest of her siblings over on the npc page and honestly w how different it seems clara and cora turned out,,,, wld be so curious 2 learn wtf everyone else is doing. r they being normal or r they also wilding??? j in different ways??? (0/2)

i’m hesitant to say someone she’s a parental figure to bc honestly,,, those exhaust me sometimes ahfdslk,,, but!! u kno what someone she’s ironically a good influence on (0/2?)

she got a mostly friendly front but bitch!! someone she’s a bad influence on!! (0/2)

some current or past flings (any gender, but keeping age in mind, past wld be like 43+ pls,,,current like 40+?) (0/?)

if anyone lived in boone, some old friends from boone (0/?)

if anyone lived in dc, some ppl she knew in dc (0/?)

also always up for brainstorming or j working off of chemistry!!

feel free to like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !

#mapleviewintro #cora .#cora | intro .#IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND THE READ MORE IS BROKEN IM SO SORRY.#IM VERBOSE.#also i feel like i shld make it known somewhere that i spent. most of the day yesterday researching this career so i can get it as #right as i can w/out having firsthand experience and that's j 2 say. if i ever fuck up. i am deeply sorry.

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obxfiles · 4 years ago

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I was just casually scrolling through tumblr at 4 o’clock in the morning when I came across your post. Usually I’m a quiet lurker because idfk how to talk to people, but I felt compelled to respond to your post about you feeling “behind” in life. I know you’ve gotten several replies already, but you’re just going to have to deal with me throwing some more love and support at you, okay?

I, too, left a long-term relationship (my marriage to be more specific). I moved back home to my parents’ house because I could no longer afford to live on my own, without the financial partnership of my ex (and we were just barely scraping by together as it were. NY state isn’t a cheap place to live in). Here’s the kicker: I also have two young sons. It hit me hardest knowing that I couldn’t provide for the tiny humans I brought into this world — after all, it was my choice to leave a toxic relationship and split apart my family, not theirs. Yet, here I was, feeling like I was dragging them down with me. They didn’t ask for this life. I felt like a complete failure as a mother. Some days I still do. I felt like I was taking a thousand steps backwards in life. After all, when my parents were my age, they were buying a house and I couldn’t even afford to rent a two-bedroom apartment. So, I did what you did — I went back to school. Between raising kids and my own schooling, I was barely able to work to pay living expenses and bills, let alone save money. More debt. Finally, I graduated just in time for the pandemic to hit and found myself out of work for even longer. More debt. (This year has kicked most of our asses, I think, so you should allow yourself some leeway and compassion now more than ever).

I’m convinced at this point in my life that feeling “behind” seems to be a very millennial trait. Our generation has inherited a world waaaay different than that of our parents and grandparents. To be honest, most days it feels impossible to get ahead. Things seem futile, working against us. Statistically speaking, we have less income and way more debt than previous generations. It’s not uncommon to be living at home at our age these days, and although I totally understand where your frustration is coming from, please do not let it weigh you down. I promise, you are not alone and there is no shame in needing some help to get through the tough times.

Despite your obstacles and setbacks, look how FAR you’ve come. You left an abusive relationship. You went back to school and earned a degree. Neither of those had to have been smooth-sailing tasks for you. It’s easy to feel “stuck” or to compare yourself to others around you, especially in an age where we can see who’s getting engaged or married or pregnant or a mortgage with the press of a social media app. STOB IT. You’ve overcome some massive hurdles that your twenties have thrown in your way. Be proud of that. It took me breaking myself into a million pieces in order to rebuild myself into who I truly wanted to be. I’m certainly not there yet, but I am getting closer. YOU are too. Hold that notion to your chest and be PROUD of that. It’s not a race, so pace yourself and breathe. Your struggles have given you more strength and wisdom than you are currently giving yourself credit for. ✨

I apologize for my long-winded, early-morning ramblings. Also, be safe (today of all days, when tensions are crazy high in this country. yikes!) and stay healthy. 💜💜

oh my goodness, thank you so much for reaching out and sharing your story with me. i’m so sorry you had to go through that but i am so, so proud of you for getting yourself and your little ones out of that situation. there’s always this odd feeling that comes with having survived an abusive situation. i don’t know how bad it was for you, but i can only imagine and sympathize. for me, i never thought i’d survive it. i never imagined myself living this long, if i am being very honest. so there’s this odd feeling of not having any kind of direction now having reached this point. and then when i finally try to set out a direction, and carve my path, the pandemic hit and it felt like everything just got ruined. and it sounds selfish when i know others have and are going through worse, but truly everything seemed to just fall completely to pieces. it’s a scary situation for so, so many reasons. everything just feels so uncertain. it’s especially hard when i go to my social media and see everyone that all somehow kept the jobs they had pre-pandemic, going forward with their lives whereas i feel like mine has completely frozen into place. but we have to have faith that this will come to an end and good things will come again. thank you so, so much for saying this <3 it’s hard for me to really acknowledge the things i’ve gone through and survived through. i’m told that’s part of the ptsd, second-guessing your own strength and constantly thinking “someone had it worse, so who am i to complain or acknowledge my struggles” but that’s the trauma talking. i need to make my voice louder than the voice of the trauma, the anxiety, the icky thoughts. i need to let myself acknowledge my survival and strrength. thank you so, so much for saying this <3

i have faith everything will work out. this time of frightfulness and uncertainity will come to an end and things will get better. the sun will shine again for us all, i am so, so certain of that. please know how thankful i am for you, reaching out and sharing your story with me in this way. please, please know i am always, always here for you if you ever need to talk. we aren’t alone, even if we may feel that we are. i am so, so proud of you and i am always here for you if you ever need a friend to talk to. thank you again, so, so much <3

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marril96 · 5 years ago

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The Distance Between Us

Epilogue: What the Future Holds

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Five years later...

A/N: Here we are, folks. This is the end. I would like to thank everyone who helped me get this story to where it is. From my wonderful editors to my faithful readers — I appreciate every single one of you amazing people. Thank you so much! For reading, commenting, helping me out, talking to me, believing in me, encouraging me to continue even when it was hard. I hope the ending is satisfying enough, and that we will hang out soon when I work on my other projects. Best of regards, Mariana. ♥

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

There was nothing better than a wedding to get the old gang back together.

It had been a while since you'd seen everyone all at once.

Five long years — ever since you'd graduated high school.

There were times when it felt as if it had happened yesterday. As if you'd just said goodbye to your friends before everyone went their own way, their own direction, colleges and jobs calling.

Time sure liked to fly.

You made sure to stay in contact with everyone. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; all tools you readily used. They were your friends. Some distance couldn't change that.

The seven of you had your own Facebook chat group that was filled to the brim with messages. Memes were shared. Laughs exchanged — in emoji form, but laughs nonetheless. News, good and bad, were told. Advices asked for and given.

It almost felt like old times.

Almost.

But not quite.

The truth was, despite how hard you tried to maintain your friendship, things changed.

Life happened.

Sam had gone to Stanford on full scholarship, dreaming big of contributing to the world, helping save it. With the way things were going, you were confident he would do it. If anyone could help make the world a better place, it was him.

In his free time, he liked to give speeches on healthy lifestyles, which, for some bizarre reason, consisted of consuming a lot of kale.

A kale smoothie had become a signature of his, the cup seemingly glued to his hand.

He'd become a hit on the internet for it. A meme everyone in your friend group shared and poked fun at. Light-heartedly, of course.

Dean was convinced Sam was doing it to embarrass him.

Sam, in turn, had told him a healthier diet would do him good.

Dean wasn't interested, and, a few hours later, had posted a picture of himself stuffing a big, greasy hamburger into his mouth with the caption #DownWithKale.

Sam was not amused.

Crowley had changed his name as soon as he'd turned eighteen. Crowley had officially become his name, Fergus long forgotten, thrown in the trash where he felt it belonged.

His family still called him Fergus.

Well, Rowena and his mother did. Gavin, the good boy that he was, had always referred to him as Crowley, which was why he was Crowley's favorite family member (his only family member, if he had any say in it).

He'd gone into studying business, rich businessman future planned out to the smallest details. He'd intended to work his way to the top; it would take a while, but he was confident hard work, combined with his cunning, ambitious nature, would earn him the throne.

Maybe, he'd mused, he could eventually open his own company. Be his own boss. Set his own terms.

May he have the best of luck.

Castiel had gone into teaching. A surprising choice of career, especially considering his awkward nature, but it was what he wanted to do. Helping kids. Guiding them by his own example.

He certainly had the drive for it.

Who knows? Maybe kids would like him. Maybe they would like his awkwardness.

Meg, not really the scholarly type, had gone to community college and had found herself working in a supermarket.

She hated her job, and she hated the customers even more. The chat was frequently filled with her rants about one thing or another that had occurred at work that particular day.

Funny stuff, usually.

Especially when she snapped at customers and got reprimanded for it, but kept doing it anyway because her boss knew all too well he couldn't afford to lose her as an employee.

Instead of a college, Dean had gone into trades. He'd opened his own little mechanic shop back in Lawrence. It was hard work, far from ideal, paid just enough to cover the costs of living, but he enjoyed it. He was happy.

That was all that mattered.

Rowena had worked hard on her intensive at Joffrey. It was a difficult three months; she was always practicing, always dancing, on her feet from dawn to dusk. You'd barely gotten to talk, aside from the weekends, which you'd spent in front of your phones or laptops, Skype open, smiles wide as you talked about each week's events.

You'd missed her so much.

Too much.

But, as with all things, the intensive had eventually ended and you'd gotten to have her home for a week — a whole week! — before college officially started.

The two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other that entire time.

It wasn't enough — seven measly days was far from enough — but it was something.

After three months of drought, it was the welcome, desperately awaited rain.

Parting for college was even more difficult. You'd each gone your own way, different as you were, each pursuing your own dream.

It was a struggle, but, like the intensive, you'd made it work.

You'd kept in contact. Skyped at every available moment. Traveled to one another's schools when the opportunity arose. Made sure to spend the holidays (the most important ones) together.

And, just like that, years had gone by, and soon enough school was behind you and you were together once again.

The decision to move in together was a mutual one. It was more of an understanding, really. With school behind you, jobs calling, and the relationship stronger than ever even all these years later, it just made sense to take it a step further.

Why wouldn't you live together?

You did everything else together, so you might as well, to quote Crowley every time he walked in on you making out, get a room.

So you did.

You rented an apartment in Manhattan. A small one that, despite its size, was warm and pleasant and felt just like home.

Your and Rowena's home.

Sometimes it felt like a dream.

As if, every moment now, you would wake up and realize the last five years of your life were nothing but a fantasy, a product of your sleeping mind.

Then you would kiss Rowena's cheek, take a sip of tea from her mug just to tease her (her glares and pouts were adorable), and smile, and the reality — your reality, one you'd worked hard to accomplish, your so wished for future — would settle in and all the silly thoughts would go away as if they'd never existed.

You'd made it.

The future you'd dreamed of, that you and Rowena had planned for so thoroughly, had come to be.

It wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

Rowena had found work at Broadway. She was a dancer, and an excellent one; with Joffrey on her resume, the job was hers the moment she'd stepped into the audition room.

You were having difficulty with finding employment yourself, but, luckily, her pay was enough to cover the living costs of the two of you.

