#Nine-ish hours I think I spent on this

[eye-spy-an-eye]

I caved and worked more on this after saying I wouldn’t! So here’s a piece based on secret life!

#art #my art #digital art #mcyt fanart #secret life fanart #secret life smp #sl smp #traffic smp #trafficblr #traffic series #tw dead animal #there’s a lot of little references hidden throughout! #Nine-ish hours I think I spent on this

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter ten

summary: you and luca spend the first weekend of september on holiday in skagen, and luca reflects on the impact your relationship has had on him.

warnings: smut (18+ only) fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: a shorter, smutty, yet pivotal little chapter to get us through the week, friends. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part nine | masterlist | part eleven

As the season begins to turn, Luca remains a constant in your life. It’s not like you expected anything to change about it. The relationship has been good – like, really good – and yet you somehow still find yourself surprised that he’s so easily woven himself into your life. 

It takes you a few weeks to pull it all together: the time off, a trip, accommodations, like where you’ll stay. Change is in the air – a reminder of how far you’ve come – that a romance that started in the summer has flown so effortlessly into the beginning of Fall that it’s almost gone unnoticed. 

You’ve been looking forward to the first week of September for almost all of August, eager to go on your first holiday with Luca. After suggesting the idea, you got right to work, pulling off some fancy footwork to get coverage between everyone else’s end of summer holidays, and now that it’s here? 

What’s another five-ish hours in the car?

You can’t wait to get to Skagen, and at the same time, you want to savor every single moment of this, as you listen to Luca sing softly along to Elton John while he drives. It’s in the way the sunlight hits his golden locks so perfectly, the way the soft low hum of his voice reaches your ears with such a gentleness, the way his fingers fit so perfectly entwined with yours. 

And five hours later, you arrive at your airbnb, a rented cabin designed for romantic getaways in mind, not too far from Grenen Beach. You and Luca take your time unloading the car, hauling your bags from the car port and into your home for the next few days. While you’re not in a hurry, Luca, for the first time all day, seems a little impatient, hasty to get the car unloaded as soon as possible. 

You don’t blame him. He has done all the driving. 

As part of the agreement you made, he proposed to do the drive on the way there (since he’s lived in Denmark for longer) if you did drive home. 

“What do you want to do first?” you ask curiously, wrapping your arms around his neck as Luca sets down the last of what was in the car. 

“Well, after five hours in the car with you, my love,” he begins with a sigh, as he melts into your touch. “I’ve only got one thing on mind.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk, picking up on his more-than-suggestive tone.

“Yeah,” he grunts, hoisting you up off of the floor so that it’s all too easy to wrap your legs around his waist. You laugh, squealing as he does, ghosting your lips teasingly over his as Luca murmurs, “I can’t wait to get you naked, my love.”

And of course, you let him, giving him exactly what he wants as you strip your clothes off, letting him chase you upstairs and into the lofted bedroom. The hour spent in an unfamiliar bed making love to the man that makes your stomach flip, leaves you breathless, boneless, and bewildered that he’s yours. 

It’s not until he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, that your eyes begin to flutter open, snapped shut in response to the way he made you come. You begin to come back down to earth, the reality that you have consecutive days of this to look forward to. 

“You’re amazing,” Luca murmurs against your skin, watching your body react to the way his fingers drag across your skin in soothing patterns. 

“I could say the same thing about you. I think I lost my mind for a second there,” you sigh, letting out a satisfied chuckle because you’re only half-joking. 

He grins, letting out a small laugh as he shakes his head in pure disbelief that you’re here and that you’re his. 

You swear you’ve got stars in your eyes as you look at him, as you open your mouth to ask:

“So… what do you want to do next?” 

-------------------------------

You had been antsy to get out to the beach, and who was Luca to deny you that? 

Right before dinner, you’d discussed. 

That’s when you’d go. 

Luca watches as you play around with your film camera, the sleeves of your Northwestern University sweatshirt pushed up to your elbows as you mutter something about how perfectly the textures of the beach will work for what you’ve been playing around with: double exposure. With wet sand pushed between your toes, you direct your camera lens from the waves of the ocean over to Luca. 

As soon as you catch him staring, a half smile spreads across his face as his eyes land on you, and with a click of the button, you’ve taken the photo. 

“Watcha thinkin’ about, babe?” you ask curiously, looking up from behind your small film camera. 

He shakes his head, the smile becoming bigger as he answers, “You.”

Luca’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches the wind whip through your hair, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling his ears as you smile back at him. Your eyes are filled with such love, such adoration, that he almost says it – almost blurts it out – the three words that have been weighing so heavily on his shoulders as of late. 

Lost in a shared look of love, the feeling of the wild waves slapping against the cuffed hem of your jeans hits you, startling you as it soaks the denim material. 

“Holy shit!” you shriek, taking a few steps back. As you run away from the wild and out of hand crash of the waves, Luca leads you into the other direction, realizing that you’re being chased by the ocean. 

You giggle, because it feels playful, joyous, free, and as you jump a few feet, using the momentum of your running pace, Luca is there to catch you. Like earlier before, but under different circumstances, you wrap your arms and legs around him again, holding onto your film camera for dear life. 

“You got me,” you grin, your voice soft as he holds you in his arms. 

“Yeah,” he replies, certain as the word leaves his lips. 

“It’s good to be gotten,” you say, knowing that the double meaning isn’t lost on either of you. 

-------------------------------

You spend your mornings waking up slowly, exchanging lazy kisses and soft touches, whispering promises to each other of ‘five more minutes’ that are more like thirty (but who’s counting, really?). 

Your days are bright and sunny, spent exploring with Luca as you search for adventures: trips to the museum, walks along the beach, exploring the little downtown area. 

And tonight, on your last night, you don’t want to leave.

Yes, you love the life you built for yourself in Copenhagen, and yes, of course, it’s not too far from what you and Luca do in your spare time when you’re home. 

But there’s something different about the quiet beach town that’s left you devoid of any distraction. It’s just you and him and the love that grows between the two of you. It’s undeniable, unignorable, its sound like a siren in every silence, an alarm clock that wakes you in the middle of the night, shaking you to your very core.

It’s also a kind and a safe love – something you never knew could still feel this enormous, this all-consuming too. 

Luca moves his lips over your jawline, nipping at the skin as his tattooed hands wander, sliding underneath your sweatshirt. You’re more than eager to help, slipping the knit material right over your head before you’re pulling him back down to you, your lips drawn to his like magnets. 

He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt back on after your shower together, and it hadn’t taken long for you to push his sweatpants over his hips, knowing very well the effect his shirtless showboating had on you. It’s no surprise that you’ve found yourself here, underneath his body, gasping as heat pools between your legs. 

Luca’s more than happy to discover that you’re not wearing a bra, groaning into the kiss, as he stacks his body on top of yours. Your legs wrap around his waist with practiced ease and you're left only in your panties. 

You arch your back as his mouth continues its journey south, his blue eyes stealing a glance up at you as he takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth, earning a gasp that escapes your lips. You can feel him smile against your skin as you sigh his name, your body shifting underneath his. 

“Luca,” you repeat, completely at his will as you let him consume you. 

He gives equal attention to both breasts before leaving hot, open mouthed kisses down your belly. His hand with the ‘A’ tattoo slides into your panties, dragging two fingers through your slick. 

“You’re so wet for me, love,” he coos, pressing his index and middle finger just enough into you before withdrawing them, teasingly. “Always so wet for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as you feel Luca’s steady hands dragging your panties down your legs, your wetness leaving a trail down your inner thighs. 

You’re eager to kick off your panties, and as Luca tosses them behind you, his hands are back on you in an instant, smoothing up your legs and pushing them open so that he can fit between them. Your eyes flutter closed as he uses his skilled tongue to lick a broad stripe up your hot, wet heat. You cry out, bucking your hips up into his mouth as he eats you out. It’s like he’s memorized every single thing you’ve ever liked, every single thing that’s ever made you scream, that’s pushed you to pull at his hair while you came on his tongue, and created a cheat sheet of how to get you to your orgasm fastest. 

“Baby,” you pant, your hands tangled in his hair as he drags his tongue over our clit, tracing tight circles over it as your body twists itself underneath his mouth. “Fuck, you’re so good at this. You’re-, OH!”

You shout in pleasure as he slides his fingers in and out of you, and Luca has to admit that he loves the way you feel squeezing around him. He’s rock hard, the sounds of your moans, of your cries, of his name on your lips, unbearably beautiful. He ruts his hips into the bed as he can feel you getting close. 

He knows. 

He knows exactly when you need two fingers instead of one. That when your voice raises in pitch, it means he’s found the exact right spot. That when a string of curses leaves your mouth because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time and that if he keeps going, you’re sure to explode, topple over whatever mountain you’re climbing, ready to fall off and fall with him. 

“Luca, fuck, I’m coming, god, baby, don’t stop, fuck, it’s so good, you’re so fucking good,” you chant, lost in the pleasure he brings you.

You’re not sure that the string of words are even English anymore as they tumble out of your mouth. Luca takes you higher, then higher, the crest of pleasure peaking and crashing around you, as you cum on his tongue. 

Luca takes his time, cleaning you up with his tongue before making his way up your naked body, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. He kisses you with a passion, a fervor, a desperateness that tells you he needs you just as much as you need him. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says against your lips. “When you cum like that.” Another kiss. “So out of control.” You reach up to catch his mouth once again. “So lost in how you feel.” His tongue slides against yours this time as he manages to complete his sentence this go round. 

“And all for me.” 

And with that you’re rolling him onto his back, your mouth trailing over his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and then the hard planes of his abdomen as you make your way down to the top of his briefs. You drag the waistband of his briefs down, up and over his hard on, tossing them somewhere on the floor after you finally get them off. 

Your eyes meet his, catching his gaze as you look up at him, your tongue snaking out just over the head of his cock. Luca hisses, his hands propped up behind his head so that he can watch you as you take him into your mouth. 

“My god, babe,” he groans, as you suck on the tip, sliding your mouth down a little further this time. 

“Fuck.”

You take your time using your mouth and saliva to get him ready for you, bringing your hand up and around his shaft for what can’t fit in your mouth. You use your hand and your mouth to take him, setting a pace that Luca really seems to like. 

You can hear it in the way he moans, the way he seems to be holding back, trying his best not to thrust his hips into your mouth, in the way that he gathers your hair in his hands, moving it all to one side so that he can watch you take him. 

It’s not until you feel him tug at your hair, his hands used as a makeshift ponytail holder, that you lift your head to look at him. 

“Get up here,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

Your mouth is on his instantly, swallowing his moans as you continue to stroke him in the palm of your hand. 

“How do you want me?” you ask him, your voice low and desperate with need. 

Instead of answering, he flips you over so that he’s on top again. You part your legs so that he can fit between them, and you feel him jerk your body down towards him, causing a small laugh to escape your lips. The laugh turns into a moan as Luca presses his thick tip at your entrance, pushing in. You both gasp, sharing a look, a moan, a breath as he stretches you open. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you take him, you swear. You’re:

“Always so tight, fuck,” Luca murmurs, sighing out your name as he buries himself in to the hilt. 

He pauses for a moment, his mind short-circuiting as he feels the way your walls pulse around him. 

With each slow drag of his cock, you keen, feeling every single inch of him as he takes his time teasing you. Without setting any kind of pace, Luca lays one of your legs over his shoulder as he sits tall, grinding against you in a way that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

He watches as he grinds himself into you, his gaze fixed to where you’re connected, unable to tear his eyes away from how you take him. 

“So deep,” you mumble, lost in the way he feels inside of you. “You’re so deep.”

Luca begins thrusting his hips this time a little faster, earning another keening sound that escapes your mouth. And soon enough he’s folding his body over yours, testing your limits of flexibility as he keeps your leg bent over his shoulder, your thigh pressed towards your chest as he pounds away inside of you. 

You can tell that he likes it – what you’ve said so far – so you decide to continue as he fucks you. 

“I love it when you’re this deep. Inside of me,” you pant through each thrust, sure you’re so close to cumming again. “Stretching me.” Another moan. “Filling me.”

Luca can’t help himself. He pauses, wrapping both of your legs around his waist this time as he chases that high pitched gasp he knows means you’re about to come. 

“You fill me so well,” you gasp, your voice getting higher as you squeeze around him, your walls contracting, building a tension that means you’re on the cusp of release. “Feels so good.”

“Luca, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop,” you beg him, as you hold onto his biceps. 

And he wouldn’t dare. 

With a few more deep thrusts, you’re cumming, squeezing around him, grasping at his back like you’re holding on for dear life. 

Luca slows down his pace, giving you short thrusts as he stays deep, letting you come down from the pure euphoria you just experienced. He leans down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips as you catch your breath, your hands exploring his shoulders, his upper back, his arms. 

“You like me deep, hmmm?” Luca asks, his voice low. There’s a quiet dominance – there’s always a quiet dominance – with the way he talks to you, the way he praises you, the way he calls you his. 

“Yes,” you nod, your eyes glassy as you look up at him. 

With a knowing shake of his head he kisses you once more before giving the order:

“Get on your knees.”

Your body shaky, still reeling from your orgasm, you nod in agreement. Your arms may feel like spaghetti, but you somehow make your way onto your hands and knees, immediately feeling Luca’s warm hands smooth over your ass. You push your body backwards, offering more of yourself to him as he sighs in pleasure, remarking once more about how fucking sexy you are like this before pushing himself back inside of you. 

From this position, Luca feels unbelievably deep, and unbearably good. With his first thrust, you fall to your forearms, resting your head against them like all you can do is moan and push your ass back against him. 

“Luca!” you cry out, as he begins to speed up the pace of his thrusts. 

“You are so fucking sexy, baby,” he grunts, noting that he’d die a happy man with the view from where he kneels behind you. 

Slow deep thrusts turn into fast jerks of his hips and yours, chasing your highs simultaneously. You know he won’t last long in this position – everything feels too good. Stilling his hips inside of you, Luca gently guides you so that you're laying on your belly while he lays on top of you. It’s his scotch bonnet hand that goes to your clit this time, reaching around your body to rub feverish circles as his thrusts become sloppier, more unpredictable, always a sign that he’s on the edge. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, his voice strained as he maintains his furious pace. 

“Inside of me,” you managed to get out in between high pitched whines, moans, and heavy breaths. 

“Inside of me, Luca.”

He grunts, because your words alone might get him off right here. 

“Make me yours.”

“Yes, love.”

It doesn’t take long, just a few more thrusts before Luca is spilling himself inside of you with uneven breaths and tense grunts as you both cum, riding out your highs together. 

Whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘incredible’ and ‘yes, baby’ are met with ‘unreal’ and ‘fucking beautiful’ and ‘my love.’ 

Luca leaves, only for a moment, to grab a towel and get you both cleaned up. You lay in each other’s arms for what feels like forever before you begin drifting off to sleep. Luca runs his fingers through your hair as he feels your body relax into his. He’s fallen asleep with you enough times to know that you’re probably no longer listening, off to dreamland. 

As Luca watches the rise and fall of your chest, he smiles to himself, the words on the tip of his tongue. He’s known great love in his life: once in his early twenties and once more, a few years before he met you.

But nothing was this – nothing’s compared to this. 

Almost as if it were a practice round, because he’s not sure whether or not you’ll even hear him, he opens his mouth, trying his best to formulate the words. He turns them over in his head, delicately, gently, then mouths them silently, before finally saying them out loud:

“I think you may be the love of my life.”

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down #luca smut #chef luca smut #the bear smut #luca x reader smut

[th3-0bjectivist]

The Salvation Day Interviews (1 of 2) with musician Anthony Tadlock

     Dear listener, as a special treat and for the edification of music lovers all over Tumblr this is part 1 of 2 of my Salvation Day Interviews with Anthony Tadlock, A.K.A. t-underneaththeradardancing on Tumblr. Mr Tadlock, I recently spent several hours listening to Salvation Day. Thanks for agreeing to answer some questions about your band’s music. 

