#when it comes to authority/older figures i always feel very small and in the case of Discussin My Life i would feel Immediately Very Small

[xxplastic-cubexx]

therapist magneto would tell me to get my shit together and stop crying

he'd probably yell at me and then id start crying

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 8

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: this is ridiculous and incredibly self-indulgent but I don’t care I had so much fun writing this. This is the iconic karaoke chapter and I’m so excited 😌

(Masterlist)

Azriel drove the two of you through town, his motorcycle moving through traffic with ease. Your hold on him continues until he eventually pulls into a parking lot, stopping right in front of a small restaurant nestled beside an Insomnia Cookies store. You were quite impressed with how well you handled the ride - you had kept your gasps and nerves to a minimum.

Until you realized you had to get off the bike.

“Uhhh,” you say, looking at the ground as if the two or three feet away from the asphalt was a ravine.

He chuckles, sensing your hesitation.

“Hold onto my shoulders and just slide off.”

You breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the worst case scenario - either falling off the bike or death. You’re not entirely sure which is preferable.

You follow Azriel’s advice, your hands bracing your weight on his shoulders, sliding off with relative ease. You put your hands up in the air, jumping around at how proud you are of not dying. Azriel just chuckles, shaking his head as he mounts the bike, helping you pull off your helmet.

You two go in, and you look around to see only a one other couple at a table, eating what can only be described as the most delectable smelling sandwiches you’ve ever encountered. You spend a moment looking at the massive menu trying to figure out what sandwich you want. Azriel waits on you, and when you nod to him that you’re ready, he steps forward to the counter.

“Can I get a 12 inch triple meat and a 12 inch meatball sub, and whatever she’s having,” he says, motioning for you to tell him what you want.

You’re a bit surprised, and you desperately want to crack a joke about a 12 inch triple meat, but you bite your tongue, asking for a philly cheese steak instead.

Azriel pays, and you thank him as you two find a table.

“So… 12 inch triple meat, huh?”

Azriel snorts, “it’s Cassian’s go to.”

“What’s on it?”

“I’m pretty certain they just shove a bunch of different kinds of meat on bread, layer a bunch of cheese on top, and warm it up.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, “very on brand for him.”

The guy who took your order brings you your sandwiches in little baskets, one sandwich packed away in a bag.

Cassian’s triple meat, no doubt.

“How’d you like being my backpack?” Azriel asks, biting his sandwich, half of it coming out of the end.

“Excuse me?” You ask, taking a bite of your own, trying to keep the contents inside of the sandwich as you eat.

“My backpack. You were riding on my back, like a backpack.”

“Oh,” you push some hair behind your ear, “It uh wasn’t too bad, it was actually fun when I got used to it.”

“Yeah? Would you ride with me again?”

His eyes sparkle a bit at you, whether that was from the sunlight peaking through the window or if that was just Azriel, you’re not sure.

“Yeah, I think I would. When I was a kid I always wanted to ride a motorcycle,” you say, smiling. “How did you end up driving one?” You ask, not taking your eyes off of him

He hums, thinking about how to respond. “I always wanted to ride one, too. Then after the incident with my hands,” he holds up his gloved hands as if making a point, “after I relearned how to use my hands, all I could think about for years was riding. During my physical therapies, whenever it was getting hard or frustrating, I imagined myself older, being able to grip the handles, feel the wind on me.”

You just smile at him, unsure what to say, hoping your smile comes across as friendly as you tell him, “I just thought it looked cool.”

A smile breaks across his face, a beautiful laugh coming from him.

“It does look cool,” he replies, bunching up the paper from his sandwich once he finishes, throwing it into the basket.

“Rhys actually bought me the bike.”

Your eyes move from the paper to his face, and a somber look overtakes him.

“When we were kids he told me after those therapies that he’d buy me a bike once we were old enough.”

He shakes his head, the memories of all the times Rhys said those words to him coming in and out of his thoughts.

“I never expected him to follow through on it. But he did. He bought me the bike as a graduation gift.”

You were about to ask how an 18 year old could afford that, but Azriel beats you to it.

“Rhys’s dad is somewhat in the picture. If Rhys does things for him, mostly making appearances at family functions, he gets extra money.”

“His dad does pay our rent, and Rhys has a credit and debit card from his dad, but he also needed his dad to sign on for the bike.”

“Your brothers must really love you,” you say, reaching your hand out to cover his.

He looks up at you, hazel eyes peering into your own and he smiles, “yeah, yeah they do.”

-

You walk into the gym that Cassian and Azriel work at. It was quite large and it looked incredibly pristine. It’s full of people working out, seemingly everyone in town was spending their Saturday afternoon sweating the week off.

Azriel pulls out his phone, shooting a text to Cassian about his sandwich. The two of you chat idly about the gym, and Azriel tells you a bit about the guy who does the scheduling when you catch a glimpse of long hair in a half messy bun on the top of his head.

You see Cassian’s head come from a corner and he makes his way to you two, his grin getting bigger as he sees you next to his brother.

“How’d your date go last night?” He asks, not mentioning Az’s spare helmet in your hand or how if he blew out a breath you’d be touching his brother.

Azriel glares at Cassian over you, but you tell him, “uh, terribly, actually. He was a douche.”

Cassian grabs his lunch from Azriel, thanking him.

“That’s too bad.”

And yet, Cassian wouldn’t stop smiling at you. You go to ask him more, but he tells you, “I gotta go - I only have a few minutes to eat. Thanks,” he tells you, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s grabbing your head giving you a kiss on the forehead, doing the same to Azriel.

The two of you stand there confused as Cassian walks away, over his shoulder yelling, “do NOT forget about karaoke tonight!”

-

You stepped into your living room, to find Rhys, Mor, and Az lounging on your couches, not adhering to the bar’s theme. Rita’s did themed karaoke nights once a month and this month’s theme was cowboys.

Naturally you pulled out your Barbie costume from last Halloween, and are now looking at your non-costumed friends gobsmacked.

“Why is no one else dressed up?” You ask incredulously, as all three of them look towards you. Rhys and Mor start laughing, but Azriel lets his eyes graze up and down your body, his gaze making you wonder if you’re even wearing clothes right now.

Mor smiles at you, “we don’t follow the theme - Cassian does though.”

You huff, crossing your arms, “he made it seem like all of you dressed up!”

Rhys’s eyes dance with amusement as he tells you, “because he wanted you to dress up too.”

As if you summoned him, Cassian comes out wearing black leather pants, no shirt, a matching vest, and a cowboy hat. He looks at you, smiling wide. “You look great!” He tells you, clapping you on the shoulder as he walks past you. “Uber’s here.”

You don’t have time to turn around and change as your group is herded out the door and down the elevator. It hadn’t occurred to you to question how the five of you would fit into an uber until you got down to the curb, Mor bolting for the passenger seat as the guys get into the car.

“You can just sit on someone’s lap,” Mor tells you flippantly, before placing a finger on her nose telling you, “nose goes.”

Az, Rhys, and Cass get into the backseat, and Cass pats his lap for you, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Ew,” you tell him, clambering to get in on Az’s side. “I don’t trust you, Cass.”

You drape your legs over Rhys’s lap, your feet landing in Cassian’s hands as you get situated on Az’s lap. You shoot him a look, wanting to know if this is okay, but he’s talking to the uber driver.

You pull up your phone, typing a note into your notes app, showing it to him once he’s finished with whatever he was telling the driver.

Is this okay?

You show it to him as Cassian and Rhys are watching the end of a rugby game on Cassian’s phone on the other end of the backseat. Az reaches for your phone, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he grabs your phone. You watch him type, his fingers dancing across your keyboard, their scarred skin providing a texture you want to touch.

It’s more than fine.

He had replied, and you’re about to respond when he grabs your phone again, typing out:

Just like the way you look in that costume.

He hands you your phone back, smiling as a blush floods your cheeks. He puts his arms around your torso, holding you in place, and one of his hands gently holds onto your hips, securing you to him.

Sitting mostly in Azriel’s lap, you spend the car ride holding onto him, leaning your head into his neck for support while you talk to Cassian, who keeps threatening to tickle your feet. You tell him you get spazzy when tickled, which would give Rhys a free knee to the face.

“Please don’t, Cass. I’d like to keep my face intact for tonight.”

“Yeah because Feyre’s meeting us at Rita’s and he wants to look good,” Mor replies from the front seat, drawing out the last word.

Rhys rolls his eyes, but you do notice him unlock his phone to the messages between him and your friend, the last one asking her to let him know when she got there.