You felt bad; the last thing you wanted was to look as if you were taking advantage. But she'd made it clear she didn't mind. You were together. A family, for no other word could describe what you had, what you'd built and grew together. What was hers was yours, and vice versa.

Being a housewife wasn't your ideal profession, if one could call it that, but it wasn't bad.

It was, dare you say it, fun.

You found yourself enjoying awaiting Rowena's return after a long, exhausting day on her feet — literally — with a loving hug, a peck on the lips, and a warm meal on the table — a delivery from a restaurant or a warmed up can, for cooking was a skill you were still far from perfecting.

You were happy.

And so was she.

The two of you made it work.

Lately, Rowena had been considering joining the Royal Ballet. It was a big step, one that required careful thinking and plenty of discussions.

Moving to another city was one thing.

Moving to another country, half across the world, on the other hand…

She'd made it clear she wasn't going to make the decision without you. This concerned you, too; if you wanted to stay in New York, you would stay.

Both of you.

She just wanted you to think about it, weigh in cons and pros.

And you did.

You'd been thinking about it for weeks.

Bless her heart, Rowena was patient. She didn't push you, or rush you, or try to guilt you. She left you to your own pace.

You were immensely grateful for it.

By the time the wedding came, you were pretty sure you'd made up your mind.

In a day or two — hell, maybe even today, after the ceremony — you would tell her.

It was a small wedding, closest family and friends only. Sam was never one for parties. He and Eileen had rented a small cottage with a beautiful yard they'd decorated themselves. Quite cheap, as far as American weddings went, but lovely.

This was a wedding for love, not luxury.

When Sam had announced he was engaged in the group chat a year ago, you weren't surprised. You'd always had a feeling he would go for it first. While Dean was a one night stand kind of guy, Sam was more the settle down type. The kind of guy who kicked ass at work during the day and then cuddled with his wife and kids at night. The picture of a family man.

And, god, would he be a good one!

He was sweet and caring, a wonderful friend, and, no doubt, an even more wonderful boyfriend. Husband material, if you ever knew one.

Eileen was equally sweet, equally amazing. A lovely girl who treated everyone like a friend and loved Sam with all her heart.

They were perfect for each other.

Seeing your gang together after five years, in person, in full color, was an experience that was almost supernatural. There was screaming and squealing and hugging and teasing. You'd forgotten how noisy you were all together.

Your mind flashed back to high school, to afternoons at Biggerson's, sipping at your smoothies and coffees and stealing fries off each other's plates.

Those were the days.

There wasn't much difference to either of you. You were older, but other than that, you still looked the same. You teased each other as you'd used to, joked as if you were still that bunch of high schoolers who had the whole world under their feet.

There were changes, obviously. Inevitably. Some subtle, others not so much.

Sam's hair was an inch or so shorter, or so it looked in the pictures (he was still getting ready, having not yet shown himself to the guests).

You followed his example, having never been one for big change. Shorter hair was shorter hair, even if only a bit.

Dean bore — proudly — a few scars. Work injuries, though you were willing to bet he'd earned a couple in the bar fights he liked to brag about.

"You should see the other guy," he always said.

You never had any particular desire to.

Crowley had a small beard, and wore it well; it made him look older, more mature.

Emphasis on look, for he and Rowena still bickered like brats.

Gavin, the actual child of the family, was more mature than the two of them.

Rowena wore less sparkly clothes (she now saved those for special occasions). Instead, she preferred to wear dress pants and blouses that you found strangely arousing.

Sometimes you got her to role-play in them. She made one delicious businesswoman.

Castiel dressed the same, trench coat over everything (even wore the damn thing to the wedding), looked the same, acted the same, however, his change was big.

It tied right into Meg's for she was seven months pregnant, and her stomach was appropriately swollen to showcase it.

She'd gained a bit of weight and dyed her hair blonde, but her character remained the same.

She was still that same foul-mouthed, opinionated firecracker of a girl.

And you loved her for it.

"You look great!" you told her first thing you saw her. Then you threw an arm around her, your other one wrapping around Castiel, and said, "I couldn't wait to congratulate you guys in person! I'm so happy for you!"

You were.

Happy from the bottom of your heart.

Ecstatic.

Proud.

The two of them had done well for themselves. Like your and Rowena's, their life wasn't perfect, but they made it work. They lived it to the fullest.

They were happy.

In love.

Excited for the baby, a joyous little accident.

You weren't the parenting type, (neither was Rowena), however, while raising a family wasn't your particular dream, you couldn't have been more excited for them.

This was what they wanted.

What kind of a friend would you be if you judged?

Families came in all shapes and sizes.

As did dreams. Ambitions. Aspirations.

Supporting them, wishing them well in any and every form — that was the true meaning of friendship.

Meg and Castiel would make amazing parents.

Weird and eccentric, but still amazing.

That baby would be one happy, very loved kid. Surrounded by a large family of aunts and uncles, all loving, caring, eager to spoil them.

Blood-related and not.

As far as Meg and Castiel were concerned, your group was family.

It was definitely better than some actual family members.

Like Castiel's father, good old Principal Shurley, who'd, a couple years ago, gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble for embezzlement.

The news didn't quite shock you as it should have. There was always something about him.

Lucifer never stopped getting in trouble. Only, once he was out of school, his daddy couldn't sweet talk his way out of it (not that he hadn't tried; Castiel talked quite a bit about Chuck's restless attempts, and failures, to save him) and thus the darling little angel had gotten himself quite a record.

Assault.

Harassment.

Battery.

You name it, he'd done it.

It turned out that the police didn't give a damn about what daddy Shurley had to say about his son's character.

They surely gave even less of a damn now that he was serving his sentence for embezzlement.

Lucifer was currently with him, doing a two year stint for… something.

It was hard to keep track when it came to him.

The current Lawrence Hugh's principal was Amara Shurley, Chuck's sister, because of course she was.

Nepotism for the win!

Though, from everything you'd heard, she was, so far, doing a great job. Far better than her brother ever did.

Castiel had cut all ties with his father and brother. He'd considered doing so earlier, but now that he was expecting a child, the decision came with ease.

He didn't want his child around criminals. Didn't want them to set the wrong example.

That alone told you he was going to be a great father.

The ceremony, modest as it was, was beautiful. Eileen, in her snow-white dress, looked like a princess. No — a queen, the veil a doubling as a crown. Sam was equally handsome, clad in a black suit that made him look somewhat older, more mature, a fairy tale prince come to life.

They said their vows with so much love on their faces you were one hundred percent certain they would make do on them to the letter.

Til death did them part.

There were smiles. Tears. So much joy it was overwhelming.

Meg was the lucky one who caught the bouquet, only to promptly, in a deadpan tone, say, "No," and shove it in Crowley's hands.

Crowley shoved it in Dean's, who shoved it back to him and started what was basically a struggle over the damn thing.

Not marriage material, your group.

Sam was the black sheep.

Laughter was exchanged.

Food — delicious! — eaten.

Drinks downed and refilled.

Dances had.

Aside from the newlyweds, Rowena had proven herself to be quite an attraction with her precise, professional moves. Everyone wanted to be her partner.

Not a dancer yourself, you had no problem with it.

However, after what had to be the tenth request, you considered charging people to dance with your girlfriend.

It was only fair.

The celebration extended long into the night. There was enough alcohol to keep everyone going.

The place, located in the middle of nowhere, was perfect for a party. No neighbors to complain about the noise. No busybodies sticking their nose in. Just a group of people having the fun of their lives, drunk out of their minds.

By the time you and Rowena arrived to your hotel, you were exhausted. There was more alcohol than blood in your veins. Your feet were killing you. Your throat ached from singing and shouting.

You hadn't even removed your clothes — shaking off your shoes, you plopped on the bed, curled up against each other, and drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, Rowena was looking at you with a smile on her face. Your head pounding as if someone were whacking it with a hammer, eyes stinging, it took a bit of willpower to pull on one of your own.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Your voice was raspy, broken. You cleared your throat. Sucked in a breath.

God.

Singing had been a mistake.

Her smile melted into a smirk. She shrugged, nonchalant. Denying not a single thing. "I was just thinking."

"Should I be worried?" you teased.

"I'd hope not."

Her face grew serious.

Uh oh.

Now you definitely were worried.

Morning — a hungover one at that — was the worst possible time for serious conversations.

It wasn't a surprise, though.

Rowena prided herself in her unpredictability.

"What is it?" you asked, light draining from your face. Preparing for news that, at best, would be unpleasant, and, at worst, absolutely horrible.

"Sam and Eileen seem happy."

They did.

They were happy.

You nodded.

Rowena sighed, "Do you think we're happy?"

What was she trying to say? Heart racing, lump forming in your throat, you uttered a tad too defensively, "Do you think we're not?"

"Of course not!"

She seemed genuine, so there was that.

You allowed yourself a moment of relief. "Me, neither. I'm happy."

"As am I."

Good.

That was good.

You were on the same level.

She was silent for a few moments. Thought her words through. "I was just wondering if we should… take it a step further."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

You had an inkling, but you wanted to hear it from her.

You wanted her to confirm it.

Rowena swallowed. "Get married."

It was as if all air had vanished from your lungs. Your throat was dry. Heart, once again, running a marathon. Hands shaking as if you were cold.

You weren't — you couldn't be — for as soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of heat flooded you, filled you up from head to toe.

Marriage wasn't on your list of priorities.

Wasn't on any of your lists, as a matter of fact.

You and Rowena loved each other — you didn't need a piece of paper to prove it.

But…

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't considered it once or twice.

What would it be like to call yourself her wife? To wear her ring; a promise in the form of shimmery gold?

"Or maybe just get engaged," she said after a few moments of uncomfortable, deafening silence. "Wear the rings."

You looked at her, eyes wide. Mouth trembling.

She gulped. Uncertain. Frightened. Nervous to the bone. "We don't have to. I was just… thinking out loud." She pulled on another smile — a fake on this time, hurt flickering over her face no matter how hard she tried to mask it. "Forget I said anything."

"No." You reached for her hand, twined your fingers with hers in a tight knot. "We could try."

She was stunned. "Really?"

"I don't see why not."

What was the worst that could happen?

You were already together. Already happy and crazy in love.

"We could try the engagement thing, see if it works," you said.

You had nothing to lose.

At this point, you could only gain.

Rowena beamed. A chuckle escaped her; lovely, happy. Adorable. "Okay!"

It was a perfect arrangement.

"I will get you a ring," she added. "Make it official."

"How about we both get rings?" you said. This was kind of a mutual proposal, after all. And also… "There's nice jewelry shops in the UK, right?"

It was her turn to be confused. "What?"

Your decision.

The one you'd been planning to relay to her.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

"We don't have to get engaged in USA, right?" you said. "Think about it. You, a Royal Ballerina. Me, a not-so-royal couch potato. That's a romance movie right there!"

Rowena gasped. Swallowed. Breathed in and out in attempts to contain her excitement. "You want to move to Britain?"

"That's what I'm saying, aren't I?" You grinned. Squeezed her hand. "I've been meaning to tell you. I figured now's the perfect time."

"Y/N, I…" She brought your linked hands to her mouth, kissed your knuckles. "Thank you! I just… Thank you, darling!"

You locked your lips with hers. Deepened the kiss, melted into it. Thought of millions of more you would share.

The future was yours.

All you had to do was seize it. Take it. Dig your claws in and never let go.