    When I dive headlong into music that I’m not too familiar with there’s always this sense of discomfort, but when I started with Mercy from your EP, The Backdoor Sessions, I felt distinctly like I was sitting in a new bar and listening to an exceedingly talented local band perform live. I know we’ve discussed this one-on-one before, but for the peeps on Tumblr, what was the actual genesis of SD, and how did you and Ms Vita Rhie Quintanilla meet? What was the spark that brought you two together to record in the first place?

     to set the stage - so to speak - i had been performing with and jamming and hanging with a young musician - very loose no muss fuss - 3 weeks before meeting vita i had a mild heart attack - mild but the hospital experience was literally a nightmare and nearly killed me - a couple weeks after getting out i was invited over to play/ jam/hang out - wuz expecting at most a couple other ppl to b there - btw to digress - t is very much an introvert - to digress further - t is a stage name but the only name ppl in the music aspect of my life know me by or call me - anywaves - i had just set up my guitar and amp when i could feel a presence coming down the stairs - a young woman - at 1st i guessed 25- ish which would make her the 2nd oldest in the room - she looked at a painting of crows and i said something to her about my love of corvids - i was improvising on guitar - some blues - i think a bass player was playing along and maybe another guitar - she started singing improvising lyrics and we started riffing off each other - her voice blew me away - then she started playing her original songs - omfg ! - anyway - i hoped that we would play together again

     a couple weeks later she walked into Madrone Art Bar where i frequently played open mics -she was with my friend - both joined me on stage and we did what i call "deep space nine " which is what i called any unplanned unrehearsed collaboration onstage - i of course could not remember her name - she handed me a business card lol - she told me she had a weekly gig at a cafe i had performed at and would i like to join her - by this time i knew she was diagnosed w schizoaffective disorder - that she was 17 still in high school and a witch - we started performing together playing her gigs - open mics - on the street ...there is of course more to the story which may be covered as we go on

    I went through every song on Salvation Day’s YouTube page, the instrumentals and the voice go very well together, and I must admit, there is great synergy on display. You two had me mesmerized a few times, particularly with tunes like Para Ti and Reincarnation. Tell me, do the instrumentals come first, or do the lyrics/vocals come first, or somehow both at the same time? What goes into the process before you record?

     virtually all of salvation day songs are mostly vita - the lyrics in particular - some have come out of improvising at gigs - or as vita would say - we are just gonna pull something out of our ass now - some she has already "arranged " before i hear them others she asks me to figure out some chords and key - it should be noted that after graduating high school she moved to davis ca about 100 long miles away with no good way of getting there and back on public transit - required bus ride - a subway ride and finally a train and took 3 hours - neither of us drive though she recently learned - t cant see for shit so - and there was lots of drama in the summer preceding - however we rarely felt the need to rehearse - at early gigs i would ask whats the 1st chord and what key - sometimes the answer was - idk - jimi hendrix chords lol - sometimes they were jazz chords i didnt know - i still play a lot of chords im not quite sure the name of and double stops that suggest a chord - on a good night i play by ear and improvise mostly - when we decided we were gonna make an album - we formalized the arrangements and figured out keys etc ...

     sometimes - like last week when we got together after not playing together in a couple months - tho exchanging some snippets thru email text etc - vita thought of some lyrics on the spot - i started playing some chords - we fucked around w it a bit - made a rough recording on fones and will see if something comes of it - Reincarnation was written just before we met - vita says the songs morphed and become different thru my influence - Para Ti she had come up with a couple months after we started playing together - we were at the friends house - and he had become totally indisposed - we were supposed to start the recording process that day - we waited around to see if he would improve and she started playing it - i came up w the lead guitar lines - btw to digress to q 1 - vita was often in and out of hallucinations and delusions at the time - she has no memory of the 1st time we met and hazy about the beginning period - one last example Mercy - written entirely by vita - tho my guitar was central - she sent me an audio file - it has chords i dont know - i just followed her voice and elaborated - tbh i still dont know what key it is in lol - like jack sparrow eluding capture we just make it up as we go

    Do you have any advice for aspiring musicians out there based on your experiences with SD so far? Have you had any creative blocks or serious problems when generating new music? If so, how do you get through them, and what do you think the most important thing is for a musician to do when they feel discouraged or dejected by their own bad experiences with music making?

     whew - thats a tough one - i have been playing guitar for almost 60 years - been in a number of bands and playing situations - have been discouraged countless times - most recent was the whole experience of recording a studio album with a producer - it was hugely stressful for myriad reasons and ego deflating and not in a good way - we coped w that by recording the Backdoor Sessions ep - the bulk of was recorded in a couple hours in vita's tiny dorm room using garageband - it was done without rehearsal - and we played 2 gigs in january that we were happy with also w no rehearsal - we also released vita's book The Schizophrenic Dialogues - all while covid was rearing its ugly head - no gigs to promote anything - no spoken word opportunities - vita was in terror of infecting me - between age COPD and heart i was a likely candidate to die - so we saw each other rarely

     i had invested a huge amount of $ in the studio album - to cope vita started a collective based on Sacred Arts Productions - a jewelry biz and an art biz - i worked w our web designer / friend / collaborator maggie umber to get our web site up - and started recording daily snippets for instagram and spammed the fuck out of tumblr - vita and i met mostly outdoors - playing mostly acoustic where the chances of infecting me were minimized (she got covid twice during this period ) so i guess my advice is 1) forget the ego and bullshit that goes w doing - anything - but particularly the creative 2) forget about "success" and numbers - sales/listens/hearts...3) just keep on keepin on - that said it aint easy sometimes - i been playing as i said almost 60 years - theres still so much i dont know - i try to learn new things and ways almost daily - just showing up is sometimes a victory

     Listen to Salvation Day on Youtube. Back at the end of the next week with part 2 of my Q&A with Mr Tadlock. If you liked this post, please spread the word about SD and consider reblogging this set of interviews. And if you haven’t done it yet, scroll to the top of this post and smash play!

#salvation day #para ti #path of sacred art #anthony tadlock #vita rhie quantanilla #interview #music #music on tumblr #audio #audio video #great voice #great instrumentals #california band #rock music #blues music #jazz standards #san francisco band #T is one of my fav musicians on tumblr #been waiting to pick his brain

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 8

Baby Fever - Chapter 8

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Slight angst/anxiety, some fowl language, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 2,000 (ish)

Author's Note: This one took a lot of pondering to figure out what to write, but it came to me all at once so I got this typed up pretty fast. It's another slightly angsty but later fluffy chapter.

xxx

You'd never been big on parties, at least not ones centered around you. Even as a child, you'd found yourself blushing when your family sang you happy birthday or when they made a big deal out of your graduations (8th grade, high school, and college). You weren't a super shy person, but you didn't like being the center of attention when in a large group.

It wasn't any different with your baby shower. If anything it was worst. At twenty-eight weeks pregnant, the beginning of your third trimester, you were starting to feel huge, and that day you were feeling particularly achy and moody. You loved your family, but you spent most of the party grinning and baring it, putting on a show for their sakes.

It didn't help your mother and sister had surprised you with it, only telling Marcus to bring you and drop you off at your mother's house at nine in the morning on that day. If you'd had a say you'd have made it so everyone could be there, including Marcus, but since your mom had taken a large roll in the planning of it the celebration was traditional in every sense of the word - meaning no boys allowed.

Normally you wouldn't have been too bothered by being separated from Marcus for a few hours, you still worked full time after all, but the mood swings you'd been having recently meant that sometimes you were really clingy to him, and that was the feeling you had that day. You just wanted to go home and curl up in his arms.

On top of that, getting baby gifts from your family really brought home that you were just a few months away from having your baby, already. Despite the roller coaster ride that your pregnancy had been at times, it had flown by, and you felt overwhelmed by how much you still had left to do before the baby arrived.

You'd survived your baby shower, but by the time your aunts and cousins left you were exhausted and more than a little anxious to get home.

Your sister offered to bring you home after your last aunt left at three, and helped you load your parents' car up with all the gifts you'd gotten. Once everything was packed in you shared a final hug with your mom who told you, knowingly, to get some rest.

"When are you going back home?" you asked your sister on the way out of your parents' driveway.

"I'm going to be on an early flight tomorrow morning," Emily replied.

"How's Aaron doing alone with Henry?"

Emily had come to Washington D.C. without her little family this time.

"Henry just started potty training so I can imagine it's been an interesting couple of days," she said with a chuckle, "But Aaron's been an amazing dad so I don't think I'll be walking into a horror show when I get back, hopefully."

"Was it hard leaving Henry for two days?" you inquired curiously.

She sighed. "More than you could imagine. He's growing up so fast. I'm afraid when I get back I'll find a teenager in my house."

You snorted. "That's a little dramatic, Em. But I think I can kind of relate on that part. It feels like just weeks ago, not months, that I found out I was pregnant."

"How are you feeling about that?" she quizzed. "You seemed kind of off today."

It was your turn to sigh. "I'm just in a mood today, and you know how much I love parties -"

"Sorry -"

"It's okay," you assured her. "I appreciate you and mom throwing it for me. I promise, I do. And the gifts will really help out. There's so much to buy for a new baby, you know that, and now I can cross off like ninety-nine percent of the items off my list. It'll be less stressful in the long run."

"The thing is, it reminded me how close I am to being a mother and how I don't feel as prepared as I thought I'd feel by now," you admitted.

"Oh, sis," Emily said with a sympathetic tone, "They say no one's ready for a reason. You can only prepare for parenthood so much. Most of it is learn as you go, especially since each baby is unique. You probably won't understand her at all at the beginning, and that's going to be tiring and stressful, but it gets better, and you will get there."

You curled an arm around the underneath of your swollen belly and nodded, feeling a little better at her honesty. "Thanks, I needed to hear that. There's still a part of me that's going to continue fret about all I need to do before though."

"That's only natural," she told you. "Just remember you aren't alone. Aaron was a big help. I'm sure Marcus has and will be as well. That man's always stuck to your side whenever I see you together; I'm surprised he didn't insist on staying."

You laughed. "Yeah. He's been great. I couldn't ask for a better partner. I never thought a man could be so attentive before him."

Emily smiled warmly. "I'm so happy you found him, sis. Especially since that led to my little niece."

You rubbed your baby bump as a smile also graced your face. "I am too."

x

Marcus was approaching the car even before your sister had it in park in your driveway, having probably been watching out for it.

He stood by your door as you got out and gave you a peck on the cheek before shutting it behind you.

"Did you enjoy the party?" he questioned.

"It wasn't bad," you answered honestly. "I wish you could've been there though."

"I was banned from entering the house," he told you.

You rolled your eyes. "That's my mother for you." You loved her, but she was a stickler for traditions, whether they were outdated or not.

His eyes registered the stuffed back seat and his eyebrows shot up. "We might need a bigger room for the baby."

You chuckled. "My family has never been stingy on gifts. Especially for babies. I don't think we'll have to buy much. There's some stuff in there I'd never even thought about getting. Never saw them on any of the essentials-to-buy lists online."

"Those are never complete," Emily huffed as she glanced over to you both. "Trust me, you'll need it all."

She made her way to the trunk and started filling her arms with items, handing you some lighter ones as she did so, while Marcus took on the heavier objects. Between the three of you the car was unpacked in fifteen minutes and all the gifts were cluttered in the center of what used to be the spare guest room.

Marcus had been busy while you were at the baby shower evidently, having put a layer of fresh paint on the walls - a lovely shade of yellow you had chosen out with him a week before at the nearest hardware store. It reminded you of the sun at sunrise.

"The paint looks great," you told him after your sister had left to return to your parents' house. "I thought you were going to wait until my dad could help you though?"

"I had nothing else to do today, and I figured hey, I have an art degree, I should be able to paint a few damn walls by myself," he explained.

"In art history," you pointed out with a laugh.

He shrugged. "No matter."

You grinned. "You're right. It doesn't matter. And thank you."

"No need to thank me," he said, pulling you into his embrace and kissing your temple. "I want to do whatever I can for you and the baby, which really isn't all that much. This feels like the least I can do."

"You help more than you think," you told him, resting your head against his expansive shoulder. "But I know how you can contribute more."

He gave you his full attention and you smiled at him before gesturing at the closet. "Get in there and clear it out. We're going to need the storage space."

"So bossy," he teased as he parted from you to follow the order.

"You like that."

"True."

x

An hour later the nursery's closet had gone from being filled with random items you and Marcus rarely used to being stuffed with baby clothes, toys, and diapers. Lots of diapers.

Most of the stuff he'd taken out you decided could go in the basement, but there was one item you'd insisted you would find space upstairs for - Marcus' old bass guitar.

He'd once been in a band with his college buddies, had played bass and even sang back up vocals a little, but once he'd graduated he had all but retired from playing. He'd played for you a few times while you were dating, but most days it sat around collecting dust.

Despite this, there was no way you were going to have him get rid of it or hide it in an even easier spot to forget about it. You loved that Marcus could play an instrument. Having a boyfriend who was in a band would've been your dream come true as a teen. You were still kinda bummed you hadn't met him back when his band was active.

At least you could still have a private show on occasion.

"Play something for me," you demanded, shoving the instrument at him after the nursery was mostly organized.

He obliged you without any protest, setting up everything he needed to get the bass guitar in working order, and sat down in the rocking chair your mother had gifted you last month.

He began to pluck at the strings with his thick fingers and you leaned against the wall as you listened carefully to the music he was making. The beat sounded familiar and you wanted to take a guess at what song he was covering.

After thirty seconds or so, you were pretty sure you'd figured it out, but you waited until the end of the song to guess, beaming at him as he gently placed the guitar on the floor beside his leg. "Was that Everything Little Thing She Does Is Magic?"

He smiled back up at you. "It is, though I slowed it down a bit."

"The Police," you hummed, stepping towards him. "My man has great tastes."

"That's what you say every time I play," he said with a smirk.

"It's true every time." Marcus was a classics kind of guy, and you were good with that.

Your knees brushed his and he spread his legs so you could stand between them. He met your eyes as you did so, and his hands traveled up your blue maternity jeans to your waist, where he fanned his right one out over your firm swell. He soothed the area then bent forward to kiss the center of it, and your heart soared watching him make the soft gesture. You raked a hand through the hair at the back of his head, basking in the moment.

When he lifted his head again he gently guided you away from him so he could stand and kiss you sweetly on the lips. "I'll go start dinner."

"You don't have to do that," you protested. "You've worked all day."

"You've been busy too," he pointed out before kissing you again, "And you know I like to make a fuss."

That he did, and you were too tired to argue against something that was deeply embedded in his nature.

"Fine, but I'm making tomorrow's meals."

"Deal."

And with that, he led you down the hall to the couch before setting to his cooking task.

It wasn't until he called for you to come eat (pancakes of course) that it occurred to you how fitting the lyrics of the song he'd chosen to play was for him.

xxx

Tagged: @amyispxnk, @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Marcus Pike Fanfic (Mine) #X Reader #Baby Fever Series

[astral-catastrophe]

I hate how this girl said I was her best friend.

Her best fucking friend in the whole fucking world.

Then the next I know. My simple question about her coming to a thing after class turned into an hours long argument over Snapchat because she was too much of a coward to say it in person. Or over text. A phone call. Snapchat. A place where her messages would be gone the second I saw them.

Then the way she switched between “you did nothing wrong” and. The “you did everything wrong”.

Then the. “Okay maybe I should have done a b and c.” But the phrasing and her perfectly posed self was a grab for me to immediately assure her she’s fine and did nothing wrong. I’ve seen her do it to others and explain it to me.

So I answered with a simple. “Yea. You should have.”

And so I stopped reaching out. It was always me who would reach out in the first place. So seeing that she won’t do the same and is clearly fine with her entire damned “friend group” angry with her over how she treated me? Everyone I showed her messages too said that no, I wasn’t crazy for seeing manipulation in her words. Because I was being actively manipulated through her sympathy pulls.

So. I was her best friend. But now that I told her how I felt about the crap she’s pulled, that’s five years down the drain.

Five years. Five whole years??

I meant so little to her that she would rather hang out with exclusively her boyfriend and not her actual friends, just because I’m me.

Just because I am who I am. Just because I decided I wouldn’t stand for any shit from anyone.

All because I asked if she was coming to something after school.

I hate the whole victim mentality stuff. Like. I can see. Did I say things I should not have? Oh probably, but did I say it in defense? Did I say it because I’ve been trying to live by my brutal honesty? Did I say it because I was tired of being treated like that? Did I say it because I’ve had too many awful friends?

Did I say all that because I hadn’t talked to someone who claimed to be my best friend in over a month because she wouldn’t make efforts to meet me halfway?

I spoke from a position of someone who wanted their friend back and only tried to defend themself.

Should I have told her that it’s upsetting that she never makes the effort to be around any of us anymore? I’m not sure.

But she shouldn’t have blown up on me for a simple question. She created a problem, singled herself out, then took out all her issues on me. We were best friends, as you claimed. So fucking explain why I haven’t properly seen or talked to you since the beginning of November, which was three ish weeks before this all went to hell. If we were best friends, you wouldn’t have abandoned me for a boy you’ve known for nine months now.

Nine months, verses five years. She wanted me as her maid of honor to her wedding with this guy. She wanted me to help wedding plan.

We’re still kids. I refuse to take part in that.

Especially since the last time I saw her it was in the hallway between classes. She excitedly came up to me, acting like nothing was wrong. My fight or flight kicked in and I booked it because the anxiety was so so high from an out of character moment.

But I hate myself for wondering if I want her back. I hate myself because no matter what I said the outcome would have been the same. Because no matter what I’ll do or could have done it’s always gonna be her boyfriend over me. I’m the second choice. The fallback.