The five of you arrive to Rita’s, a bar located on the edge of campus, just close enough to be packed full of other students.

Mor leads the group in, with Rhys saying, “Feyre’s on her way.” The blonde leads your group to a large round booth in the corner, all of you piling in. Mor sits on your right as you maneuver your way in, Azriel right beside you.

Cassian sits on the edge, likely so he can get up and go sing without being too much of a hindrance. Rhys doesn’t sit down, heading to the bar to grab drinks for everyone instead.

And perhaps keep an eye on the door for a certain brunette.

The four of you sit in the booth, Cassian being uncharacteristically quiet as he waits for Rhysand to bring him his traditional shot before performing.

You nudge Az, getting him to turn his attention to his brother.

“You okay, Cass?”

Cassian shrugs him off, “I just want my shots. You know I prefer being a bit buzzed before going up there.”

You reach in front of Azriel, squeezing Cassian’s forearm, “you’re going to be great!”

Cassian softly smiles at you, his hand covering yours in a gentle squeeze, “thanks, sweetheart.”

Cassian did seem in better spirits, opting to pick up a conversation with Mor about the best shots to drink before karaoke.

You turn to Az, the two of you closer than necessary in the booth, but you can’t bring yourself to scoot away.

“So, Barbie huh?” He asks, his fingers touching the pink pleather fabric on your shoulder.

You’re confused for a moment, before realizing what he’s talking about. “Oh, yeah. Mor wanted us to go as different Barbies from the movie for Halloween - she was rollerskating Barbie, I was cowgirl Barbie, and Feyre was the pink gingham dress Barbie.”

He rests his arm on the booth behind you, and you stay as still as possible so you won’t scare him off as he asks, “no Kens?”

You laugh, “no Kens, unfortunately.”

His smile is on the verge of cracking his face in half as he says, “maybe this Halloween you’ll have some Kens.”

Before you can reply, Rhysand comes back with a tray of shots and Feyre behind him, wearing a very cute black mini dress.

“Traitor!” You shout at her, as she scooches in next to Mor.

“Rhys told me we didn’t actually dress up,” she defends, holding her hands up. Your eyes shoot to violet ones, their gaze full of mischief. Rhys smiles at you, and your jaw drops, “and you didn’t think to extend the same courtesy to me?”

Rhys’s grin grows feral, “I thought surely with all the texting you and Azriel have been doing, he would have told you.”

You turn, smacking him on the shoulder as he chuckles. “Okay, okay, I should have told you, but you were so excited about it, how could I rip that from you?”

You scoff, “I look like an idiot.”

“A cute idiot.”

Your blush doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone at the table, as Mor pokes her nose in. “I think it’s only fair if next time we come out Azzy and Rhys adhere to the theme.”

Your eyes light up, pointing to Mor, “oh oh oh, I like that idea!”

Rhys turns to cousin, “and why am I involved in this?”

“It only seems fair. You told Feyre that we don’t dress up, so you should have told her as well.”

Azriel butts in, “well Feyre could have told her too.”

Feyre motions her hand over her throat, trying to stop Azriel from speaking further.

“It’s decided then,” Mor says, “the three of you adhere to the theme for next month’s karaoke.”

You pick up your glass and clink it to Mor’s, solidifying the deal. Everyone else is groaning, slumping back in their seats, but this agreement causes Cassian to become invigorated. He’s buzzing with excitement, and at least three shots of vodka, as one of the bartenders walks up to the mic and says, “next up for karaoke - everyone’s favorite - Cassian!”

Cassian gets up, all of you wishing him luck as Mor places a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He prances up to the stage as the scattered applause dies out. The opening notes to Shania Twain’s “Man I Feel Like a Woman” come through the speakers. Cassian lifts his head to the mic to sing, “let’s go, girls”, then turns back around away from the mic. He begins swaying his hips in time with the beat, the leather pants he’s wearing making his ass and his legs look phenomenal. His vest rises a bit as he raises his arms, and you can see the bottom of the tattoo he had gotten during your drunk escapades.

“Are we sure Cassian’s not a stripper?” You ask the table, but Mor shushes you so she can watch the show.

You turn to Azriel, leaning in close to him to whisper, “Do you know how to whistle?”

Your whole body is warm as he leans close to your ear, whispering, “Yes, why?”

You miss the look Rhys gives the two of you, huddled together impossibly close in the large expansive booth.

“I want to whistle, but I don’t know how. Can you do it?”

He obliges your request, rolling his eyes as he wolf whistles at Cassian, who beams at the attention.

You giggle, whispering to Azriel, “his stage name should be 12 inch triple meat.”

You two giggle at the joke before turning your attention back to the stage. Cassian makes it through the first chorus, and he is not receiving his dues. No one is paying any attention to him, and you’re about to ask if there’s anything you guys can do, when Mor grabs your and Feyre’s arms, pulling you out to the little dance floor in front of the stage.

You guys start singing and dancing with him, hips swaying with the music. You guys are singing to each other, smiles plastered on your faces.

You’re lost in the moment when you feel Cassian’s warm hand wrap around your wrist dragging you up on the stage. He has his other hand on Mor, so you quickly grab Feyre’s wrist, all three of you assisting him with the vocals on the “oh, oh, oh”.

It was ridiculous - the four of you on this tiny stage, everyone at Rita’s not caring as you all danced and sang, the three of you providing backing vocals for Cassian.

Three of the most important people in your life singing to Shania Twain.

It was ridiculous. It was everything.

The song ends, and you can hear Rhys and Azriel clapping enthusiastically as the four of you head back to your table.

You slide back into Azriel’s side, his smile making everything inside of you burn for more of it. You spend the rest of the night drinking as Rhys and Cassian regale you all with stories of karaoke nights of the past, the unspoken words hanging between them, but not making their way into the discussion.

The past nights of singing were nowhere near as fun as tonight was.

[dreamcsc]

Chapter 01 — take a gamble, won't ya?

-> masterlist for more information.

-> pairings: kim mingyu x female reader/you, other seventeen member x female reader/you

-> word count: 2k+ words

-> warnings/tags for this chapter: vulgar language, murder, organized crime, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, lowkey inspired by alice in borderland, slowburn, alternating point of views in MC

author's note: hey guys! this is lowk an introduction to the whole story so buckle in! it's quite confusing at first but everything will come together! also, extremely sorry for not updating soon. i got sick and was bedridden for 2 days lol.

taglist: @nerdycheol @syluslittlecrows @heeknow @gyubakeries @gyuguys @choco-scoups

MINGYU’S POINT OF VIEW

Mingyu’s footsteps echoed silently down the familiar hallway, heading toward the place that unraveled the web of secrets and lies. Since the start of his career in the investigative unit, the man had been this quiet, a habit he had grown accustomed to. His feet led him in front of a big door, its content of what’s inside was tightly shut away from the world. His palm fisted before knocking once on the door.

“Come in,” a rough, slightly high-pitched voice calls from the other side. Mingyu pushed the thick door and stepped inside.

He remembered the room was always filled with other businessmen, maybe some prostitute from a nearby brothel, but this time, there only stood a man near the desk. Mingyu bowed his head.

Lifting his head and eyes, they met the man’s own. The man was Mingyu’s Head of Unit and close friend, Director Yoon Jeonghan. The very man who had been a mentor to him—a man revered for his integrity and dedication to justice.

“How was inspecting the crime scene?” Jeonghan asked, turning his body toward him. Mingyu only shrugged, “It went fine. Saw some familiar faces,” he replied.

Jeonghan beckoned the other over on the couch, handing him a cup of tea. “I saw, uh, the fat dude.” The older man let out a hearty laugh, “The fat dude? Choi Hyun Bok? The one who threw a tantrum because some worker couldn’t get his order right?” Jeonghan humored before stopping.

His eyes narrowed at the other, “I’m sure you’re not only here to report some snub, am I right?”

Mingyu nods, cracking out a small smile at his friend’s observation. “You know me so well.” Jeonghan patted on the small table in front of them. “You only come to visit me when it’s vital,” he pointed out.

And Jeonghan was right. Despite being honored as one of the best in the unit, Mingyu was never found near the headquarters, never bothering himself with unnecessary relations. However, the man knew coming here was inevitable, and somehow this might just trigger him faster than he would liked.

“Why are you really here?” Jeonghan questioned.

“I need your help.” The words came out of Mingyu’s lips as his jaw clenched.

The feeling of incompetence filled his stomach—one that the man always prided himself on not having considered the belief that he could solve any cases thrown his way deeply engraved inside.