"Don't you forget me when you become a world-famous ballerina," you teased.

"Och, darling," she purred, "don't you know by now you're quite unforgettable?"

You chuckled. "Just making sure."

She pecked you on the mouth. "I love you."

"Me, too."

You'd loved her for five years.

You'd loved her when she was bad, and even more when she became good.

You'd loved her when she was away, and you'd loved her when she was here.

You'd loved her in your apartment.

You'd loved her in the United States.

And you would love her in the United Kingdom.

You loved her now, and you would love her in the future.

Forever.

And ever.

Til death did you part.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #crowley #fergus macleod #sam winchester #eileen leahy #dean winchester #meg masters #castiel #fanfiction #my fics #high school au #rowena x reader

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wiggly-blue-shite · 5 years ago

Text

You’ll Always Have Me

Lex X Ethan fanfic with a lot of Hannah protection.

This is the first time Ethan and Hannah have ever met. (3400-ish words Jesus Christ)

Hannah sits next to me on the bed. She’s watching some cartoon. Her eyes are glazed over. She isn’t watching. Her eye twitches. I love my sister but I just don’t understand her. She’s just a little kid but sometimes she says things I just don’t understand. I hoped that the things people say about her isn’t true, but when she talks about Black and White, the spider that talks to her, I just don’t know.

Hannah shudders and light returns to her eyes.

“You okay, Banana?”

“Something is coming.” She looks scared. She pushes her head into my shoulder. My arm moves around her subconsciously.

A loud noise comes from the outside of the trailer. It’s two voices. I can distinctly hear Mom’s voice slurring words together. The other voice is deep and unfamiliar.

She brought someone else home from that dirty ass bar. Hannah can’t be here, not right now. Or ever for that fucking matter. Mom had one job that was just to take care of us. I can’t have her be here anymore.

“Get behind me.” I stand up and head towards the door. I don’t want her to see any of this. “Close your eyes… please.” My hand is shaky. I light a cigarette and wait.

The door opens. It’s so creaky, we, well I can’t afford oil to stop it from squeaking. Hannah grabs my left hand. I hate that she’s scared. I hate that I am scared too.

Mom stumbles up the stairs. She looks at me and Hannah. I know she can see Hannah. She must know that she is scared. She has to know that she is hurting her. She’s just a fucking kid. A tear rolls down on my cheek.

“Hi girls.” She’s so close to me I can smell the cheap fucking booze on her breath.

“Hi mom.” We make eye contact. I hate that she can see me crying. Hannah squeezes my hand. How is she so smart?

“We’re going to Deb’s house. Have fun.” I try to make my voice as harsh as possible. I want her to see. Is it to much to ask?

I pull Hannah with me outside, grabbing the sleeping bag I keep near the door. I keep walking until I know that she isn’t coming after us. She’s not going to apologize. She’s not going to try.

I sit down with Hannah at one of the picnic tables in the trailer park. I try to blow the smoke away from her. I don’t want her breathing in too much.

Lexington: Hey my moms being a bitch can me and Hannah hang there

Deborino: oh shit. I’m out with Alice we are with her dad

You know how he feels about me this needs to go well

Lexington: FUCK okay you go get your girl and her dad I guess

“What’s wrong?” Hannah keeps her voice hushed. She’s just watching me. She looks cold. That jacket is thin but I can’t get her a better one right now.

“We can’t stay at Deb’s.” I don’t trust anyone else in the smoke club enough to watch Hannah with me. Well I guess there’s Ethan.

“Oh.” She pulls on the sides of the jacket. She’s so small.

Lexington: My mom is being my mom can me and my sister crash with you tonight

eThAn: Sure anything you need

Lexington: Thanks ❤️

eThAn: Meeting the sis big step ❤️

Lexington: Oh whatever

eThAn: See ya soon

I flick the cigarette into the ground and grind it under my boot. I stand up. “Come on you’re gonna meet my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?” She makes a little disgusted face.

“Yes I have a boyfriend you silly banana. Let’s go.” I don’t know if they’ll get along. Ethan is smart but he can be intense. I like Ethan a lot but if Hannah doesn’t like him it’s over. I just need to make sure she’s ok.

“What’s he like?” She grabs my hand. It’s cold.

“You’ll see.” God I hope this goes well. We walk off. We have only each other and this old sleeping bag.

Ethan’s place isn’t as close as I thought it was. Well I guess it feels farther because of how dark it is, damn daylight savings. I don’t want Hannah out here when it’s so cold and dark, especially not in this neighborhood.

There are a few people out. A lot of drunks. Hannah holds my arm. Keep your head down, don’t make eye contact, be invisible.

Ethan lives in a small apartment, his parents kicked him out and this was the only place he could afford to live. As far as cheap apartments go it’s nice. There’s a pull out couch the smoke club found at the curb. He’s got a fridge. No tv or microwave, but there’s a heater.

We get outside of the building. There’s a tent city down the street, so I keep Hannah close. The sidewalk smells like piss. The air is hazy with smoke and I can see some bonfires going in the tent city.

Lexington: Here

After a moment Ethan opens the door of the building. He’s wearing ripped jeans that definitely didn’t start out that ripped, an old leather jacket, and one worn down glove. He took his earring out. He’s standing in the doorway arms straight at his side.

“Hey.” He waves a little at Hannah.

“Lets do introductions later, it’s cold as hell.”

“Is hell cold?” Ethan’s eyebrow shoots up, he smirks. I stare back at him. All these jokes are nice but I’m cold. “Ok let’s go.”

The building doesn’t have an elevator but you only use it if you have a death wish. So we climb six stories. There are a few people yelling in an apartment next to the stairwell. Someone gets pushed out the door. I try not to listen to the things that they are yelling. Hopefully they don’t see us. I can here gunshots coming from a couple of blocks away.

Ethan cleaned his apartment. His clothes are in an organized pile. He organized the things on the table. It looks like he tried to wash away a stain in the floor. It looks nice. It’s pretty warm in here.

Once we step in Ethan turns around and looks down at Hannah. He seems to tower over her. “So you must be Hannah Foster.”

She nods. She doesn’t look scared. She looks like she’s studying him.

“I’m Ethan... Green. Ethan Green.” He’s more nervous than she is. I’ve never seen him really nervous before.

“Do you live here by yourself?” The apartment is a lot smaller than the trailer. It’s also dirtier.

“Not a lot of room for anyone else now is there.” He laughs. Hannah doesn’t laugh, but she smiles. It feels like something got lifted off the room.

My stomach growls loudly. I didn’t eat a lot. I didn’t get breakfast. Frank gave me some food at the end of my shift. Weird to think that man is capable of pity. Hannah gets food at school, we’re poor enough to qualify for free breakfast and lunch.

Ethan must have heard. “I have food coming if you guys are hungry.”

Ethan has been jumping from job to job trying to get money any way he can. He can’t afford to get food delivered. He barely has any he money for his rent.

“It’ll be here soon. I’ll go get it.” Ethan is our the door and down the hall before I can ask about how much it cost.

Hannah sits in the couch and I join her. This is way comfortable than the one back in the trailer. Hannah looks around the room. There’s not a lot of decorations, a couple of Ramones posters and a couple of old art projects, all we could salvage before he was kicked out. The floor is warped and the rug is dirty.

“So you’re dating him?” I can’t tell if she’s messing with me or she’s disappointed.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Why does the opinion of a little kid matter to me at all? Even if we’re sisters.

“No, I like him. He cares. Good blood.” She smiles. It’s nice to see her smile. Things might not be going well but she can still fond some happiness.

“I’m glad you like him. You two are really important to me. It’s nice that you can get along.” I smile down at her. She looks back with her giant sad eyes. Even when she’s happy there’s just a little bit of pain in the corners of her eyes.

It’s around 7:45. It’s not a school night so I’m not super concerned about getting her to sleep early. I should have got her dinner earlier though. It was a good thing Ethan got food, even if it cuts into his savings. Growing kids need to eat. Maybe that’s why I’m short.

Ethan opens the door holding a pizza box and something in a brown paper bag. He got a whole pizza. That costs so much. He still needs to pay for rent and basic essentials. But he just walks to the table and sets down the box like he’s made of money.

Hannah shoots up and has pizza in her mouth before I can stand up. It’s still warm despite the fact that it’s cold as hell out. Hannah says that food at her school is usually cold. I’m glad she’s eating something warm.

Ethan opens the paper bag to reveal a little box with the words Garlic Knots on the side. That’s just a waste. He has so little yet he can get something so unimportant.

“How much did this cost?” I think I deserve to know the damage. This effects both of us.

“Does it matter?” Ethan sneaks his arms around my waist. I have to look up to make eye contact. He smiles like nothing matters.

“Yes it fucking does.” I don’t want to be a nag. If thing are ever gonna get better we need to keep the little money we have.

“Can I still eat this?” Hannah manages to say with a mouth full of pizza.

“Yeah, banana.” There’s no point now. You can’t return food.

“Banana?” Ethan‘s eyes light up, his arms fall to his side. “That’s adorable.”

“Don’t change the subject. How much did it cost?” I feel uncomfortable with being this naggy.

“Like twenty bucks.” Ethan says that like it’s not going to cut into his own food supply and gas for that shitty shitty car. “It’s fine. Just eat up.”

“Babe-“

“No just eat.” He grabs a garlic knot and holds it in front of my face. “Taste the garlic.”

I’m not going to laugh because I’m upset. It does look good though. Really good.

“No-“

He puts the garlic knot in my mouth as I am talking. “Eat the food.”

He lets out a little chuckle. I must look like an idiot. I take the knot out of my mouth and let myself laugh.

“Ok ok ok. Just...” it’s nice that he cares but he needs to take care of himself. “You don’t have to spend money on us.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” He smirks and pulls me into his arms. As we kiss I can here Hannah making barfing noises.

“Gross!” Hannah yells at us, “you got garlic mouth!”

Ethan bursts out laughing. I see that I am the most mature in the room. Ethan is literally on the floor. I sure know how to choose them.

“Let’s just eat.” I sit down next to Hannah and finish my garlic knot. I haven’t had good pizza in a while. I think it’s been a while since all of us have had good food.

We get mostly through the meal when a loud noise comes from the heater. Ethan checks it.

“Fuck. It’s broken.” He looks annoyed. I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened. It sucks that it happens when Hannah is here. The trailer has heat.

I can feel it get colder. Temperature is dropping fast. Stupid thin walls.

“I’m gonna have to fix that. God damnit!” Ethan stares down at the busted machine. Ethan has gotten a lot better at fixing things. Mr. Houston would be proud.

Within 25 minutes Hannah is practically shivering. I swear she’s like a lizard, always cold. I put Ethan’s one good blanket over her. She still looks cold.

I see one of Ethan’s old flannels on the floor. Alice made a joke about it being a gross yellow color and he doesn’t wear it anymore. I hand it to Hannah. She quickly puts it on.

“Looks good. But that’s not going to keep you warm.” Ethan walls back towards the couch. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it around her shoulders. “Any warmer, Hannah banana?”

She smiles and nods. She’s content once she’s stolen every warm thing from the apartment.

“You can keep the flannel if you’d like.” Ethan has a weird look in his eye. Like some weird fatherly instinct has just kicked in.

“It’s so big!” The sleeves completely cover her hands.