Do I really want her back over the nights I’ve spent near hysterics. It’s almost five am and I’ve been up for hours anxiety ridden and thinking through so much.

Do I want her back after her manipulating me? Would I be able to look her in the eye without seeing the “I have an issue with you acting like I'm the bad person” and the “I know you do care. But I haven't heard a single fucking word until today” and the “And then you blowing up on me for not communicating. I stopped trying to communicate because when I do I barely get a response” ?

I communicated more to her than I did to anyone else. Anyone else. I dropped things I wanted to do to see her. I didn’t blow up. I only asked a simple question.

Am I horrible for asking a question, then defending myself when being accused of stuff that’s not true? Because oh man. I shouldn’t have said a word. Next time I’ll keep my silence because my words are too sharp and too true for people to handle.

#Thanks to the dissociation every time I look back on it I see it as like. An outsider almost. #Like there’s no way on earth that I lost the girl who called me her best friend like that. What happened to the girl I used to know. #The one who messed with my hair and helped me through anxiety attacks. The one who would tell me anything because she trusted me #And because she wanted my opinions and input. #It’s like. I am not a victim here and don’t want to make myself out to be one. #I made poor choices in responding so defensively. #But I didn’t deserve that. #If it happened to a friend of mine instead of me. Id rule the same. #It’s her fault. Because no matter who I put in my place. In my shoes. No matter who it is. #I’m still feeling angry for what she said. Even when I’ve derealized the situation to a point that it doesn’t feel like it happened to me. #So I can see how my irls are angry with her. While I’m just. Indifferent. Numb. And hating myself for it.

[blogforclasstpfr]

Blog Post #4 Unit 10-12

Now, at the end of the course, reflect back on the content from our initial discussion about technology and society, tech's functions, and warnings about its benefits and its challenges... through to the many ways that families use and are affected by technology to professionals' use. What are your thoughts about technology and the family now? Have they changed and if so, how and about what, and why? If not, why not? Are you left more confused knowing more about technology's advantaged and disadvantages? Or are you inspired to make changes in your personal life or make change in others' lives related to technology?

In the beginning of this course I knew that technology played a big role in today's lifestyle. I grew up during the emergence of technology. In my early life technology wasn't very present in my home life. My family and I were more outside and played ball more than spending time on electronics. Phones weren't that advanced back then. Computers were very expensive and not very game like. Of course I had the game cube and little consoles like that but at the time the lifestyle was different back then. It was odd to spend so much time on electronics. Move forward in time to our present where we live for technology. It's interesting to see how technology plays such a big part in people's lives.

Before this class I had a very minimal view of the impacts of technology in families. I knew it must've had some impact but to what degree or how deep it could go i never would've imagined before this class. I couldn't give  a clear wording of how i thought about families and technology because truthfully i didn't think about it. This class really broke open the door for a deeper understanding of technology in family parenting. 

Since taking this class, I'd say my views have not changed but rather developed and blossomed. Because taking this class I feel I have a deeper understanding of how technology has impacted family parenting. One view that I developed in this class that I feel is worth mentioning is about how much time I and others spend on electronics. ITs no secret that electronics can be very stimulating. I myself love to play my video games and read endlessly on my reading apps. But it's very concerning how much we use electronics. In the beginning of this class, electronic use felt very normal, that it wasn't necessarily bad for you. But after taking this class I very much feel that the amount of time I spend on my electronics is insane. Whether it is for school or even personal use. Everything is spent online pretty much. Not only did the technology use project shed light on how much time I was spending on electronics there was also a report done by commonsense, which found that “Teens use an average of nine hours of entertainment media per day, and tweens use an average of six hours, not including time spent using media for school or homework. Of that, tweens average more than four and a half hours of screen media use a day and teens more than six and a half hours”. An average day is 8 ish hours, so to spend basically your whole day on electronics is a crazy amount of time. In a total of a year, a teen has just spent over 91 days of their life online. While yes i am not a teenager now, my online habits have not changed since being a teen, if anything it has actually increased. So in that sense I really formed a strong opinion on the importance of unplugging for a while. 

Since the realization of how much my life is spent online I've really come to feel that it's important for myself and others to unplug for awhile. The endless hours I've spent scrolling the internet or app has become very meaningless to me, I hate that I've wasted so much time doing that. According to WIRED, infinite scrolling is a great way to keep your engaged in the app you're using. I've really come to embrace that there can be a healthy median with electronics and unplugging for a while. Unplugging really allows you to take a deep breath and enjoy the life buzzing around you. While I can clearly see the advantages to technology in today's society, I also recognize that it's important to spend time with family unplugged. I think this class really gave me a better sense of the impact of technology and how to help navigate through it with myself and for others. 

https://www.commonsensemedia.org/kids-action/articles/tweens-teens-and-screens-what-our-new-research-uncovers 

https://www.wired.com/story/wired-guide-to-internet-addiction/ 

*Links bolded to show where mentioned in post

[dr4kenlvr]

but.. i'm ur baby too

pairing: ran haitani, rindou haitani, hanma shuji, sanzu haruchiyo, draken x fem!reader

genre/wc: fluff (1.0k, 200-ish words each)

request: omg i need more father/husband!tokyorev headcannons/scenarios 😭 maybe one where the guys get like jealous that we're not giving them attention bc of the babies?? or the other way around?? it's okay if you don't want to tho !!

a/n: so glad you enjoyed my other headcanons. requests are closed, but i couldn't resist writing such a cute concept. please enjoy! in some i strayed away from the husband jealous of wife & baby but it works me thinks + bonten member spoilers.

he understood. why wouldn't he. you were a busy woman: working nine-to-five, tending to the needs of yourself, your husband, and now—your child. it was expectant of you to be digilant and occupied for more of your leisure time. that leisure time that was previously spent with him, now spent with the child. don't get him wrong, he loves you and your kid, but the small guilty itch whenever he hears you say "not now love, i need to change the bub's diaper." as he tries to get you into the mood. or the persistant cry of the baby at ungodly hours of the night—you'd leave him alone in bed, or groggily ask him to tend to the baby's needs. but what about his?

RAN slouches further into his cushion seat, lips pursing as he stares across the room to the sight of you feeding his year old daughter. he smiles when he sees you create a makeshift airplane with the spoon, swooping and landing it gently into your baby's mouth as she giggles and claps in delight.

"mm! yummy right?" you nod along with her. "good girl!"

ran's smile falters as he blanks out. he remembers when you and him first started dating, he'd babied you like that too—he still proudly does. but when are you gonna pay attention to him again? can't you see him sulking in the corner of the dark-lit living room? back slumped against lonely chairs practically begging for you and his baby to sit with?

you glance over at your husband, who smirks at you in acknowledgment. 'gotta stay cool' he tells himself, but immediately abandons the facade when you motion him over with a teasing grin—ran haitani is pudding in your hands.

RINDOU pushes another drawn yawn as his eyes droop downwards. sanzu gave him shit today at work, going on and on about some nonsensical matter that rindou had no intention of paying any mind to. he brushes a hand through his cotton candy locks as he peers into the crack of your's and his room. what he found was endearing: sleeping soundly was you and his son, your arm wrapped protectively around the boy's back as you held him close to your chest.

he pushes the door open further and leans against its frame. though happy to be back home, rindou wishes he could've gone to bed with the both of you. every night nowadays, he came home to the sight of you and the baby fast asleep already—leaving him to carry through the rest of the night's activities alone, as a way to allow you two to rest. a small ache rises in his chest but he swats the feeling away with another yawn.

"missed you both," he whispers as he climbs into bed after a well-needed shower. carefully pulling the blanket over and around himself, he pecks a kiss to you and your son's foreheads. "g'night my loves."

HANMA bids goodbye to the last guest of his party, stretching his limbs and dropping his smile as he closes and locks the door. he rubs his face with a stroke of his hand, eyes blearing with tiredness. a sweet sound interrupts his thoughts: the giggles of his son and wife, playing together on the soft living room carpet.

"honey," he calls out, head peaking over the wall. you were too occupied to hear, placing a lego block on top of the tall tower you and the baby had been building for the past hour. huge piles of pieces and blocks were scattered all over the floor, proving difficult for hanma to sneak around without causing striking pain in his feet.

"honey—"

"—hold on love, i'm almost done here."

hanma stutters, hmph, so that's how it is. you're too busy with the baby to pay attention to him. well, there's only one solution: play with you and the baby. he sits down, handing over a lego block to his son who's been making grabby hands at it with his chubby fingers. he squeals at his father with a big smile. hanma chuckles, "you're welcome little one."

you on the other hand, cherish this quiet moment between your (typically loud) husband and son.

SANZU groans in annoyance as he gets off the phone with his associate, "i told him to get the shit done by noon," he grumbles to himself—only to realize he's grumbling to himself and not you. and where's his daughter?

he searches the living room, basement, and bedroom to no avail. next door however, he hears your voice rhythmically sound out "a.. b.. c.. d, like dog! next is e," right after he hears his little girl repeat "a... mm b!... c...."

sanzu's heart soars at her voice, but he grumbles at the mommy-daughter time without him. he pushes through the door, cheering with enthusiam as his daughter smiles up at him and claps her hands along. he leans down to her small height. "my little girl learnin' the alphabet? she's the smartest hmm? you're gonna kick all the other kid's ass in school ain't cha'?" sanzu says, before he receives a pointed glare from you.

"ass!" your daughter calls out. sanzu's eyes widen as he chuckles in shock and delight.

"haru!"

DRAKEN shimmies off his jacket and pulls off his boots, entering his and your home at 9PM. he huffs in exhaustion, today was a long day at work. honestly, every day of this week felt like a long day at work. draken was a busted engine; muscles sore and back aching from leaning over bikes all day to satisfy his customers.

he hears the low hum of the TV play music, recognizing the voice of pablo from the backyardigans, his son's favourite show. he clutches his pablo plushie tighter to his chest as he sees his father walk towards him, screaming "daddy!"—effectively stirring you awake from your mini "nap-sesh".

"hey fighter, what you up to?"

"watching shows with mommy! she's trying her the best, even if she's sleepy." your son replies, and shakes his head when you protest with weak effort, sleep evident in your actions.

draken smiles at you two, "well, you've been spending a lot of time with mommy nowadays, why don't we let her sleep while you and i stay up hm?" he suggests. your son nods excitedly, telling him he wants to watch a movie with his daddy.

"sounds like a plan," draken gives his son a fistbump with a happy grin.

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @faetarou @kazuhoya @eriskaitto @gwynsapphire (send an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs & comments are appreciated! <3

#ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #hanma shuji x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #draken x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #hanma x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader fluff #ran haitani x reader fluff #rindou haitani x reader fluff #rindou fluff #sanzu fluff #sanzu haruchiyo x reader fluff #hanma shuji x reader fluff #hanma shuji fluff #hanma fluff #draken x reader fluff #draken fluff #tokyo revenges drabbles #ran haitani drabble #rindou haitani drabble #draken drabble #hanma shuji drabble #sanzu haruchiyo drabble #request

[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

#TCW Leverage AU #Disaster Lineage #Modern AU #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #Implied Codywan #Mentioned Obitine #Implied Rexwalker OR Rexsoka (unclear to POV character) #Yoda #Count Dooku #Qui Gon Jinn #and various others #Phoenix Posts #nazi mention #red scare mention #violence mention #Leverage AU #crossovers #homophobia mention #racism mention

[thegirlwiththewritingthirst]

Joker’s Masterpiece

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Requested: no

Word count: 3200 ish

Warnings: mentions of death and blood

Summary: reader is best friends with Tim drake and is dating Jason Todd. But she doesn’t know their secret identities or the fact that she has known Jason since she was 11 years old…

English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes I made.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tim, stop whining, I can drink a beer. High school kids drink beer. I bet you drank things far stronger than a beer when you were 18.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m a hundred years old Y/N. I’m just 23.”

“See that’s my point. We were both in the same class and we both have a bachelor's degree. I don’t see you can drink while I can’t.”

“Because! I’m 23 and you’re 19. You went to college early, you’re not old enough for alcohol!”

“Which means I am mature and smart enough to handle a little beer!”

“The age limit isn’t there because of that! It’s because…”

“Oh please both of you, can it! Drake, sit your ass down! Y/N here’s a beer. Now. Shut. Up. Ok? I’m getting a headache!” Jason interrupted the two best friends with an annoyed look written all over his face. He stormed off, shutting the door behind him, almost breaking it.

“I believe that Master Jason has had a tough and difficult week. You should be upset with him.” Alfred said calmly afre Jason had stormed off.

“Really because I thought he was mad at me and wanted to rip my head off.” Tim groaned.

After a while we started watching TV when the news came up, saying the Joker had escaped Arkham Asylum. The shiver that went down you spine attracted Tim’s attention.

“Why do you always shiver when we hear his name?”

I looked at Tim. I had never told him about my encounter with the clown monster of Gotham.

I was 11, he attacked my class, killing everyone from the teacher to the students. I was so scared. I was under my desk looking for my pen when he came inside killing everyone with a rifle. My friend was dead beside me, bleeding out on the ground. I laid down on the ground near the puddle of blood next to him. I put my hand in his blood and made a red spot on my shirt, to make it seem like I had been shot too and that we were sharing the same puddle of blood. I was extremely bright with an IQ of 167. So my parents had homeschooled me before this year. And I would spend three months a year studying and the next nine months having fun. My father was a scuba diving instructor and we spent a lot of time together at the pool and the sea. So I was able to hold my breath for 6 minutes at a time. But for my fifth grade I had asked my mom to let me go to school, I wanted to have friends. All I could think about was how I must be a horrible person for using my friend’s blood to survive. The thing is I really wanted to be dead at the moment so I didn’t move at all, guilt washing over me, it paralyzed me. I couldn’t move. I breathed once every five or six minutes, the joker really thought I was dead. Sixteen hours later Batman and Robin were taking each body out, delivering them to their parents. I was conscious but I really couldn’t move at that point. I don’t know if it was exhaustion from the uncomfortable situation I had laid in, if it was hunger and I had no energy to move or if it was still the guilt not allowing me to move. When Robin picked me up, he flinched. I felt his flinch. I still remember his dreamy voice.

“Batman, I think this kid is alive. She’s warm.”

“Does she have a pulse?”

“I don’t know. She’s warm but I don’t feel her pulse. Maybe it’s really weak. Let me check the bullet wound”

He put me on surface and he started taking off my jacket. I was left in my top. He pushed the hem of my top up, the shirt had a bloody spot on it. I had done that so the Joker would think I’m dead, that I had been shot. He touched my stomach so lightly, so softly it was barely noticeable, or maybe I was dying of dehydration and hunger that my senses had been weakened.

“Batman there is no bullet wound.”

“Then where did the blood come from?”

“I think she did it herself. Maybe she wasn’t shot and pretended to be. She’s still warm and…”

I finally came out of shock. I really wasn’t dead. Robin said so. He said I’m not dead. He said I’m pretending. I let go. Batman was safe. Robin was safe. They wouldn’t hurt me. I let go of the control I had on my breathing and my chest started rising and falling. That’s what made them stop talking, the sound of me letting go of my breath. I was alive. They were dead. Everyone was dead and I was alive. Because I dropped my pencil. This is not right. I felt the tears leave the corner of my eyes and I started sobbing. Robin slowly picked me up and put me in his lap and asked me to open my eyes. I couldn’t do that. The tears were falling and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was still unable to move.

“Hey. I know you’re really scared right now. But I need to see your eyes to make sure you’re ok. Don’t you wanna go back to mommy and daddy?” His voice was so soft and kind. No. I didn’t want to go to mom and dad. I didn’t deserve it. If I stay still for a few more hours I’ll die too, just like I should’ve. I moved and shook my head no. I slowly opened my eyes and shook my head no again.

“What is it doll? Do you not have parents? Do they hurt you? What is it?”

His eyes were so nice. They made me feel safe. I started crying louder and I told him that I shouldn’t be alive, that if I stay unmoving enough I’ll die like I should’ve. That it isn’t fair that Dennis died and I’m alive. Dennis wanted to be the president. He wanted to change the world. I should’ve died instead of him. I’m alive just because I dropped my pencil. He just blinked at me. He realized that I may have been 11 but I was far more mature than that.

“None of you should have died. The Joker changed the way things should have been. It isn’t your fault that you’re alive. It’s his fault that they’re dead, not yours. You should wanna go outside and live the best life you can instead of your friend. He would want you to be happy. You should live the days he couldn’t and remember him everyday, live everyday for him, so when he's watching you, he’ll feel like he’s living too. He wants you to be happy I promise. But he’s dead and you’re alive. It’s an opportunity. The Joker couldn’t kill you. You have a purpose. You stayed alive for a reason. In my opinion you should live so you can find out what that purpose is and why you’re alive. Don’t you think so?”