Jeonghan curiously cocked an eyebrow at him. This caused Mingyu to rumble through his pocket, pulling out the peculiar objects that caught his eyes a few hours prior before laying them on the table.

— A few hours before —

The city of Jangseong—the heart of a country that never truly slept, where the moon hung low, casting a silver glow on the damped streets below. It had rain earlier that day and the echoes of water dripping from the eaves mingled with the aftermath of horror.

One that is so familiar, yet so foreign.

The air was thick with tension as Kim Mingyu stepped into the crime scene—once a vibrant part of the city now tainted with blood and despair. Multiple bodies lay sprawled across the road, remnants of life extinguished too soon.

Mingyu noticed that the victims were prominent figures in society—politicians whose works had evoked passion and pride. Yet here they lay, the light in their eyes dimmed out like the once bright street light of the city.

His pulse quickened as he surveyed the chaos that lay before him; blood, destruction, desperation—no mercy.

Working in the investigative unit for a couple of years, Mingyu had always believed in justice—believed that righteousness would triumph against evil. But today was different; today’s investigation meant confronting a truth far more sinister than any murderer lurking in the shadow.

“Call the higher-ups. This ain’t gonna be easy,” He says cautiously toward the other unit members as he approaches the dead bodies.

A glimmer caught his eye as he stepped closer to one of the bodies—a set of playing cards scattered across the floorboards like fallen leaves after autumn’s last breath.

Mingyu’s instincts kicked in, “Fuck.” he muttered as his brain processed.

He quickly turned around, facing the others who were scanning through random objects on the floor. “Get me the fastest transportation to the headquarters.” Mingyu lets out, his heart heavy at the thought of the words spilling.

Yeah, this wasn’t going to be easy.

— Present —

“I see you’ve found quite an invitation,” Jeonghan replied, eyes scanning the cards before them with keen interest.

“Invitation?” Mingyu arched an eyebrow at him while picking up one card—a king of spades—and flipping it over to reveal more inscriptions etched into its surface: How does it feel not to get your way?

“Ah, an old friend of mine!” Jeonghan exclaimed, “I remember when this happened, and it happened once. I believe it was when the former Head was in power. I was just someone training in the unit for this position then, didn’t know anything better.” he reminisced, pointing at the card in Mingyu’s grasp.

“This thing, my dearest friend, is not assigned by the higher-ups though it may look like it. Only the investigation is assigned.”

Though Jeonghan’s information keeps coming, Mingyu is stuck on, “Former…Head?” he breathed, not missing how chills ran down his sides. “I don’t remember him.”

Jeonghan nodded in acknowledgment. “No one expected you all to know,” he replied.

“The former Head was a good man, did everything to the tea, was resilient, and gave his all to his assignments. This, however, stumped him up. Brought him down to his demise, ruined his career and life, made him Lucifer in a way.”

Mingyu hung on to the words Jeonghan said as he could feel bitterness lacing on each syllable.

The only recollection of the former Head he had was a small figure, whose name he never heard of, escaping the prison cell, ragged clothing that barely covered up the scars that were imprinted from whatever happened.

This was years ago—five years to be exact, when Mingyu was just eighteen years old—if he could recall it correctly.

Jeonghan let out a sigh as his hand ran through his overgrown, brunette hair that fell right on his shoulders. “Don’t worry about him though,” he had reassured the other who sat uncomfortably on the couch.

“The higher-ups already executed him.”

Mingyu’s body turn disgustingly inside but he brushed it aside. “So what now?”

“Now, the game has begun,” Jeonghan said with a smirk that hinted at something unknown beneath layers of seriousness. “But what does this have to do with the former Head?” Mingyu pressed urgently.

Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly but leaned closer as if sharing secrets meant only for trusted ears: “Everything is connected in this web we call life… or death.” He paused dramatically before continuing softly enough so only Mingyu could hear: “We must play our cards right.”

Pulling back, Jeonghan took a sip of the tea, his not faltering to break from Mingyu’s eye contact. “This is not merely an assignment; it’s a game.”

Mingyu furrowed his brow but couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was more than mere coincidence tying them together. What were the chances of him getting something so identical to what brought such a promising figure to his fatal fall from grace?

Mingyu’s breathing stopped for a second before opening his mouth, “How certain are you? How certain are you that I am a fit for this, even when the former Head failed.” he questions, doubt filling his head.

“More than former Head did with himself.”

With little choice left but to accept Jeonghan’s proposition, Mingyu cautiously nodded and gulped down the silent fear creeping on and in him. “Alright. When can I start?”

This earned him a grin and Jeonghan’s index finger pointing at the cards on the table. “Here. Your first clues are already here for you.”

LEE Y/N’S POINT OF VIEW

You leaned against the slick mahogany bar, your fingers idly tracing the condensation around your glass of whiskey. The ambient noise of the bar filled the space, laughter and hushed conversations echoing off the dimly lit walls.

You had come here to forget for a while, to drown out the shadow of your past that seemed to loom larger every day. Yet, the moment you spotted the person you were looking for sliding into the barstool beside you, all thoughts of respite vanished.

The man gave a glance, a sly smile painted on his face, and cocked an eyebrow, “Lee Y/N, what a lovely sight to see you here. What fancied you to return? I did hear some dashing men stopping by the city this year, though I doubt that’s what you’re here for?”

You let out a smirk despite the mischief not reaching your eyes, “Your note, I got it.” is all you revealed, taking into consideration the other’s attempt at naivety.

The man doesn’t answer immediately. Not a good sign, you noted. To your relief, the man opened his mouth, leaning in closer. “Did you have any trouble coming here?” The man’s voice filled with worry though he tried to mask it.

“No.”

“Not even with the ride?”

You tilted your head, lips lacing a frown. “What are you indicating?”

The man waved his hand in dismissal, his smile slightly fading, replaced by a look of determination. “There’s no point in hiding this any further.”

You could hear the other suck in his breath, “I notified you here because I’m in a bit of trouble myself. How ironic,” He says, words hinting at bitterness.

You did not like the sound of whatever the man was trying to say but some parts of you did want to hear it out.

“My men,” The man starts.

“What about your men?”

“They’re assigned on that, Y/N. I know this is a hard topic for you but—”

That. The word 'that' hung in the air like an unsolved riddle. You knew the man well enough to sense urgency and trouble behind those eyes; however that, the man calls it, filled an agony feeling in the pit of your stomach. You caught yourself feeling your throat enclosing on you at the thought of that.

The man hesitated, his expression morphing from determined to apprehensive. “Hear me out, Y/N. It appeared, again; and it’s linked to some people in the underground. I thought… I thought you might know how to navigate that world better than anyone else.”

You shook his head, a chill creeping into your heart. “No. I can’t.”

You braced yourself, the familiar sting of pain resurfacing as memories surged forth. The last time you navigated that world, it had cost you everything. “I can’t…and you should know it the best, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Please, Y/N,” Yoon Jeonghan pressed, his tone shifting into something softer, more pleading. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent. I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other option.”

But you had your boundaries. You turned away from Jeonghan’s earnest gaze, staring into your whiskey as if it held all the answers. “It’s not just a mere task for me, Jeonghan. It’s a reminder of everything I lost.”

Jeonghan’s silence spoke volumes. The air between the both of you thickened with the weight of unspoken words and painful history. “This can save you, Y/N—this can save him. You and I both know, just please. I—I can help this time. I swear I won’t let it end poorly like last time.”

Your chest constricted at the implication. “You think that’s what I’m worried about? It’s not just about me, Jeonghan. It’s about the people who get caught up in this. I don’t want to get hurt again, or—”

“Or what?” Jeonghan interjected, his voice rising with desperation. “You think you’ll be the only one hurt? I’m putting myself at risk too—one of my best is going head-on without knowing anything, for fuck’s sake! I just need someone I can trust. You’re the best at what you do.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, torn between your instinct to protect yourself and the remnants of the friendship you had once shared. Jeonghan had always known how to press his buttons, and right now, he was tugging at your heart.

“I just don’t want to be that person again. I won’t let myself descend into that darkness,” You confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan's gaze softened, and the hunger for answers in it was palpable. “But you can help me find the light in this darkness. We will reach the sunrise, together. You don’t have to go through it alone, Y/N.”

The sincerity struck a chord, but you remained steady. “I can't. Not this time.”

Jeonghan paused, his expression falling. For a moment, you thought you might have succeeded, but instead, with an almost imperceptible nod, Jeonghan stood up. “I understand. Just… think about it, okay? I’ll be in touch.”