“I can shrink it when I was the clothes.” Laundry is my responsibility, so it won’t be too difficult. I’ve shrunk plenty of clothing on accident. Doing it on purpose will be easy.

Ethan turns back to the heater. Goosebumps are visible on his arm. He smiles at me and winks.

“I’ll be fine.” He grabs an older torn up blanket a puts it around himself. He squats down to look at the heater, taking out a Swiss Army knife as his only tool other than his hands.

I kiss the top of his head, “Thank you.”

I throw the empty pizza box away. Ethan is still working on the heater and Hannah has been singing a song to herself quietly. I didn’t know she knew long words like “inevitable”. I barely know what that means.

I turn around and see Hannah yawn. It’s not late but I can’t keep her entertained. So I could just send her to bed now. I’m tired. It’s been such a long day. It’s just been taking care of Hannah and working.

“You tired?” I sit down best to her, “Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Noooo.” She isn’t but maybe if I insist I can make her go to sleep so I can go smoke on the fire escape.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a yawn, banana. You can’t lie to me.”

Ethan joins the conversation from the other side of the room.

“We could play a game before you go to sleep.” He smiles, “I have a deck of cards, some dice somewhere and maybe monopoly with some missing pieces. How about banana split?”

She nods. She is still curled up in a big huddle of blankets.

“What’s your poison? Poker, blackjack, Craps-“ Ethan turns one of the janky chairs arounds and sits down like a hound substitute English teacher.

Hannah giggles “you said crap.”

“Oh shit I did?” Ethan’s eyes go wide. Hannah laughs more. A satisfied smile creeps on to his face.

“I think this is a go fish crowd.” His cards are in a drawer in the kitchen, so I go grab them.

“I’m the best at go fish!” Hannah smiles so smuggly I almost want to say than I always let her win.

“We’ll see about that.” Ethan starts to shuffle the cards over the back of the chair.

Hannah shuffled over to the table, wrapped in the blanket and jacket. We play a few intense games of Go Fish that are extremely rigged in Hannah’s favor. Ethan won once but that was just to keep up the ruse.

“Ok Hannah it’s 8:30 time to sleep.” I help Ethan pull the bed part of the couch out. “You’ll sleep on here.” I pat the lumpy mattress. She sits down on it.

Ethan goes back to the heater. He’s not going to fix it today.

“Where will you sleep?” She looks up at me.

“I have the sleeping bag.” It’s going to be cold but she doesn’t need to know that.

“What about Ethan?” She looks a little more concerned for him than she did for me. It’s not like I’m the ones whose taken care of her for the last 9-ish years.

“I’ll just have to wrap myself in blankets like a burrito.”

Hannah yawns again. She makes a little pillow out of the flannel and lies down.

I kneel down next to her head, “Has it been a good day or a bad day?”

“Good day.” Her smile is interrupted by yet another yawn.

“Good.” I stand up again and walk to the light switch. “Good night, banana.” I turn off the lights. I have to stumble through the dark to where Ethan is near the window.

“Night Lex, Night Ethan.” She sounds tired.

“Sleep well.” There is this time of warmth in Ethan’s voice. I’m not used to this side of him. But I like it.

After a couple of minutes Ethan opens the window and we climb out onto the fire escape. We sit down and let our legs hang. His window is facing another building so it’s easier to avoid thinking about how high up we are.

Ethan hands me a cigarette, “ironic isn’t it. Smoking on a fire escape.” He’s too proud of himself for that.

The smoke is the only thing keeping us warm. They say heat rises but it’s cold as shit up here. I’m glad I dropped out of school. They didn’t teach anything useful. Well shop was useful but when that class is cancelled second semester why stay?

“Your sister is adorable.” Ethan puts his arm behind me in an effort to put it around me.

“She can be.” She can also be a brat, “she’s all I have, really. Other than you of course.” I lay my head on his shoulder. He successfully puts his arm around me. It feels like one of those old movies that the smoke club would watch at Alice’s house. Way back before we actually smoked.

“You’ll always have me.” He’s cold but I hope he’s getting some of my body heat. It gets too damn cold here.

“I wish we lived in California. It doesn’t get cold there.”

“There’s no shitty parents.” He laughs, “We’d get to see the ocean, and not just a stupid lake.”

If I lived in Los Angeles I could act. I could be in a movie musical or a super bowl commercial. No one would know me for my moms alcoholism. They’d know me for me.

“I want to be an actor.” I’ve always wanted to be Maria and dance with my Tony till the lights are all out. I would have done the school plays but my GPA was too low.

“In California that could happen.”

But we’re stuck in this shithole. Getting drunk in the same bars as our parents, wasting away at the same jobs as our grandparents. I’m gonna waste my life working for a fucking toy store.

Hannah is going to end up like me.

“We’re gonna die here.” A tear manages to fall from my eyes.

“No don’t cry.” There’s panic in his voice. He turns more towards me and pulls me into a hug.

“What if Hannah gets stuck here too? I work at that fucking mall like my mom did. What if Hannah ends up working there.” The tears keep coming. I clutch to Ethan.

“That’s not going to happen.” His voice is shaky. I know he doesn’t know how to comfort me.

“I don’t want to die in fucking hatchetfield. I want my sister to have a chance.” I’m never going to be an actress. I’m not the next Julie Andrews. I’m going to work for minimum wage until I can’t work anymore.

“I’ll get you to California, Lex. I know you can be the next big actress. Hannah will have a better life.” He pulls away and looks me in the eyes. “I love you. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

He’s never told me he loves me. I want to tell him I love him too but I just keep crying.

“I’ll get you to California, if it’s the last thing I do.”

#starkid #black friday #black friday spoilers #fanfic #lex foster #ethan green #tw: drugs #tw: smoking #tw: alchohol mention #tw: alcholism

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kusunogatari · 4 years ago

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Eight | On Your Own ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ Vulgarity, blood, death, gun ]

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It’s two am.

And Obito is awake.

And not by choice.

Sitting at his desk with a cheek in a hand, he glowers at the wall in front of him. Not because it’s done him any offence, but because of what lies on the other side.

His neighboring apartment, for about two weeks now, has been playing host to a very fussy, very loud baby. Which has been keeping him up at all hours of the night, depending on when it feels like crying.

Needless to say, it’s been leaving him a little on edge.

Groaning, he drags his hand down his face. He has a very important appointment tomorrow, and he really doesn’t want to be losing any sleep right now. He was just finalizing his plans when the crying started, and now he feels his temper about to snap.

Can’t they shut that thing up?!

Growling as the decibels go up a notch, the pencil in his hand cracks and he stands with such abruptness that his chair nearly clatters over. Enough. He can’t take it anymore. He’s going to go over there and tell these people that they either shut that baby up, or he’ll do it himself.

Permanently.

Obito is, after all, no stranger to death. Having given up on schooling when a life-shattering accident left him too far behind to catch up, he turned to what began as petty crime to get by. And now? He’s barely into his twenties and already an infamous name in the city’s underground as a talented (and therefore expensive) hitman.

...in all reality, of course, he’s not going to hurt a baby. But by God he’s going to make them think he would if it will get him some Goddamn peace and quiet.

Wrenching open his door, he turns to face the proper direction, strutting up and pounding on the next door down. At least he always looks plenty intimidating. Hopefully it won’t take long to scare these idiots into -

He can hear the scrapes of the locks, and he puffs up as the knob turns, the door swinging open to reveal...a girl?

Good grief, is she even an adult?

Her face is pinched with exhaustion and worry, dark shadows under her pale eyes, and...wow, pale everything else. For a moment Obito’s almost convinced she’s a ghost haunting this apartment rather than living in it. But in her arms, still wailing like a banshee, is the baby.

“...uh…”

Suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting...well, any of this.

But she clearly knows why he’s here.

“I...I’m so sorry,” she offers, voice a bit emphasized to be heard over the babe’s cries. “I’m trying to get her to calm down, I just...I think she’s colicky and she won’t settle. I’m so, so sorry…”

Obito just...blinks. Wait, is…? “...are you here alone?”

Immediately, the question - out of context - makes her stiffen.

He backpedals, hands lifting in defense. “I...I don’t mean like -? I mean...do you not have, uh...anyone else to...to help you?”

Oh no. He’s flipped a switch. As soon as he finishes his inquiry, her lip starts trembling, eyes brimming with tears.

He hates when girls cry…!

Lifting her spare arm, she tries to wipe them away, clinging to her composure by a thread. “N...no...I-I don’t.”

“Where’s the, uh...dad?”

She glances aside, looking ashamed. “...off to college. He didn’t….h-he didn’t want anything getting in the way of his...e-education. So he had his parents give me some money, and...here I am. But it’s already going so fast, and I...I don’t have anywhere else to go. This was the c-cheapest apartment I could find, but...I can’t find a job with her, there’s n-no one who can watch her, so I...I’ve just been sitting here trying to figure out w-what to do…”

Greys lift back to his face. “...I know she’s been d-driving everyone nuts. But she just keeps getting colicky and I don’t know why. I’m really sorry if she’s been keeping you awake. I’ll...I’ll try to get her to bed.”

Obito just...stares. So some jackass knocks her up...and then leaves her to her fate? Throws a little cash at her and calls it good?! What the fuck is wrong with this guy?! “...not to be, uh...creepy. But are you…? Have you graduated?”

“Yes...just last month. She came along two weeks later. I b-barely made it through my last year.”

“...and he’s off scot free, is he?”

“He -!” She hesitates. “...he’s...he already had a full ride. He’s really smart, and -!”

“I don’t give a fuck how smart he is,” Obito cuts in, making her jump. “He’s clearly trash if he did this to you. Fucking prick.”

Looking unsure at his volatile language, she doesn’t have a reply.

“...so you really don’t have anyone else you can ask for help?”

Her posture wilts. “...no. I was in, um...foster care. And my foster parents weren’t...the best. My dad was absent and my mom died when I was little. No other relatives that I know of, so...it’s just me.”

Sighing, Obito rubs at the back of his neck. He already knows what rent is here: it’s cheap, but still too much for anyone without a job. She’s been here two weeks...so rent’s due in another two.

In truth, the only reason Obito sticks around here is because it’s low profile. He has enough cash to upgrade, but staying low works well for him.

This whole situation isn’t sitting right with him...and something about her reminds him of...someone else.

“...first thing’s first. You need a babysitter. Or a...a nanny. Whatever it’s called.”

She blinks. “...but -?”

“Then you can start looking for a job. Odds are you won’t find anything that pays too well. You have a car?”

“N...no -?”

“Then either something within walking distance, or you commute by bus. Or there’s always the kind of job women get in a neighborhood like this, but,” he amends at her offended look, “that’s not...preferable.”

“...I don’t have any money for a -”

“I’ll cover it.”

Her face goes slack in shock, eyes wide.

“...consider it an investment,” he adds, glancing aside to avoid her gaze. “You get this kid on a schedule and get yourself on one too, maybe I won’t be losing so much sleep. My job pays well, and I don’t have much to spend it on, anyway. You need to get a foot in the door. And I know what it is to have no one to lean on.”

Clearly still unable to process his words, she just...stares at him, mouth slightly agape.

“...I’m Obito, by the way.”

“...Ryū…”

“And who’s this?”

She blinks several times before looking down to her baby. By now, she’s settled to a series of whines and half-sobs. “...Amaya.”