I slowly shook my head and hugged his neck close. He picked me up and slowly walked the halls of school so he could give me to my parents. I was always a small person, even as child. I was 11 but I looked 8. So it was easy to lift me.

“Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Why?”

“I wanna know if you’re old enough to be wise and say stuff like that.”

He chuckled lightly. “I’m sixteen, am I old enough?”

“Hmmm… I guess.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“That’s my favorite name!”

“Really?!” The little excitement in my voice probably assured Robin that I would be ok.

“Yeah. And I can tell that you’ll be ok. You are smiling. I can hear your smile in voice.” He reached the door and put me down. I was still smiling. “Never stop smiling Y/N. You have a beautiful smile that the world needs to see.” He kissed the open cut beside my eyebrow that went down to my cheek. I had gotten that cut while trying to lie on the ground, I accidentally put my head on my pencil. He went outside the school and shouted my name. When my parents turned around to Robin, they probably expected a corpse not me with dried tears and blood all over my face running to them.

“Y/N?” Tim shouted.

“Why are you shouting?!”

“I have been calling you eight times. You ok?”

“I was lost in my thoughts.”

“About the Joker?”

“Yes, we had a very unpleasant encounter eight years ago. I'd rather forget it.”

I got up and headed for my bag.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you Y/N.”

“No you didn’t Timmy,” I kissed his cheek. “I just have to go. I have to go to my apartment and study. And honestly I remembered something bad… I need some space and time, ok?” I said while gathering my stuff. I waved him goodbye and went outside to get a cab. I didn’t wanna bother Alfred when I heard a motorcycle roar behind me. I turned to see the hottest person alive smiling at me.

“Well hello sailor!” I said, smiled and kissed his hair before sitting behind him.

“My place or yours?”

“Hmm whichever is closest I need to study.”

“Really?”

“Yes now hurry up Jay, if you don’t I’ll go home on my own.”

“If you wanna study I don’t wanna be there. I hate it when you do that…”

“Fine, then just drop me off.” He nodded, putting his helmet on and starting to drive.

He stopped in front of my apartment complex. I took off his helmet, kissed him and left.

I went upstairs to my apartment and I changed into a sports bra and Bicycle pants and remembered what I just did. I had lied to the man I love, because I’m all messed up and he doesn’t know it. This is what I always did. Whenever I remembered that horrendous day I would go home, take my mattress off my bed and lean it against the wall and start punching and kicking it. I had started going to self defense classes after what happened that day. I promised myself I would never be vulnerable enough for anyone to hurt me, which is probably why I have kept Tim, the only friend I’ve had since that day and Jason, the boyfriend I love so much, in the dark. I don’t want to give them weapons to hurt me. No one knows that maniac like I do, no one knows what he can do but me. I kept punching and kicking the mattress over and over again. I remembered him standing over mine and Dennis’ bodies. Tears started forming in my eyes, blurring my vision but I kept on hitting. I remembered him starting to laugh like a psychopath. My punches were landing on the soft mattress anymore but I couldn’t see what it was and I didn’t care. I remembered him cutting some of their faces and putting a Glasgow smile on their dead bodies. And at the same moment my tears left my eyes and my vision cleared. I punched the wall so hard, I put my hand through it. My knuckles were bleeding. My apartment had thin walls. I could see the kitchen now from the living room. Great. Just great. The TV was on and I suddenly heard commissioner Gordon advising civilians to stay away from a part of Gotham because the son of a bitch was there and Batman was fighting him. I looked outside and it was raining. I tied my hair up and let my bangs cover my eyebrows and my scar. A little part of my scar that went to my cheekbone was always visible but no one ever saw it really, or connected the dots. I didn’t want people pitying me so I always had bangs, I never tried to grow them out. Then I put on a coat and a face mask and went outside. It’s time I faced my greatest fear. I knew how to be sneaky. The self defense classes I took? I took them without my parents permission or knowledge, so yeah I was pretty sneaky. I ran in the rain and sneaked into the street where they were fighting and looked around for a hiding place when I saw my old school. No no no no no. Why had he come here?

“See Batsy, this little school is very important to me. I love it so much.” He let out a giggle. Then something happened. He blew up a few places around him, knocking Batman, Red Robin and Red Hood to the ground. I was torn should I help them or confront Joker. I was about to go help them when the bastard saw me.

“And who is this little girl?”

Batman tried to get up but couldn’t, having been blown up from underneath, right and left really hurt him.

He threw something at me and my mask fell off. I wore it back as fast as I could but he had already seen my face.

“Wait, I know you! You’re the girl that survived my little attack on this school.” My body went cold. How did he know me?

“I saw you on TV in Arkham, you had a little scar from your eyebrow to your cheek, you probably still do.” He stepped closer. I tried to go back but my back hit the wall.

“You see, I always thought of you and Hoodie boy as my masterpieces.” Hoodie boy? Did he mean Red Hood?

“You pretended to be dead for 16 hours. That must’ve been so fun.” He laughed.

“I bet you had a lot of fun.” He said and My fist tightened.

“I bet you’re here to avenge your little friend. You and Hoodie boy are a lot alike, you’re avenging your dead friend and Hoodie boy is avenging himself. You see I kinda killed him but he came back. I thought I killed you but you came back too! You two would make a great couple. I should set you up.I know where you live, when I kill him and I’ll leave him on the doorstep as a gift.” My stomach dropped. He knows where I live, the Joker is many things but he isn’t a liar. I may have studied Chemistry at college with Tim but we shared classes only for one semester. I got my bachelors degree in Chemistry within a year and a half and then I started studying Psychology. I have been studying psychology for three years now. And I knew the Joker wouldn’t benefit from lying. He doesn’t do it. It’s not his M.O, not his style. If he knows where I live…

“Or maybe I should kill you both and put you in a romantic position in your apartment? That’ll be more fun wouldn’t it?” He moved towards me and I suddenly punched him hard and my knuckles started bleeding again. I kicked him in the stomach to push him away. I started running towards the heroes, usually people need a kick or water splash to wake up. I had no water so kicking would have to do. I kicked all of them and I heard Red Hood cursing me.

“Damn woman, don't kick me, where am I supposed to tell my girlfriend this bruise came from?” I chuckled slightly and helped him up.

“How about the Joker?” Joker started running towards us and I jumped on thr boxes on corner and jumped above Joker’s head and landed behind him, punching his spine.

“Since she doesn’t know who I am, I can’t really do that.” He said while he dodged the metal balls Joker was throwing at us.

“Well how about a bar fight? You seem like the type to drink and punch.” I said taking the small object he gave me. “Throw.” he shouted and we both threw the balls at the same time, making a little explosion to distract the Joker. Suddenly I saw Red Robin attacking the Joker.

“Red Hood, take her to the safe house. I want to talk to her later.” And he joined Red Robin in the fight. Suddenly Hood threw my on his back and started running.

“Hey I can’t smell like your stinky cologne. My boyfriend is coming over tomorrow morning! Put me down.”

“Not a chance little Sparrow.” My heart stopped and I couldn’t say anything. He put me on the motorcycle, sat behind me, took the wheel and started driving.

“Red Hood?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you just call me?”

“Oh sorry. You just sounded like my girlfriend and that’s what I call her, little Sparrow. She’s really fast, not unlike yourself.” I was speechless. My boyfriend was Red Hood. Well now I knew who everyone in the bats were, it wasn’t hard to guess the others.

“Although you have grown up so much you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You don’t recognize me?”

“How do you know my name?” I was starting to get scared.

“Oh come on. You told me yourself! You got so excited when I told you your name was my favorite name.”

“Robin?”

“You got it baby!”

“You left.”

“Pardon?”

“After that… you just left. It was just Batman for a while and then Robin came back, but it wasn’t you. He didn’t feel like you. I felt it in my heart that it wasn’t you.”

“I— well the Joker already told you he killed me so there’s your answer.” His voice was more quiet now, more sad.

“You heard what he said?”

“Yeah that’s why I recognized you, your scar isn’t visible.”

“So the Joker just killed you?”

He seemed torn. He shifted behind me. “Yeah, he beat me to death with a crowbar and then blew me up. And I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you this, I don’t even know you.”

“Well Jay, maybe it’s because sometimes people feel comfortable with each other even though they don’t know each other.”

He suddenly stopped the cycle. And pulled my face towards him. “How do you know my name?” I took off the mask and looked at him. “I bet I’m the last you expected to see under this mask Jay.” I smiled at him nervously. He was shocked to say the least, he just kept staring at me. “But how did you…”

“You said you call your girlfriend little Sparrow. I knew instantly.” I kissed his helmet and put my mask back on and turned my head. When he started driving he changed his direction. “Hey aren’t we going to a safe house? Why did you change direction?”

“Oh now that you know who I am and I know who you are, we are going to the batcave.”

“Really?”

“Yeah and I bet Bruce would want you on the team, you held your own against Joker.”

“Thanks to my secret self defense classes.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me all about it later sweetheart.”

And I knew, being vulnerable with my boyfriend or best friend wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. Maybe we could all be vulnerable together. And apparently the Joker was right, me and Jay would be a good couple. The best one there was. I had been dating him for six months and now… now I know that there will never be an end to us.

#batman #batman and Robin #robin #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Red Robin #tim drake #tim drake x reader #badass reader #dc comics #batman comics #robin x reader #the joker #joker dc #joker #traumatized reader #angst #fluff

[spinningintheshadows]

save tonight || drew starkey

Warnings: Heartbroken Drew (which should be a crime), mentions of abortion, happy-ish ending.

Masterlist || Teela's Part

Words: 1800

Taglist: @maybankforlife @lindzaylove @cherrybarzy @slut4jj @pogueslandia @k-k0129 @graysonsbde

Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes as she sat in the backseat of her damn Uber. Everything that could go wrong today, had. It was supposed to be a simple OB/GYN appointment to get an IUD placed, but the words of the doctor still echoed in her head.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Starkey, but we can’t place your contraceptive device today. Your pregnancy test came back positive.”

At first she had laughed at being called Mrs. Starkey when she had been divorced for six weeks. A six year marriage coming to an end, although amicably. Then the tears came when the doctor rolled in an internal ultrasound machine. She was twenty four, newly divorced, and adjusting to living on her own again. How was she supposed to have a baby when she was struggling to pay rent? And then she was just numb. Even hearing the thwump of her child’s heartbeat didn’t get a real reaction out of her. The doctor explained she was right at eleven weeks, so she still had options and if she decided to go through with it to call them back for a follow up.

She’d already decided, deep down, that she couldn’t have this baby. She couldn’t even bring herself to find her ex husband on her phone to call and tell him. She knew Drew, knew he’d always wanted a family, albeit not a broken family, like he had. Sure both of his parents loved him unconditionally but there was still a wound deep in him from having to divide his time between them. So she’s decided an abortion was the best thing to do in this situation, then they could both move in with their lives like normal.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but there’s an accident up ahead and traffic is backed up, I’ll try to reroute as soon as I can” the Uber driver, a man in his early fifties, told her.

“It’s alright I’m not in a rush.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hands, the blurry image almost taunting her. She found herself letting her mind wander, suddenly imagining a future with this tiny blob.

She could imagine Drew teaching their child, no, their son how to ride a bike. She could see him taking him fishing, or to football games. She imagined this little boy with his dad’s unruly dark hair and fierce blue eyes, and how could she end his life before it even began?

The thought startled her, really. She knew she needed to terminate the pregnancy, it was what was for the best. Yet, letting herself imagine this little person who was a part of both of them, while even in her daydreams was so fiercely Drew, had let her think that maybe they could do this. Yes, it would be eighteen years of custody arrangements, but at the same time, she knew there was no one else she’d want to do that with. It was Drew, this baby was Drew, one last memory of the nine wonderful years they had spent together.

She found herself reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone. She found Drew’s contact quickly, as he’d just texted her this morning when he woke up. He was, after all, still her best friend. Still, she found her finger hovering over the picture of him like the phone might explode if she tapped it. Finally she settled on a text.

Y/N: Hey you working? I need to talk to you.

Drew: Just got off, what’s up?

Y/N: Can you be at mine in an hour?

Drew: Absolutely, I’ll bring dinner.

By the time she got back to her apartment she had fifteen minutes before he was to arrive. She was opening a can of lacroix as she sat down on the couch when he walked in, looking in her direction. What he wasn’t expecting was for his ex wife to burst into tears as soon as he looked at her.

Confused, the taller man walked towards her on the couch, before his eyes landed on that blurry image the doctor had given her. He sat beside her before he picked up, examining it closely.

“Is this what I think it is?” He questioned.

“It’s a sonogram photo, yes. I went to the doctor to get an IUD and my, uh, my pregnancy test came back positive” she told him between sobs. “I had no idea Drew.”

“So, we’re having a baby.” He whispered.

“In June. The last week of June” she told him.

“Why are you so upset?” He asked, setting the picture down and moving to wrap his arms around her.

“I was going to kill our baby” she sobbed. “I was just going to go take care of it and not tell you but your stupid blue eyes got in my mind. I was suddenly imagining watching you with your son and I couldn’t do it.” Drew pressed kisses to the top of her head, rubbing her back softly in an attempt to calm her down.

“But you told me.” He whispered. “And the situation might not be ideal but we’re going to have a baby. This tiny person, half me and half you. It was supposed to happen this way, or it would have happened sooner, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, we do this at your pace.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drew sighed softly to himself as he walked into his best friend's apartment after work. She had called to ask him if he’d pick up a couple things from the store because she had cravings, and he couldn’t say no. She was seven and half months pregnant and there was an early season tropical storm getting ready to hit and he fully expected to get stuck at hers, so he’d run home to get clothes and gone to the store. He wasn’t expecting to find her sitting on the floor of the living room eating pickles and chocolate frosting while looking over the assembly instructions for the crib they’d purchased two weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” He questioned. “I told you I’d put that together the next time I came over.”

“I just wanted to prove I could do something. I feel like an invalid because someone’s son or daughter makes it hard to breathe” she told him, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

“Hey, no need to cry. I’m not mad” he told her. “Let’s eat dinner and then we can build it together”

“I just feel useless, Drew.” She sobbed. “I can’t do anything, it takes all of my energy to do my fucking laundry, and it takes me 20 minutes to get up if you’re not here and I am so fucking horny all the time.”

“Well I’m here, let’s get you off the floor. Then we can either eat dinner and build the crib or I can help with the horniness, then we can eat dinner and build the crib.” He said, reaching down to help her stand up, not at all surprised when she dragged him to her bedroom.

“You have five seconds to get that pretty mouth of yours between my thighs, Joseph” she told him. Of course, he complied, that was the deal. He’d do whatever she needed.

Afterwards, they sat at the dining table eating (albeit lukewarm) Chinese takeout when she put her fork down and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking what’s up.

“Do you want a junior?” She asked. The question took him by surprise, honestly. Even with six weeks until her due date, he hasn’t really thought about what name they were going to give their child.

“Absolutely not. I love my dad, and I love my granddad, but the Joseph stops with me” he said, “Same initials would be fine, though.”

“Well if it’s a girl I want her middle name to be Claire, and that’s a family name, so I thought I’d ask.” She told him. “What about Jackson? We could call him Jack.”

“Jackson Starkey would be cute” he agreed. “I like Harlow for a girl. It’s not super popular.”

“Harlow Claire Starkey. I think our daughter has a name, if it’s a girl of course. I still think it’s a boy.” She laughed. “Would you be okay with his middle name being Drew? Jackson Drew Starkey.” He smiled at her, nodding in agreement. Even though they’d had months to prepare for this, the feeling of knowing that in six weeks they would have a son or a daughter was starting to sink in.

“You okay, Drew?” She asked.

“Yeah, I just… they have a name now, regardless of what’s between their legs. It really hit me that we’re going to be parents.” He said. “You know I love you right?”

“Yeah I know.” She said, half smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you ready to hold your daughter, Dad?”

If it wouldn’t have been four thirty in the morning, Drew probably would have responded faster, honestly. He’d worked a double yesterday, then came home around midnight to Y/N telling him it was time, her water had broken and they were officially about to be parents. Although a week overdue, Harlow Claire Starkey was born in roughly four and half hours, screaming, pink, and eight and half pounds. And now, he sat in the hospital room, exhausted, as a nurse rolled in a little plastic cot and asked him that question. He looked up at her, a smile creeping up on his lips.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” he said.

As soon as the nurse placed his daughter in his arms, he swore he felt his heart double in size. It felt like he’d waited his whole life for this moment, and he’d never been so in love. Yes, he loved her mother, but the love he felt as he gazed down at his daughter was on a whole other level.

“Hi Harlow.” He whispered. “We don’t know each other very well yet, but that’s going to change. Things might be kind of complicated between me and your mom, but I promise you that I am going to love you unconditionally. I love you so much already, it’s insane. I didn’t know I could love such a tiny person so much, but here I am. Between you and me, Harlow? I knew you were a girl from the moment your Mama told me about you.”