As Jeonghan moved away, you felt the heavy silence settle back in. In that brief moment, loneliness clawed at you once more. You watched as Jeonghan left the bar, the smile replaced by a look of disappointment that lingered long after the door swung shut behind him.

Staring once more at the amber liquid in your glass, you felt the familiar weight of regret except this time toward the heart that could barely beat for you. Maybe you had shunned the door too tightly this time. Maybe, amidst waiting for the sunrise, there was still light to be found in the darkest hour: the dawn.

But you were too scared to reach for it. You raise your glass in a silent toast to choices made and paths not taken, hoping one day you might find a way back to the light you had once known.

[hyprfixate]

hold on tight↝ [L.F] :: teaser

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: you're unhappy. you're almost certain that there isn't anything in this world that can make you happier, and you're right. what you don't account for, however, is something otherworldly flipping your life on its head. or, should you say someone

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee felix x reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 950

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: angst, non idol au, fantasy au kind of, felix is an angel literally and figuratively, mentions of suicidal thoughts without going into detail, reader is depressed, she/her pronouns used for the reader, slowburn, strangers to lovers, putting angst again bc thats how much angst there is.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hello! this is a small teaser for a much longer upcoming fic that i'm still in the process of writing! i haven't written fanfic in a very long time so i apologize if i'm rusty lol. i hope you guys enjoy! :)

quickly skimmed, ignore typos lol

-

Felix doesn’t remember when he became the front desk worker for purgatory. 

He assumes it was a while ago, since his fellow co-workers have all come and gone, some of them eons older than him. He’s always been “their little Lixie”, and while most of them have gone to a place he can’t reach, the nickname still lives on. Their little Lixie remains seated behind a mahogany desk, clicking away at his computer and waiting for the next person to approach him.

Felix is the first face a person sees when they die. Guy, the one in charge of it all, says it’s because of his contagious grin and never ending happiness. Felix could light up a room with his smile alone if he wanted to. That kind of energy helps people calm down– makes them feel at ease. Another perk about him is that he never feels lonely, despite how desperately lonely the job is. Felix knows that even though nobody stays, there is always someone new to talk to.

Like now.

“Hi!” he chirps to the person walking up to his desk. They’re dressed in pajamas with a severe case of bedhead, so from the looks of it they were probably sleeping when it happened. They look scared, and he pouts.

“Are you okay?”

“Where am I?”

He leans back in his seat, pointing to the gold plaque above his head. “Purgatory.”

“I’m dead?”

It’s the same script every time someone comes in, but his soft smile never wavers. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. It’s not really so bad here, you know?”

He pulls himself back up to his computer. “Could I get your name?”

Stuttering, the person gives him their name. He presses a few keys on his keyboard before the computer dings softly, setting off the printer next to him.

“Oof.” He grimaces, eyes racing across the lines on the screen. “Heart attack did you in, yeah? That’s always the worst way to go. Have you had heart problems before?”

“Yeah,” they stutter out. “But I never-- no one told me they could kill me.”

Felix peers up through his long lashes, giving them another small smile. He knows it’s best to move on, rather than walk them through the speech about how everything and anything can kill you, so it’s a bit silly to expect that something as serious as heart issues would just be swept under the rug. Most people don’t appreciate being lectured when they die.  Instead, he pulls the paper from the printer and scans it quickly.

“Seems like you have some business to attend to first,” he hums. “You left behind two kids and a partner, I see. They’re going to need your presence in the next few days. Afterwards you’ll get to go upstairs.”

“Like, Heaven?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, that’s what it is,” he smiles. The person in front of him softens at that. He hands them the paper and points at a set of doors on his left. “Go through those double doors and walk down the hall to room 202. Knock and ask for Christopher, tell him Felix sent you.”

He waves, cheeks puffing up in a genuine grin as they wave back and disappear beyond the double doors. Once they’re out of sight, he pulls out his notepad from the desk drawer and scribbles furiously.

No glow, almost faded.

While Felix undoubtedly had a lot of questions about his appearance and business in purgatory, his biggest question was something no one could answer.

Why was he the only one who glowed?

At first, before they got computers in the office, Felix had no idea what he looked like. He knew had soft, sandy brown hair; Guy would always ruffle it and tell him he was handsome, but he didn’t know why he was handsome. Once technology advanced and they got a desktop, that question was answered thanks to the webcam. In addition to noticing his features, Felix also noticed that his body was outlined with a bright, sparkly gold light.

No one else in purgatory had that, not even Guy. Christopher, who worked in the office of external affairs, told Felix it was probably just his happiness manifested into something physical. Christopher himself was covered in tattoos, as he was known through the office for always knowing what to say to comfort people. Felix would agree with that theory, but he’s met countless people just as happy as himself with no glow.

Since then, he’s been keeping a journal of every face who’s walked through his office. Some people were more faded than others-- those were the people who wouldn’t spend too long here. Some people were dark and vivid, like the image of a 4K TV screen (not that Felix knew what 4K was, he’d heard about it from a couple visitors and adopted the phrase himself). Those people were usually there for a long time. But no matter how long a person was set to stay, they never had a glow like he did.

He tosses the notepad back into the desk drawer, leaning back into his seat and sighing. He didn’t have much time to himself, though, as the elevator outside the office door dinged.

He leans forward, clearing his throat and running his “script” in his head. He runs his hands through his hair before looking up with a bright smile.

“Hi! Welcome to…”

His voice trails off and his jaw goes slack as his eyes settle on the person in front of him. 

Yeah. Felix had seen lots of dead people, sure, but he’d never, ever seen one that glowed like he did.

Until now.

[fainthedcherry]

IT'S NEW YEARS OVER HERE SO LET ME LAUNCH MY BABIES AT YOU FOR IT!!!!

In case you want their backstories, I just recommend you go over to their Toyhou.ses respectively, as- typing on Tumblr is a pain for my PC. My PC hates Tumblr in particular for some reason, whenever I format text, and I can't LIVE without formatting text as a hobby-author man. xD

LINK TO MARCO'S STORY

LINK TO ZORRO'S STORY

For new users; Marco was made by Heavenly-Hellfire and Hollowed-Hartlocke. I bought him back in 2019! Still love him like it's day 1. My best, most adorable boy <3, he's become my actual role model, I love him sm ;:

In case you never read them before, hopefully you enjoy the reads!!! I hope you can forgive the older grammar on Zorro's. I def plan to rewrite it, once I finish working on my raider-code. (It's been taking so long bc I'm trying to learn to use the CSS mixin z-index class-type. I still can't figure out image borders for the life of me, but I learned rotation class-types LOL.)

I've wanted to redraw both their reference sheet for almost YEARS now. Ever since I've gotten Marco, I continuously evolved how I draw him, over and over, to a point his old ref had become a detriment, due to how differently I draw him nowadays LOL. One thing that desperately needed a redo for him especially, how his hair is supposed to be drawn + his wings. His wings looked like floppy chicken nuggets on the old one LOL. PLUS! I added a section of details, where I see artists I commissioned, struggle with or fail on. Hopefully the detail section is sufficient in fixing that! I'm not sure, if I should also add a mention, of Marco's dot details below the pink pattern, as even the distance between the dots is different. + I LOVE DRAWING EXPRESSIONS. So to also add a small box of extras for Marco's cool glowy eyes was a treat. <3

I plan to redraw his refs for his magic wind attacks perhaps, as for now, I have a shabby drawing, and I got a free animation program lately, so I can FINALLY unleash my years of experience animating, in the appropriate program now LMAO. My own limitations of using SAI to animate, was making my animations look choppy and bad for years unfortunately, so my art always looked very amateur-ish when I actually know how to animate..

Speaking of that, for the attentive...Yes, I plan to possibly try and draw a 360° turnaround of my characters, as the next natural progression of refs next. I am SO close, so so SO close to making my art finally look like it's part of my project I've been working on for years in private. Ever since this year, people have proven, that you CAN start an animated series on the internet, and it will receive an audience. I also wanted to start an animated series when I was a teen, and now that I'm an adult I can make it happen for sure, with the right talents. When the time comes, I might seek out a music producer and perhaps, if I'll have the money, hire animators, so that I'm not the only one who has to work on the series I planned.