“Well Amaya, you’ve been a pain in my ass for two weeks,” Obito offers, hands on his hips and leaning toward the infant. Dark grey eyes - squinted shut as she cries - open as his talking distracts her, drawing her gaze. “So let’s do something about it, hm? Maybe then we can be friends.”

Seemingly entranced, Amaya stares up at him, suddenly quiet.

Both adults go still.

“...um…” Ryū seems at a bit of a loss. “...I think she likes you.”

Obito, staring back at the baby, looks equally confused. “...usually I frighten babies,” he admits, straightening his posture. “With the whole…” He gestures to his face.

“Well, it seems she doesn’t mind,” Ryū counters, managing a tired smile as Amaya sucks on a thumb. “Maybe I can finally put her down for bed…”

“And then I can do the same,” Obito agrees, loosely folding his arms. “I have work tomorrow, but...we’ll talk when I get back.”

“Do you…?”

“Hm?”

Ryū hesitates. “You...you don’t have to do this...I mean, we don’t -?”

“I told you, I have the money. And I need the sleep. Once you get a leg up, you’ll be fine. Not your fault you were dumped here without any help.”

Her expression wilts, and he prays she isn’t going to cry again. “I’ll...I’ll make it up to you! Do you need, um...anything? I could cook, o-or clean! I handled most of all that growing up, so I’m good at it!”

Obito blinks. He...hadn’t considered that. In truth he doesn’t need much cleaning, he’s pretty tidy (and not home much to make a mess anyway). Cooking, on the other hand…

Maybe that can be where they start.

“...all right. We’ll begin there. You can be my, er…” What’s the term?

“Housekeeper…?” Ryū supplies.

“Yes! That way there’s no commute, no fuss...and you can bring her with you, hm?” He gestures to Amaya.

Ryū brightens, looking at him like he just pulled her out of a burning building. “I...o-okay! Um…” She looks around, seeming a bit overwhelmed at the sudden plans. “...should I...wait until you get back tomorrow?”

“Yes. I need to, er...plan how this will work.” And by that he means making sure she doesn’t stumble upon anything...compromising in his apartment, like his selection of weapons and files on his targets.

That would be...unfortunate.

A wide smile blooms across her face. “All right then! I’ll just...wait to hear from you. And…” Her demeanor softens again. “...thank you. You have...no idea what this means to me. To us.”

A bit awkward at the praise, Obito looks aside and clears his throat. “Er...you’re welcome. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The door closes, and Obito mulls over the entire conversation. Not...what he had in mind, but maybe this will work.

...he knows what it is to be left without anywhere to turn, anyone to lean on. But even then, he didn’t have a baby to worry about on top of it all. Poor girl.

...he shouldn’t call her girl. She’s an adult, only three years younger than himself. But...well, he’s aged a lot mentally in his lifestyle. And clearly she’s just getting started. A level one adult, while he feels like he’s at least level fifty after all he’s had to go through.

Sighing, he relishes in the silence as he heads back to his apartment, needing hardly any time to collapse into bed and find sleep.

Come morning...it’s time to get to work.

Going over his target’s file and the plan he’s made to get the job done, Obito packs his sniper rifle and heads out. Dressed in a suit and putting on an air of confidence, he walks right into a private office building and makes his way to a top floor. It’s currently empty, as well as several floors below it, in preparation of new clients.

The perfect opportunity, as his target works just across the street on the same level. He’ll have a shot, and some room to work (and hopefully go unnoticed enough to get out without being caught). Setting up the tripod, he cuts the glass of a window to give the bullet less to travel through, assembling the weapon and awaiting the proper moment.

Settled at the scope, he watches as the executive he’s been paid to off heads into his office, taking a phone call.

All alone.

Adjusting the crosshair to account for the wind, Obito takes a steadying breath, holds it...and fires.

A splatter of red blooms along the wall behind his target, body immediately limp.

Perfect.

Practiced hands then quickly disassemble the gun, getting it back into its case and making his way to the elevator.

By the time anyone heads up to investigate the noise, he’s already heading back out the door. A call to his burner phone confirms the kill, and the wiring of the funds to his account.

All in all, he’s only gone an hour.

Back in his apartment, he finds it’s still quiet. Seems Ryū and Amaya are having a good morning. Changing his clothes and stashing his gun, he then goes about readying his apartment for his guest.

Well...guests, he supposes.

He does have a gun safe, and all of his supplies fit within it. And a locked file cabinet holds all of his research and client information. He highly doubts Ryū’s the type to even begin sneaking around, let alone be able to get past the locks he has in place.

He’s ready.

Heading back to her door, he knocks and awaits an answer. Though still looking exhausted, Ryū appears a bit more perky today than she did yesterday. Maybe she also got some sleep.

“Good morning!”

“Morning. Should we, er...give this a try?”

Nodding, Ryū packs Amaya into a carrier, heading the few steps down the hall and into Obito’s apartment. A few glances show it’s...rather Spartan, with hardly any personal effects, or...even mess.

...does he really need her to -?

“So, uh…” Obito itches at the rear of his neck, trying to think. “I know there’s not much to be cleaned, but...it’s lacking in other ways. I don't go grocery shopping much. I tend to order food rather than cook myself. It’s expensive.”

Ryū blinks. He did say he had the money, though…

“It’s also not healthy. And my money goes to a better place this way anyway,” he adds, seemingly reading her thoughts. “So it’s a win several times over. Now we just need to, er...figure out how this will work.”

“Do you...work regular hours?” she asks, setting Amaya down.

“Not really. I’m a contract worker,” Obito replies, having perfected that lie long ago. “I get a call, I go in. Otherwise I tend to jump about doing other things. I’m at the gym a good bit.” Mostly to keep in shape for his work, but also to help keep his mangled body as limber as he can manage. That and the physical effort keeps him from thinking too much. “So usually I’m not home much anyway.”

Ryū curls a thoughtful hand against her mouth. “...well, I guess I could start with a time in the morning to get breakfast out of the way for you, and then...if you’re gone all day, fix lunches to take with you…? And I can work on other tasks while you’re gone, and have supper ready by a set time, or...you can call if you’re going to be late.”

Obito blinks. That...seems pretty simple. “Sure. I’ll get a new card to leave with you so you can pick up whatever you need. Pretty sure you know what you’re doing.”

“B-but -?”

“Hm?”

She hesitates. “...that’s...putting a lot of trust in me, isn’t it?”

“True. But if you mess up, I’ll just fire you,” he replies blithely. “I think you know better than to try anything.”

“I...I guess so. I guess I’m just not used to anyone, um...trusting me that much,” she admits.

“Well, you’re trusting me, in turn. I could be a total creep tricking you into all of this for other gains,” Obito counters as he folds his arms, seeing her jolt slightly. “...but I’m not. So we’re even in that regard, hm?”

“...seems that way.”

Glancing to a clock, Obito sighs. “...well, how should we start? Now? Tomorrow? Or -?”

“I can start today!” Ryū chirps in reply. “...that is, if you want me to.”

“Sure. Though I’ll need time to get the card, and another key…” He hums to himself, rubbing at his chin. “...I’ll do that today. Then you can really get started tomorrow. For now,” he adds, reaching into his pocket to fetch his wallet and handing her a wad of cash that makes her eyes go wide. “Go get whatever you want for the week.”

“O...okay. Um…” She looks back up to him. “Any...allergies, or dislikes…? Things I should avoid?”

He waves a hand. “Not really. So long as there’s no szechuan, I’ll be fine.”

To his surprise, she snorts. “Well, all right then.”

“We’ll go get the spare made first, then you can get going, and I’ll head to the bank. You’ll probably be back first.”

“Okay. What time should I plan for dinner to be ready?”

“I’m usually back by six.” A pause, and then, “Do you have a phone?”

“I do!”

He exchanges their numbers. “I’ll call if something comes up.”

From there, they both head out, a keymaker a few blocks away. Ryū totes along Amaya, who stays relatively quiet for the trip. Once she has her spare key, she scoots off to find groceries.

And Obito heads to the bank.

The card is simple enough, and will make anything else she has to get down the road a lot simpler. That way Ryū can just attend to any business without having to ask him about it every time.

From there, he decides to take some time at the gym until the end of the day. It’ll help him think, and blow off some steam. Especially since he actually has energy from a full night’s rest for the first time in...well, since Ryū moved in, really. As he pushes his body to its limits, he mulls over the situation as a whole. He’s sure this is going to work. Just...get her going. Make sure she has a kind of...foundation to go off of.

More than he was granted, since he’s able to pay his fortune forward.

Once the time for dinner starts rolling around, he walks back, the cool evening air wicking the sweat along his skin. He always prefers to shower at home...you never know what’s lurking in the public ones.

He’s seen some things.

One elevator ride later, he comes up to his door, finding it locked and slipping in his key.

As soon as he does, he pauses.

The kitchen is directly across from the entryway, and it’s...occupied for once. Hair tied up in a messy bun, Ryū scurries back and forth, juggling a few pans and something in the oven. A menagerie of smells actually makes Obito’s stomach whine petulantly in hunger. It’s clear she’s done some actual cleaning, too - while he doesn’t leave things lying around, he can’t remember the last time he dusted. A window is open, letting in fresh air and leaving the apartment smelling far better than its usual musty scent.

While the appearance isn’t that different, the feeling is...like another world. And not just the apartment...it’s clear Ryū is feeling a lot better, too.

It’s all so oddly...domestic.

After he stares for a solid thirty seconds, she notices him, perking up. “Oh!” Turning to the oven’s clock, she sees that it reads a quarter to six. “I’m almost done!”

“...that’s fine,” Obito manages to reply, finding his head. “I...need a shower, anyway.”

“Okay!”

Moving to the bathroom, Obito does just that, emerging and dressing in his typical evening lounge wear of sweatpants and a tank top. Peering back out, he finds the kitchen empty, food left to keep warm.

Instead, Ryū is on the couch.

She’s...asleep?

Head slightly tilted, her mouth is a bit agape, breathing softly. And atop her chest, also asleep (and clearly having just been fed), is Amaya.

In spite of himself, Obito’s face goes a bit warm at the sight, averting. He...can’t see anything from here (the baby is covering anything...lewd), but her shirt is still very clearly tugged to one side.

...seems she tuckered herself out. But the dark circles are starting to fade. Apparently she’s already making up her rest deficit. And while she’s clearly tired, it’s more of an...accomplished tired than ‘up with the baby all night’ tired.

In spite of himself, Obito feels his lips twitch. She really is cute, what with her demure demeanor. But...she’s also pretty plucky, trying to make this all work on her own. Part of him can’t help but admire that. She’s pretty tough despite her fragile appearance.

...okay, he’s...thinking about this too much. And they both need to eat something.

Not wanting to be rude, he sheepishly approaches, carefully jostling Ryū’s shoulder to wake her.

“...huh…?”

“You, uh...fell asleep. Hungry?”

Blinking a bit blearily, Ryū stares at him for a moment before stiffening, realizing her position. “Oh -!” She (very carefully) scrambles to adjust her outfit, not wanting to wake the infant. “I...I’m sorry -”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not the only one that needs to eat around here,” he tries to joke, lips flickering into a sheepish smile.

Still, her face is quite warm, carefully tucking Amaya back into her carrier to nap. “I, um...I hope dinner’s okay?”