“Oh my god you’re so cute.” the voice of his ex wife brought him out of his baby-induced haze, making him look up at her.

“Shut up. You were supposed to be asleep.” It came out almost as a whine. “We made a cute kid.”

“We sure did, Starkey, we sure did.”

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rudy pankow x oc #lwut universe #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey blurb

[angry-geese]

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: sfw. pregnancy mention, death mention, minor injury mention. mild angst. jjk manga spoilers/shibuya arc spoilers

Summary: some pregnancy fluff with nanami

Word Count: 2.2k

jjk masterlist

Greys dot at his temples, and the sides of his beard. There's a permanent line between his eyebrows from scowling. Nanami always kept his face shaved in the past. Nowadays he hardly bothers shaving. You like it when he has a little bit of scruff, and he's often too tired to shave. His cheeks are far more gaunt. He lost a considerable amount of weight he never really gained back. You’ve been trying to get him to eat more. And it's working, but recovery isn't a short process. It was a long road that sometimes it feels like you take one step forward, only to take ten back.

He finds himself questioning if he'd rather wear a glass eye, or an eyepatch.

Nanami hardly sees the point in either. So the answer is neither. He rarely leaves his house, save for the rare times you drag him along to the grocery store, or down the street to the bakery. Even then, he wears his hat low on his head, keeping his eyes on the ground in a feeble attempt to make himself as small as possible.

Shibuya left scars on everyone who had the misfortune of being there, ones that never quite healed right. You were the same person; torn apart and put back together wrong. Age has not been kind to you, your wounds taking longer to heal, an ever-present ache in your bones. Past injuries have never quite healed, only laying dormant, waiting for the weather to sour so they can ache. He guesses he can consider himself lucky. He's alive. That's more than a lot of people can say.

But sometimes he thinks the real lucky ones were those who didn't survive.

Sometimes he thinks he's dead. In the twilight between sleep and his waking moments, he wonders if he actually made it. He wonders if he really survived, or if this is just some last ditch attempt by his brain to make sense of things.

He doesn't understand why you stay. He finds himself wondering why he bothers. Most days he doesn't see a point in continuing. But he doesn't want to leave you alone, reaching out to the empty space where he used to be.

For a long time he struggled to find purpose to all this. He wanted a reason, or at the very least answers. But he never would get them. It's unfair to say there’s an order to the universe. There's no reason why things happen the way they happen, they just do.

In the end he came to terms with it.

He remembers the glint in your eyes. A mischievous look- you were always trying to cause trouble. It's never really left. You were younger than him. Not by much. Two years. You were adamant he recommended you to become a grade one sorcerer. For months you pestered him, hounding him for that recommendation. As a Jujutsu High first-year, you looked up to him. When you got into trouble, you found yourself asking 'what would Nanami do?' And as time went on, you still did.

After months of pestering he eventually caved. You're nothing if not persistent. It was a little alarming at the time, and equally as irritating. But when you were finally a grade one sorcerer, he was there alongside you to celebrate.

At first glance, you two were far from compatible. The two of you couldn't be any more different. He was stoic and stern, and you were a known troublemaker. Your cursed technique worked well with his, and as a result, you went on many jobs together. As time went on you grew close.

And after years of working together, he finally realized he wanted more.

To everyone around you, your feelings were obvious. The two of you were hopeless. Between your stubbornness, and Nanami’s refusal to believe Gojo, neither of you wanted to be the first to confess. It was up to Gojo to help. Neither of you asked for his help, he took it upon himself. Little did he know, Nanami had a confession planned.

Nanami never got to have a proper confession. Gojo would spoil the surprise. Nanami was pissed, but your reaction was worth it. He doesn't think he’s ever seen you that happy.

Slowly things got better. Your more visible wounds healed and scarred. You went back to work. Nanami settled into domestic life better than he thought he would.

The transition wasn't the easiest. Settling down was far from an instantaneous change. He took on work around the house. For a short time you kept a ‘normal’ job. Even when you were younger, such work never suited you. Between the money you had saved up from your years as a sorcerer, and the money you got from odd jobs, you had enough to live comfortably. There was no need to work.

Slowly he started to look forward to getting up in the morning. Having a routine helped. It gave him a sense of normalcy.

He often finds himself unable to sleep. Nanami falls asleep late in the afternoon, and sleeps until either his phone, or a nightmare rouses him.

Today it's neither. He was a light sleeper before. Now even more-so. When he’s next to you, sleep comes to him easier. His arms find the swell of your belly, wrapping around it protectively. Your presence is a reminder that you’re still around, that you're not going anywhere. His shoulder aches. He finds sleep impossible. He’s too sore to move, but too sore to sleep. Even before everything, he found it easy to sleep on his couch, and hard to sleep in bed. You’d constantly pester him that sleeping on the couch wasn't good for his back. But that wouldn't stop you from staying there until you both inevitably fell asleep, and he carried you to bed.

It took you years to convince him to have one. He wanted to settle down and have children, but he couldn't be both a sorcerer and a parent. And neither could you. Shibuya only set things back. The world had to heal first. Things had to get better. The two of you had to heal before others could rely on you.

You weren't actively trying, but if it happened, it happened.

You've long since fallen asleep in the crook of his neck. He hardly left bed all day. Things were getting bad again. Sometimes months would go by where it seemed things were improving, only for them to take a nosedive. He’s still getting better, but recovery isn't a linear process. You didn't have anywhere to go that day, so you stayed right by his side. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better. Or at least bother him until he got out of bed. Much of your morning was spent watching movies on your phone, and stealing blankets from each other.

Retirement was nice. Granted, you retired rather young, but if the rest of your life was spent with him, you’d be content. He’s still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago. Aside from the occasional, safe-ish odd job, you were done with sorcery. Those days were past you.

He’s grown tired of staying still. Sometimes moving helps the aches. He never was the earliest riser before, but now he can hardly stay in bed past seven. Everything hurts. No matter when he goes to sleep, he’s usually up by 7:30, and you can count on him making coffee in the kitchen.

It's hardly past nine. The sun has completely set over the horizon. Stiffness has set into his limbs. He takes great care to not disturb your sleeping form, tucking the blankets back around you.

You nuzzle into the warm spot where he once was, a frown burned into your face. You never liked sleeping without him. Nightmares struck you frequently. Often you'd wake up from a dead sleep in a panic, calling out for him, convinced that this was some sick dream and he died years ago. He’d often wake up to you clinging to his arm, face buried in his shirt.

But he was always there.

You find it easier to fall asleep when it's light out. You don't like falling asleep in the dark. He makes sure to keep a light on in the hall. The power bill you could care less about. Nightmares came to you in the dark. Your logic is that, if there's no dark, you won't have them. To some extent it works.

It's a bit late for dinner, but he finds himself in the kitchen anyway. He wants udon, but the shop you normally go to would be closed at this hour. Their mushroom udon is the best. He’ll try to recreate it.

He sets some water on to boil, along with some frozen gyoza to thaw that you always insist on going to this one specific market in Tokyo for. Chicken and leek, with lots of ginger. Your favorite. You go through so much of the stuff that you have to get it in bulk, and freeze the extras. He thinks you’ll want tea too, so he sets the kettle on to boil.

He doesn't hear you walk in. Between the clanking of pots, and the whistling of the kettle, your soft footsteps go unheard. Nanami’s hearing was never quite the same. But he senses eyes on his back, and turns.

“I didn't mean to wake you, love.” He says.

“You didn't. I was having a hard time staying asleep anyway,” you say, “what’re you making?”

“Mushroom udon and gyoza,” he says, “it’s gonna be kind of a late dinner, but I thought it sounded good.”

“Smells good,” you say.

One of his hands finds your much smaller ones. Your fingers lace with his. His hands are warm, and calloused from years of using his weapon.

“Remind me to get more tea when I head into town tomorrow,” you say, “oh- and rice too. We were getting low the last time I checked. Do you want to go too?”

He nods. He makes a silent note to add those, along with laundry soap to the shopping list.

Before, he hated going into town. Strangers poked and prodded, and asked about his scars. It's gotten better as time goes on. If cravings struck you in the middle of the night, he would be up and ready to bring you something. Craving the mochi only sold by a specific shop in Tokyo? It doesn't matter if he had to take the train all the way to the city, he’d do it. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind. He’s a bit too tall for you to rest your head on his shoulder from behind. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells faintly of laundry soap, and shampoo. His stubble brushes against your lips. You always liked when he grew it out.

He pulls you so you stand in front of him, your back against his chest. His hands find the swell of your belly, wrapping around you protectively. Nanami plants a kiss on the top of your head. It's one of the few moments you feel truly normal. You’re no longer sorcerers, but a couple sharing a romantic moment, one building a life together.

He’s hardly allowed any distance between you two. Nanami acts like you’re made out of glass. He’s almost afraid to touch you. God forbid you try to lift something too heavy, or help out with the housework. He’s on you in an instant, trying to get you to rest. He’s a bit overbearing when it comes to things that aren't good for the baby. No alcohol, no caffeine, no overexerting yourself. You didn't miss alcohol all that much, but you really miss coffee. At times his presence can be suffocating. He means well, even if it gets on your nerves.

When the noodles are done, he gathers two bowls- part of a set given to you as a wedding gift. You only brought them out to use when your parents would visit. Much of the time they spent gathering dust. You always talked about using them more, but never got the opportunity to. He figures now is as good a time as ever. You set the table, setting out a few candles. He’d break out a bottle of sake if you could drink, but you just settle for tea.

"Retirement looks good on you," you say.

“It looks good on you too,” he says.

Conversation carries on while you eat. The topic falls onto mundane things that make his heart flutter only when you talk about them. You make plans to go shopping in the morning. You need groceries, and there’s a new shop opening up in town that you want to check out. When you’re done eating, you help him clean up. You clear the table while he gets the dishes.

He’s finally found his place. Not in jujutsu or human society. Not among sorcerers or regular people. His place is beside you.

And each day, he finds himself falling more hopelessly in love.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami kento #fluff #jjk manga spoilers

[sardonic-the-writer]

c!Superhero!Tommy x Reader Part One

━"Racooninnit"

━Tommy

━Tw: Rude behavior, mentions of fighting

━Notes: I spent so long writing and planning this for all the people who requested more Tommy stuff, and honestly I could not be more proud of it <33

━Song: "Brave As A Noun" By AJJ

Tommy hooked one of his fingers around his tight uniform collar, feeling the scratchy fibers scrape against his calloused thumb pads. With a soft grunt, he tried to fan cool air into the fabric of his stained and greasy button down shirt, but to no avail. Before he could even make any progress with the temperature change, a voice yelled in his ear.

"Order up for car nine!" It screamed out, along with the sound of a tinkling bell being rung. The words seemed to add another layer of eye bags under Tommys eyes, piling more and more weight the longer he stood there.

Tommy sighed heavily and skated over to the source of the noise; that being a busy kitchen with thick white steam filling up the crowded air. He skidded to a stop with his brakes loudly, holding his hands out in preparation to grab an order.

Out of nowhere a pair of arms loaded the blonde boy down with platers overflowing with burgers, fries, and sodas. Grunting almost inaudibly underneath the weight, he steered around to go skate off. The flimsy paper separating food from red tray fluttered noisily in the efforts of his movement.

Gravel and stray pieces of littler skirted around the edges of the swiftly rotating wheels on said boys skates. The worn out, red-ish orange quality of the shoes looked sickly in the beating sun. The once bright and neon color had been sucked clean of its original quality thanks to years of wear and tear.

Tommy winced as the sharp edge of leather cut into the side of his feet. He wanted desperately to take them off, but he knew that his boss would end up yelling at him again for "not following the dress-code" or some dumb shit.

He scoffed inwardly, thinking about the last time that had happened. Five dollars had been knocked off his next paycheck because of that. (Which he was pretty sure was illegal, but Tommy didn't have enough shits to give at this point. Pay was the last of his problems.)

Once more skidding to a stop in front of some beat down car, Tommy watched as a tinted window rolled down to reveal a group of four. Just some wasted looking teenagers craving a quick pit stop for fast food at the nearest place.

The usual.

"Here's your order." Tommy mumbled with the best smile he could muster. A few twenty dollar bills were thrown at him before he could blink, and off the rumbling vehicle sped.

Sighing with half lidded eyes, he bent over to the ground and began picking up the loose pieces of paper. Dusting off the grime from the floor, Tommy stood up again and skated away.

As he went back to his original position of leaning on a counter of condiments protruding from the side of a brick wall, Tommy scanned over his workplace.

It was a small thing. Smelled of grease and poor food, but after months of walking around in the joint he had gone nose-blind to it.

The diner-restaurant-food thing was mostly an outdoor establishment. A small, cloudy piece of plastic covering hovered over a bundle of nasty green colored benches. Four brick walls (one of which Tommy was currently standing cross-armed up against) came together to build the kitchen in which he would skate back and forth from for hours at a time. The rest of the area was filled with painted parking spots. Cars would pull in, press a button on these individual stands next to their window, order, and then leave.

A simple progress if you look past the fact that the manager was an asshole.

The tall Irish man's name was Dennis. He was a stringy thing that looked like he would tumble away if the wind blew too hard, but everyone knew not to mess with him. He didn't get all those scars on his hands for nothing.

An orange backsplash of freckles decorated his face, as well as a missing front tooth that showed when he yelled. Dennis had a bad temper and loud voice that was only amplified by the mop of fiery red hair framing his head. A wonderful bunch of habits to have when you run a place full of bored teenagers that don't pay attention for shit.

His favorite target seemed to be Tommy, however. Dennis would swoop in over the blonde's shoulder at the worst of times. It was either when he had gone five seconds over his break, spilled a customer's drink, or any other minor mishap. Hell- he even managed to appear when Tommy clogged the only employee's toilet once.

Point being, Dennis hated Tommy and Tommy hated Dennis.

Clashing of heads between the two boys was a pastime for the other workers. Even though all that would happen was Dennis would yell at Tommy for something or other, it always seemed to put Tommy in an even more of a bland mood for the rest of the day.

With a breathy sigh that tickled his nose, Tommy untensed his shoulders in an attempt to just relax. Something that he hadn't done in a while.

He brought a stray hand up to fix the mandatory paper had resting atop his butter blonde curls, praying that it wouldn't fall off midst-skate. I mean, its not like his uniform could get any worse. So why not just embrace the suck! At least, thats what his best friend Ranboo would say.

But something in the corner of his vision made the semi-conscious teenturn his head. The crackling audio of a news reporters voice raitationg from a small T.V hanging on the kitchens outer walls.

"-we are here on the scene where the weel known menace "Vilbur" has threatened to destroy in two hours if the hero "RacconInnit" hasn't shown his face. The area has been evacuated and details are still coming in, but there are reports of missing peoples still in the area. More on-"

Tommy has stopped listening the moment that the well dressed and heavily makeuped woman with a microphone on the T.V had mentioned missing persons. The sound of teeth grinding against each other was the only thing Tommy could hear as he started holes into the grainy picture.

"O' fuckin course this has to happen now!" He seethed to himself, balling up his calloused hands in a fist and resisting to urge to sprint over and throw a temper tantrum at the screen. "The one day I wanted a break and this lil shit had to crawl out of whatever slimy asshole he popped out from an-"

While the rage filled boy continued to rant and curse to himself, your kind narrator decided to fill the dear readers in on some important backstory regarding the man character.

Tommy did not choose to be called RacconInnit. Tommy did not choose to spend over half of his waking hours fighting the same fucking villian over and over again. Tommy did not choose to wake up one day and be thrown head first into the secret life of being a superhero.

But here he was. Seventeen and doubling two separate lives at once. During the day he was Tommy, deliverer of burgers and friends. And by night...he was just sleepy Tommy. Not much going on there. Most of the superhero stuff he was involved in happened around noon. It was like his arch nemesis had a bedtime, actually.

Speaking of arch nemesis-

Tommy looked back at the news report to see a shaky camera angle of Vilbur. He was sitting on a parked car, idly swingin his legs off the hood. His signature outfit of a leather brown trench coat fluttered around his feet as he kicked them. A crusty blood stained bandage wrapped around his head surveyed the insanity.

He had curls of hazelnut brown falling in front of sharp silver rimmed glasses. (Tommy would know that they're sharp; he got shanked with them once) Two glowing eyes of mischievous amber peeked out from behind the many layers of disguise, only further amplifying the smirk that painted his chapped and bloodered lips. It looked like he had had a nice cup of blood with his afternoon lunch.

Vilbur was the only person who could get under Tommys skin more than Dennis. Or anyone, for that matter. The man dosent even wear a fucking mask, and somehow Tommy still dosent know his secert identity. After hours of scouring the internet on his shift breaks, nights at home, and even trips to the grocery store Tommy always managed to come up empty handed as to who VIlbur could be.