For Zorro....He had it coming. Last time I drew his ref, he looked like a 16 yo/ mobian child, it pissed me off for so many years, once I learned how to properly make adult characters look adult lol. THE CEREAL SPITTER NOW ACTUALLY LOOKS ADULT AND LIKE THE BASTARD SELF HE SHOULD BE. I don't have too much to add to him, but I consider him still a WIP in my brain bc- RAIDER PAGE CODE. I WANNA FINISH. GRABBY HANDS. I CAN FEEL THAT IF I LEARN Z-INDEX FINALLY I CAN REALISE THAT CODE. I've wanted to make a code for my raiders 3 years ago already y'all it's painful to be patient w/ myself sdgkldslgdsg

I'm so satisfied, with my ref sheets finally looking, like a professional drew them imho!! If you disagree w/ that notion, feel free to tell me what's missing or where I need to improve on! :D

My 2024 started amazing and with laughter and appreciation for my friends, I'm so happy finally. 3 years in a row, all I did was cry each new year, and be in pain. 2024 feels like it could be my year. Year of the dragon, bless me with your energetic and powerful spirit please,, 🙏

ANYWAY. Forgive me in advance for watermarks, but I kind of? Am paranoid now over my art a bit bc my work is good now? Like I think I'm in the final stages of my artistry. I can feel, that I might find the perfect style soon. I need to experiment just a bit more. Just a bit more...I might consider loosening up my linework in 2024. I honestly still? Hate lineart? Like..My lineart looks good now, don't get me wrong but. I just love sketchy artwork so much more??? Sketching is so fun, creating is so joyful, when it's a sketch..But lineart kind of.....Ruins my art. I think I should loosen up. It's why I might change my approach a millionth time, but my artstyle has potential now. I don't feel, like my art is awful anymore or worth nothing, it now HAS worth, I now HAVE the right to have an ego about it, but some pieces still are missing, to give me the ultimate happiness and relief in my work. Perhaps if I do some more commissions, I might unlock my final potential? We'll see.

My aspirations for 2024;

Pass the prep-exam for my workplace (I LOVE MY WORK. I SINCERELY WISH I'LL PASS. I love work so much omg I don't wanna be fired so badly)

Draw more art of Finn & Marco so they finally pass Chloe in most images on TH (I REALLY DON'T WANT HER TO HAVE THE MOST IMAGES STILL. It should either be my comfort boys or C.I.Ta)

Be more experimental with mixing medias traditionally (I wanna start mixing mini craft-projects + my drawings or mix more pencils + markers and also glass pens + watercolours. I rlly rlly wanna experiment and go loose.)

Animate more and possibly even post said animations. I know animation takes me HELL OF A LOT of time, as I lack so much time to do so, but I'd love to do that

Stop stressing so hard over OTA's and commissions. I know I tell myself each year, "this year will be the year I wanna finish all my owed art!!" But every once and a while, I need to be a realist to myself, my optimism may be good, but it sometimes..Is a little over-eager. But I noticed in 2023, I really heavily strangle myself out. I haven't drawn any private art since 2020, really.....It says a lot about an artist, if they now haven't drawn a personal drawing and finished it, in the same quality of their owed work for 4 years now. I haven't been really honest to myself and my heart, and I'd like to forgive myself slowly, by allowing to both work on owed work, and start creative, passionate art-projects again, again, where I can let loose and just. Experiment. Do something new. Push the boundaries of my art. Combine medias, collages, etc, anything under the sun I wanna try. I limit myself so hard, over chasing a goal, I can't achieve, if I won't acknowledge, I'll cause my own death as an artist, if I continue to chase unattainable goals, I can't achieve, if I won't be gentle to myself.

Finish revamping my commission sheet. It requires, I draw new examples of course. The big thing I need to warn ahead; I will have a fat price-increase, due to work taking all the time I can have now. I can only work around 4hrs a day on art. My art takes around 20 hours to be finished. Every piece is done with love, with time, with effort. I'm not an artist, who adheres to algorithms. I'm an artist who lives with passion, with freedom in mind. I have an endless amount of ideas, I have an infinite amount of space and ways to create it. I am not a machine, I am, what an artist strives to be. To simply...Create. AI can go to hell, and drag NFTs along with it. I to this day get attempts to be hacked, by tech bros, believe it or not. I pissed off BAYC on Twitter once, and some butthurt idiot, is still trying to get to my Insta and Steam to this day. Won't happen anymore with 2FA idiot, lmao. I won't allow a 2nd hack to happen.

Finish giving ALL my characters on TH a floatie icon. I know w/ 100% certainty, that I got this task in the bag. This one is of no problem at all.

With that, thank you for reading my world-salad! Almost as tasty, as mom's olivier-salad. Yumyum. Btw secret lil teaser ig below here lmao. I started Finn's sheet too, and I've got it 1/3rds done, but I don't wanna burn myself out on ref-sheets, so perhaps you'll see Finn also reworked in a few months! ✨

[ynscrazylife]

Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After  a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.  

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[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

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“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

*

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy’ and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

*

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

*

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

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[twilightmalachite]

Twin Peaks - factorization 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Kaoru

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofers: 310mc & feesh

"Ah, sorry. It’s not my intention to cast accusations on your brother—I have no doubt that all those things he does for you are done out of love."

Season: Autumn

Location: Starmony Hall Dorm Room (Kaoru, Yuuta, Nagisa's Room)

Kaoru: Hehe. Well, you seem to have calmed down now. I’ll be a good listener, so feel free to let it all out.

Yuuta: Ooh, I feel like you’re actually going to be pretty serious about giving me advice, huh?

Kaoru: Mhm. I’ve got a good amount of free time right now. Plus, I can’t just go ahead and perform without permission during the Nightless City Live anyway—if I do, it’ll be like I’m breaking a rule or something and we’ll lose points.

That said, I scold Rei-kun pretty much on the daily about how he shouldn’t meddle too much in other people’s business. So I don’t mean to stick my neck too far in your business either, yeah?

This is you and Hinata-kun’s problem, so I can’t act as the backseat driver and solve it for you guys.

Yuuta: Even then, it’s a big help just to have you hear me out. …Well, I’m aware that we’re the ones who keep drawing the line and keeping everyone from getting involved in “our problem”.

But no matter how hard we try to hide it, everyone already knows by now because of what happened during the Setsubun Festival.

Kaoru: Well, they do say that old habits die hard. ♪

Yuuta: Yeah, that’s right~! It’s hard, changing as a person is so hard!

Kaoru: Huh, what’s with this all of a sudden?! What are you talking about?

Yuuta: Just a moment ago, I was looking in the mirror trying to change all sorts of things about my appearance.

Kaoru: Ah, I was wondering what you were up to, so focused like that—

I thought you might have a crush and started to get more self-conscious, and I figured that I shouldn’t butt in if that was the case. So I just kept an eye on you.

When you have an experience like that as a kid, it can be pretty traumatizing.

Yuuta: Are you a father with a daughter who’s going through puberty or something?

Kaoru: Well, to be honest with you, my older sister had an experience like that.

Seemed like she got pretty hurt by some mean comment someone made about her—so she didn’t really put much effort into dressing up until I started poking my nose in her business.

All her beauty was just going to waste. That, and I was mad at that person who said something so cruel to her.

Yuuta: Ahaha. I feel like you’re more obsessed with your sister than I thought, huh, Hakaze-senpai?

Kaoru: I think getting angry is normal when someone in your family has been hurt.

Well, maybe there’s a small chance that the person who made that mean comment could be me… Being the dumb kid that I was, I didn’t think anything of it…

I’ll just sound like an idiot if it comes back to bite me, so I’ll stop the rant here.

Yuuta: Ah~, I understand. Our father was like that too—probably.

If only we could have pretended to be the perfect, idealized version of ourselves all the time, but that’s hard no matter how good we are at it.

Well, I’ll leave that aside. My brother Hinata-kun’s a person of good character, so if they could only choose one of us to go on, he would definitely be the one to back down from the offer.

He is always trying to give me the very best he can give, after all.

Kaoru: Ah, yeah. I know from listening to you vent time after time that he’s always been like that.

I guess he just doesn’t understand that the moment you give in and accept it from him out of respect, that present he’s worked so hard to get for you becomes a burden.

Yuuta: ……

Kaoru: Ah, sorry. It’s not my intention to cast accusations on your brother—I have no doubt that all those things he does for you are done out of love.

Yuuta: Ugh… But even if this is just business as usual to Hinata-kun, the burden he’s given me this time around is different.

In the worst case scenario, this might be what draws a definitive line of separation between me and Hinata-kun.

It’s so shocking that we’ve even been chosen for a job like this, so much so that we can’t even comprehend it—especially from where we stand in the industry now.

I’m sure that’s exactly why our Vice Prez wants to try and send some CosPro talent into that program, even though he really will be doing just that—trying.