“If it’s half as good as it smells, it’ll be more than fine.” Heading to the kitchen, he pauses, noticing she’s not following. “...coming?”

Her brow furrows. “...but -?”

“You made it, you get to eat it. Just...get over here.”

Blinking, Ryū does as asked, skittering across the apartment and taking a nervous seat opposite Obito at his little table.

An awkward silence blooms, each of them taking a bite.

Obito, however, quickly perks up. “...this is really good!” he offers after swallowing. “You take lessons?”

“Um, no...just...consulted the internet a lot growing up,” she admits, looking shy at the praise. “And...a lot of practice.”

“Consider yourself a permanent hire,” Obito adds, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

A bit pink, Ryū nonetheless brightens at his words, giggling a little and taking another bite herself.

Maybe this is going to work, after all.

Ohhhhhhh my gods this is late, but I’m been SWAMPED irl and just...really burnt out, so I kinda...took a week break BUT I’ve been working on things! I had another prompt for today but it kinda got...out of hand SO I did this in the meantime! I think it’s super cute ;w; Single parent AUs are just! really cute. I almost went with Obito being the parent (maybe I’ll do that another time lmao) but this just felt easier to do for a quicker one xD THREE MORE TO GO and one has a prompt already, I might tweak the other two. I need shorter ideas so I can get them done I’m so behind, I’m a bad u_u But at least there’s this for today, we’ll see how tomorrow goes! Thanks for reading~

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #best years of your life [ au ]#vulgarity //#blood //#death //#gun //

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sugarfreecapsicle · 5 years ago

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neighborly -1/2

moodboard by the one and only @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

moodboard by the lovely @ohcaptainmystan

this is part one of two in a little story I came up with for @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge! hope you enjoy. part 2 this week!!

NeighborAU

Glass shatters, jarring you from your too vivid dream involving cotton sheets with impossibly high thread count and distinct male perfection settling over you with a sheen of sweat painted over his body. Heart pounding and head throbbing from the immediate barking of your dog has your body flopping back to the mattress and pillow with heaving breaths. Count to ten before you react. Think of a third party perspective. Don’t do anything rash.

But it’s the third time in as many days, and a working woman can only take so much before she has to write a strongly worded note to a noisy, inconsiderate, low-life neighbor for blatant disregard for anyone else’s existence on their complex floor. You kick at the sheet that’s wrapped itself around your foot as you stumble out of bed and slam your hand onto the bedside table in search of a pen and paper.

Hours later, Bucky’s head is swimming with white noise and regret. He never should have listened when Natasha begged him to watch the cat while she went out of the country. The menace ruined his blackout curtains, puked all over his bathroom and living room rugs, clawed the feet and legs of all his wooden furniture and had all but eaten the lining underneath his couch. No space in his home was safe, no corner left undisturbed by the svelte feline.

Steve had even created what briefly had been titled the “Vlad-you-little-shit” jar to which anyone must contribute money when complaining about the cat. Bucky alone could have fully funded Natasha trip abroad with the funds earned over the weekend.

With breakfast out of the way, he skirted out of his own door and nearly slammed his own toe in the door to shoo the cat away from his desperate escape. His keys jingled in his thick cotton pocket, lounge pants adorned with sheet music from West Side Story. The plastic wrapped newspaper sat in a lump by the welcome mat, but a new addition in bright neon pink stuck to the grungy plastic.

Noisy Neighbor,

Maybe you’re new to the complex, but tenants here appreciate peace and quiet at 2 AM when everyone else is asleep except night shift nursing staff and your goddamned hellian of a pet. Unless your guest is celebrating a beautiful marriage every night, please cease and desist all glass breaking, radio playing and anything louder than a Boeing 747 taking off from La Guardia.

Sincerely,

Awake Acquaintance

Bucky shook his head and grimaced. Solving this riddle required waffles, bacon, coffee and maybe third party consultation.

Your entire day at work passed by at the pace of molasses in the dead of winter.

In Antarctica.

Dragging your heeled feet up the stairs of your Brooklyn apartment seemed to be enough cardio for one day after your restless night of soothing Beau’s response to your neighbor’s continuous noise during the worst hours of the night. Four days in and it was becoming almost impossible to remember when you had more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep.

On your door perched a stark blue sticky note.

Annoying Acquaintance,

Don’t believe we’ve met, and doubt I’d like to given your own howling alarm can’t help but wake up the entire floor in the span of five seconds of his singing. He’s very off key and really should consider keeping his day job - especially since he is far less likely to piss off surrounding neighbors like myself who value their sleep.

Signed,

Not-So Noisy Neighbor

The note crumples in your hand as you barge through your own door, Beau’s claws skittering around the corner with a wiggling butt in tow. A happy grin and lolling tongue make it impossible for you to even consider being upset with him. No, this was Noisy Neighbor’s fault entirely for permitting drunken bar fights to happen in his apartment.

Seething over your reheated leftovers from Pietro’s Pies, you peer down at Beau who eagerly chows down on his bowl of grain-free dry food mixed with roasted turkey breast leftover from your sister’s potluck.

“Don’t follow my example, buddy,” you murmur through a cheesy bite of pizza, “you keep eating healthy so you can bite the neighbor’s sorry ankles.”

He pays you no mind as you glare at the note rumpled on the counter. If it was war this stubborn, pigheaded snob wanted, fine. You could manage that.

Steve’s rigorous 5 AM training routine couldn’t be followed on barely three hours sleep, and Bucky knew better than to try to keep up mentally in conversation as the two jogged together through the park. The metal prosthetic tugged at his shoulder as he pumped his arms in tandem, strides and pace matching his blond friend.

“You didn’t hear a single thing I just said, did you?”

The pair slowed to a stop, Bucky leaning over to rest his hands on his knees. “Over the fake hangover I have? Not a word.”

Steve chuckled and rested his hands on his hips. “The cat hates you.”

Bucky nods in defeat. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“It’s just a cat, Buck-”

“Like hell it is,” he snaps, pointedly eyeing Steve. “That thing is a curse on anyone who crosses its path. A bane on humanity. A pox on my family.”

“Dramatic,” Steve laughs and hands his cohort an aluminum water bottle. “When does Natasha get back?” “Not soon enough,” Bucky chugs half the water easily, wiping the overflow from his mouth and jaw. “My neighbor left me this uptight note about noise like I have anything to do with that thing terrorizing my apartment.”

Steve notes the spark of motivation in Bucky’s voice and smirks. “And what did you do about it?” “Takes two to Tango, Stevie,” he laughs and lightly taps his metallic knuckles against his friend’s shoulder to prompt their return to jogging pace. “Neighbor won’t see what’s comin’ next.”

Admittedly, the exercise set Bucky’s muscles into a pleasant thrum of adrenaline that carried him up the stairs two at a time. The bounce in his step faltered then broke into an aggravated trot as he neared his door.

Another pink note.

Boisterous Butthead,

It may occur to you, should you remove your head from your ass long enough to listen to neighborly concern, that other residents here in the building may have complaints of their own about you and your rowdy pest. Some may be inclined to report you to the super but have refrained from drastic measures in the hopes that you might see reason. Consider this your last pink slip.

Terribly Tired Tenant

Heat rose from Bucky’s chest over his neck and into his ears, blood roiling. Brooklyn wasn’t cheap no matter how anyone sliced rent - and he’d be damned if a cat of all things got him kicked out of the only affordable place left in the borough.

His sneaker-clad foot toed the door open, met with claws and teeth viciously attacking the rubber and fabric. Bucky eyed the old piano across the room and smirked.

Terribly Tight Tenant,

Try pulling the stick out of your ass before inspecting mine. Your barking nuisance is disturbing my cat’s natural instinct to hunt. Unless your mutt has eaten them, I’ve left some OSHA approved ear plugs for your sensitive ears. Get a life that doesn’t involve me or mine.

Rested Renter

It’d taken you a few years into adulthood to finally figure out how people ended up in prison for murder. The ear plugs were already trashed, but you’d decided to keep his notes for proof of his intolerable behavior when you clicked send on your completed email to your super.

Just a click.

But you couldn’t pull the proverbial trigger. No, this was personal. Extremely personal and an affront on your sanity.

You’re knocking at his door before you realize Beau’s fluffy head is sticking out of your door with ears perked in curiosity. You move to shoo him inside when your neighbor’s door staggers open, tenant wiggling and fussing at a screaming cat.

He’s tall, hair cropped short, sharp jaw and icy gaze. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole, he’d be attractive.

“Can I help you?”

Oh no, he’s definitely attractive. He’s holding the door mostly shut, clearly blocking the cat’s only escape route. Paws are stretching through the crack and snapping back again furiously.

“Your cat is-”

Beau barks and his paws skid on the laminate flooring in his attempt to greet his potential new friend, but you’re too quick for him and scoop him up into your arms, tufts of fur wafting through the air. You sputter, hair tickling your lips.

“Not my cat,” he finishes for you, a hand at his hip. “Your dog is bothering my friend’s cat.”

You manage a glare at him once Beau lets his body rest in your arms, tongue lolling as he inspects the hallway from his new vantage point. “My dog is not bothering your cat, jerk, he’s protecting me.”

“From a broken vase in the next room? Right. Real big, bad guard dog you’ve got there,” he says, Beau licking at your opponent’s fingers and knuckles happily. “He’s real tough.”

“Look, keep the cat under control or I’ll file a complaint with the super about the noise. I have to work two jobs to afford this place on my own, so when I get to sleep, I’d prefer it be peaceful. I’m not asking much-”

“Then you obviously don’t know this cat.”

You roll your eyes and walk back to your door, hauling Beau over your shoulder to dig for your keys. The jingling catches the small tabby’s attention and has her crying louder, clawing viciously at the notch in the doorway.

“Sounds like it’s better I don’t.”

Your door is shut before Bucky can admit he’s swallowed his pride.

#bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fiction #bucky imagine #bucky drabble

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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The Promise of Home

Summary: Prisha invites Violet to move in with her <3

Read on A03:

Violet stretched lazily under the sheets of Prisha’s bed. It was her day off, so for once she didn’t need to be running out of the apartment like a madwoman, a half-toasted piece of bread shoved in her mouth and yesterday’s socks on her feet. She could sleep in as long as she wanted and since it was Prisha’s day off too they could literally spend the entire day curled up in bed together. Violet let out a happy hum as she rolled over in bed, finding Prisha’s waist and wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer. Prisha murmured sleepily at the motion, one of her legs slipping forward and intertwining with Violet’s.

It was so warm in here, blissfully warm. Violet nuzzled her face against her girlfriend’s neck, basking in the heat of her skin. Looking back a couple years ago when she was dead broke, always hungry and renting a cheap-ass apartment where the heat never worked, Violet hadn’t thought she could ever be this happy. Her life had always been about getting by - surviving whatever shit the world was currently throwing her way and moving on. Yet here she was warm and full and happy. Really, truly happy with a girl who made Violet feel like warm syrup was drizzling through her veins every time they locked eyes. She never would have believed life could be this good.

Prisha stirred, letting out a sleepy yawn as she started to awaken. Violet felt a soft kiss being placed on the crown of her head. “Good morning, Morning Glory,”

“Morning,” Violet murmured, the words lost in the crook of Prisha’s neck.

“Sleep well?”