The seemingly age-old rivalry between RacconInnit and Vilbur was well known throughout the bustling city of L'manburg. It was almost poetic, the similarities between Tommy and RacconInnit. How at work he and Dennis would clash, only for Tommy to rush off afterwards in a suit of his own design to fight yet another infuriating shitstain on the bedsheet of life. Different parallels in the same universe, he supposed.

As soon as the poorly visible image of Vilbur had disappeared (probably due to the restaurant's internet connection from 2003 that Dennis refused to change for "budget cuts") it faltered, the audio from the speakers crackling out. Taking Tommys connection to the dire situation with him.

"Tommy!" A familiar and booming voice shrieked.

His punching at the air vengeful quickly changed to Tommy fishing desperately in his uniform's tight back pocket for a phone. Bringing up a cracked and battered screen, his blue eyes scanned the time that read "11:47"

Okay. He had time.

"TOMMY!" His name was called again, yet this time much closer. Almost directly in his ear in fact. Tommy would have jumped ten feet in the air if not for the fact that he was used to loud noises. Comes with the whole, super, job and all. After all, dodging punches and sliding under cars weren't the quietest of activities.

Two hairy knuckled hands grabbed Tommy harshly by the shoulder blades and spun him round until he was staring straight at the swamp green eyes of Dennis.

"I have called your name five times boy!" He spat loudly, a few flecks of saliva splattering Tommys face as he resisted the urge to wipe it away. "I even muted that damn T.V so you would stop your mindless fuckin staring and listen! Do I need to take that phone away too?"

Tommy had a few choice words to say between the hot and putrid breath hitting his face, to the way Dennis' eyes glowed with the same malicious intent that he had seen Vilburs.

But Tommy held his tongue and swallowed those words.

"No sir." He said with a robotic tone. "I won't do it again, sir" He hastily added the last part as a means to get his attacker to back off and leave him alone.

Dennis scrunched up his nose and searched his tone for any type of sass, but when he found none let out a disappointed grunt and released his grip on Tommys shoulders.

"You're lucky the inspectors coming today. Otherwise I'd dock your pay even more."

That sparked an interest inside of Tommy. (Not the money part- he got told that every other day.)

"Inspector? What do you mean?"

"The health inspector, dumbass. They come around once every year to make sure this place is good enough for their standards. Normally I'd be brushing this off, but this year they wanted to get the eymployees-" Dennis said that word as if it were filled with poison "-opinions too. Apparently they brought in a new inspector and everything."

Tommy's ears perked up a little bit, this fact not going unnoticed by Dennis.

"Don't get your hopes up Minecraft." He sneered. "The inspector hates this place more than I do you. And with the amount of air floating around in that brain of yours it'll be no surprise to me when they lay you off."

And with that his perky posture deflated once more. Not necessarily out of disappointment, just the regular promise of a shitty day looming over him.

Dennis opened his mouth, assumingly to berate Tommy more, but it wouldn't have mattered. The sound of a car pulling up cut through his words like a hot knife. Tommy tore his eyes away from the frustrating manager and his harsh words to see a shiny silver car, looking way too important to be at a place like this.

The ignition was cut off by someone tuning the keys from inside tinted windows. Some muffled talking came from inside (it seemed as if there were two voices) before the driver side door slowly swung open. Out of the front popped out a very shrewd looking woman. She had hair as silver and shiny as the bar she had pulled up in, the locks twisted into a tight bun at the peak of her head. Her sharp nose and wrinkled frown elicited a shiver to run down Tommys spine. A stiff pencil skirt and button up blouse clinging to her skin like tightly pulled bow's made Tommy think she would be of more use as an intimidating vice principal than anything.

Heels clicked sharply against broken concrete as she started to walk over to Dennis, as well as Tommy. Dennis straightened up and not-so-secretly kicked Tommy in the leg to do the same.

"Hello ma'am." Dennis said with a smile, although it didn't show in his eyes. Did it ever though?

"Hello Dennise." She sniffed back at him. Tommy had to bring a hand up to cover his small snort of laughter. Dennise? If he had called his manager that, you best be sure he wouldn't have gotten away with it.

A pair of cold beady eyes snapped to him at the sound that had barely escaped his mouth and grazed the ears of others.

"You think health codes are a laughing matter young man?" The lady addressed him icily, taking out a clipboard that he hadn't noticed before. Before Tommy could straighten himself out and plead his case, she whipped out a sharp blue pen from a pocket and lowered it to the page steadily. But not before a hand flew out of nowhere to grab it.

"Woah woah woah Miss! There's no need to do a report on this fine fellow. I'm the one that's supposed to be interviewing the employees, remember?"

Tommy titled his head in just the slightest bit to locate where the new voice, along with hand, had come from. His curious cerulean eyes eventually landed on a smaller figure standing just enough behind the supposed inspector to be hidden from sight.

He continued to watch as they stepped out from her shadow with a relaxed smile, looking way more laid back about their job than their co-worker.

"(Y/n)." The inspector snapped with barely hidden annoyance. "How many times must I drill this into that head of yours. You are but a mere intern. You don't tell your supervisors what to and what not to do. Don't make me write you up again."

Tommy tried not to smile as the teen (at least who he assumed was a teen. They looked to be the same age as him) raised a hand and pretend-fixed the invisible glasses resting on their nose. It was like they had just ignored the harsh words that she had tossed her way. Which they probably had.

"But alas my fair instructor-" They said with a fake snobby voice "-you forget that 'tis I who is supposed to be conducting surveys for further accuracy! By orders of the fair lady of course." At the last sentence they had bowed in the direction of the inspector, making fleeting eye contact with Tommy on the way and winking.

He had to resist the further urge to burst out laughing.

A scoff flew out of the older lady's mouth as they mumbled something about "kids not taking their job seriously". But the point was, they had lowered their clipboard and no longer looked interested in writing anything on it for the time being.

"Come along Dennise. We have much to discuss." The inspector changed courses, already walking in another direction with a head held high and an irritated Irish man following after her.

And then there were two.

Tommy turned back to the oddly theatrical person that had swooped in and unknowingly saved his as. Although, taking another look at how they had sent a wink his way, maybe they were more aware of the situation than he thought.

Shaking his head slightly, the teen steadied his thoughts to get a better look at them this time instead. Although he couldn't really judge them at all considering his first impression.

They had eyes filled to the brim with energy and silly attitude. Chapped and lips that looked slightly chewed on bloomed into a genuine and almost constant smile as their eyes scanned Tommy with equal amounts of curiosity. A graphic t-shirt with a pun printed on it along with one too many holes dotting the fabric complemented their simple black sweatpants.

"You know, your manager seems like a real ass." They spoked up.

Tommy liked this person already.

"Im (Y/n)." They presented a hand with chewed fingernails for a hand-shake, to which Tommy gladly obliged. "You seemed like you needed some help back there."

He chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of his neck and releasing their hand from his shake.

"Yeah, just a little bit if you couldn't tell." He joked. A small feeling of warmth filled his chest when they snickered at his words.

"Ah she's always like that, the old coot." (Y/n) waved it off, surprising Tommy with her choice of words. "I've been wearing away at her though. Like granite that woman is!" They shook their first at the sky, making eye contact with seemingly nothing before looking back at Tommy expectantly.

"Are you always like this?" Tommy questioned before he even knew the words slipped out of his mouth. He felt his eyes widen and hands come up as a sign of surrender.

"Wait no, I didn't mean it like that. I was onl-"

"Nah, it's fine dude." They cut off his stuttering. "I get it. Someone like me riding co-pilot with a hard ass like her in the health code industry? Yeah I'd be a bit confused."

He felt his posture relax at the understanding tone that (Y/n) held, along with the way they were looking at him with a calm and friendly face.

"If I'm being completely honest, I wanted to be a photographer. You know, catch all the action that happens downtown with a flick of my thumb." They mimed holding a comically large camera, pretending to angle around Tommy to get multiple shots of him.

"I bet." He laughed. "You'd probably get lots of candidates after all with the muggings and break ins-"

"No no no." (Y/n) put away the invisible camera, still committing to the act even though they changed the topic. "I wanted to go bigger. Get the superheroes and shit in action."

And there it was. That one word that would make Tommy's stomach wind itself off in preparation. He couldn't make it one day without someone or other unknowingly mention the idolized figures to his face.

It was even worse when Tommy looked directly into (Y/n)'s eyes and saw that they were lit up with genuine wonder.

"You wanna get their autograph or something." He asked with a much more bland tone. He couldn't tell if (Y/n) noticed his lack of enthusiasm though.

"What?" (Y/n) looked genuinely confused at his question, therefore confusing Tommy. "No. I just want to get action shots , maybe write a paper or two on them. Besides, who names their super identity RaacoonInnit."

With a laugh, Tommy jumped right back in where they had left off.

"Right!? Its such a stupid name! That's what I've been trying to tell people for ages!" He exclaimed with an exuberant grin. "I mean really? Racoon? Come on, even the villains have cooler names than that."

(Y/n) doubled over laughing at his words, even though they weren't that amusing to the speaker. They had to reach a hand out and place it on his shoulder to keep them upright, not knowing how Tommy stomach did a tirade of backflips at the firm grip.

"This dude gets it!" They twisted their head around to shout at no one, only garnering the pair of them weird glances and rolled eyes.

"But yeah! You're right!" (Y/n) said once more solidifying the claim that they wanted to be a photographer. "I mean, if only I was downtown right now catching that action. Vilbur is always a win." They paused. "For publicity I mean. Not RacconInnit."

Tommy froze as the words sparked a familiar thought in him.

(Y/n) watched as his head flew around, the paper straw wrapper in his hair falling out with the severity of his movements. (They had noticed the wrapper in his hair a while ago, but decided to to say anything thinking it was cute) (Y/n) followed his frantic blue gaze to the still muted T.V on the wall (which she hadn't known was there.)

Tommy yelped as he scanned the live feed. Vilbur wasn't sitting on a car hood anymore, he was tossing around tiny pieces of lit dynamite undercard with a pissed off look on his face. The camera filming him zoomed out a great amount, putting Tommy's subconscious at ease that the filmers were at a safe distance.

But it looks like two hours had passed by longer than he thought.

"Hey it was really great talking to you, I hope you got the information you needed but my shift is up and I really really need to go see you later byeee!" He rushed out his words, the sentence coming out in one big bundle of nearly indecipherable letters.

He turned around to rush off to the nearest bathroom to change into his suit and rush downtown, but was stopped by a hand on his arm pulling him back.

"Hey! Take this so we can talk later! I think you're really cool and need more friends!" (Y/n) said quickly, a large and unabashed smile on their face. "Now run! Run like the wind blonde boy!"

He felt a slip of paper being pressed into his hands before he saluted them with a goofy grin, running off once more.

Only once he had changed into his suit and was jumping from rooftop to rooftop downtown did he realize.

"FUCK! I NEVER TOLD THEM MY NAME!"

I spent so long writing this, honestly, I couldn't be prouder.

This is my favorite thing that I've ever written. I'm actually crying tears of joy while posting this. Thank you to everyone who put up with my rants about this chapter. You mean a lot to me

Also, fuck Dennis. All the homies hate Dennis.

I head cannon that his apartment got blown up by Vilbur during the fight. >:)

-WayToSarcastic

#c!tommy #c!tommy x reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #best thing ive ever written #part one #tommy superhero au #superhero tommy

[katsukikiss]

HOES AND CEOS

CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP// IN COLLEGE// KIRISHIMA x BAKUGO x F!READER

Warnings: NSFW 18+, alcohol use, threesome, unprotected sex, oral sex (both f+m receiving), dp, anal, fingering, use of ‘sir’, creampie, sub(ish?) reader

AN: This is my FIRST time writing a fanfic like this so please let me know what I can do better! Let me know if I forgot to put something in the warnings.

WC: 4.6k

Masterlist

You had never been so nervous for a party in your life. Momo’s parents went away for the weekend and granted her permission to have “a few friends over” but we all knew what that meant; A rager. The reason you were so nervous was because of the party theme, hoes and ceos. You didn’t really have the attire for that theme so you called Mina to complain but to also ask her about borrowing something that was appropriate for the theme.

You got to Mina’s at 6 and decided to do your makeup there as well. You blasted Doja Cat while taking some shots occasionally for liquid courage. You both speculated about how the boys would look, especially in a suit and tie. The thought made your knees weak but also extremely nervous. They would all look so hot and intimidating in business attire, especially Bakugo and Kirishima. Itd be a change to see them dressed to the nines looking like the CEO of their own hero agencies, ready to pounce on the slutty assistant look you were gonna go for.

Once you were done with your sultry eye look, Mina directed you to her closet. The theme was “hoes”, but that was only cause it rhymed with “ceos”. The point was to look like an assistant who desperately wants to fuck her boss. All your pencil skirts were much too long so Mina gave you a short little black skirt that fell just below the crease of your cheeks and hugged your waistline. You pulled on a hanger that held a white mens button up shirt and threw it on.

“You think I should wear this?!” you exclaimed, horrified at how baggy and manly the shirt looked on you. It hung past your skirt and you twisted your face in the mirror.

Mina laughed at you “no you silly, look let me show you” she said as she undid the buttons on the shirt. She took both sides of the shirt and tied them in the middle, so that your stomach was exposed and only your boobs were covered.

“Wait you’re a genius this looks so hot!” you exclaimed. Mina just laughed and shook her head. You slide on some knee high socks you had from high school and strapped on black stilettos. You peered over Mina’s shoulder as you both took a last look in the mirror. You both smiled and downed one more shot before heading out the door.

You arrived around 9:45 to the party, fashionably late because being on time like Deku wouldve looked cringey. You walked in through Momo’s huge double doors and all eyes turned towards you two. Maybe fashionably late was an understatement, everyone had already been there for at least a half hour already. The attention died down slowly as you strutted your way to the kitchen for a drink. You had felt so confident after looking yourself up and down in Mina’s mirror...and after taking five shots. You went over to a cooler that had a nozzle on the side and filled your solo cup with a concoction of fruit juice and alcohol.

“Heeeey y/n glad you could make it!” exclaimed Kirishima as he made his way over to you. You and Kiri were best buds because you both weren’t the best students growing up and spent alot of summers together, along with Kaminari of course. You shared a brief hug with him before pulling away and looking him up and down. He did the same to you, taking in the way your breasts poured out of the tightly tied shirt and how the black skirt hugged your curves in all the right places. Kiri was just a friend, but fuck did he look good in that red suit. Your eyes met eachother and both of your faces filled with heat, thankfully Kaminari came along to break the tension. He seemed to be in a daze but his stupor was broken when he saw you.

His eyes widened as he spoke, “Hey y/n..I cant even lie you’d make a pretty hot assistant”. You laughed and slapped him in the arm and Kirishima shot Kami a dark look. You both laughed which got the attention of a certain blonde you were looking forward to seeing.

“The fuck are you guys laughing about huh?” Bakugo scowled, pushing Kiri out of the way so he could refill his drink. He quickly glanced at your legs before looking back to the cooler. Your socks clung so tightly to your thighs that they puffed out above them just a little bit from the pressure. Your eyes observed the way the fabric of his black suit jacket strained against his muscular arms as he reached down for the nozzle.

“Hey why dont we head to the basement, heard some people were down there playing games” Kiri said in a mischievous voice. Kaminari nodded and Bakugo grunted, following behind the two. You stood still for a sec, wondering if you should try to go find a girl to bring downstairs with you but your thoughts were interrupted by a hand tightly grabbing at your wrist.

“Tch you coming or what brat?” Bakugo spat at you. You, still focusing on his hand around your wrist, quickly jerked it away.

“Yeah yeah I’m coming boss man” you said mockingly. He quickly turned away from you and made his way for the stairs, looking behind him every so often to make sure he didn’t lose you in the crowd of people.

As you descended the stairs you felt a bit better to see Momo playing pong with Todoroki against Jirou and Sero. Mina was on the couch shuffling the cards to some sort of game while Kiri and Kaminari sat across from her. Once you got to the end of the stairs you squeezed your way pass Bakugo and sat down next to your friend. You read the box that was sitting next to her, it read “Truth or Drink”.

“So basically, these cards have naughty questions on them and you can either answer orrrr take a shot of this!” Mina yelled, holding up a bottle fireball. Mina’s explanation of the game got the attention of the others in the room, including Bakugo who plopped next to Kirishima on the clean leather couches. You looked at Kiri with a smirk and he winked back at you, which made Bakugo scoff and look at you with dark eyes. You looked at him briefly before his gaze started to burn holes in your eyes.