Kaoru: Yeah, I bet. But why did he choose you two? Shouldn’t he be able to see that separating a pair of twins is a dumb idea no matter how you look at it?

Yuuta: Hmm… Eden works separately as Adam and Eve all the time, so maybe that was why he didn’t think much of it.

Or maybe it was just a simple process of elimination. Aside from us, Valkyrie, and Crazy:B, no other unit has the power and influence needed to make an appearance on that program.

Kaoru: Ahhh… It’d be impossible to make a situation like that change to fit your will—it’s much too risky.

Yuuta: Yes. Also, ever since Bogie Time, the Vice Prez has gotten annoyed over the members of Eden taking jobs without him knowing.

So, I guess in the whole cycle of taking turns, this opportunity found its final stop with us.

Kaoru: Or maybe he just came to the decision that you two would be able to handle it well?

Yuuta: I hope that’s the case, but… No, you’re right, I think that's probably it. The Vice Prez isn’t one to let his own feelings cloud his judgment.

He just felt wholly confident in our skills as idols, and entrusted the job to us.

So that’s just why I’ve got to change.

Kaoru: ? You said you were thinking of trying to change your look, but why? You mean like, when you start high school and try to become a completely different person, or something?

I think that’ll actually be more pathetic, if anything else, so please don’t~ I’m experienced here, so take it from me.

Yuuta: Ahaha. Hakaze-senpai, did you do that when you started high school?

Kaoru: A little bit, yeah. I was thinking stuff like… “I’ve been such a good kid all my life, so I’m gonna have so much fun that I won’t end up with any regrets these next three years”…

In hindsight, I was a late bloomer—that was my rebellious phase, you know?

You guys are still young, so I think it’s fine for you to try different things without passing too much judgment on yourself.

That made me sound like an old man, didn’t it? I guess that’s just the result of all the wining and dining I’ve been doing with people in the industry.

Yuuta: Hmm… It’s not really the case where I’m thinking of buying a brand new set of clothes or tearing down my personality and building it anew in preparation for a big performance. It might be something I’ll have to do eventually, but that’s not the point.

It was 2wink that they asked to perform. If my looks are too uncharacteristic of 2wink, it’s inevitable that they’ll—that they should—choose Hinata-kun to perform.

That’s what I was thinking, so I was trying a ton of different ways to change my look. But it isn’t going anywhere—I still like how we look.

Besides, if I did that, I’d be making Hinata-kun give into what I want just to be thoughtful. I’ve always hated when he does that to me.

Kaoru: Mhm. Don't do unto others what you don't want done unto you.

…I used to hate it when all those high-and-mighty seniors of mine would tell me what to do, and now I’m doing the exact same thing… Just turn a blind eye, okay?

Yuuta: Ahaha. But that’s hard for me to do~. The things we remember the most are the things that other people have done to us, after all.

We end up doing the same thing to others without even being aware of it—it’s like our actions have been perfectly symmetrical.

Kaoru: Yeah. And that’s why things like bullying and war will never go away. It’s a structural flaw—all humans have it.

Yuuta: War—

I see; maybe we should go to war. We have to decide for ourselves; we won’t leave the responsibility to judge us to other people.

That would be much more fitting for us.

Kaoru: ? What do you mean?

Yuuta: We could never even get into a fight, because Hinata-kun would just hold back and give up—we’ve never been able to have a clear winner or loser.

But this is a great opportunity to try, and it might be nice for us to go head to head in a fight for once. It’s an old tradition that none of us Yumenosaki kids can be proud of—to fight head to head like that and see the resolution in black and white—isn’t it?

Kaoru: ……?

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[saabbi]

Regret part 10

Moonlit conversation

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: -

word count:~1.3k

notes: happy mid autumn festival! This chapter is purely about Childe and Tsarista.

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The Tsarista is hard to understand.

“Your highness?” the gingered male peeked into the dimly lit room carefully, making sure he's not disturbing his archon.

Deep blue eyes searched the room until they landed on a lonely figure by the window sill, silently gazing at the Snezhnaya waters.

The Tsarista looks back a bit, gesturing to him to come closer.

Childe obliges. He came to find her to have a talk, even if he has yet to figure out what to say. The Tsarista has been rather fickle lately, it seemed like she was making rash decisions.

Even though he knows the Tsarista always have everything planned out. The reasons behind her actions were surely ones a mortal like him couldn’t understand.

The Tsarista is hard to understand.

Not even her closest subordinates - harbingers, could see through her. All her thoughts are masked with the iconic smile, one not sinister nor genuine.

It’s just one without any emotions, an eerie and intimidating smile.

To say the least, the Tsarista is someone incredibly… calculating. Each step she takes, each word she utters, are all through careful consideration.

Fickle and unpredictable. No one could guess her next movement. She slips away like ice.

Which is why, small talk coming from her is completely uncalled for.

“The pier was lively today.” Her quiet and breathless voice caught Childe off guard, shoulders flinching at the unexpected voice.

Has the sun risen from the west? Has the snow melted in Snezhnaya?

Childe carefully observed the divine being, perturbed by her unusual behaviour.

Silky hair pale as snow, cold as ice. A sharp and glacy gaze that sends even the most arrogant humans shivering. Contrasting to her bitter cold appearance, a burning desire could be felt within her glacy pupils. A being said to be so ethereal that just one glance would captivate all men and women across Teyvat-

Except something was a bit different from usual. Childe rubbed his eyes to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Is she…frowing? Could it even be considered a frown?

Very slightly, almost goes unnoticeable, was her furrowed brows and tired eyes that observed the pier.

Her usual smile remains, but less… stoic?

Not one necessarily of affection nor gentle, but rather… relieved?

The Tsarista mostly appear to be disinterested in a lot of things, usually displaying an indifferent attitude.

Yet somehow she feels expressive today.

As if her cold facade had faded just for a bit, walls thinned down just a little.

He feels it’d be okay to ask her.

“Your highness…” cautiously, while being wary of any change in her expression, “why did you...?”

Why did she do that to you? What was her intention in exiling you after draining every last bit of your power? Remains unsaid.

She glances at her harbinger once, before refocusing on the sea, watching the wobbly reflection of the moon in the gentle tides.

“There was no need to keep up the pointless charade, is there?” the words themselves are cold and harsh, but something lies beyond.

“It’s been far too long. That child has been by my side for so many years. ” Childe patiently waits for the Tsarista to continue. It seems that she is in the mood for talking today, willing to share more.

“My initial plan to utilise adeptus power has been met, there is simply no need to keep that child around any longer.” The soft moonlight basking her figure made her even paler.

The queen of Snezhnaya is hard to understand.

Her words were so subtle and ambiguous, hard to fully uncover the hidden meanings.

Childe may not be the brightest, but for some reason he thought he might just have a faint idea on what she’s conveying.

Archons make the mistakes too. He recalled what Zhongli once told him, when he was still naive enough to not realise his true identity.

Archons, deities with absolute authority. But the geo archon had him realising even divine beings feel remorse for their own actions.

But guilt doesn’t seem to be the right word to describe what the current Tsarista is feeling.

It’s something else, hiding deep behind those walls.

“Did you know? There’s a tradition in Liyue for families to reunite under the full moon, no matter how far they parted.” she gazes at the luminous full moon.

Snezhnaya’s queen does not have any love left for her people - a saying he had heard from somewhere long ago, describing the one and only ruler of his home.

Being an archon does not mean they’re perfect, nor can they protect all their loved ones. In Zhongli’s case, he learnt, would be giving up his beloved adeptus for the sake of his people, and losing close friends in the ancient war.

Then how about the Tsarista? She must have lost something precious too.

But that is not for him to butt into.

“I’m sure the weather would be nicer there, without the neverending snowstorms and hail.”

Does the Tsarista truly have no love left for her people?

“As a previous envoy to Liyue, I guarantee that it’s warm and cosy.” a cheeky grin started to form on his face, getting wider and wider.

But perhaps he already knows the answer.

The Tsarista lets out a soft hum at his response, somewhat sounding relieved.

“Your highness, did you know? Morax frequently forgets to bring mora…”

“And he bought a vase for 1 million mora, and I had to pay!”

“Then La Signora knocked Scaramouche’s hat off! He was so pissed!”

“And that moose-deer being talked! I had no idea it was an adeptus!”

Light chuckles and giggles filled the quiet atmosphere along with Childe’s innocent and non-stop rambling.

Just for today, it’s okay for her to drop her facade.

Maybe, the Tsarista is not as unfathomable.

An archon may not be so different from human mortals, after all.

“I’m sure that Zhongli and them are having a great time.” his grin so wide and bright, “that child, well, a child older than me, is finally back home after all.”

“Happy full moon day, your highness.”

“I believe the correct saying is ‘happy mid-autumn festival’, Tartaglia.”

Childe awkwardly rubbed his head and broke out into a loud laughter.

.

.

.

“Could you help me deliver something when you visit Liyue again?” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a tarnished necklace.

One that is cracked, but pieces of it has been carefully assembled and glued together.

One that resembles the shape of a flower he hadn’t seen in Snezhnaya.

One that seems to be of very old age, considering the oxidized parts. It couldn’t be worth much. Who is the Tsarista giving this to?

“It’s something that child left behind.” Ah. A sudden realisation hits him. So it was not the Tsarista’s own belongings.

“What was done was inevitable for the final destination, I don’t regret it. Yet… that child has been with me for quite some time.”

“That child had quite a hard time. This… is something they held dearly before.” She points at the necklace, running her fingers over the flower. “I wasn’t sure how to give it back.”

So that was why the Tsarista held onto something that seemed so… worn out.

Even though Childe still disapproves of her actions towards you which caused you to suffer, he feels as if he gained a deeper understanding of his archon.

She is meant to be someone brutal who would commit atrocities just to achieve her goal, even if she believes it will lead to peace.

Perhaps that’s why she always kept a certain distance from you. The Tsarista has done terrible things, so, so many heartless and ruthless deeds.

Or maybe, the archons are just not good at communication. Childe huffs at his own thoughts, recalling both Zhongli’s and Tsarista’s expressions when talking about you.

Archons are just as imperfect as mortals are.

The archons sure are hard to understand.

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[squishneedsahero]

The Comfort of A Mother

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 11 of 13

Word Count: 1558

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

As soon as you and your family arrived back home Bruce dove head first into this case, sometimes going for a few days without talking to you more than once or twice. This was usually how things went when there was something big going on, and normally you'd make him pay attention to you at least one every few days. But this case felt different, you felt like he needed this time to work on this one. On top of that you were in the middle of editing another book you'd written so you were able to do something to keep yourself from feeling completely ignored.

It was for weeks on end that life went on like this, and you let it go on for a while, until you had almost finished with editing and noticed that it had been more than a few nights in a row that you had fallen asleep and woken up in bed alone. So tonight after three nights of sleeping alone, it reaches midnight and you make your way down to the cave, knowing your husband had been coming back for Damian to be able to get a reasonable amount of sleep because he had school on the morning, and you wait for him. When they finally arrive back home you're waiting for them, in your pajamas, leaning against the desk of the computer. You had already sent Tim up to bed and volunteered to take over while he got some sleep.

When they get home you give Damian a soft smile as you say, "Sleep well."

He nods in reply and makes his way to change before heading upstairs.

After he's gone you turn to face Bruce, "So, are you going to come to bed dressed like that, or would you like to change?" You cross your arms and give him a look to let him know you're serious about this. "Because as your wife I demand at least 16 hours of your full undivided attention, because it's been weeks."

"Alright, dear," with that he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to your bedroom, still fully dressed as Batman. Once you both make it upstairs he goes and changes into sweatpants and no shirt before coming and lying next to you where he sat you on the bed.

You can tell that he's tired since after he lies down he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms and legs around you protectively and doesn't even say anything to you. "I love you," you state and give him a kiss before snuggling fully into him.

--^--^--

You wake up to Bruce running his hand through your hair, and you open your eyes to see his face in front of yours. "Hi, handsome," you say tiredly.

He smiles softly and gives you a kiss, "good morning beautiful."

You smile and roll over so you're lying on top of him, and glance at the clock. "Well, it looks like I still get another four hours of your attention." With that you look back at him and kiss him deeply, and her slides his hands up your shirt against your back, holding you as close as possible, just wanting to feel your body.

--^--^--

A few hours later as you're lying against his side and tracing your fingers on his chest, he says, "Honey, there's something I need to tell you."

You tilt your head just enough to look at his face, "yeah?"

"The first night I didn't come to bed. It was because we were finally able to track down the Redhood. And, well, I'm not sure how to say this any better, The Redhood is Jason. Jason is alive."

You can hardly believe what it is he's telling you, you're just frozen there staring at him until finally you get yourself to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, thats why I've waited this long to tell you. I needed to be sure for you."

Tears form in your eyes, as you look at your husband. He was serious very often but you had rarely ever seen him this serious, the last time you'd seen this look on his face was as he said 'I do'. He kisses you gently, and you can hardly believe it, your baby who you thought you had lost for these few long years was alive. "Why, do I feel like there is something to this you haven't told me? There has to be a reason he hasn't come here."

"There is... I don't know yet how he came back but he did. He's still recovering his memory. And, he's not the same as he was when we lost him, he's killing people... and I confronted him about it," he looks almost ashamed as he says the last part.

"So, now he's mad at you?" you guess, and his slight nod is enough of an answer for you. "Thats alright, we just need patience. You saw what it took for Damian to even come this far, for Dick to finally come back to us. We'll figure it out, him being alive just means we have that chance again," with that you kiss him to let him know you're serious.

--^--^--

You and Bruce had been invited to the policeman's ball for the GCPD and Bruce wasn't able to come so you had gone for the both of you, ugh. The ball was over so you were heading out to your car that was in the parking garage. As you're walking you keep thinking you hear another set of footsteps. They're subtle and anyone who wasn't married to the most paranoid man in the world wouldn't think it was anything, but you did. You kept walking confidently, trying to figure out where it was they were coming from, since there was no one else out here right now since you were leaving early.

As you get to your car the lights in that part of the garage go out. You freeze not moving to unlock your car, just waiting for whoever it was that had been following you to make the first move. You might be wearing a fancy dress and be in heels but that doesn't mean you can't kick ass if you need too. The first move you make is pulling your heels off, giving yourself a weapon, and making it easier in case you needed to run.

Theres a shuffle behind you and you spin around, only to be facing who you could only assume was Redhood, judging by his choice of headgear. You stay still, waiting for him to make the first move, praying that if it really was Jason he'd say something. Slowly he raises his hands, showing they're empty, and removes his helmet, and a mask from under that. Your breath hitches when you see him, he was older, he looked tired, but there was no mistaking him, "Jason," it comes out barely audible.

"Hi, Mama," thats it. That's all he says.

You pause for a split second before dropping your shoes, and taking a step towards him, holding your arms open, asking if it's alright for you to hug him. He closes the rest of the gap as soon as he sees that. And as soon as he's in your arms thats when you break, thats when you start to sob. You both stand there hugging each other tightly, and as you do you can feel him shaking slightly, but you don't say anything, knowing he just needs to let it out.

Eventually both of you pull away slightly, and you look up at him, he'd gotten so tall, but that doesn't stop you from giving him a motherly kiss on the forehead and holding his cheeks so you can look in his eyes. "Can I ask what happened, or not right now?" You ask this quietly as you look at his eyes, they aren't blue anymore they're an eerie shade of green, and they look hurt, he has this deep pain behind them that isn't just going to go away over night.

"Not right now, please, I just wanted to see you."

"Thats alright, my Jay-bear."

He seems a little startled by the nickname, it had been years since you'd called him that, since anyone had.

"What?" You say raising an eyebrow, "you know you'll always be my little Jay-bear even if you are taller than me now. Is it alright if I tell Bruce I saw you, or would you rather I didn't?" You ask this without explaining why you'd even wonder this.

A small smile comes to his face and he hugs you tightly once again. "You can, it'll be better than him figuring it out himself," a pause before letting go, "I should probably get going... I'll see you around though right ma?"

"Of course you will, my phone number hasn't changed it you need anything. And I can keep a secret at least for a while, so don't go sending me your address, but if you tell me when and where we can meet up." With that you hug him one last time and watch as he puts his mask and helmet back on and he makes sure you get into your car safely and as you head home he heads off into the night.

[parker-razor]

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!! 

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.  

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

[furiosophie]

maybe a little more oh the things we left behind epilogue fluff??? ;u; i know the entire epilogue was fluff but i am insatiable

yes very good thinking anon and sorry for the long wait my brain is just a heap of goo right now but here we go - some ottwlb fluff set between the Mandalorian war and the very last scene of the fic, a small compilation of how Din found the rest of their family:

oh the things we found

small TW for mentions of blood and trauma

Din doesn't in any way plan on becoming a magnet for Force-sensitive children, he really doesn't, but it happens regardless, something about his unique combination of Force-null beskar, Force-conduit darksaber, and Force-bond husband drawing them in like moths to a flame.

He finds Rey first, on a recon mission out to Jakku, casing a distress signal from a lost covert. She can't be any older than Ben, who is seven now and an absolute terror, but in comparison to him, she doesn't listen to Din one bit, her whole life just a series of defying the authority figures around her. She dangles from a rope above him, in the hollowed-out remains of an Imperial Star Destroyer, sticking out her tongue at him. "I'm not coming with you!" she declares while Din tries to position himself in a way that will allow him to catch her if she slips. "I'm waiting for my family. They're coming to get me!"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her no one in their right mind would ever willingly come back to a place like Jakku. He places all his rations, most of his credits, and, just for good measure, some bacta spray on the ground below her like he's making some offering to an ancient feral god and leaves with an ache in his chest.

"She won't come with me," he complains to Luke later, pacing up and down in the living area of the Mudhorn while Luke brews tea. They don't technically live in the Mudhorn anymore, have their own quarters in the ruins of Yavin's temple, but they always end up here regardless, whenever one of them comes back from a mission, whenever they need it to be just the two of them, away from everyone's worries.

Luke hands him a steaming cup and places a soft kiss on his temple. "Don't worry," he says, in that cryptic tone of his, the one he uses to tease Din when he's being daft about something that's impossible for him to know. "She will." And that's that.

Din goes back. Once, twice, three times, until the sparse crowd of locals looks at him with pity in their eyes. She does come with him eventually, after his eighths visit, when he draws the darksaber on a dune beast and turns around to find her looking at him with the type of recognition in her eyes that he's only ever seen in the way Luke looks at Ben and Grogu.

"She's like you," he accuses when Luke greets them at the bottom of the Mudhorn's ramp, Rey perched high on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his helmet so tight it's hard for him to see. Luke just smiles and reaches out so Rey can tentatively take his hand. The change is instant - as soon as their palms touch her whole body relaxes as if something in her is finally at peace and Din has to reach up to keep her from sliding off his shoulders. And well. That's that.

Finn is next, standing tall in front of a group of terrified kids, in a backroom of the imperial laboratory they just raided, his eyes ablaze and lips turned up into a snarl. "I'll fight you," he snaps even as Din can see his hands shaking around the mop he fished out of the supply closet as a makeshift weapon. "I'm not scared, I'll fight you!" And really all Din can do in response is pull his helmet off and fall to his knees with his hands raised above his head.

It seems to work because he gets all of them into the Mudhorn eventually, Finn curled up on the copilot's seat, staring out in wonder at the endless expanse of space while the rest of the kids are rolled up into every available blanket in the captain's quarter. It's a bit of a rough start - where Rey felt turmoil because of the things swirling inside her without guidance, all Finn has ever known is supervision and people telling him to be something he's not, his connection to the Force tempered down in all the wrong places, too silent and too loud all at the same time, and in the first weeks, Din spends a lot of time hugging him close to the beskar plating of his chest, taking strolls under the quietness of Yavin's trees like he used to do with Ben. Finn quiets eventually, just as Rey did, the two of them getting on like a house on fire.

Shara is the one who brings Paige and Rose Tico, two sisters left stranded and alone by the still raging unrest of the remnants of war, and there is barely a discussion before she decides to take them in herself, the two of them glued to Poe the second they step off Shara's ship.

He finds Armitage last, standing over the dead body of an Imperial officer, blood on his hands and all across his face, just a sliver of yellow in the green of his eyes. Din has bruises on his arms for a week from how hard the kid strains against him as he tries to drag him out of the Star Destroyer before it self-destructs, but he figures, all things considered, they'll be able to handle that too.

He turns out to be a menace, of course, too smart for his own good, and way too stubborn to let Ben get away with his teasing, which always seems to end up Luke and Din having to physically drag them away from each other. Din tries to do for him what he did for everyone else, to hold him close and comfort him, but he only ever succeeds in the quiet of the night when he finds him at the very top of the temple wrapped up tightly in Luke's arms, both of them holding onto each other for dear life, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-stained, darkness hanging around them like rain clouds.

Armitage takes a shine to Bo-Katan though, amidst all of his defiance, a fact that seems to confuse her as much as it does Din, and he knows that that will probably spell disaster in the future given how fast and feral Armitage takes to swinging a lightsaber, but to his relieve the Armorer steps up to pull him to her workshop by the back of his neck and balances the murder in his eyes with ever-evolving engineering challenges.

And so it takes a bit, quite a while in fact, but they find their balance eventually, their weird ever-growing family, all of them slotting into each other in a way that sometimes makes Din wonder if this was their doing too, Luke's and his, if in bending the universe around them, and in becoming one in the Force they somehow became a beacon for all those who are lost.

He wonders about it on the nights when, even after Han settles down on Yavin more or less permanently to be closer to Ben, and even after Paz bashfully asks to officially adopt Rey who's been glued to his shoulders for months, and even after Armitage makes it very clear that he doesn't plan to ever be adopted by anyone, Luke comes back from an excursion to find Din pilled into their bed with a bunch of wayward Foundlings.

"Sorry," Din mumbles sleepily as Luke steps over a snoring Paz who's taken up guard in the hallway, "It just happened."

"Is there room for one more?"

"Unlikely," Din sighs as he always does, but Luke finds a spot anyways, shuffling the kids around until they are just awake enough to demand a story from him.

"It's late," Luke smiles as Din pulls him closer to lean their foreheads together in greeting, Grogu climbing up from where he was tucked beneath Ben's chin to settle in between his dads. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"Just one!" Rey pleads from her spot at Din's side, Finn's head popping up behind her in a show of support and Luke raises a warning eyebrow as Poe and Rose scoot closer from where they were sprawled over Din's legs. "You always say we need to be curious about the world around us!"

"It will help us sleep," Armitage argues from his spot at the end of the bed, the one he takes to pretend he doesn't care about any of this, and starts scooting close too, shoving at Ben to make space.

"They make a good point," Din interjects gently and pulls Armitage out of the way and between them before Ben can get up enough to headbutt him with Din's helmet, which is a constant on his head on those nights where they all feel pulled towards each other.

"Traitor," Luke laughs, letting Armitage nestle in closer to him, but he'll tell them about his travels anyways until they are all knocked out and snoring peacefully and Din can press a quick kiss to Luke's lips without having to listen to a cascade of "ew" and "gross".

And so, in the end, he always drifts asleep knowing he doesn't fully understand it, not really, how they all manage to fit so perfectly into each other's lives, how he managed to find this, this place that is domestic in a way nothing in his life has ever been, but he figures he doesn't have to understand it, not when he also knows with absolute certainty that they are all exactly where they are supposed to be.

[maschotch]

No but when you say Hotch is the one that made the team a family, he really fucking did. Gideon didn't really give a shit in the end about the others (maybe Spencer), all he really did was create a massive mess for Hotch.

Hotch did everything within his power to keep his team safe, to own up to his mistakes and to make the team feel like it was a tight knit group of people who witnessed severe trauma everyday. He made everyone feel important, even when his old boss didn't. He learned from the old team, what not to do with the new team, so no one would come out as messed up as Gideon or Will.

P.s, your # are always incredible and so fuckin true.

he really did!!!! that's not to say he doesn't have his own problems as a leader, but without a doubt he's been the best unit chief the bau has had so far. every time we meet an older character from the og gang they're distant and standoffish, often rude and abrasive. in short: not very friendly.

i think what we see is a response to the authority figures in hotch's life. we don't see a lot of hotch's bosses but he usually clashes with them and when someone tries to shut him down his problems with authority really pops out--so i think he tries hard to avoid being the kind of leader that has that degrading mindset. we see how hostile rossi is to the concept of a team when he joins the bau--no doubt he was just as isolating when he was in charge. gideon was more an educator than anything else, but he didn't really have the right disposition to be a stable pillar of the bau. his priority is always the case, so he can be distant and mean, even if its unintentional. and then we have that whole reference to growing up in an abusive household... read into that what you will but odds are he didn't exactly have the best role model there either.

hotch had to figure out for himself how to be a good leader, and he could only learn through his own mistakes or those around him. he knows what not to do: dont beat your kids (a given), dont belittle them, dont make them feel small, dont ignore them, dont let them be cast aside while you deal with other things, dont let them feel unimportant. he saw what he didn't want to be and he made the best out of the tools he had.

even though he's not the bubbliest personality, he really turned the bau into a family. he encouraged collaboration and provided support and created an environment for a family to thrive. sure he has his own problems, but the bau wasn't a family until he was unit chief. that much is clear.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

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For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.