“Mhhmm…”

“I’m glad,” Prisha ran a lazy finger down Violet’s spine, causing her to pleasantly shiver. “I like waking up to find you here,”

“Mmmm, same,”

“Perhaps we should make it official then,”

Violet pulled back a bit so she could see Prisha’s face clearly. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and forgive me if this is too soon…”

Violet felt her heart pounding frantically in her chest as the silence drew on.

“Violet Adlon, would you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

Her heart just about stopped at those words. “You- You’re serious?”

“Utterly,” Prisha lifted her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Violet’s ear. “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than having you here with me every day. In our apartment,”

Prisha wanted to share a home with her. She wanted to be together not just at work, not only on dates, but all the time. Every second of every day. She wanted her. “Yeah,” Violet whispered, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “I want that too,”

Prisha let out a little squeal of excitement. Leaning forward to capture Violet’s lips with her own, she gently flipped her girlfriend over, hovering over her as the kiss deepened. Violet felt light-headed by the time they pulled apart. “Oooh, I’m so excited!” Prisha exclaimed. “We should start packing up today! I bet all of your stuff could fit in my car. Then there’s just the matter of talking with your landlord, and-”

“Prisha,”

Prisha looked down at Violet who was rubbing tiny circles against her arms. “Can we… enjoy the morning first? Here? In bed?”

A mischievous smile appeared on Prisha’s lips. “I can’t think of a better way to celebrate,”

---

Prisha had been right about it only taking one trip. Violet wasn’t sure to feel embarrassed or proud of herself at the fact that all of her worldly belongings took up a space equivalent to a parking spot. It would take a little longer than one visit to get things sorted out and finalized on her lease, but for now they were going to focus on the process of settling in and finding the perfect places in their apartment for each and every one of Violet’s simple treasures.

As soon as they got back to their newly shared apartment, Prisha set about finding some double-sided tape to put up the glow-in-the-dark stars above the bed. It made Violet feel just a tiny bit misty-eyed seeing her girlfriend stretching out to her full height to press the stars in place and make this apartment feel like home for both of them. Violet’s favorite blanket was draped across the top of the couch. Her few framed pictures of her and Louis, her and Prisha and the restaurant crew found proper ledges and dresser tops on which to be displayed. The scrapbook of commissioned art from Sophie joined Prisha’s own scrapbook, and of course all the leftover chicken nuggets Violet had been hoarding now had a home in Prisha’s fridge.

The girls looked around the apartment, proudly surveying the work they had accomplished, then turned back to each other.

Violet quirked a brow at her girlfriend. “Sooo… what now?”

“Movie night?”

“I’ll heat up the nuggets!” Violet scampered over to the kitchenette.

“Get some popcorn going too! There’s a few bags in-”

“Top cupboard on the left,” Violet finished for her, grabbing the stepping stool to reach the top shelf. She’d been over at Prisha’s so many times she knew where pretty much everything was by heart. Except now it wasn’t just Prisha’s place. It was her place too. Violet felt a sort of giddiness at the thought.

“You want to finally go for it and watch all 3 hours and 45 minutes of Lagaan?” Prisha called from the living room.

“Fuck yeah, I do!”

Within a few minutes both the popcorn and nuggets were hot and ready for consumption. Violet bounded back into the living room, two bowls in her hands, and plopped down beside Prisha on the couch. Prisha took both bowls, placing them on the coffee table before dramatically whisking Violet’s blanket into the air and letting it tumble down across both of their laps. With a press of a button the film had started, and they’d settled in for the night.

Violet knew she should be paying attention to the movie itself, but she couldn’t stop watching her girlfriend. The way she wrinkled her nose in amusement when someone said a funny line. Her voice as she excitedly hummed and sang along to each of the songs. The way a few stray wisps of hair had fallen out from her braid and curled around the corners of her face, framing it beautifully. This woman, this courageous, intelligent, passionate beauty had asked her to move in. Then she’d spent 20 minutes placing the stars in the sky for her. How did she get so lucky?

“Enjoying it so far?” Prisha asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Mhm. It’s just as good as you said,”

“I know, right?” Prisha’s eyes softened, deepening with emotion as she took Violet’s hand in hers. “Thank you, for saying yes. I’m so happy I-I can’t even put it into words,”

“Well, that’s a first,”

Prisha stuck her tongue out at Violet, playfully grabbing at her nose before slipping an arm around her waist. She sighed in contentment as she felt Violet’s head come to rest against her shoulder. Nothing further needed to be said. They both knew how the other felt. Their mutual love and admiration formed the foundation of the unspoken promise between them: a promise that what they had was bigger than this moment, bigger than themselves. It was the promise of home.

#twdg privet #twdg prisha #twdg violet #fluff #domesticfluff #twdg #thewalkingdeadgame #fanfic

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kariachi · 5 years ago

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Levinstar wedding planning fic! Which I have spent the last like, six hours on.

Love it or perish.

He’d never expected Mike to propose. Why should he have? Someone like Gwen, yes, eventually they were going to legally latch themselves onto somebody, but Mike? He’d never seemed the type. He had been, as far as Kevin could tell, perfectly happy to be in a position where getting tired of the way things were wouldn’t mean dragging in lawyers or anything to change course. And Kevin had been fine with that. If he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have bothered keeping up the relationship. It was cool.

But he had.

Which had been so fucking confusing.

Literally Mike’d sat there for ten minutes getting more and more aggravated at not getting an answer while Kevin had been shifting his worldview enough to acknowledge the question.

Really, they were probably the only couple in Bellwood who could get into a yelling match over a welcomed marriage proposal.

It should’ve been considered a sign.

“Mike, babe, what the fuck?”

There was not a square inch of flat surface free in the Morningstar livingroom that wasn’t floor. Everywhere was calendars and books and papers and a stack of pizza boxes Kevin was very tempted to set on fire just to make a point. Domino’s, really, as if he couldn’t make him better asleep and half-dead.

“I’m trying to figure out a date for the wedding.” Mike didn’t even bother to look up, instead glowering at a list of dates like it had personally offended him. Kevin just shook his head, leaning over the back of the couch and draping his arms over his shoulders.

“Without me?”

“I was going to give you final pick when I find the best days.”

“Of course you were.” Rolling his eyes, Kevin plopped his chin onto Mike’s hair and began scanning the list. It looked to be covering the next few years, for all that there weren’t that many dates on it. “Just how long were you intending us to stay engaged, by the way?” Mike shrugged.

“I’d prefer to the married within the year, but the Miramonte is more heavily booked than I’d like for the next few. We could probably get Ocean Bleu though, which isn’t quite what I’d like but your mother’s family could get there easier. Or there’s the Cedar Lakes Estate, but that’s so… rustic.” That last word was said in about the same tone Gwen had used when she found out they were dating in the first place. This did not stop Kevin from glancing at the relevant booklets Mike gestured to and crinkling his nose.

“You realize we could just have the whole thing at Kay’s place, or at the farmhouse.” Mike turned to him with a look like he’d suggested getting married in a sewer, which he might out of spite.

“I am not getting married on a farm.”

“Why not? They’re perfectly good farms, pretty, got plenty of space, and we don’t need to worry about when venues will be available.”

“I am worth 237 million dollars,” Mike said haughtily, “you’re worth the cost of a small planet, we are not getting married on a farm. What next, do you want a cow to officiate?” Kevin punched him in the shoulder. “We’re getting married in all the finery you deserve.”

For a brief, shining moment Kevin wasn’t aggravated. What he deserved, specifically. He loved these instances where Mike’s attitude, all pride and vanity and narcissism, slipped just enough to show how he held him in high regard as well. It was sweet. It was romantic. It did not mean he was giving in.

“Consider- I don’t want chandeliers and crystal and shit. It’s a waste of money for what’s gonna take up a weekend at best.” Mike leaned forward and turned to face him.

“Consider- suck it up, you’re getting it anyway.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Kevin glowered at Mike. Mike glowered right back. Neither backed down. Really, fancy venues, they didn’t even know enough people to fill one of these venues, and it’d probably be a bitch to get the catering crews to do the amount of food they’d need.

“Look, we’ll get married at one of the mansions-”

“No, then people will think we couldn’t rent a place.” Oh good fuck. Biting back a growl, Kevin took a deep breathe and turned his attention back to the list of dates. That couldn’t be nearly as aggravating as this. It couldn’t.

“Why isn’t the Winter Solstice on there,” he asked, “that’s a good day for weddings.” It was the day for weddings, among Osmosians. Still, Mike shook his head.

“We celebrate your birthday on the solstice, whether it is or not-” Another Osmosian thing “-and it’s bad luck to get married on your birthday.” Kevin blinked.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okaaay,” he took a deep breath, “and since when were you the superstitious sort?”

“Since now.”

There just, there were no words.

In the end they settled on a Wednesday in August, which Mike swore backwards and forth was the best possible combination. More specifically one a few years in the coming.

Kevin had a grim suspicion that they’d need the time.

“I’m sorry, let me rephrase, we will not, under any circumstances, be having a potluck wedding reception.” He was impossible, Kevin swore it.

“And why not?”

“It isn’t done.”

“It is by my family.”

“Your family can’t afford catering, or else it wouldn’t be.” Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he would eat his own tongue before he admitted it.

“You don’t even like other people’s food,” he replied instead. “You can’t even taste it most of the time, half the pack has adjusted their recipes for you!” Mike just kept that easy ‘I’m right and you aren’t smart enough to know it’ look he got from time to time up on his face.

“So we’ll take that into account when we choose our caterer,” he said. “Maybe Indian food or something.

“Why though, when we can just as easily get family and friends to handle the whole thing, and not have to pay out the ass?” Heaving a sigh, Mike looked up at the kitchen ceiling like Kevin was the one being unreasonable.

“Because we can pay for someone else to do it and not have to worry ourselves and our guests. Plus, the food will look better.” It would’ve been very easy for Kevin to argue that nothing looked as good as Casey’s mutton ribs, except maybe the man across from him, but he didn’t. There were more important factors.

“And what about diet shit?” That got Mike to stop, gently setting his spoon back in his bowl. “Argit, Ken, and Pierce can’t have chocolate, Ben can’t be in the same room as peanuts, I can’t have anything that’s been in contact with strawberry and neither can a decent number of my relatives. If family’s doing the cooking I know I don’t have to worry about any of that, but all it takes is one person with only half a brain cell to fuck that up with outsiders.”

Mike went quiet, lips sinking into a frown and brow furrowing like maybe, just maybe, Kevin had a point. It was guaranteed the very thought would have him sulking until dessert. He closed his eyes and took, then released, a deep breath.

“I’d still rather get catering,” he said, quietly, “but if it would make you happy, then we’ll see about getting somebody we can pay enough to not pitch a fit if your family brings in food too.” Victory. A small victory, but still. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Kevin leaned over the table to plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, babe. Sounds like a plan.”

They had three more arguments about venues before finally settling on one. Mike wanted elegant and upscale, someplace people would talk about. Kevin wanted homey and down-to-earth (and preferably cheap). In the end they’d settled on a middle ground, moving the wedding out of the county and to the Morningstar’s household in Italy.

Apparently, upon bringing his new wife and son over to the states, Greggory Morningstar had noted how she missed their homeland and had the house built for her so she could pick up and visit whenever she wished. He also apparently bought her a plane, and Kevin thought the whole thing as ridiculous as it was romantic. Michael just seemed too damn proud of his grandfather’s actions.