You turned to face the rest of the group and spoke, “So, which unfortunate soul wants to go first?” you said with a teasing voice. Momo quickly shot her hand up and nervously uttered, “I’d like to go first...unless someone else wants to”. You nodded, giving her the approval to grab a card from the deck. Her face turned red as she read the question in her head. She took a deep breath and finally read it aloud, “How many people in the room would you be willing to hook up with” she said, her voice trailing off. Todorokis head perked up from its hung position as the question gained his recognition. “Oh come on thats not a hard question at all!!” Kaminari yelled with a laugh. Momo quickly glanced at everyone in the room, her eyes lingering on Todoroki for a bit longer than she had meant to.

She looked over at the shot Mina had poured but decided to answer, “Just one” she said before quickly sinking back into the couch.

“Damn only one of us?! Wish we couldve known whooo” Kirishima said laughing as he looked right at Todoroki. He blushed before placing his hand on Momos thigh. She jumped a bit before she realized the awkward silence.

She looked at you for help so you spoke up, “Whos next?!” you yelled, giving everyone a devilish eye.

“How about you loud mouth? Why dont you go next?” Bakugo said, looking right at you. You could tell he was challenging you and you weren’t going to back down. “Ha fine, im not scared of some silly questions” you confidently expressed. The alcohol in your system had your body acting on its own volition, as you seductively leaned forward, squishing your boobs together for the three boys across from you before you delicately picked up a card from the top. They knew what you were doing to them, and it worked because they all squirmed uncomfortably on the couch.

You leaned back and without even reading the card first in your head you began to blurt it aloud “Who would your dream threesome be with?” All confidence left you as you realized you had to confess one of your darkest fantasies to all of your friends. Your face became dusted in red as you looked around the room. There was no way you could tell all these people that you dreamed of Kiri and Bakugo mercilessly fucking you. You always had a thing for Bakugos hot temper since you were kids, and as you got older Kirishima started to look more appetizing to you every day.

“Were waiting” Kirishima professed with a small smile creeping on his face. Bakugo was looking at the game of pong that was still going on.

“Y/n I would take the shot if I had that question” Mina whispered. You began to lean down and grab the shot before Bakugo spoke up, “Dont be a little bitch, answer the fucking question” his stern voice startled you, along with everyone else who turned to look at him. He sat back into the couch. His demeanor changed when he saw you put the shot back down.

“Fine, it would be with Kiri and you, Bakugo” you said in a stern voice, angry that you let yourself be so easily persuaded. Kiri dawned a devilish smile and Bakugos lip curled up every so slightly, but you could still see the satisfaction in his face. Kami looked down, disappointed but also jealous that you didn’t say his name.

“Im taking this anyway” you quickly muttered, grabbing the shot and downing it in one gulp. Everyone laughed at your attempt to calm your nerves but you spoke up once again, “Lets keep this show on the road, Mina I think you should go next” you said to your best friend with a wink.

The game went on for another hour or so before Sero called Mina and Kaminari over to play pong with him. You gave her a smile as she walked away from you. You sat up from the couch and all the blood rushed to your head. You felt dizzy after sitting and drinking for so long. Bakugo had asked for you to come upstairs and get a drink with him and you happily obliged, not thinking anything of it. You made your up the stairs but the alcohol got to you and your foot slipped. You were about to fall backwards when you felt strong hands grab the sides of your waist.

“Woah woah y/n had too much to drink or are you always this clumsy?” Kiri said with a charming smile.

“Thank you Kiri” you cooed and grabbed back onto the railings. When you looked up, Bakugo was seething and giving Kirishima a sinful look. You all continued up the stairs and into the kitchen. It was 12 now and most people were either still in the basement or were in Momos giant living room. You felt intimidated with these two boy beside you, especially after your cheeky confession about them.

“How about a shot?” you said slyly. Bakugo looked unamused while Kiri nodded and grabbed some plastic shot glasses. He poured them each with vodka.

“Can we link arms, like germans do?!” you giggled. Kiri laughed with you and Bakugo just grunted at the suggestion.

“Fine whatever brat lets just get this over with” Bakugo said, clearly in a hurry. You snaked your right arm into both Kirishima and Bakugos right arms. They’re muscles were practically screaming to be freed from the long sleeved button ups they had on. You admired the way their ties sat perfectly in the middle of their swollen chests. God did you love this party theme. You all took a deep breath in unison and threw your heads back as you downed the shot. Bakugos face remained with the same angsty demeanor while Kirishima smiled, trying to hide his disgust, and your face contorted; this was some cheap shit you just drank.

Before you could come down from the sour taste in your mouth a hand was on your chin; the hotheads hand. He turned you to face him, eyes looking at him innocently, unsure of what you could’ve done wrong to illicit such a response from him. His eyes almost looked at you sympathetically before they filled with lust.

“Us CEOs would like our little assistant to provide us with a demonstration of that fantasy she mentioned earlier” Bakugo muttered out in a low voice. You were taken aback by his confidence, the idea of actually having a threesome with these men made your core hot and your legs shifted in place to comfort yourself. Kirishima leaned in and looked at you for a response, as did Bakugo who raised an eyebrow without removing his hand from your chin.

You tried to compose yourself before you whispered out, “Yes sir, I’d be happy to”. That was all they needed to hear. Each of them had always dreamed of ravishing you since highschool, spreading you open while you tear at their flesh begging for more. While they had never planned to share you, your confession made the two exchange looks and whispers with each other and they decided they would both take you tonight. There was no way they could pass up on that opportunity, especially when you looked like a sexy little assistant in that tight skirt. Each of them latched onto one of your hands and took you upstairs in Mr.Yaoyorozu’s office. You felt a bit guilty about what was going to happen in his office, but that feeling was washed away almost immediately when the door was slammed shut and locked behind you.

Bakugo sat in the office chair with his legs apart and Kirishima sat onto a small couch that sat in the corner of the room. “Get on your knees and come to me, I want you first” Bakugo demanded. His voice felt so much huskier and darker than before. You got on your hands and knees and crawled slowly over to him, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Once you got up to his legs, you tugged at his tie which caused him to let out a low grunt. He proceeded to unbutton his shirt, as if he knew what you meant when you did that. His hands then went down as he started palm his huge bulge again through his pants.

“Take care of this for me would you?” he said, looking down at his crotch then back to you. He meticulously took his belt off and unzipped his pants. His member swung out and slapped onto his now exposed abs. Your eyes widened, absolutely astonished at what you were witnessing. You knew he’d be big but jesus. A cocky grin creeped up on his face as he pulled all your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. Your grabbed his cock with one hand and used the other to steady yourself on his thigh. He began to slowly bob your head up and down. A tear escaped your eye when he shoved his entire length into your throat.

“Mm it-its s’ big” you whispered under your breath.

“Oh but you’re doing such a good job sweetheart” Bakugo moaned, trying to keep his composure as he fastened the pace. When you finally started to get used to his cock down your throat, you heard movement from the corner of the room. You wanted to stop and look up but another hand pushed your head back down, making you gag.

“Not so fast princess, let me do alittle something nice for you while you continue your work” Kirishima soothed in a low tone. Suddenly you felt a warm but firm hand pressing onto your core through your thong. You stopped dead in your tracks from the sensation.

“So wet for us already princess, I wonder how long you’ve wanted this” Kiri groaned as he felt the wet spot growing on your panties. His hands slowly pulled them down and took them off of you, along with your skirt. He began to rub his coarse fingers along your wet folds.

“Oi, forgetting something?” Bakugo groaned at you, you had stopped when Kiri’s fingers started to invade you. You resumed sucking him, feverishly bobbing your head and wrapping your wet lips around him, stopping only to flick your tongue around his tip. You were so eager to please and perform well for these two men, your pretend ‘bosses’ for the night. Little did you know, they felt the same way about you. They wanted to see you feel good too. Kiri abruptly forced two large fingers into your tight hole causing a muffled moan to vibrate through Bakugos member. He shuddered under the feeling and threw his head back in pleasure. Kirishima’s pace was slow first, but he wanted to hear you scream. He picked up the pace, each time he entered he flicked his fingers to hit your gratifying spongey spot. Your legs began to tremble as did Bakugos as you were both about to reach your climax.

“Im gonna cum okay sweetheart? Be a good girl and swallow this for me” he barely uttered out before his breath became shaky and his cock twitched in your mouth. Hot spurts of cum shot to the back of your throat and trickled down. A small drip started to slip out from your lips but you used your tongue to quickly lap it back up. He let out a long husky breathe and looked back down at you with tender eyes.

“You ready to cum for me now?” Kiri beckoned to you.

You pulled your gaze from Bakugo, barely turning your head back and breathily whispered “Y-Yes sir, I need it”. His hand was moving at an inhuman speed and his other hand was viciously swirling around your sensitive nub. Delicate moans and deep breaths left your mouth as you tried to hold back your screams. The last thing you’d want is for Momo to come up here, horrified at what was occurring in her fathers office.

“No no, we want to hear it all princess”

“C’mon sweetheart, let it go, for us” Bakugo whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. He held your hand in his face while Kiri stayed behind you, assaulting your swollen cunt with his hands. The stimulation was too much and you started to clench around his fingers before releasing your sweet juices all over him. You dug your fingers into the blondes legs as you screamed babbles, you could barely even form words at this point. Your legs shook violently before Kiri slowly pulled out of you, your release dripping from his fingers.

He walked around next to Bakugo in the chair, looked down at you and demanded “open up”. You eagerly leaned forward and sucked his fingers dry of your cum. Seeing your pretty mouth liking your own fluids up from his finger ignited a flame in both of the men towering above you. Your desperate eyes, wet lips and exposed body was making them heat up inside.

You were taking quick shallow breaths, still coming down from your high when you heard Kirishima unzip his black dress pants and kick them to the side. In one swift motion he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and into his arms. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and threw your arms over his neck. He carried you over to the couch he was on initially and sat down. You legs were knelt on the side of his. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, and you could feel his member growing between your legs. He leaned in and began kissing and nipping at your neck and chest. You started to tilt your hips and grind against him, forcing a low moan out of him. You tugged at his boxers and he lifted himself so you could pull them down. His cock was just a big as Bakugo’s, just with more girth. Your cunt was still sobbing from your orgasm you had just minutes before, but your wetness seemed to only increase when you realized Kiri was going to be inside you. Bakugo sat on the office chair, watching you two intently, as if waiting for something. He began to slowly stroke himself as he watched his friend intimately touch all over you, leaving your little whimpers to echo in the large office.

“You ready princess?”

“Yes sir, I-I’m ready” you said hesitantly. He grabbed at both your thighs and lifted you up easily. You then used one hand to position himself at your entrance the other to steady yourself against his shoulder. Your hole expanded to accommodate his size as he slowly lowered you down. You let out a loud whine as he stretched you painfully slow. He was groaning with pleasure at how your tight but soft walls grasped around him. He had always dreamed about what you felt like and now he had you all for the taking. He loved the way you clenched on his cock, so desperately wanting to feel his every muscle and vein. Once he was completely inside, you rested back down onto his lap. Kiri’s hands cupped your face and look at you with endearing eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d be so fucking tight, but you’re taking me so well” Kirishima praised. Once you were comfortable, you began to gently swivel your hips up and down. Kiri placed sweet kisses all over your chest and neck while rolling your sensitive nipples between his rough fingers. He shifted his hands to your ass, taking back control, and began to thrust into you even harder. The slaps of your ass against his thighs reverberated through the room, as did his howls of pleasure.

“Don’t think he gets to have all the fun sweetheart, I’m still here you know?” Bakugo said it a devilish voice. He sat up from the chair and finally let his pants fall to the floor. He kicked them aside and slowly made his way over to you. Kirishima quickly shoved your thighs down into him, holding you down on top of his cock, allowing it to be pushed to the furthest depths. You let out a loud cry but Bakugo quickly covered your mouth. He tilted your head back so you were now looking up at him, make-up smudged a bit and hair all over the place.

“This is going to hurt, but you’re our good girl right? Tell me you can take it” Bakugo howled at you. You could feel his hard sweaty abs pushed against your arched back. His tip was nearing your tight puckered hole and your body quivered at the realization. You had waited so long for this, you won’t disappoint now.

“I- I’m a good girl, I c-can take it” you managed to say. Bakugo smiled at you but kept your head tilted back.

“You’re gonna look me in the eyes while I do this alright sweetheart? Dont think about looking away from me, got it?”

“Yes sir” you whimpered. They both adored the nickname, it made them feel so powerful and filled them with a need to destroy you.

Bakugo gently pushed into your one empty hole, maintaining a firm grasp on your neck. He stared deep into your eyes as tears began to fill them. He was going slow to help you adjust, but the pain was burning.

“I-I ca-can’t please”

“Oh no no, we can’t have that. You work for us, remember? You have to handle anything we give you, understand?” Bakugo firmly said. Kirishima kept placing gentle kisses on your exposed chest and rubbed your hips gently, trying to soother your nerves but you continued to shake and cry.

“Its okay princess, you can do it” Kiri whispered into your ear. You couldn’t look down to see him because of Bakugo’s grasp on your throat, but his praise helped you relax a little and ease your muscles. Bakugo was halfway there and you hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t want to go slow anymore, and Kiri didn’t like to be kept waiting. He moved his hand from your throat back to your mouth as he quickly shoved the rest of his long member into your hole. Your screams and cries were muffled by his large hands. However they slowly turned into moans of pleasure. Bakugo and Kiri looked over at eachother and nodded, both filled with primal lust. Kirishima raised your legs up a bit and began to viciously pound into your cunt. Bakugo then quickened his pace and you could feel their balls loudly slapping against your sensitive skin at different tempos.

“Fuck y/n you look so fucking hot taking us both like this” Bakugo professed, tilting your head back once again. He continued to pound into you as he lowered his head, his lips crashing into yours. He thrusted into you with no mercy, abusing your once untouched hole. He pulled away and Kirishima grabbed a hold of your face this time.

“Please, its too much but ah it f-f-feels so fucking good” you desperately cried out, looking Kiri right in the eyes. His thrusts became deeper and longer as he squished your face and cheeks within his hands.

“You gonna cum all over my cock now princess? Tell me how bad you want to cum” he groaned into your ear. You could hear both of their low moans and heavy breaths filling the room.

“Y-yes I wa-wanna cum sir!” you mewled.

“Tell us how much you love getting both your holes stuffed” Kiri demanded. He wanted to hear you say it.

“I- I love getting my holes f-fucked by you two so much!” you screamed out. Your legs shook and your head rocked back. Bakugo was now looking down at you as more tears flooded your faces and straining gasps and moans escaped your mouth. He couldn’t help but smile, watching your body convulse over him and his best friend fucking both your little holes. You released all over them, but they weren’t stopping yet...not until they filled you.

“Now, y/n be a good girl and take our cum okay?” Bakugo growled at you. His thrusts became harder and harder.

“Y-yes”

“Yes what?”

“Yes s-sir”

Kirishima took your gaze from Bakugo as he pulled you close and moaned into your neck “f-fuck, your pussy f-feels amazing, I’m so close princess”.

“Ahh y-yeah me too, are you ready f-for our cum y/n?” Bakugo managed to ask. They were both more than ready, they just wanted to hold out a little longer, make this moment last.

“Yes please! Please I want it all inside me”

Your needy screams sent both the men over the edge. They couldn’t believe how willing you were to be filled by them. Both their cocks twitched in you at the same time. Kirishima grasped tightly onto your breasts while his back arched up. Bakugo desperately gripped onto your ass cheeks, digging his nails into you, leaving bruises in his wake. They both pumped you full of their warm cum, stuffing you completely. They let out long deep breaths as they continued to gently pump in and out of you, making sure you got your fill. Bakugo pulled out of you slowly, to allow your body to readjust to the emptiness. His cum dripped down between your perfectly round ass cheeks ‘what a pretty sight’ he thought to himself.

Kiri gently lifted you up and took his member out of your battered hole. Your lips were swollen and your legs were covered in marks. He sat you back down onto his lap, not caring that you were oozing onto him. Bakugo sat down next to Kiri on the couch and you laid your head back in his lap. He gently caressed your head and wiped away some of the tears and stains on your face. Kiri tenderly rubbed at your thighs, attempting to soothe your quivering legs. They both admired you for a minute before you struggled to sit up to talk to them both.

“Next time, I get to be the CEO”, you said in a low voice, then flashed them with a cheeky smile. Both of the men looked at each other briefly before looking back at you with small smirks on their face.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #mha kirishima #kirishima x reader #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #please be nice #f!reader #bakugo x kirishima x f!reader

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

#joaquin torres x reader #torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquín torres #lieutenant torres #lieutenant torres x reader #fatws #tfatws

[sugako]

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

CH28- Hens, Stags and Cubs Part 3- Cubs

Summary: On the final weekend before their wedding, Frank spends some time with his son as Mary and Fliss depart on a special Mother-Daughter Hen-Do of their own.

Warnings: Bad language, some racey themes discussed.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 4 k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Ch28 Part 2- Stags

If we lay a strong enough foundation, we’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you. And you’ll blow us all away.

“Lissy?”