Proud enough he started a whole new argument by asking if Kevin wanted him to build him a house.

“Why am I marrying into money, this is a horrible idea.”

“Because you’re a golddigger until the bitter end.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“Also I’m pretty.”

“That too.”

Helen and Elena had wisely left the room fifteen minutes ago, and were probably continuing in their quest to help throw this wedding together so Mike didn’t drive himself mad and Kevin didn’t kill him.

Back in the dining room though, both men were on their feet, teeth bared and chins lowered, all but growling at each other.

They had been in this position for, you guessed it, fifteen minutes.

It turned out their ideas of décor, which had seemed to meld so well before when they were just leaving their marks on each other’s homes, were not surviving the wedding process. Again, Mike wanted flashy and elegant (tacky, he wanted tacky, why couldn’t he stop throwing money around for five minutes-) while Kevin wanted earthy and simple (cheap, neither of them were on the streets anymore they could afford to indulge in nice things-).

“Okay boys,” Helen said as she strode back in, ignoring the tension- she’d known these two since she was quite literally born, she was used to it- and dropping a small stack of books on the table between them, “Elena and I have figured something out. First off, we’ve decided on greys, golds, and blues for your colors. Shut up.” Both men closed their mouths before even getting the chance to speak. “They’re what look best on you both and you’d argue about it just to argue. Anyway, we’ve got a plan, we’re gonna handle it, we just need you boys to pick some flowers that’ll work.” She patted the stack, which a quick glance proved to be on the topic.

“We don’t care if you do them together or apart, just get us at least four to work off and don’t kill each other. I’ve already got a dress bought and I’m not wasting it because you’re stupid.” Neither of them answered, but when she rolled her eyes and left Kevin stuck his tongue out at her back.

If nothing else it made Mike bite back a laugh.

They split the job. Mike chose daffodils and false indigo, which meant Kevin had to scrap his plan to choose daffodils. (He should’ve known anyway, given how fond Mike was of them.) Instead he went with irises and tulips, and if it was because the idea of tulips for a later summer wedding seemed so very Michael to him, well, it wasn’t like anyone was going to ask.

Thankfully, they all really worked surprisingly well together.

“So,” Kevin asked one evening while they hung out on his couch, “what are we doing with your uncle?”

“What do you mean?” Mike didn’t take his eyes off his game, but his shoulders tensed under Kevin’s arm. He pulled it back enough to be able to massage one.

“Are we inviting him or- I mean I know you guys’ relationship is… weird, right now but…” ‘But everyone on the list so far is either a mutual friend or someone there for me.’ Mike was quiet for a moment, then paused his game.

“Do you think we should?” Kevin shrugged.

“I think I’d have to start shaming the Tennysons into not flipping their shit tomorrow if we do,” he said. “I mean their history with him is as bad as it is with me, possibly worse given I never tried to kill either of their moms.” Mike groaned under his breath. “But he’s your uncle, and if you want him there…” He shrugged again, but threw up a grin and nudged Mike’s shoulder.

“If you want him there, I’ll drag him to Italy myself if I have to.” Quietly chuckling, Mike leaned against him.

“I think,” he said slowly, like he was rolling the idea in his head, “I’m more likely to regret not inviting him someday than I am to regret inviting him. Besides, if anyone is going to go all out to celebrate my wedding, it’ll be him.” Kevin chuckled.

“Given he tried to kidnap you when we were three because he loved you so much, I’m not surprised.”

“Excuse me,” Mike replied, smiling, “he did not try to kidnap me. He succeeded in kidnapping me. And given how my stepmother turned out I don’t think he can be blamed.” There was no way Kevin could really argue there.

“Still, I’m glad our dads tracked you down. He really doesn’t sound like the type who should be raising children.”

“Oh fuck no,” Mike said. “Maybe he can come babysit on occasion, but we’re definitely not leaving our kids to him or anything.” Not that they’d ever really agreed to have kids (they’d agreed it seemed likely to happen at some point, given how Kevin’s family was, but not to have them specifically) but Kevin still nodded. It wasn’t a discussion for now.

“Oh no, we leave them to Argit.”

After another four arguments Mike got permission to build Kevin a house up in New England, closer to his mother’s relatives. In return, two other Morningstar properties were being converted into a foster care center and housing for families traveling in pursuit of healthcare for mutant children.

Mike accepted the terms as soon as he got them.

“Cookies, pie, or something else?”

“What?” Rolling out from under his car, Kevin looked up to see Mike standing there with one of the notepads he seemed to have an endless supply of lately.

“I assume you don’t want us to have a cake, so what do you think we should have instead? I want to say cookies but that seems…”

“Inelegant.” Kevin had been at this long enough at this point to hear that word ringing in his dreams anymore. Still, he smiled at Mike’s remembering how he felt about cake and sat up, crossing his arms over his legs. “You want pie then?”

“Unless you can think of something else. Croquembouche maybe. It would be traditional, but given how many children are likely to be at this I’d worry about it being damaged.”

“And pies won’t suffer from that,” Kevin chuckled.

“They’re not likely to topple over at any point.”

“They will if we stack them high enough.” His bright smile was met with a glower, which was really the goal with that one. Sometimes getting a rise out of Mike was fun.

“Don’t start, Kevin. I just want to know what you think.” Kevin took a minute the think it over, rising to his feet with a long stretch and stepping over to rest his head against Mike’s, ignoring the resultant complaints about mussing his hair.

“Order your pastry tower,” he said, “I’ll ask the fam to make pies and tarts and we’ll just, form a protective ring of them.” With a snorting laugh, Mike shook his head.

“Alright, sure.” He raised an eyebrow at Kevin in a way that might have been stern if he wasn’t smiling. “If this thing gets knocked over though-”

“You can skin me alive, I’ll deserve it.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Kevin backed up. “Was that all you needed, babe?” Purring, Mike nodded.

“I think so, for now at least. Thank you, Daffodil.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ve spent the past year and a half insisting this be the most posh, elegant wedding ever on the planet Earth and now you don’t want me in fucking formalwear?!” He was gonna kill him, right here in a tailor shop he was going to kill him.

“You look awkward,” Mike snapped by way of explanation, “and weird dressed like that, like someone put jeans on a swan! Just-” He stepped forward and began wrestling Kevin out of his outfit. “-take off the jacket- There! That looks right!” He didn’t look in the mirror. He refused. Over a year of fighting him, and losing half the time, on the topic of how elegant this whole affair should be and now, now Mike decided there was a line.

He was gonna kill him.

Even if it felt nice to lose the extra fabric around his neck.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to wear then?”

“The full suit, obviously.” Yep gonna kill him. “I look good in it and you…” Reaching out, Mike adjusted his collar and tie. Smoothed out the fabric over his chest and arms. “You look better like this.”

“Do I now?” Some old bit of Kevin’s brain swore that if this was some attempt to make him look unkempt, out of place, at his own damn wedding just to make his bastard shine more he would- Mike leaned in and kissed him.

“You look like you,” he said when he pulled away, then gave the outfit a critical eye. “We’ll just have to make up for the jacket with the jewelry.”

Kevin stared into the velvet-lined box in his hands. There was just, everything in there. Earrings, noserings, cufflinks, if it was a piece of jewelry he could physically wear it was there. And white sapphires, the lot of it. (“I know how you feel about the diamond industry, Levin.”) He just, didn’t know what to say. He’d never legally held this many gemstones in his hands before. Forget hundreds, there had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of jewels there.

“Mike, I-”

“Kevin Ethan Levin-Jones, I swear if I get to the altar and you aren’t fucking sparkling with all this I am going to turn around and come right the fuck back home.” Oh. Well then. He chuckled and grinned up at him.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

The coffeetable was littered with papers containing every possible combination of their first and last names. And relatives’ last names. And Mike’s clan name which it turned out didn’t work with anything. Because apparently the fates hated them.

“I’m telling you, ‘Kevin Morningstar’ works the best out of the lot.”

“Yeah but do I want to be associated with that level of wealth?” Mike looked at him askance.

“It’s not like we’re the fucking Bezos family.”

“Still.”

“Besides, you could get rid of that stupid pun. Honestly, I’m still pissed you didn’t get rid of it when you changed your name. Kevin E Levin, really, only you would make your name worse.”

“What can I say, I’m my father’s child.”

“You’re not making puns out of my children, you know.”

“We’ll see about that.” Shifting some papers, Kevin chewed the inside of his cheek. “‘Michael Levin-Jones’ doesn’t sound bad.” Mike groaned beside him.

“No, but it doesn’t sound as good as ‘Michael Morningstar’ does.”

“That’s just because of the alliteration. Besides, that way Argit wouldn’t have to kill me for changing my name after he legally snatched it up.”

“He can deal.” Kevin shook his head with a heavy sigh, dropping it onto Mike’s shoulder.

“We are going to be here forever,” he said, which only seemed to aggravate his fiancé.

“No, we are going to figure something out if I have to pull a name from a goddamn hat.”

In the end, somehow, probably thanks to the girls, it turned out to be a nice wedding.

The house was lovely, large enough that family could take over the kitchens but not huge, with nice landscaping and a lovely view of the Mediterranean that they’d used as a backdrop for the ceremony and pictures. Kevin did feel more comfortable without the jacket and found himself unable to argue about clothing choices when Mike showed up in full formalwear, mostly because he was too busy alternating between staring and trying to discreetly swat Ben and Argit for laughing at him. The traitors.

The ceremony was as lovely as was to be expected given Kevin had puppy-eyed Zak into officiating and Mike had written half the damn thing. Multiple people had cried, including Kevin himself. The rings had been revealed, homemade by Kevin, at which point everything seemed to hit Mike and he nearly cried. They had to do the whole ‘you may kiss the groom’ thing twice, purely because Kevin couldn’t resist being a shit and littering Mike’s face with the kisses the first time, but they were both smiling after and Manny fell down laughing so nobody could really argue against it.

Besides, any embarrassment it may have caused Mike’s poor battered pride was overshadowed at the reception, when Mr Zomboni decided to make a toast and speech detailing some of the embarrassing things they both did as toddlers before bursting into tears again as how grown up his dear nephew was.

Was a lovely reception though, Helen and Elena outdid themselves. Everything in crystal and flowers, steel, gold, and chains. Elegant enough that Mike could bear to attend (cue eye roll) and mellow enough Kevin didn’t feel out of place at his own damn wedding. And the food was spectacular, even- Kevin hated to admit- the catered stuff, though he happily noted, aloud, that Mike ate more of the home cooking on offer.

After his bitching he was never living it down.

All in all it was, good.

Right.

Perfect.

“Ya know,” Kevin said, quietly because they were both suffering from monster hangovers post-reception, “I’m just amazed we survived this long. I was sure we were going to kill each other.” With a tiny huff, Mike burrowed further into his side, face slotted against his collarbone.

“Couldn’t kill you,” he mumbled, “spent too much on that damn engagement ring to waste it.” Kevin snorted a quick laugh, flinching when his headache didn’t agree with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to his hair, “love you too, Sparkles.” Mike huffed louder this time, throwing one arm over his face and around Kevin’s head as he mumbled something into his skin.

It sounded suspiciously similar to ‘love you more’.

#fanfic #levinstar #ben 10 #kevin levin #mike morningstar

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