“Yeah?” Fliss paused outside Mary’s room, popping her head in through the door.

“Do I need anything other than this for the Spa tomorrow?”

Fliss scanned the items on Mary’s bed. A bathing suit, towel, hairbrush, spare hair tie, flip-flops and her book.

“Erm, no, I think you’re good.” Fliss smiled. “You reading Black Beauty again?”

“Yup, it’s my favourite.”

Fliss grinned, “One of mine too. Much better than those deep and meaningful books your dad reads. I can’t understand half of the words he quotes out of them.”

“He only does that to make himself look clever.” Mary scoffed. “Doesn’t work.”

The pair of them cracked up laughing and Mary moved round to give Fliss a hug. “I’m so excited!”

“Me too, sweetheart. It’s gonna be so much fun. And to get the weekend started, we rented Mulan and there’s popcorn in the microwave.”

“Yesss!” Mary hugged her tightly again as Fliss dropped a kiss to the top of her head. She helped Mary pack her things into the little sunshine yellow overnight bag that Roberta had bought her for her birthday, and together they made their way downstairs into the family room.

Alex was already in bed leaving just the three of them and they settled down, Mary in her favourite place in between Frank and Fliss. Frank instructed the Alexa to dim the lights before he fired up the movie and they spent the next few hours engrossed in the live action remake, Frank’s arm stretched over the back of the sofa, gently tickling the nape of Fliss’ neck every so often. It never ceased to amaze Fliss how he constantly liked to touch her, something that had grown even more obvious ever since she’d had Alex.

Not that she was going to complain about it, ever.

They took a reasonably early night, as Fliss and Mary had to be at the Marriott in Tampa by nine-thirty. They ate a quick breakfast together, before Mary headed off to check her back for the hundredth time. When quizzed about what he had planned, Frank jokingly told Fliss that he intended on sitting Alex in front of a recording of an old Red Sox game from the nineties to ‘further his education’.

“Indoctrination, more like!” Fliss snorted. “Baby, he’s one.”

“So?”

“He’s far too young to sit still through an entire baseball game. You’re setting yourself up to fail.” “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Frank signed, dramatically. “I mean let’s face it, all he’s gonna wanna do is eat, piss off Fred and Thor, crap and nap.” “Same shit you do on a daily basis.” Fliss grinned and Frank snorted. “I don’t nap.” “Liar.” “Not every day!”

At just after half past-eight, Frank and Alex waved Mary and Fliss off, the tot chattering out “bye bye,” before Frank carried him over to the truck, whistling for Thor to follow.

“Boys trip buddy, before the sun gets too hot. You game?”

Alex grinned. “No!”

“Yeah, you’re saying no, but we know you mean yes. Can you say yes? Say yes for Daddy.”

“No.”

Frank scoffed. “Whatever.”

The drive down to St Pete’s was less than fifteen minutes thanks to the light traffic with it being relatively early on a Saturday morning. Frank parked his truck up at the Public Access car park and, after removing his own shoes and Alex’s sandals, he carried him down onto the beach. It was already starting to warm, but was still reasonably cool and not that busy, perfect time to be out and about.

Frank watched as Thor went racing off into the sea, Alex pointing after him and shouting ineligible words at the dog who barked, jumping in and out of the spray.

“This is where I'm gonna marry your momma, Bud.” Frank looked around the place where in a week’s time they would say ‘I-Do’ and smiled “What do you think?”

“Mama!” Alex grinned

“Yup, Mama.” Frank smiled, dropping a kiss to his head as they walked towards the sea. “Soon to be Mrs Adler.”

They made their way slowly to the ocean, and once there, Frank stood on the damp sand at the water's edge where it lapped at the shore. Thor ran past them, barking some more and Alex wriggled in his dad’s arms, eager to be set down. Frank placed him on the floor and helped him stand up in the waves, moving forward a little as Alex took a few confident steps supported by Frank’s hands.

“You’re getting a dab hand at that, Bean.” Frank smiled, as he stooped over, helping him walk. The boy hadn’t yet taken a step unaided but both he and Fliss knew it wouldn’t be long.

As a wave came towards them, Alex let out a loud coo of excitement and squealed as the cold water ran over his chubby little feet. The squeal became a giggle, which became full on laughter and Frank chuckled along as the little boy stamped his legs, splashing in the spray.

Alex’s joy was infectious, so full of happiness at something so simple and pure. It made Frank’s heart swell that big he thought it might burst from his chest. He once more cast his eyes over his shoulder to the very spot where their friends and family would all gather in seven days and he smiled, his eyes brimming suddenly with content tears.

Simply put, it was the most complete he could remember feeling. Ever.

****

Upon arrival at the spa, Fliss and Mary were welcomed by the desk staff who directed them through to the changing rooms.

“The lockers are free,” the immaculately turned out brunette smiled at them, “once you’re changed, if you head through the door at the back of the room, Ellis and Marina will be there to meet you and will discuss with you what you want.”

“What we want?” Mary’s eyes grew wide and Fliss chuckled, her hand dropping to the back of her head. “We get to choose?”

“Absolutely, Miss.” The lady smiled and Mary grinned.

“That’s so cool.” It took Fliss a while to calm Mary down enough to get her to change into her bathing suit but she finally succeeded and couldn’t help the smile on her face as Mary wrapped herself in the little, personalised robe which had her name on the front and “Chief Bridesmaid” on the back. It had cost a small fortune, and with the rate Mary was growing probably wouldn’t see the year out, but Fliss didn’t give a shit. It was worth it to see her daughter’s face as she noticed the words in the mirror, her mouth falling open.

“Chief Bridesmaid? I thought that was Bonnie?”

“No, Bonnie is my maid of honour.” Fliss corrected. “You’re my best girl, therefore that role goes solely to you.” Mary smiled, a bit tearfully so, "thank you, Mom."

Fliss never got tired of hearing it. She was still Lissy by account many times, much more than Frank was ‘Frank’ (which seemed now to be reserved for when he was being an idiot or pissing Mary off), but when the sweet sound of 'Mom' would pass over Mary's lips it always warmed her heart. She didn't care if she were Fliss, Mom, or whatever half insult Mary would toss in during a fit, it wasn't important to her. She knew Mary loved her and she too loved and adored the little girl that truly moulded her new world. Fliss slipped into her own robe, this one just a standard one provided by the hotel and together they made their way through to the treatment rooms where they were greeted by two other petite women who instantly began to fuss over Mary. “So you’re both in for the full works.” The smaller of the women, Ellis smiled. “So we’re gonna start with your facials, which will take about an hour, then your massages which will take roughly forty minutes or so. Then after that we send you off to relax for an hour and a half by the outside pool where your lunch will be served. Once that’s done, you’ll be taken into the Mud Room for your body mud treatments and then you can shower, change and come back in for your manicures and pedicures.” As the woman reeled of their treatments, Fliss cast her eyes at Mary whose face just lit up in awe as she nodded, gleefully.  Over the next hour, Fliss enjoyed a clay mask aimed at targeting her complexion, followed by a gentle scrub before being finished with a serum made of blue spirulina and aloe vera. It left her face feeling absolutely amazing. That aside, what had made her smile the most was Mary’s reaction to the avocado and pomegranate seed mask she had chosen. She’d squealed when it had been applied, declaring that it felt ‘cold and slimy’, giggling away as the ladies explained that only the ‘young clients’ got the specially made to order fruit masks. Next they enjoyed their massages. Fliss had opted for a full sports therapy one on her back and shoulders which were feeling a little tight. Mary was given a hot stone one, which she giggled at once more as the heated pebbles were placed up and along her spine. Ellis shot Fliss a wink as she gently moved the stones around over Mary’s back and Fliss smiled before she settled down for her own, which was a hell of a lot less relaxing but left her at the end feeling a whole lot better, especially in her bad shoulder which had been clicking a lot recently. They then made their way outside and Mary asked Fliss if they could have a dip in the pool. So they did, before they ordered their lunch and sat on a lounger under a parasol. Fliss was served a glass of champagne and Mary given fizzy apple juice also in a flute, another thing that made her practically squeal with delight as she pointed out they had the same glasses. As Mary tucked into her burger and fries, Fliss eagerly ate her Chicken and Prawn Caesar salad and took a moment once more to watch the young girl as she chatted away. It amazed Fliss to think how much she’d gained, really, from the moment Frank and Mary had walked onto her yard little over three years ago. She had never in a million years dreamed she would be here, happy and content, with two beautiful children and a man who loved her the way Frank did. Right from the off she had known what she had with Frank was something special. Simply put, he was her person. The part of her that she hadn’t even realised was missing, and Mary herself had been part of that missing piece too. Fliss had loved her instantly, that sweet little girl that so many had written off as troubled, without giving her gorgeous personality a chance to flourish. Despite her intelligence, Mary was still an innocent child and Fliss adored the bones of her, without even having to try. Fliss felt her eyes beginning to well up as she took a bite of her food. Simply put, all the agony and horror and pain she had experienced in what she referred to as her previous life, she’d go through a thousand times over if it led her to Frank. She’d never tell him that out loud though, as her Sailor was probably more upset in away about her abusive past than she was now. He’d told her many a time that it broke his heart to think anyone could be so callous and cruel to her. No, she’d keep that thought to herself. And be happy and safe in the knowledge that she’d never go through anything like that again. “You okay, Mom?” Mary asked and Fliss nodded, reaching for her drink to allow her time to compose herself.

“Yeah! I’m just having an awesome time. Hey,” she leaned forward a little, “what colour are you gonna have on your nails?”

“Erm, I don’t know.” Mary grinned. “I thought yellow, because that’s my favourite. Maybe with some sparkle, if they have it. Will that go with my dress?”

“Babes, your dress is cream. So anything goes. But besides,” Fliss shrugged, “who cares anyway? You’re you, Mary. Own it. And don’t let anyone ever tell you that you need to be anything else.”

“You sound like Roberta.” Mary grinned and Fliss laughed.

“Well then, she’s a wise woman.”

“I know I’m different to most other kids my age,” Mary spoke again after a moment, “but like Dad says, if we were all the same, the world would be a boring place.”

“He’s not wrong, sweetheart.” Fliss reached over the table and cupped Mary’s face with her hand. “He’s not wrong.” ******

Frank and Alex arrived back home just before twelve, having detoured on the way back to the park for a little play, departing before it got too hot for them all. Frank made them both lunch and then attempted to set Alex down for a nap, but he simply wasn’t cooperating. Instead, he persistently hoisted himself up using the bars of the side of the crib, and after half an hour of listening to him on the baby monitor shouting every word he knew, Frank gave in and went up to get him.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“No.”

“You are.” Frank assured his son as he set him down on the play-mat in the family room.

“Fank.”

Frank paused, “That’s a new one.” He looked at Alex, his brow arched as the tot grinned.

“Frr-rank”

“No, I’m Daddy.”

“Frank.”

“Daddy.” Frank pointed to himself.

“Dadda.”

“Yeah, that’s right, pal.”

After flicking through Disney + for something suitable, Frank eventually settled on Oliver And Company. Mary had liked it when she was a baby and Frank still found it hilarious. That said, Alex wasn’t really watching. Occasionally, he would look up at the TV from his vantage point on the rug and grin as he shouted “doggy” whenever he saw Dodger. Their real life dog and cat were, thankfully, left to snooze in their preferred spot curled up together in the patch of sunlight that came through the patio doors. Alex’s attention was mostly taken by his rock and stack. Each time he slotted one of the brightly coloured plastic hoops over the post, he let out a loud shriek before clapping. Once it was full, he began swatting at the base to make it sway before he looked at Frank. Frank grinned and tipped it upside down to more laughter and then the process started again. Well, that was until Alex became fascinated by the littlest ring which had a shiny, reflective surface with colourful, swirling beads inside that made, what he clearly thought, was a fun, rattle sound when he shook it.

                        At just before two, Frank spotted Alex’s eyes growing heavy and picked him up, handing him his pacifier. Alex curled up against his dad’s chest, his little hands tangling in his t-shirt, head resting against his shoulder as he yawned. Sixty seconds later he was asleep, and Frank knew he should really set him in his crib…

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, and with as gentle a movement as he could so as not to disturb his sleeping baby, he lay himself flat on the sofa and flicked the TV over to the news channel.

Five minutes into the report he’d been watching on the run up to the election, Frank’s own eyes closed and he too fell asleep, his son clutched to him, rising and falling with the gently rhythm of his chest.

*****

 “Thought you didn’t nap?”

Frank jerked awake to see Fliss stood over him, a smile on her face, phone held in her hand, clearly having just snapped a shot of the pair of them.

“I never said that, I just said not every day.” Frank shot back, his voice croaky with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Little after four.”

“Shit.” He grumbled, looking down as he felt Alex stir against his chest. “We’ve been out for two hours. His sleep patterns gonna be all over the place tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fliss shrugged as she picked Alex up, the baby giving a yawn before he grumbled a little, and pressed his faced into her neck. “Not like we have to be anywhere tomorrow.”

“Where’s Mary?”

“Shot off to see Monty,” Fliss chuckled.

Frank snorted as he sat up. “Should have known the pony would take priority over me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She won’t be long, she’ll want to show you the matching polish on her fingers and toes.”

“Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah, it was fantastic.” Fliss beamed as she settled besides him on the couch. “I had a great massage, a facial, the works, but the best bit was seeing Mary’s reaction to it all. It was so innocent, just, oh Frank, I can’t explain.”

“I get it.” Frank smiled, remembering the same feeling he’d had with Alex that morning.

“So what did you get up to?”

 “I took him and Thor to the beach before, showed him where we’re gonna get married. I think he approved. We played in the waves a bit, went to the play-park. Then we came home, played a little and then fell asleep.”

 “Sounds like you had fun, too.”

“Yeah, we did.” Frank smiled as he leaned over to give Fliss a soft kiss. With a grumble, Alex pressed his hand against his beard and pushed him away.

“No.”

Frank playfully narrowed his eyes and Alex shook his head. “No, Frwank.”

Fliss blinked, before she let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah, we had that debate before too when he wouldn’t go down for his nap.” Frank rolled his eyes. “Little shit.”

“Stop calling him that!” Fliss scolded him and Frank laughed, giving her another kiss.

“Drink?”

“Oh, yes!” She beamed. “There’s a couple of bottles of Sancerre in the fridge a client got me week. We can crack one open and sit outside if you like?”

Frank did like. So he poured them both a large glass and carried them outside, Fliss setting Alex down on the grass with a few toys and they both perched on the lawn together watching him.

They’d just finished their first glass when Mary came home, declaring she was starving as it had been absolutely ages since she’d had lunch, so Frank rang for a couple of pizzas. As the four of them sat in the garden, eating their dinner, Frank dropped his arm round Fliss shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple as Mary handed Alex a piece of pineapple off her slice for him to try.

“Is there anything he won’t eat?” Frank asked as Alex made an appreciative noise and held his hand out for more.

“Not found anything yet.” Fliss mused. “Mind you, rather that than him be a fuss-pot.”

“True.” Frank nodded to her glass.

They sat still for a while, until they’d finished eating and Fliss made to collect the boxes up, but Frank stopped her.

“I’ll get it. You want a top up whilst I’m inside?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He stood up, grabbed the boxes and their glasses and headed to the kitchen. He tossed the boxes onto the side, ready to be dealt with later, and pulled another bottle of chilled white from the fridge. He poured them both another large glass before he walked back to the open doors and simply paused as he took in the sight before him. His kids sat on the grass, Alex’s hand curled round Mary’s as he examined the bright yellow varnish on her nails. Besides them, his very soon-to-be wife was sat, legs stretched out, her auburn hair glinting in the setting sun.

All in the home they’d made for themselves.

It was so simple, so domestic, and something a few years back Frank would never in a million years have dreamed he’d have.

He made his way back outside, passing Fliss her glass as he sat down, his hand dropping to her leg, curling over her thigh.

“Love you.” He whispered into her ear and she turned to him, her large brown eyes shining with happiness.

“Love you too.” She beamed, before a loud laugh distracted them. The looked up to see Mary was now stood up blowing bubbles from a small pot, Alex reaching up to grab them, laughing as Thor jumped into the air, his jaws clicking around nothing as he tried to catch them in his mouth.

Fliss leaned up and kissed Frank’s cheek. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my last Saturday as a Gallagher.”

Frank smiled, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, before he slid his nose gently against hers. “I can’t think of a better way to spend any of my Saturdays, Honey.”

Fliss beamed at him, and then shifted so she was sat in between his legs as they extended either side of hers. She leaned back into him, a contented sigh leaving her mouth.

“Seven days.” She muttered. “I’ll be Mrs Adler by this time in seven days.”

The arm that wasn’t holding his glass gently crossed over her chest, holding her close as Frank smiled, kissing her head. “Damned straight, Cowgirl. I can’t wait.”

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters