#‘despite being a playboy his company is almost his life’

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #62

[dairy-farmer]

Titans always liked to party. Even when everyone started their own lives, barely seeing each other, they always found time to throw a party once in awhile.

This party was the biggest one yet. After one of the massive threats to the universe was dealt with, some of the JL members stayed, almost all of the Titans and even the Outlaws. Dancing, games, chatting... After a few hours, there were only a small group left: bachelors, who wanted to get drunk. Hal didn't really care about an age gap, everyone left were adults. Dick was always game. Roy wanted Jason to let loose, so they both stayed.

At some point they started playing Truth or Dare, but they figured out fast that they were too drunk for any action, that's why only truth was left on the table. Questions soon turned into only sex relating. The most adventurous time. Just the best fuck. Best blowjob. Until one of them mentioned Tim's name. That's when they figured out, that all of them had sex with Tim and that all the best times they were talking about were with him.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yesss!!! they're all heavily buzzed and are slurring their speeches, too drunk to even think of getting up from where they're sprawled over the floor on cushions, couches, and assorted arm chairs. there are occasional bursts of giggles, some rolled eyes from hal and jason over the other two giggling like school girls over something. but its not like any of them have anywhere to be. no girlfriends, wives, or children expecting them home. and also being drunk and alone is sort of pathetic so at least together they're socializing and having a nice time while occasionally forcing one another to do humiliating shit until it's late and they're tired and have decided to just keep getting 'truth' out of each other while they wind down from the party and enjoy the company of each other and pretend they're not nearly as drunk as they feel.

dick is failing at it the worst and is nursing a trashcan in his lap while seated criss cross apple sauce on the floor. hal has managed to claim the entire length of the couch and has his head rested on one arm rest and ankles crossed on the other. roy is slouched with his elbows on his knees on a chair and drinking a slowly melting slurpy because he'd volunteered for a 7/11 run. jason has an icepack over his eyes and a can of ginger ale in one hand and pretending they're not all there while he...batmeditates the drunkness away.

things are civil and friendly, occasionally they all share a laugh at someone else's expense while plying truths out of each other. there's an unspoken brotherhood in bachelorhood that makes being open and honest while wasted so much easier and so much more...freeing. they don't have to worry about judgement, about hurting someone's feelings. when among kin you can finally admit that sure that girl you dated on and off for years kind of sucked at giving head and that the best blowjob of your life was at an executive's christmas party while out on the terrace of some hotel.

roy sighs about the sweetest tits he'd ever seen being on someone he had no business hooking up with.

hal commiserates with him admitting that despite his playboy ways, the best fuck of his life had been this barely legal little thing that he'd been waiting to get his hands on since they were sixteen and that hal also would have risked losing his balls if anyone in the league ever found out about it.

jason, from under his icepack, grunts out about how his sweet little pocket pussy had let him put the mouth of his fully loaded favorite gun into his fucked out little hole that was dripping with jason's mess.

hal gives an impressed whistle and jason lets out an, honest to god, wistful sigh about how he should've put a fucking ring on it.

they all give a shared shudder at that though. if there's one thing they all understand its that none of them are...husband material.

still that doesn't mean there aren't...longings for the position and its associated benefits.

dick gives a miserable groan into his trashcan and a wet gag where nothing comes up before miserably sniffling and asking them if they thought that tim would mind dick sabotaging his birth control so he'd have dick's baby so dick could have his not so secret desire to be a daddy to more than just the goldfish in his apartment.

and it's the mention of tim that sends them all back into their drunken reminiscing and bragging about conquests and the mental all stars roster they each have regarding their hookups.

of which tim seems to be the mvp of.

it's not shocking, not to them. if others had been in the room they probably would've been surprised that the most prude robin actually wasn't all that chaste. but they all knew exactly what tim did in his spare time (them). the only part that's surprising is finding out that they all have become intimately familiar the hot tight little cunt that milked their cocks like it was handmade by god to do it.

it's not long until that's all they're talking about.

hal closing his eyes and moaning about how cute and pink tim's tits were when they bounced as he rode him. jason about how tim was so obedient, letting him bend him all sorts of ways and positions and being such a champ and letting jason keep going even when he was passing out from exhaustion. dick is fully laid on the floor and mumbling about how nice and cold the hardwood is while talking about how tim's mouth always looked so cute stretched around his cock-that he didn't even have a gag reflex. roy is shamelessly hard on his chair and talking about how its a shame tim doesn't cross paths with him more often that roy would've loved a repeat, that jason and dick were fortunate to share a home with tim.

"i bet you've gotten some great pics" roy sighs.

and that's when the other three freeze for a moment because...pics?

and that's when roy shows them his phone where tim has sent roy pictures!!!! of tim's little hands cupping a tit in his bathroom mirror, of tim's finger pressed into his dripping baby cunt.

and hal has to fumble for the short 30 second clip in his phone of him slamming into tim and grunting as he cums as deep as he can get. jason claims tim has left countless pairs of panties in his apartment and that tim didn't let him record them fucking because he thought jason would shove it in bruce's face whenever he was angry at him (which jason absolutely would do) and dick whines about how his baby timmy never sends dick that kind of stuff!!! but would he? if dick asked would tim send him naked pictures of him in bed??

it goes without saying that tim is their favorite, the one they have the most fond memories of, the one that was their most memorable experience.

but that doesn't mean they don't all feel a bit competitive when they all text him to see who he'll respond to first.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Rpg Anon: Mod, tell me about Hinazumi's three kids. What are they like in personality, hobbies, interests, and character? And what about Naegiri's kids?

//It’s been quite a while since I last talked about the kids, so I may have forgotten one or two details about them. I’ll definitely do my best though. //The oldest, Genjitsu, or Genji, takes after his parents in many obvious ways. He’s a faithful and tolerant idealist who believes in the same hope for the future as Hajime and Mahiru do, and possesses very leaderly qualities, such as an overwhelming charisma, that match that of his father, and is overly concerned with the wellbeing of everyone around him; be it his friends, parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, etc. However, despite being a kind and gentle soul, he possesses traces of Mahiru’s assertiveness and Hajime’s inability to mince words. I also maybe imagine him having a crush on Natsumi-Sato Kuzuryu as they grow older.

//The middle child, Akihiro, is basically the complete polar opposite, at least by a fair bit. He’s generally a playboy who is more content with enjoying life and living in the present rather than thinking about the future. This however, comes from a more sinister place than apathy and lack of care. In contrast, he cares too much, and is fairly terrified of the future and the horrors of the unknown. He feels he has a lot to lose and that he relies too heavily on his parents and older brother for his own good. Id est, he’s a lot like Hajime prior to the Kamukura project as shown in DR3. For all his faults, however, Aki is truly a kind and compassionate individual who values the lives of others greatly and is genuinely tolerant of others' quirks and faults.

//The last one, Sayu, is easily and obviously the one who is most influenced by Chiaki, since their personalities are basically the same, much to Mahiru’s chagrin. On top of loving video games and it being her main hobby, she’s almost as skilled a competitive gamer as her father and aunt. Though she’s a hard worker and puts in the effort when she needs to, she’s generally lazy and almost eternally sleep-deprived. Usually if you put her and Chiaki in the same room together, it can end one of two ways: they either spend the entire time playing games, or they nap together. She appreciates the company of her parents, her siblings and the other remnants, willing to work hard for their sake, and much like her eldest brother, fully believes in whatever goals the group may have. However, she rather notably has young Mahiru’s short temper.

-Mod

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Beidou & Ningguang / Courting Darling.

Warnings: Stalking, implied blackmail, kidnapping, and gaslighting. Note: this is a bit of an amalgamation from different asks i’ve gotten, put into one thing bc i thirst for these six characters so hard .

Childe:

“What’s life without a little adventure? You can stand to miss work for a day or two, it’ll still be there waiting for you when we get back. People have even gone so far as to say I’m an absolute joy to be around. You want to know who said that? Sorry, that source is staying a secret.” 

Childe is an erratic whirlwind of highs and lows. You never know what to expect from him, and he likes it that way, always keeping you on your toes. He doesn’t bother with having his friendliness appear genuine. If you want to doubt his goodwill, then so be it, he won’t stop you. It just makes it all the more interesting to keep you around should you be wary of his presence. 

He doesn’t care for the traditional conventions surrounding romance. It isn’t his thing, and he’s used to being considered the odd one out of every crowd, so why stop now? Childe doesn’t tone down any aspects of his bloodthirsty personality in your presence. It’s difficult to tell how serious he’s being since most of it takes the form of jokes or other lighthearted jests. In his mind, the fact he’s even spending so much time with you should make it obvious he’s interested. Whether that’s good or not. 

You’re going to be dragged all over the place. Childe’s stamina is seemingly an infinite well, as he takes you from activity to activity. By the end of the day, you’ll be exhausted. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take no for an answer, weaseling his way into your schedule despite your protests. Childe is particularly fond of getting into situations where a fight is inevitable, purposefully taking you to areas with monsters to show off his combat prowess. 

“Did you get a look at that, [First]? Aha, I haven’t had this much fun in ages! You already want to head back? Hm, I don’t know, the night is still young. Stop dragging your feet or I might just have to carry you. Not that I’m complaining, should that be the outcome. It’s up to you. Oh! Now that’s the spirit! I’ll try not to be hurt by how fast you’re moving now.” 

Diluc: 

“Ah, [First], I take it you’re doing well. I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing this book at the market earlier. I’ve had a copy of it for ages, but with how busy things are, rarely do I have time to read. I’d be appreciative should you accept this and give it a better home.” 

Diluc is self-assured in many areas of his life, romance is not one of them. He knows how to carry himself in the company of businessmen, staying polite and vigilant, but this rigid method doesn’t work in his favor when it comes to wooing you. To soften the blow on his side, Diluc tells himself that it was never about a relationship anyway. That his main priority was and will always be to ensure your safety. He tells himself this, but... isn’t sure if he really believes it. 

He’s a perfect example of pining from afar. Subconsciously, he’ll drift towards areas you tend to linger around, hoping to spot you amidst the bustling crowds. Each time he tells himself that this’ll finally be the time he approaches you. The opportunity is set before him, waiting to be taken advantage of, but he rarely follows through with his desire. 

It frustrates Diluc to no end how easily others flock to you. He’ll stand there, still as a statue, eyes boring into whatever pest currently holds your attention. This would be the push to finally send him your way. It’s a surprise to you both when Mondstadt’s wine tycoon materializes by your side, politely asking to speak in private. Truth be told, he just can’t stand the thought of another person holding your attention that isn’t him. 

“I apologize for my abruptness back there. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for some time, and well... would you consider having dinner with me tonight? I’d appreciate your company.” 

Kaeya:

“It’s a funny thing, really. How we keep bumping into one another like this. Ah... that suspicious expression, it wounds me deep, sweetheart. When did you start looking at me like that, I wonder?” 

There’s no doubting Kaeya’s interest in you, from the first time he sauntered over to you and started a conversation. The problem you have is deciding how genuine his advances are. While Kaeya might not be the textbook definition of a heart-wrenching playboy, you’re familiar enough with the many rumors surrounding him to be wary. It doesn’t help that he’ll point this out to you when guessing the source of your apprehension. 

His methods are, oddly enough, effective. Kaeya balances the various aspects of seduction with ease. He reveals just enough about himself to draw out your attention, before focusing the conversation back onto you. You’ll never get to stop and realize how little you know about the man sitting in front of you, he makes certain of that.

Kaeya might hide certain aspects of himself, but his dubious morality is never concealed. He has you entirely wrapped around his finger, words validating his actions falling from his lips with the utmost ease; he’s a force to be reckoned with. You’ll start a conversation heated about something you’ve learned, only for it to end wondering why you were ever upset in the first place.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all riled up over something like this. Don’t you trust me by now? When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? You need to take a look at the bigger picture. Hey, take a seat. I’ll sit here all night explaining to you if it’s necessary.” 

→[More underneath the cut].

Zhongli: 

“There must be something that I can assist you with. It may not look it, but I’m familiar with many fields of work, even obscure ones. Please allow me to lend a hand.” 

Zhongli, despite having been around for many centuries, is somewhat clueless in romantic pursuits. He’s aware of his fondness for you, but doesn’t know what to do with it. This leads him to becoming your shadow for some time. He focuses on what he knows best: observation and processing new information. Your every little movement will be analyzed and tuck into the back of his mind for later usage. 

Zhongli’s soft over the idea of you coming to rely on him for everything. He prides himself on his wealth of knowledge and work ethic, believing it a strong appeal, one that he puts on full display when you’re around. It’s not rare for you to overhear neighbors and friends speak highly about Zhongli. They’ll mention in passing how they were having difficulty with something, only for Zhongli to come around and help without asking for anything in return. 

This is exactly what he’s been hoping and waiting for. Zhongli has patience and sets himself up to be a desirable partner in your eyes, the efforts from his labor coming into fruition. Before you even speak to him for the first time, you’re likely to think highly of him, having heard all the ways he’s helped people close to you. Now that the stage is properly set, he’s ready to make his interest in you more evident. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, [First]. Oh? You can say the same for me? Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations. I had just been on my way to Yanshang Teahouse, would you care to join me? My treat, of course.” 

Beidou: 

“You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a voyage with my crew and I. I’ll set up a nice cabin just for you, how does that sound? Hm? Special treatment? Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, lass.”  

Beidou’s attention is overwhelming and oftentimes dangerous. Traditional social conventions are nothing but a waste of time for her, meaning that common courtesy is disregarded in favor of always speaking her mind. Which might not be so bad if she wasn’t so amorous. Even the most oblivious person couldn’t miss Beidou’s overt favor towards you.

This reverent display of affection is only exacerbated when she’s drunk, face flushed and an arm swung tightly around your shoulder. She doesn’t care who sees, who’s judging, or what gossip will be born from her actions. Beidou makes a point of showing everyone in the vicinity that even if you aren’t officially partners yet, a claim has been staked on you. 

Whether it be coercion or some other unsightly method, Beidou is intent on bringing you on her ship at least once. Or that’s how she initially phrased it to you. Imagine your surprise, that when you finally caved so she’d drop the subject, her crew was untying the ropes keeping the boat at port. 

“The fun’s just getting started, you haven’t seen anything yet. Don’t get all teary-eyed yet, sweetheart, I know you’ll come around. This’ll be a story sung by sailors for generations to come.”

Ningguang:

“If I’m being honest, not many are given the opportunity to speak to me outside of business-related ventures. I never thought I’d find it this... pleasant. I hope you’ll continue to entertain me as you do now.” 

Ningguang starts off her wooing in a subtle, almost coquettish manner. She is confident in her charm and brilliance. Not many have been gifted in the art of conversation to the same extent Ningguang has, her silver tongue paired with quick intellect making it difficult for you to escape. She’ll corner you verbally without you even noticing it. 

Ningguang finds amusement in how you stumble over your words, pure of heart and not chained down by special interests. Your forthright but considerate demeanor intoxicates her. She’s used to people cowering in her presence or trying too hard to pursue their goals. You might even earn a rare compliment or two, disguised as politeness, that doesn’t register for hours. 

She is a lady of fine taste. The sky’s the limit when it comes to her wealth, which is unrivaled throughout Tevyat, and you’ll be quick to notice this. Ningguang is most partial to sending you traditional Liyue adornments, believing the rich culture behind each piece suits your beauty. She’s also fond of the fact that when you wear her gifts, everyone in the vicinity will know it’s from her, due to its extraordinarily high cost. 

“Do you like my latest gift, little dove? It was made custom with you in mind, an unrivaled display of craftmanship, if I may add. Wear this and carry me with you... always.” 

[lady-literature]

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them. 

And they all live happily ever after the end.

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter ii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t having a great day, but since most of her stress could be pinpointed to events that had happened over thirty days before, I guess you could argue that she wasn’t having a great couple of months. And she’d argue, she was a professor of Law, after all.

The truth was that it all had started over a month ago and she wanted to punch a lot of people for influencing her decisions that led her to this day, alone in her flat and pregnant, after confronting the father of her unborn child, of whom she knew next to nothing about.

The first person she’d like to blame was her idiotic colleague, Professor Steve motherfucking Rogers. He had been making her life miserable ever since she stepped foot in the university and refused his invitation for a date, but last month he had made it specifically difficult for her to ignore him.

Like, moving into her office difficult.

Of course, she was expecting to have to share the space, but the idea was that the next new professor that joined the staff would be the one to move into her office, and not one of the professors who *already had an office but decided that the location was inadequate for him. 

It was literally right down the hallway.

So Y/N now had to see him everyday, as opposed to the weekly staff meetings which used to be the only time she’d have to deal with him. And it just so happened that immediately after moving in, he decided it was time to start hitting on her again.

It’s not like Steve wasn’t attractive, that was actually part of the problem. He was very handsome and that, paired with his smooth talking and his incredible bright eyes, made it very difficult for her to continually tell him no. She had the hunch that he knew it, and that was why he kept insisting.

But you see, there was a reason why she had refused him, and the reason was that she didn’t want to date someone she had to work with. And she was glad that she had created that rule for herself, because it helped her see that Steve didn’t meet another of her very important rules: he didn’t respect her space.

So that is why her best friend, Ana, was the second person she wanted to hit. Because after sharing with her what her week had been like ever since Steve managed to move into her office, her friend decided the best way for her to let off some steam would be to go to a bar, get drunk, and find someone to go home with.

Now, Y/N hadn’t disagreed, despite the fact that the bar scene wasn’t necessarily her favorite spot to be at on a Friday night. But she was in a new city and it was time to try new things, so she accepted her friend’s soft push and accompanied her to a posh place called “La Manda”, which ended up being much fancier than she was expecting.

She quickly realized that was the reason for Ana demanding her to wear her favorite black dress. At least her friend had prevented her from being underdressed, but since her clothing wasn’t designer-made, she still felt a bit out of place. Everyone looked *expensive, and that was definitely something she was not.

Still, she had agreed to come out with her friend and she was already there. There was no reason to back out now. So she swallowed down her fears and ignored her discomfort, and ordered a martini to sip while they gossiped. At least the alcohol was always there to help her in awkward social situations.

Only an hour into the evening, Ana caught the eye of a handsome dark-haired man, and Y/N was many things, but a cockblock wasn’t one of them. So she insisted that her friend should accompany him to his place and assured her she’d be fine on her own. Ana had left with the stranger, but only after making her promise she’d stay for a bit and try to meet someone so she could have some fun, too.

That wasn’t a promise Y/N intended to keep, but Ana didn’t need to know that. All that mattered was that she didn’t stand in the way of her friend getting laid tonight. So the plan was for Y/N to finish her drink - she’d been on her second martini when the guy appeared, now she was halfway through her third - and she would bolt. 

Yeah. That was the plan. But what Y/N wasn’t expecting was for a gentleman to take a seat by her side at the bar and win her over with his cocky remarks and good looks. He wasn’t the type of guy she would go on a date with - it was clear that he thought too much of himself and Y/N could never bear people who thought money made them interesting - but she had to admit that he would be a good stress relief, and she was in desperate need of one.

When she cut to the chase and asked him if he was interested in taking her home, the look of surprise on his face was hilarious. Guess despite his handsome features, he wasn’t used to women who knew what they wanted and were clear about it. But Y/N had always treated sex just as it was: a human need that could be easily satisfied should two people agree on it. 

After laying it out in the open that all she wanted was a one-night stand, and he shouldn’t really look for her for anything more than that, the guy practically pounced on her, like her honesty was some type of foreplay for him. It almost made her laugh. But then his fingers found her clothed core under her dress and she almost choked, immediately jumping on him to take his lips with hers. 

Ransom - she’d learned his name during introductions, but wasn’t too worried about remembering it - took her to his place and she had to admit it was easily one of the best nights she’d ever spent with a partner. Then again, he had that kind of personality that made it clear he was well-experienced in bed, so she wasn’t too preoccupied about being disappointed. Come morning, however, she left before he woke up, only stopping to collect her purse that had been carefully deposited on a side table by the front door.

Her morning laziness had been the thing that saved her from a lot of trouble, for at the moment she pulled the bag, it brought down with it a pile of mail that had been sitting underneath it without her noticing it. When she bent down to pick it up, she caught sight of the name written on the delivery address. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale,” she had thought. “Huh. Guess I just slept with the playboy millionaire that’s being forced to take over his family’s publishing company.” And that was all that she expected to learn from him. When she took an Uber back to her place, she never thought she would be desperately googling his name in a little over a month, in an effort to figure out the address of where he worked. 

Guess life really has a way of fucking us all up when we least expect it.

[stickyy]

if it's not too much of a hassle,you can write about hawks with a SugarBaby (reader) because he's like a SugarDaddy BUUUT Instead of being the one who dominates,¿is the reader who does it? hawks only gives her money and gifts as payment for a little of your attention,hawks pays the reader to dominate it and pay for his company,if you step on his crotch he will surely thank you (femdom and ¿mommy kink?). I was thinking a lot about this dynamic and I found it VERY interesting,¿what do you think?.

warnings: sub!hawks degradation, findom, femdom, mommy!kink, cock stepping, spit kink, an instance of face slapping, hawks is a little bitch simp with a fat wallet, reader is kind of a bad bitch ngl 

wordcount: 2340

notes: anon this is IT this is what im mf talking ABOUT!!!

PERFORMANCE

Keigo all about spectacle. Chaotic destruction in the pursuit of a villain, the dramatics of combat, blinding camera flashes, cacophonies of squealing fangirls, the sheer wealth that comes with the exclusivity of the top 10- he’s no stranger to the limelight. Popular for a reason, he’s young and powerful, deceivingly coy despite it all, and it drives the public wild. He has them in the palm of his hand. A playboy poster child, spectacle is his middle name, and he wears it well.

He gives you a different performance behind closed doors.

You’re working, finishing an uneventful shift at your dreadfully mundane day job. You’ve been counting down the hours, which, ironically, causes time to slow down. Scrolling through your social media feed, you just want to pass the time. You’re skimming an article about music when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘heyyyy :)’

A grin spreads across your face. The number is unlisted, which is exactly why you know who it is. Excitement bubbles in your chest, the monotony of the day suddenly shattered. Keigo must be in town; he knows not to contact you unless he has something to show.

You check to make sure your read receipts are enabled, before staring at the message on the screen, not bothering to type a response. It’s a waiting game; you want him to work for it, to put on a show only for you.

Two whole minutes pass before you receive another.

‘i’m back in town tonight! :D’

You make no move, not yet appeased. It takes five minutes for him to cave:

‘can i see you?’

‘i need to see you’

‘missed you so much, mommy’

‘let me take you out to dinner? please?’

The prospect of a nice dinner outshines the takeout you were planning to order. A quick google search gives you a few options, and you decide on a steakhouse. They have wagyu, which you’ve been dying to try. Of course, coming in at $120 a steak, you hadn’t gotten a chance to yet. 

You send him the link, along with a short message:

‘8 pm, wear something nice.’

He instantly responds with a ‘thank you mommy :)’. You can’t help the the giggle that comes out of your mouth.

-

Keigo takes you back to his place after dinner. You make a point to keep your red-bottomed heels on, the click-click of your stride setting the tone for the night. He slips into his role easily, taking your coat and purse (both gifts from him; $1,790 and $2,850, respectively) to hang up. You take your place on the plush couch in his living room, legs crossed as you lean back, thoroughly satisfied from your meal. You never pay, of course- you don’t even go out of your way to acknowledge the check, but you were able to sneak a peek at the tab, which came in at a whopping $459.85. You didn’t think that two people could spend so much on a meal, but Keigo always found a way to spoil you.

He comes back into the room with a bottle of wine that you had requested last time you saw him (1990 Château Haut Brion, $875; even you had to admit that was ridiculous), handing you a wine glass and pouring your drink. He moves to fill his own, but you stop him.

“I didn’t say that you were allowed to drink tonight,” it’s a casual statement, but your pleasure ignites at the slightly dejected look on his face as he closes the bottle. It’s such a contrast to how you see him in the press. He never stops performing, you know, but this act is different. His fans see his chest puffed and wings flared, you get to see him on a leash.

“Why don’t you come sit next to Mommy?” you offer, Keigo perks up, meeting your gaze as he moves to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“The floor,” you correct before he can do otherwise. His breath hitches and he hesitates for a moment, but he kneels next to you anyways. He’s so pretty beneath you. It minimizes him, his usually proud aura squandered from your elevated point of view. It doesn’t help that he loves it- loves slipping into his role of being lesser. It excites him, and that, in turn, spurs you on. You thread your free hand through his hair and he visibly relaxes, pressing into your palm as his wings unfold slightly. The two of you stay like that for the moment as you sip on your wine, the luxury made so much sweeter by the hero in your company.

“Did you miss me?” you break the silence with your question, tilting his head up toward you to make eye contact. He nods enthusiastically, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“Yeah,” his voice is saccharine, gaze full of adoration, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Of course, you sick freak. You’re supposed to be off saving the world, and you’re thinking about the girl who won’t even fuck you if you don’t pay up first,��� you tug on his hair roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. A grin graces his features despite the abuse.

“You know I can’t help it, you drive me crazy.”

He shifts, and you can see the outline of a bulge in his pants.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you scoff, “all I’ve done is play with your hair and you’re already hard?”

He’s so easy to fluster when he’s like this, willing and pliant in your hands. He nods again, always so unashamed in his perversion.

“I didn’t touch myself at all, like you told me to, and it’s been so long,” his eyes plead with you, slightly rocking his hips for any kind of relief. He wasn’t allowed to jerk off so long as he was seeing you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re easy for it, baby. All it takes is a little affection to get you to empty your wallet. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

He whines quietly, pupils visibly dilating . “Yeah, I’m pathetic, just a slut for Mommy.”

With a hum, you set your glass down and uncross your legs. “Unzip your pants.”

He obeys, getting the zipper stuck twice in his haste. Cute.

You press the flat of your heel against the tent in his boxers. The moan he lets out is sinful, grinding up against you in search of any sign of relief.

“These heels are so nice, aren’t they? Probably one of my favorite gifts,” you reminisce, admiring the way the shiny leather contrasts against his skin. You can already see a wet spot forming on his boxers. “Do you remember how much they cost you?”

He’s lost in the sensation, too preoccupied to answer your question. You step down slowly, watching his face contort into one of pain, though the grinding doesn’t cease.

“Answer me, Keigo.”

“F-fuck, what was it, like $700?” his voice cracks, his breathing labored.

“Close enough. Aren’t you embarrassed, spending all that money on shoes just so you can rut against them?” your words send a shudder through his body. The act is starting to fade as he nears his orgasm, his playful exterior melting into one of desperation.

“I’m close, fuck I’m close,” Keigo almost sounds panicked, his hips desperately bucking in pursuit of his first release in a long time. You remove your heel abruptly, pouting at him. He lets out a pitiful gasp as the loss of sensation, a sob making its way out of his throat.

“You know what you have to do if you want to cum,” you say sternly, feigning disappointment. He jumps up, stumbling across the room for his jacket and reaching for his phone in the pocket. You notice his hands are shaking as he taps his screen a few times, before your phone chimes in its place next to you. You look over, and grin at the Cash App notification. 

‘birdbrains🐤 sent you $1,430 for i love you mommy <3’.

“Holy shit, Kei, you’re that desperate to cum? If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d assume you can’t get anyone else to fuck you,”  You’ve always made his pay before he touches you, but he’s never broken a grand for just an orgasm.

“Please, Mommy,” is all he gives. He’s already back at your feet.

You spread your legs, unable to contain your arousal at this point; seeing the winged hero so broken always sets a fire in your stomach. “Make Mommy feel good, and I’ll let you stuff that needy cock inside of me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s immediately between your legs, pulling your lacy panties to the side (one half of a custom made designer set, $650) and shoving his face between your thighs. He always eats you like his life depends on it, obscenely slurping on your gushing entrance. He’s good at it too, expert tongue on your clit, pushing two fingers inside and prodding at your velveteen insides, causing you to bury your hands in his hair to keep him in place. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back your noises. This is always about your pleasure, and you make sure to remind him of that first and foremost. It’s not necessary, though; you're convinced that he’d go bankrupt if it meant he could have even an hour of your time. You can do anything to him, say anything to him, and it only drives him crazier.

To prove your point, you squeeze your thighs against his head, effectively suffocating him. He doesn’t let up- if anything, he begins to lick and suckle more enthusiastically, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You keep him there for a solid minute, watching him struggle in your grip. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and you shout as you grind against his face, riding out your first orgasm of the night. You let up, spreading your legs again and he gasps for air, tears flowing freely as he catches his breath.

“Thank you Mommy, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he huffs between gasps, face glistening with your juices. You grab his chin and lean down to give him a kiss, feeling him melt into you as he lets out a little moan. The taste of your arousal on his lips causes you to shiver in pure euphoria. You pull back but keep his chin in your hand, coaxing his mouth open before you spit, tilting his head back and watching your saliva slide down his throat.

“Good boy,” he perks at the praise, smiling despite himself.

“Go ahead and strip for me, and I’ll let you have that orgasm you want so bad,” you say as you stand, peeling yourself out of your dress. He obeys, albeit slowly as he’s more distracted watching you strip in front of him, eyes tracing your curves as you undo your bra and slide your panties down, opting to keep on the heels. You notice, but decide to let it slide this time. You gesture for him to sit and he obeys, grabbing your hips as you straddle his lap. His cock curves against his stomach, an angry red and damp with the obscene amount of pre dripping down his length.

“This looks like it hurts,” you lilt mockingly, gently running a finger up his length to gather some of his pre. You smear it on his lower lip, raw from your earlier abuse.

“It does, fuck- Mommy, please,” he’s back to begging, eyes misty, “Please let me fuck you Mommy, I promise I’ll make you cum again, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want-”

“Shh,” you stop his babbling, positioning yourself over him, “keep your hips still for me, okay?”

He nods, and you begin to sink onto his length, slowly.

He moans, eyelids fluttering as your gummy walls begin to constrict around his length. He struggles to keep himself from squeezing your hips and fucking up into you, but he manages in fear of a punishment. You take your sweet time before bottoming out, staying completely still. Keigo chokes on a sob, thighs quivering with the effort to stay put, and you watch him for just a moment longer, revelling in the sight. He’s flushed down to his chest, eyes lidded and pupils blown, skin dewy with sweat and tears and your slick, wings fluttering behind him. 

If only his fans could see him now.

You take pity on him and start to move, allowing him to take your weight in his hands, bouncing you on his cock. It takes a lot of focus not to get lost in the sensation, squelching noises filling the empty air as your mind starts to blur, his cock rubbing against the spongy walls of your pussy. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, moaning unabashedly, eyes trained on your face. He’s already close, but there’s a determination in his eyes that confuses you slightly; he has permission to cum after all. It’s when the blunt head of his cock hits something gooey inside of you that it makes sense; of course he’s making good on his promise to make you cum first. He’s a good boy, after all. It doesn’t take long, his hips jackrabbiting as he abuses that spot in you, forcing the pressure in your stomach to pull taut, and eventually snap. You cum with a squeal of his name, vision darkening as you watch him finish, stray tears flowing down his cheeks. You catch a few with your thumb and lick them up.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he’s breathless, but you can tell he’s not totally satisfied; it’s been weeks since he’s seen you, after all. He begins to roll his hips again, face scrunching in the sweet torture of overstimulation. 

You land a firm slap on his cheek and he gasps, giving you a surprised look.

“You know what you have to do if you want another orgasm.”

The show goes on.

[tennessoui]

oh my god literally every single prompt on that list is gold and i'd love to see your obikin take for all of them. hmmm... if i had to choose i guess first 13. co-stars au?? thank you lots of love !!!

ah bless!! thank you so much!! i'm slowly working my way through most of the prompts on that list so you might see many many more before I'm done with my ask box. I think after two more, I'll put em on ao3 to keep em more organized too. this has been soooo fun!!

13. Co-Stars AU(/7. Fake Relationship AU)(2.5 k)

“No.”

“Ani, darling, you can’t say no.”

“Don’t call me that. And secondly, I can. I just did. This is my personal life, the company has no control over that.”

“While you’re filming its movie and it’s giving you money, you’ll actually find that it does, Anakin.”

Anakin sits down heavily on the bench outside his trailer, leaning forward until he can put his head in his hands. He wants to run his fingers through the mess on his head, but they’re in between takes right now and the make-up department will definitely kill him if they have to fix him up again.

“Asajj, please. You know how hard it was to get to come out as bisexual. If the first person I date after that is a woman, no one will remember! It’ll just be completely erased, and I’ll be Anakin Skywalker, Playboy Actor again.”

“But you do like women,” Asajj points out. “So either way, you’d be confirming your sexuality.”

Anakin sighs and leans his head back against the metal of the trailer. “And it would be different if I was actually in love with Padme, but she’s just my co-star and--”

“Anakin, she’s your co-star. You’re in a blockbuster movie where you dramatically save her life and then kiss her as the credits roll. This is just business. You like her. You’re friends. Think of it less like dating, and more like going to grab lunch together. And coffee. Maybe a fancy dinner. Several times a week.”

“For how long?” Anakin asks, resigned and despairing and hating the fact that he ever got into acting.

Asajj sounds relieved. “Just until the movie’s out and sales are doing well.”

That could be months. That would be months. “And I have to?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin doesn’t say it’s fine. It doesn’t feel like it is fine.

“They’re not looking for anything to be confirmed. If asked about your relationship with Padme, tell them you think she’s a great woman and you’re enjoying spending time with her. No comment on any sort of serious relationship.”

“Because a break-up afterwards might hurt the chances for a sequel?” Anakin asks drily.

“Exactly! We’ll get you a head for the business yet, Anakin. Okay, I have to go, but I’ll send you the information now, just so you know what you’ll be expected to do. We’re thinking a dinner tomorrow to start things off strong, and then slow afterwards!”

She hangs up before he can say anything else and he slumps back boneless against the metal trailer. God.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Padme. Ventress is right. They were friends before this project and Anakin knows they’ll be friends after as well. They genuinely get along, and it’s probably one of the reasons Anakin was cast in such a big name production: the chemistry between them when they’re acting is undeniable. She’s one of his favorite people in the entire industry.

“Anakin?” One of his other favorite people in the entire industry asks hesitantly from in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he says.

“May I sit?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Like he’d ever turn Obi-Wan Kenobi away.

“Are you wearing your costume?” he asks, without opening his eyes. Obi-Wan’s playing the villain of the movie, and Anakin has a hard time focusing on anything else when Obi-Wan’s around him wearing that skin-tight white turtleneck and cape combination, with his hair slicked back and fake glasses perched on his nose.

Obi-Wan sounds amused. “No, I’m finished for the day. Heading home now. You don’t have to see how silly I look today.”

Anakin smiles slightly, despite everything. In one of his better acting moments, he’d told Obi-Wan that his costume was distracting because it looked so funny on him. Really, it was just hot.

(Of course, Obi-Wan had taken his criticism seriously and gone to the director and the costume department. They had decided that it would make Obi-Wan’s character more threatening if he pushed up his sleeves in almost every scene to reveal heavily tattooed forearms. Anakin had hated himself and his big stupid mouth for days afterwards.)

“Is...there anything I can do to help, Anakin? I hate to see you like this,” Obi-Wan places a hand gently on Anakin’s knee, and Anakin has to fight a shiver at the touch.

They’d met at the script-reading for the movie, a handful of months ago. Anakin had set two clocks in his head the moment their hands grasped each other and Obi-Wan smiled charmingly up at him. “So you’re the one to kill me?” He’d winked. “Tall order.”

One clock signified the weeks it would take for him to fall in love with the older man. The starting number was pitifully small, but Anakin had been watching Obi-Wan’s movies and interviews for years before meeting him. He’d known something about the man, which of course had paled in comparison to knowing the man himself. They’d spent two weeks choreographing the steps of the final fight scene, just the two of them in a repurposed ballet studio.

Looking back, Anakin isn’t sure how he’d survived. And he had never wanted it to end.

Which is the other clock, still ticking down in his head. The moment filming ends, and they go their separate ways. They’ll probably keep in touch, but Anakin won’t see him constantly, won’t be able to lean into the weight of Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder, his knee, sometimes even on his cheek when he leans down in between takes to tell him how good of a job he’s done.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry,” Anakin snaps to the present. “Sorry. I was in my head. I. I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, tensing his hand as if he’s planning to remove it, which Anakin wouldn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“My agent says that the executives want me to date Padme. To drum up hype for the movie. Because I guess people will think it must be good if the co-stars start fucking each other?” He runs a hand across his face. “Um. Sorry, excuse my language.”

“Anakin, I’m forty-one, I think I’ve heard someone say fuck before,” Obi-Wan sounds amused again.

“Yeah, I just. Don’t want to? I guess maybe--I mean you probably didn’t see, but I came out as bisexual a year ago, and I haven’t dated anyone since, and I just know the way the rags will write about me and Padme if we’re seen together. And it’ll be like I just. Never came out.”

Obi-Wan makes a sympathetic noise but doesn’t interrupt. It’s one of the reasons Anakin loves talking to him.

“And my agent just sent me this contract, or I don’t know, list of things I have to do because there’s no way for me to get out of this and it just makes me feel trapped. But they don’t even want me to confirm if we're dating or not dating, they just want to create rumors about it, but it’s my life. I want to do what I want to do with my life, date who I want to date.”

“Do you...have anyone you want to date?” Obi-Wan asks, hand stilling from where he’s been casually rubbing circles on Anakin’s knee.

“No,” Anakin says too quickly and then grimaces. Does he really get paid for acting? He’s always so terrible at lying.

Obi-Wan hums. “I could...take a look at whatever papers your agent sent you?” He suggests. “I’m obviously not really an expert, but I have been in the business a fair bit longer than you.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin responds by rote, but hesitates, curious despite himself. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve nothing planned tonight except to have a glass of wine and pet my cat, Anakin. It would be a pleasure to help you any way I could.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, reaching out to lay his hand gently on top of Obi-Wan’s. He’s never done that before, never responded so openly to Obi-Wan’s touches. It’s an amazing thrill.

Obi-Wan flips his hand around until they’re holding hands, basically. In the middle of a public area. God, Anakin’s letting his crush get the best of him when Obi-Wan isn’t even gay. “Thank you,” he says, standing up and pulling away from the older man. It’s the right thing to do. The last thing he wants is for Obi-Wan to think he’s...predatory.

A harried looking crew member spots him as he stands and gestures to him to get back to the set. He smiles ruefully at Obi-Wan who gives him an unreadable expression but also a soft goodbye.

Later, in between takes, he forwards Obi-Wan the emails Asajj sent him, both the papers and the message at the top that says “dress nice for tomorrow at Delfino’s!” followed by a little smiley face he can’t believe she’d ever mean.

He knows nothing’s going to come of it, but. But he has to try.

----

Padme’s dressed to the nines in front of him. He’d compliment her outfit, but he’s already complimented her hair and her make-up, and he thinks she’ll scream if he continues to act as stilted as he’s being now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly after the waiter leaves with their drink orders. “I know I’m being--awkward. I just.”

They’re seated in the middle of the restaurant, and Anakin knows there’s two paps already outside, taking pictures through the windows. The rest will have arrived by the time they pay the bill and leave. It’s a circus and he’s the main event.

“I understand,” Padme responds, the angel that she is. “I don’t particularly want to be doing this either.”

Anakin presses his hand to his chest, jokingly wounded. “What are you trying to say, Padme, my beloved, my dearest?”

She laughs and he does too, but in the back of his head he can hear the sound of a camera’s shutter clicking. Everything feels fake, and he feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

A hand lands on his shoulder with startling familiarity and for a second he thinks it’s a very brave member of the wait-staff, before Obi-Wan Kenobi is swinging into his field of vision, pulling up a chair from god knows where and sitting right in between Anakin and Padme, never once removing his hand from Anakin’s jacket.

“Sir--” someone says in distress, “This is a two-person table.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and looks down at the table. “Well it certainly can fit three, so I would go as far as to say that tonight it can be a three-person table. Anakin, what did you order to drink?”

“The house white,” Padme supplies when Anakin makes no move to respond, instead choosing to gape at Obi-Wan like a fish out of water.

“Excellent choice, darling,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing at his upper arm absent-mindedly. “I’ve never been here, tell me. Do you serve a good seafood dish?”

The waiter stammers. “We have an acclaimed oyster platter, sir--”

“Oysters?” Obi-Wan smiles at the man, all teeth. “The aphrodisiac? What are you trying to get these kids in the mood for?”

Anakin blushes. “Obi-Wan!” He hisses, aghast. Obi-Wan’s eyes cut to him for a second before he smirks back at the waiter.

“I’ll take the oysters for the main course,” he says dismissively.

Somehow it’s that sentence that tips Anakin off, more than anything else he’s done tonight. Obi-Wan spends hours talking to the people that run the crafts table. He would never be so cold or rude naturally. He’s...playing a character, one that Anakin recognizes as being the villain from their movie (although without all the blood and murder).

Anakin only recedes into personas when he’s nervous about something. Can the same be said for Obi-Wan?

Padme, at least, looks amused. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” she says. “I see you’ve decided to crash our very romantic date.”

“Well that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan replies, turning to face her but keeping his hand on Anakin, although it slides down to rest on the crook of his arm. “I had Anakin send me the paperwork, mild curiosity, you know how it is, and I realized the strangest thing while I was reading over it.”

“Oh?” Padme asks.

“It never states which co-star Anakin should be seen with, just that he must be seen with a leading actor. And I don’t want to focus on the numbers here, of course, but in the rough-cut of the movie, I have thirty-four minutes of screentime. And you, my dear, have thirty-two and fifteen seconds.”

“Tragic,” Padme says, taking a sip of her water. "You may be considered more of a leading actor than I am."

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan gives her a friendly smile. Anakin is still stuck on the fact that Obi-Wan is here, that he read the paperwork, that he’s arguing semantics for the purpose of--of--

“And I suppose you’re here to offer yourself as a replacement?” Padme asks, leaning her head on her hand as she watches the two of them.

“Only if Anakin wouldn’t mind,” Obi-Wan says, turning to face him.

Anakin isn’t sure what he’s thinking right now. “But you’re not interested in men.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“But...you’re not interested in me.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“You are?”

“Excuse me,” Padme says. “I’m going to go to the restroom.”

“We’ll wait to order until you come back,” Obi-Wan reassures her, without taking his eyes off of Anakin.

Anakin bites his lip and hesitantly brings his hand up to sit palm up on the table. Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers again, like they had been just yesterday.

“I’m a very private person, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly, all traces of any sort of persona dropped from his voice. “I’ve never come out, never wanted to. But I was so proud that you had when you did. And I--well. I suppose. You already get to fake-kiss Padme on screen, I thought that perhaps you’d like to try to fake-kiss someone else for a change.”

Anakin ducks his head and gathers his courage. He can’t not ask. A fake relationship with Padme would be awful, but one with Obi-Wan? That would be torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. He’s still reeling from the information that apparently Obi-Wan does like men and apparently he likes Anakin enough to come out for him.

But does he like Anakin enough to touch him and mean it? He has to know. He looks up at Obi-Wan’s earnest face from beneath his eyelashes. “What if I want to real-kiss you?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a smile breaks out across his face. “Then you don’t even need to have to ask, darling. Kiss me all you want, if you’re okay with a clingy old man in your bed.”

“Not that old,” Anakin argues, smiling so hard he’s afraid his face will crack in two. “But I don’t want to kiss you tonight.”

Obi-Wan turns solemn, although his grip on Anakin remains tight. “We can go as slow as you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, you can have me later,” Anakin says, waving his free hand in the air. “I just don’t want our first kiss to be for the cameras.”

Obi-Wan catches Anakin’s palm and brings it up to kiss lightly. “You’re right, Anakin. That should just be for you and me.”

The rough brush of his lips over his skin causes Anakin to shiver. He’s never felt so on edge, as if his body is a live-wire. “Good thing you ordered the oysters,” he mumbles, blushing bright red as Obi-Wan laughs loud enough to fill the whole restaurant with its sound.

[tiredb0igivemesugars]

Secrets in the tower

Summary: y/n’s secret is threatening to come out and he’s just simply not ready for that, he doesn’t want this dad, the famous Tony Stark to find out just yet. Yet, things never go according to plan, but that shouldn’t matter, however, what matters is how we react to it.

📝Words:📝 3.2k

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ internalised homophobia, sexual jokes, anxiety

💙Pairing:💙 Tony Stark!dad and reader!son, Peter Parker x male!reader (Steve Rogers x Tony Stark mentioned)

📎Note:📎Yet again, the timeline doesn’t make sense. Also, no proof read.

Being the child of an impulsive man was difficult, to say the least. And to make matters worse, that man just happened to be Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist all that jazz. Your father had a habit of being pushy, controlling and a straight-up dick. Yet, despite all of that, you loved him. He could be a pain in the ass but he never did it on purpose. You had inherited his sharp tongue so there never really was a quiet moment in the Stark-Rogers household. Steve was the man who kept your father grounded, didn’t let him get too ahead of himself. However, sometimes Tony slipped past Steve’s fingers, and on those occasions, Tony raised a lot of hell wherever he pleased and could only be talked down by you. Nick Fury had tried a couple of times, only receiving a bunch of curse words and a request to go fuck himself.

Needless to say, there was a lot of respect between your dad and you. Tony respected your wishes of having no part in the Avengers mess or you not wanting anything to do with the Stark Industries. It was a hard choice that you had to make, the company was his life’s work but you weren’t passionate about the things he was. You weren’t interested in robots or whatever it was that he was working on.

You wanted to do things you were passionate about, even if you weren’t sure what that was yet. I mean, you were still in high school, you didn’t need to know what you were interested in pursuing in the future.

Your locker slammed shut, bringing you back to reality, or more like Hell. You blinked once before turning your head to look at the man who had slammed your locker shut, somebody from the football team. They all looked the same to you, you only knew they were from the football team because of the jerseys they wore, it was all ridiculous in your opinion. Like a cult. Why do they need to wear jackets 24/7? Do they ever wash them?

The boy smiled at you, stretching out his disgusting face, ”Y/n.” He said, trying to make his voice smoky, but ended up just trembling. ”A guy who’s name I don’t even remember. What do you want?” You asked, tired already. His face dropped a little when you showed no emotion, but he composed himself quickly. ”Is it true what everybody keeps saying about you?” He asked, leaning a little closer. Your brows burrowed, ”what?”

He looked around a little before leaning in further, ”you know. Are you like gay?”

The voice rang throughout the halls it seemed, it tried to freeze you, it really did. You had to push through, nobody could know. You cleared your throat and shook your head. ”No, of course not. What do you take me for?” You asked, already turning away to leave.

”You can walk away all you want Stark boy, I know your secrets”, the boy yelled after you, catching a few looks from other students. The last part was said in a taunting sign-song way.

You fished out your phone to text Peter. ”Did you tell someone?” You typed, nervous. Peter was the only one who knew, well he had to since you two were kind of dating.

”Did I tell who what?” He asked, from behind you, startling you. He held out his phone when you turned to look at him. You stared at him, still a little spooked.

”One of the football guys came up to me. Apparently, people have been talking.” You muttered, anxious. Peter was still lost. You sighed, ”Peter, you poor sweet thing. You don’t have a thought behind those eyes, do you Peter?”

He shook his head, confused. You sighed again and showed Peter your limp wrist. Peter’s mouth immediately gaped open ”oh, you mean that. And no, I didn’t tell anyone.”

”Well somebody did. Now everybody knows!” You whisper-yelled. You were panicking. You could not have your dad finding out about this, you couldn’t. Your hands reached for your hair to pull on it. Peter luckily saw your frustration and led you away from all the people. He led you into a bathroom and made sure every stall was empty. ”Just breathe, we’ll figure this out.” Peter said and wet a paper towel with cold water, he pressed the cold paper towel on your forehead to calm you down. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe normally. It felt odd to have the power dynamic changed this way, usually, it was Peter freaking out and you reassuring him. ”I don’t really get why you’re so freaked about this. Your dad is dating Captain America, the environment doesn’t get more accepting than that.” Peter said after he figured out that your breathing had evened out. ”You’re right, I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet.” You sighed and grabbed Peter’s hand. You kissed his knuckles as a sign of thankfulness. ”Where would I be without you?” You said and cupped Peter’s cheek with the hand that previously held his hand. Peter smiled down at you, Peter was at an average height but you had gotten the little height you had from your dad, so not much.

”Why are you smiling like that?” You asked after Peter hadn’t stopped smiling at you even though it had been quite a while already. ”Just appreciating the little things in life,” he said, already laughing a little. ”Oh really?” You said and kicked Peter so that he almost toppled over. Peter groaned at the pain, it wasn’t the first time he had made that joke and it wasn’t the first time you had kicked him. You watched as Peter tried to recover before giving him your hand, ”let’s get to class shall we?” You asked and began leading him out.

You cried once you got home, you had been with Peter all day and it was already dark. You had figured that it was the best to hole away in your own room for the time being.

The elevator and your phone dinged in synch, the elevator signalling that you had reached your floor and the phone alerting you of a text message from Peter. You stepped out of the elevator and eyed the message, a link to a news article. Your finger hovered over the link for a couple of seconds before you finally clicked on it. The further you read the article the more you wanted to claw your own eyes out. ”Tony Stark’s secret child has even a bigger secret” not a title you optimally wanted to go with if you were writing an article. It does catch the eye but could use some work. The article contained some general information like your name and where you went to school, that was before a candid picture filled your screen. You and Peter in the school bathroom that morning. The article went on theorising about what was going on between the two of you, it was even hinted that you had in fact been aware of the picture being taken and only did all of that for your dad to notice you.

A rippled cry left your chest as you threw your phone. You officially hated the world and your life. It was only a matter of time before your dad found out and that is if he didn’t already know, you weren’t ready to have that conversation. It was also a matter of time before all of this was all over the news.

There was a part in your brain that thought that you being gay was an obvious thing in the sense that people would just assume your sexuality just because your dad was married to another man, that part was small but it was loud. You didn’t mind your own sexuality and you loved that your dad had found someone who he was happy with, and the fact that the person happened to be a man was just a nice plus to it all. However, you weren’t sure if everyone else saw it that way. You hadn’t grown up in the spotlight like your dad but it was only a matter of time before you ended up in it and when that happens there’s no telling how the world will react. But overall, really nice thoughts to have when you’re exhausted, you were lucky that it was Friday, you didn’t have to wake up early the next morning. You turned the light switch on in your room, only to find your dad sitting on your bed. He knew.

Tony turned to look at you when the lights turned on, he saw the fresh tear streaks on your cheeks and immediately stood up. ”What happened?” He asked and hugged you. You dropped your bag on the floor, not caring if something broke inside, you buried your head in the crook of his neck and only cried harder. Tony rubbed your back and tried to comfort you without really knowing what was wrong. You didn’t cry that often, yes you got upset pretty regularly and stuff like that but you didn’t really cry that much and even when you did cry, it wasn’t that often that your dad was there to comfort you. In his mind, you cried close to never and those times when you cried you were impossible to console. He thought that when you cried something was seriously wrong. To Tony’s relief, you quieted down after a few minutes and let go of Tony, he copied you.

You sat down on your bed, feeling a little embarrassed that you just cried into your dad’s shoulder like you were eight all over again. Both of you were silent, you waited for Tony to say something and he waited for you to collect yourself.

”You know, if somebody hurt you-” he started, only to be cut off. ”No, no dad nothing like that,” you sniffled and looked at him dead in the eye. He seemed to relax a little at that. ”Even if it was-” he continued quickly, not wanting to be cut off but was anyway. ”No, no one hurt me.” You reassured, sniffling a little. ”Why were you waiting for me anyway?” You asked after Tony remained silent. ”No it’s nothing we can talk about in the morning you seem exhausted.” He said and begun to leave. You grabbed his hand. ”No dad stay. I am tired yes but I can’t fall asleep.” You admitted. Tony sighed and sat down next to you. You let go of his hand only for him to grab it back. ”I heard a rumour.” Tony said quietly. Your shoulders stiffened as more tears filled your eyes. Tony heard your breath hitch and he turned to look at you, the sight broke his heart.

Tony shook his head, this isn’t how he thought he had raised his son, this isn’t how he wanted to handle this. ”You know what. It doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what and we do not have to talk about it, at least not until you’re ready.” Tony said and threw his arm over your shoulders. Hearing what your dad had to say relieved you, it felt nice to know that your dad would love you no matter what. It was clear since he was your dad and all but it’s good that he said it out loud. You rested your head on his shoulder and tried to enjoy this moment with him. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. You were upset that the world had once again ruined something of yours but it wasn’t like you to just give up at a little setback, with that attitude you would never have gotten anywhere in your life. ”It’s true, you know.” You finally said out loud. You felt as Tony tensed a little and you turned to look at him, he was smiling. ”Yeah, kinda figured.” He said and laughed, causing you to playfully slap him. ”On a more serious note, I don’t really get why you wouldn’t tell me but I respect your decision.” He admitted, kind of ruining the moment you were having. ”I didn’t tell you because I felt like it was somehow expected of me, not by you but by others. I think that people find it obvious that I’m gay and I don’t want to be known as that gay guy.” You confessed, hoping your dad wouldn’t feel bad. ”That sounds like internalised homophobia my dearest son.” Tony said. He was right, it’s difficult to say if that was normal or not but nevertheless, he was right. You nodded as a sign of understanding. "Did you see the news article?" You asked, kind of already knowing the answer. "Yeah, it's being taken care of," Tony replied, easing your anxieties about the whole ordeal a little bit.

”I hate that this needed to be a conversation. I just wished that when you started dating someone it would just be like at thanksgiving you walk in and introduce the guy and ask us to clear space for one more chair. I would’ve of course interrogated the guy but I feel like I have the right to-” Tony rambled. You laughed at your dad, he was good at heart and loved you very dearly. ”I don’t think you need to clear space at the table for a chair or interrogate Peter.” You said once Tony stopped rambling. ”I’m still going to interrogate him.” Tony said, knowing that his son was once again right. ”But Peter Parker as your first boyfriend is a good start. He sets the bar a little too high though, doesn’t he?” Tony said, earning a giggle out of you. ”First and only. It doesn’t get much better than Peter Parker does it?” You joked, well you weren’t really joking but you said it that way to not freak your poor old dad out. ”Yeah, he’s a keeper.” Steve’s voice boomed from the door. You and your dad both turned to look at Steve. ”Hi dad.” You said.

You had known Steve for almost your entire life, even if he and your dad hadn't been married for that long. Steve just always kind of was your dad. At the times when Tony would lock himself in his lab for days on end out of old habits, Steve would be there. Steve would keep you company and take care of you for a few days until he too became fed up with Tony being in the lab. Then he would put you on a "secret mission" of rescuing daddy from his lab where he was being held captive by his mind. Later on, you realised that the game had a lot more truths to it than one would imagine. You were even the person to ask your dad to marry Steve.

"Okay sweetie, give this little box to your dad and tell him it's from me," Steve had whispered to you. The both of you had stood in the elevator, on your way down to Tony's lab where he had been for two days already. "I think he knows it's from you." You had whispered back, not really understanding why you were whispering. Steve had given you a lot of instructions on what to do since he had been incredibly nervous. When the doors had opened and you had seen your dad sat in his usual spot you turned to Steve and whispered. "I'm going in blind now. Your plans suck."

Steve had watched from the elevator as you had skipped over to your dad, beaming with happiness. "Hi, daddy!" you had greeted Tony, who had put his screwdriver down and bent down to pick you up. "Hi, sweetie." Tony had greeted you back and placed you on his table, waiting eagerly on your next move. Steve had watched as you swung your legs back and forth and talked your mouth off to your dad whatever it was that had invaded your mind at the age of nine. It was most likely something about your birthday gifts that you got a couple of days earlier. Steve found the sight absolutely adorable, Tony had been hanging at the edge of his seat while listening to you and you were swinging back and forth while talking about something. Tony had even commented on things in between like: "oh now she didn't!" and "Oh I bet!" only to be told off by you: "Daddy you're talking over me. If you're goim to treat your child this badly this young you better fear the old people home you're goim to be put into."

"Did you really come all this way on the elevator to tell me about all of this?" Tony had asked you once he was sure that you had finished talking. "Oh no I didn't. Dad wants to rim you and wanted me to ask you!" You had beamed with proudness, finally, you were getting ahead with your mission. Steve had facepalmed in the elevator, he was sure that Tony would break, but he didn't. "You know squid I think I'm going to need a little more information on this." Tony had said, holding in a lot of laughter. You had reached into your dungarees, finally pulling out the small box and handing it to Tony. "That's for the rim." You had said and pointed at the box. Steve would have killed to see Tony's face at that moment when he had opened the box. Steve had seen how a wide smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetie we talked about that -ng sound." Tony had finally said. You had huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn't your fault that sometimes others didn't understand you! When you got excited things sometimes got a little jumbled up.

Tony had turned to you after placing the box back on the table. "Will you tell daddy that I would love to wear the ring?" Tony had said and reached to put you back down from the table. "You can tell daddy yourself." You had said and pointed at Steve who was just walking out of the elevator. Tony turned to look at Steve. "So you want to rim me?" Tony had asked Steve who coughed to hide his laughter. "We practised but it didn't really work out," Steve said and placed his hand on Tony's shoulder. "Well daddy's plans suck so I had to go in blind!" you had tried to defend yourself. Tony had agreed with you. "So that's off the table?" Tony asked, looking up to Steve. "No definitely not, it just depends on if you say yes," Steve said, trying to make himself seem confident when in reality he was shitting himself. Tony grabbed the box and placed the ring inside on his finger. "Consider me a rimmed man!" he said and stood up from his chair to kiss Steve.

You shuddered at the sudden flashback, both of your dad's looked at you, concerned. "Just thought about when dad proposed. Just got the joke," You said and scrunched up your nose in disgust. Steve and Tony both laughed.

[hunterartemisanime]

KnB Commentary: Kise Ryouta and the Curse of Being “Pretty Boy” in Shonen Anime

Cheerful, extroverted, happy-go-lucky and sunshine with a face, Kise Ryota is the screen ikemen in Kuroko no Basket. Although Kise is a cult favourite, but I think he is sometimes pushed aside with Momoi. In KnB people tend to focus more on the other GoMs rather than Kise. Here is my take on how Kise Ryota’s character and his types are scorned in Shonen Manga.

Shonen and Shojo manga revolve around two different dimensions: while shonen manga focuses on friendships, journeys and solid characteristic developments, shojo manga focuses generally on the romance parts, interpersonal relationships, appearance and struggles of the ordinary main character. Both manga lauds ordinariness and makes the ordinary extra-ordinary one just by showing that they have the possibility to be sublime. While Shojo manga greatly appreciates male beauty to the point of worship, Shonen sort of looks down on male beauty: anyone who identifies himself as good looking, or wants to be good looking is put down by others around him. Let’s see how Kise fell into the same trap.

Kise is introduced in the story in a very Shojo manga fashion. He is looked from the female point of view of Seirin’s girl students as he walks down the main pathway of the school. That piece of scene almost reminded me Takumi Usui entering school in Kaichou wa Maid Sama. From that point, wherever he goes he is greeted and surrounded by female population en large, much to the annoyance of his team members and opponents. Similar to the effect of “male gaze”, exists a “female gaze” which supposedly decides the desirability of a boy, especially in a high school setting. Kise, being handsome by the contemporary Japanese standards thus somewhat becomes the focus of the female gaze which makes males around him conscious and equally anxious. This phenomenon can be asserted with Momoi’s first encounter in the anime with Kuroko in Aida Gym pool. When Kuroko is hugged by a very beautiful and buxom Momoi Satsuki, the boys on his team lament: “I am so jealous of you Kuroko, hope you’ll die.” This was from a rather “harmless” and “normal” bunch of High School Basketballers, then just imagine how it effects the powerhouse boys with similar primal instinct and with greater ego. Thus Kise is treated with hot-and-cold attitude from males around him: be its his former teammates or current.

Kise is thus definitely an eligible bachelor and he surely knows it. However his self-awareness is without vanity or narcissistic edge. He is shown to be appreciative of female attention and not portray himself as a “playboy” or a “Scorer”; he is never addressed by anyone as “charan poran” (womanizer) in the series. This is a very contradictory attitude in Shonen anime. In shonen anime Male sexuality have very limited outlets: either one should be hyper-celibate and not pay attention to any organism marked as female, or one could be hyper-sexual to the point where they objectify the female form in a not so respectable manner--there is nothing in the Middle. In KnB Akashi, Kuroko and Midorima fall in the former end of spectrum while Haizaki Shogo and Aomine Daiki fall into the latter. Even dating and having girlfriend can make you the object of male scorn: in the anime Grand Blue, the department of Mechanical Engineer has a secret pact to stay single and when they find out that Iori Kitahara is living with Chisa (who is his cousin), they almost throw a violent fit. The male solidarity in Shonen thus ostricise the males who express appreciation in female company and show interest in courting and romance. Kise is snubbed in a similar manner for showing interest in a more feminine side. A same kind of snubbing was delivered to Hiroshi Fukuda of Seirin when he confessed on the rooftop that he wanted to get into the team for dating someone. In Free Momotarou Mikoshiba too, is either ridiculed or snubbed by his teammates for openly admitting to like Gou Matsuoka.

Out of all the Generation of Miracles characters, I think Kise is the most discriminated of all. His discrimination is the unsual kind: he is too important in the plotline to be comic relief like Takao and Izuki and he is too cheerful enough to be the bad boy. So what kind of discrimination does he face? He faces the discrimination for being good looking. Yes, there is a thing to be discriminated for being good looking. I also think Kise has been played within the character of being the “dumb blond”. He is portrayed as “pretty boy” and is expected to limit himself within it. His cheerful attitude is often met with cold shoulder and it is absolutely normalised within the storyline. Unlike other players who greet their rivals outside the courts with a broody attitude and slightly glaring eyes, Kise is the one who advocates “Yesterday’s rivals are today’s friends”. This is a very positive attitude to use in real life to keep the unhealthy competitiveness in check, but it is met with a scorn in the anime. It is shown as if being cheerful is the by-product of being good looking and the former should reflect the latter. This is perhaps the reason Kise’s playing style was completely sniped out of the scene from being “the best of all”. According to the society, a good looking person is just an eye-candy for anyone to drool over and if they have too much agency or talent people enviously comment “(s)he gets all that because of the looks”. It stems from the insecurity of one person having too much social power. The entire thing is very limiting. Kise is not only good-looking, he is acing his modelling career, a field which is highly demanding and taxing and at the same time he is doing well in basketball also in a nationally reputed school. These attributes somewhat gets overshadowed because he is somewhat only identified on screen for his looks. This fact is highlighted with his rivalry with Haizaki Shogo. Haizaki, instead of acknowledging Kise as a player, “marked his territory” by “boning” one of the girls claiming to be Kise’s girlfriend. 

Kise is very much aware of the fact that the swarming bunch of girls are intrinsic to his image, especially as a model and for this reason he tries to be respectful towards them. However, he does not identify the admiration of the fan-brigade with genuine affection. This is the core fact which Haizaki misinterprets about Kise that he derives power from the admiring fangirls. Haizaki despite being the antagonist is pretty much shares the similar prejudice with the people near Kise: that Kise Ryota begins and ends with looks and even his playing style “perfect copy” is less than original. But Kise is not the prejudices that surround him, he is affectionate, loyal and genuine with enough dedication to pursue what he loves. The ideal type of Kise : “a girl that won’t tie me down” says a lot about him. He is eager to meet someone who will respect him for who he actually is and not for his looks or fame. He too is someone who grew out of seeing the surface and judge to observe someone and understand---that is how he started to respect Kuroko at the first place. At the end, when he loses to Touou, he sheds the image of a “cool handsome boy” and cries like a baby in public; something his own captain Kasamatsu or his former teammate Midorima could not do. This shows a lot of courage and strength but also shows that expressing ugly emotions in a public can also be dignified and not necessarily be stripping to masculinity.

Tags

: @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @yanderebakugo @kurokonbscenarios @kurokonobasket @kurokonoboisket @art-zites @idinaxye @sp-chernobyl @strawbe3ryshortcake @reservethemoon @rilnen @a-shy-potato @thirsthourdemon @animebxxch @edagawasatoru @akawaiishi-blog @reinyrei @chloe-noir @theswahn @ahobaka-trash @jeilliane @trashtoria  @scarlettedwardsposts @quirkydarling @ghostieswaifu @levihan-freaks @hope-im-spirited-away @yves0809 @marshiro1101 @bubziles @heartfullofknb @kit-kat57 @akichan-th

[shoutaaizawas]

Hey! Congrats on the anniversary! Can we get a Todoroki ceo!au with the prompt "What gives you the right" please?

thank you so much!! thanks for the request 💖

↳ shoto todoroki x reader → just business

event: au prompts summary: you have been todoroki’s secretary for years. when you try to move on from your feelings for him he doesn’t like it. word count: 2,039 tags/warnings: ceo!todoroki, light angst, fluff, happy ending a/n: rewrote this like twice but im happy with how it turned out

You were Todoroki Shoto’s secretary and had been for a few years now. He was the CEO of Todoroki Enterprise so working for him was no small feat. It was an important job. The longer you two had worked together the easier your job was, you understood Todoroki and he understood you.

Many times throughout the day he would ask you for something and before he could finish his sentence you’d be handing him a file. You were perfectly in sync.

It wasn’t just professionally that you got along but you really liked Todoroki as a person. Working so closely with him for all this time you got to see more of him than most.

Sure he was handsome and rich, that’s what the world saw. But knowing him first hand you knew he wasn’t a playboy like most assumed and he wasn’t exactly the most charming person. You didn’t mean that in a bad way but he just wasn’t a flirtatious person like most thought. He was very blunt and accidentally hilarious.

He could be incredibly oblivious despite his intelligence. You couldn’t count how many times you had seen women flirt with him and it went right over his head.

He was kind and caring even if he didn’t show it off.

What most people knew nothing of was what he and his family endured in their youth. Shoto’s childhood was very troubling and a lot of what happened in it stuck with him whether he realized it.

Shoto was an amazing person and it was hard for you to not fall in love with him. Even harder was keeping your feelings hidden. There was no way he could ever feel the same about you so you decided for your own sake you needed to move on.

Normally you worked a lot of overtime, you didn’t mind it. If Shoto had to stay late you had no problem staying with him and helping him so he could try and get home at a decent hour. It wasn’t like you had much to do anyway and you loved being around him. In a way the late nights were a good thing, ordering takeout and sitting in his office with him helping him with whatever task he was working on.

But tonight you had a date, it took you a lot of courage to finally try and set one up.

“Todoroki,” You said entering into his office. “I’ll be heading home at five today, I can’t work overtime.”

“Oh, okay.” He said looking up at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a date.” You told him. You didn’t like saying it out loud.

“Oh.” He said, his tone was odd. “Actually I need you to stay and help me with a project.”

“Wait, what?” You said. “You literally just said okay but now you’re telling me I can’t.”

“Well no I’m saying no, and if you want to leave early this will be your last day working here.” He said.

“What?” Your voice almost broke. Shoto Todoroki was you boss, yes but you considered him your closest friend and he always treated you as such. He had never talked about firing you not even as a joke. Your heart dropped and you felt sick. You had no idea where this was coming from.

“You can work late or not work here at all.” He repeated.

“What gives you the right?” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. You hated how unprofessional you felt right now but he was being unfair out of nowhere. “I have come into work early every day, stayed late whenever you asked and even when you didn’t. I have worked holidays and weekends at the drop of a hat and the one time I ask to leave on time you tell me no or you’re going to fire me?”

It seemed Shoto realized the damage his words had done, his expression softening as a tear slid down you cheek. Before he could speak you were out the door.

If Todoroki decided that your years of loyal work meant nothing than maybe it was time to find a new job.

You left, going home, tears running down your face as you did.

It was bad enough how in love you were with Shoto but when you try to move on he tries to stop you. How cruel was he?

You did everything you could to cheer yourself up as you got ready for your date. Listening to your favorite upbeat songs as you put on your makeup and picked out your favorite dress.

You were supposed to meet your date at a restaurant so you found yourself at a table awaiting him. You were early, it was a habit of yours to always be early to things. As the time went on it was now seven o’ clock and there was no sign of your date.

Being late wasn’t an attractive trait but it was fine, it wasn’t like you had to marry this guy. You were just trying to branch out to get your mind off of one person in particular.

Then you found yourself waiting for five minutes, then ten, then twenty, with no texts from said date. If that wasn’t bad enough the looks that the waiters and other customers were giving you was the cherry on top.

You day had already been terrible and it seemed it was only getting worse.

Taking a deep breath trying to hold in the tears you stood up and left, thankfully you hadn’t ordered anything. The walk home was perhaps the most pathetic moment of your life, tears streaming down your face you wondered if your day could get any worse. Then it started pouring.

By the time you reached your apartment building you were freezing, cursing the fact you didn’t bring a sweater to cover you dress that didn’t give you any warmth.

It seemed things could get worse you thought as you saw Shoto standing in front of your apartment door. You considered turning around and leaving but he spotted you before he could.

“There you are.” He said. “You’re soaked, what happened.” His eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“What does it look like!” You didn’t mean to yell but your day had been awful and you couldn’t hold it together anymore. “I got stood up in a restaurant full of people then it started raining while I walked home all after I got fired by my best friend!”

Shoto looked at you with a sad expression.

“I don’t want your pity, go home.” You said pushing past him before putting your key in the door.

“Wait, please don’t go.” He said as you attempted to shut the door on him after you entered. “Please, let me try to explain.”

You stared at him, you were so upset it sound like a great idea to slam the door on his face but the way he looked at you with those puppy eyes you couldn’t manage it.

“You get a minute.” You said opening the door for him to enter.

“Okay.” He said following you in. You stood there staring at him.

“Hurry up.” You said as he stared at you, taking in your appearance.

“I acted unprofessionally today, but not only that I was a bad friend to you. Your not just an employee to me, you’re my best friend and it was wrong of me on many levels to act the way that I did. I didn’t mean what I said and it was wrong of me to say it. You’re not fired, I could never fire you. I don’t deserve all the work that you put in not only for me but for the company and you’re an irreplaceable employee and friend and I’ll do anything to keep you at my company.” His words came out steady but in a sincere tone. You wondered how many times he rehearsed his words before you got home.

“I’ll come back but only if you answer one question.” You said.

“Anything.” He said.

“Why did you refuse to let me leave for my date?” You asked.

Shoto’s face went through a few expressions before settling on a fearful one. You wondered why that seemed to be the one question he didn’t want to hear.

“I-” He started but stopped, you had never seen him so speechless. “I didn’t like the idea of you going on a date with someone.”

“Why?” You questioned. Shoto took a deep breath before speaking.

“Because I’m in love with you and I have been for years. I know you don’t feel the same way. It was wrong of me to let my feelings get control of me and to intervene.” He said. “How did your date go?”

You stood there speechless. Shoto loved you. He loved you and thought that you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t know where to start.

“He stood me up, Shoto.” You replied. His expression instantly turned to one of anger. It seemed to click for Shoto, you were home early with red eyes. All of the clues added up.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” He said. Shoto looked more angry than you had seen him in a long time.

“It’s okay, Shoto.” You said.

“How is it okay? How could anyone be stupid enough to miss out on spending even a moment with you. You’re absolutely the most perfect woman I’ve ever met.”

“It’s okay because you’re here.” You said taking a step closer. It was hard to even remember the embarrassment you felt not long ago with him standing here in front of you.

Shoto looked confused, which wasn’t surprising. It seemed you’d have to be straight forward as possible.

“I love you too, Shoto.” You said, now there was barely any space between you. “I’ve loved you for years. I didn’t want to go on a date but I thought I had to move on because you didn’t feel the same.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, he’s already leaning down to you but you knew if you said no he’d stop.

“Yes.” You said, leaning up to meet him.

The kiss is passionate, his hands are tangled in your hair and he’s holding you like if he let’s go he’ll never see you again. Your hands grip the back of his blazer.

“I love you so much.” He says between kisses. “You’re too perfect, I’d be lost without you.”

His words melt your heart and you wonder how one of the worst days of your life has turned into the best one.

“I’m hungry. Let me cook you dinner.” You said as you pulled back.

“Let me order take out and you can warm up in the shower while it gets here.” He says.

“Okay, that’s a pretty good idea.” You say.

“Thanks, I’ve picked up on it from all of your good ideas.” He says.

It’s kind of cheesy but it still makes you blush. You shower and you thank Shoto for his idea as the chill starts to leave your body. By the time you’re out clean and in you favorite pair of sweats he’s sitting on the couch with the food.

You cozy up to his side and he wraps an arm around you. It’s entertaining trying to cuddle and eat at the same time. At one point you get sauce on his shirt and you both laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” He says, you’re now cuddled up properly now that you’re done eating.

“Me too.” You reply. “For two smart people we can both be pretty dense it seems. But we’re together now and that’s what matters.”

“We have all the time in the world now.” He says, hand stroking your hair. “What if we took a month off, traveled the world together. We could see all the places you always talked about seeing.”

“You’re the boss and I certainly wouldn’t complain.” You say smirking up at him.

Shoto leans down to kiss you again. The thought of spending time with him and traveling like you always wanted to sounds like a dream.

“Then we better start packing tomorrow.”

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @softkatsuki @x0doodlebug0x

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

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[light-yaers]

No Saints: Chapter Two

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 5.7k

Chapter Two

If the time without Mando for those three weeks had led you to a mad sense of loneliness, the days after your previous encounter with him had driven you to insanity.

You woke the next morning with a start—the dream you’d been having was more than you’d ever bargained for. You cursed as you sat up in bed, bringing a hand down to between your thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” You let out breathily, before you had to laugh at yourself to move on from the absolute embarrassment that your own body had put you through. You showered immediately, indulging in the flood of hot water more that morning than you’d ever done previously.

You had to stare at yourself in the mirror afterwards, noticing the blush on your cheeks that was still present from the night before. You pointed at yourself sternly, towel wrapped around your uncontrollable body.

“Snap out of it—stop it,” You told yourself.

Never before had a man reduced you to a puddle with a single touch—of your legs. It wasn’t even anywhere remotely private, just the upper portions of your thighs. But that bottle; he’d known what he was doing, placing it almost harshly in the crevice closest to the most vulnerable asset your body possessed. Pushing your thighs together afterward had been the last straw. If he’d lingered, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d erupted just from the tension in the room, just from the involuntary clenching that your legs were betraying you with.

Mando would never find out about that dream, over your dead fucking body. You could almost imagine his reaction; the subtle chuckles from beneath his helmet, transforming into something else as he inched ever closer towards you, sprawled, ready—

“Kriff!” You yelled into the mirror. You shook your head a few times to get the image out of your head, before vowing not to go there, at least until your workday was done.

You grudgingly got ready to open up shop, checking inventory and wiping down your work desk. You wished you’d somehow dragged him to your bedroom instead the night before; seeing the desk in daylight only increased the tightness in your gut. Dank farrik... today wasn’t going to be easy.

But you endured.

You repaired blaster after blaster, adding modifications to old models and polishing until you thought your fingernails would fall off. You wasted no time over the blunt conversations with hunters, only saying what you needed to and waiting to get paid.

This went on all week. The same old grind, the same desperation within your gut. You tried to stay focused and productive, not stopping even for a minute, since your mind would immediately float back to the Beskar clad hunter if you did. You found yourself in your firing range a lot more often, choosing to practice and keep your mind straying from thoughts of him—

Thoughts that, despite the one-track mindedness of your pulsing heart, also ended up travelling to softer realms. You wondered if he was safe, if he was okay. You wondered if he was well-fed, well-hydrated, well-rested—

You wondered if he also felt the loneliness of his solitude more so after your last encounter. Stars, you wondered if he missed you.

I feared continuing to visit you would become a habit I could no longer break...

Oh, man. That sentence alone reduced you to a red-faced mess, but more so towards the gentler side of things. Mando had a heart, that was certain—he also had a cock, that was definitely certain. You slammed your fist on your work desk, making yourself jump at the sudden display of utter madness.

You’d never had to cope with this level of sexual frustration, but stars, it was real. You’d never been bothered, not really. Nevarro had been sparse in offering you that kind of intimacy, but you’d had it occasionally. A few visiting hunters, here and there, taken in by the immediate attraction of a cut-throat killer and the intelligence of a woman mechanic such as yourself.

But nothing had ever come of them; no weekly visits, no long term plans. You didn’t particularly want anything either. Having attachments only existed to make your life a lot more difficult, especially given the nature of most of the people you’d acquainted yourself with over the years.

There was no telling when they could accidentally mess up and never come back to collect their pay from Karga.

You realised that was why Mando had been so reluctant to return, after your small confession of enjoying his company. He, too, knew what his job entailed. God forbid, he never came back. God forbid, you were killed in your own shop. It was a definite possibility, but one that you didn’t often allow yourself to conceptualise.

You were too lost in thought to notice someone walk into the shop, but when you finally looked up, you immediately restored yourself to a professional.

“Can I help?” You asked, not wasting time to give him a smile. He was a young man, probably no older than yourself. His outfit was typical of all first-time Guild members; too big for their boots, too cocky looking with the way they peered around a room. They were the worst customers by far.

He sauntered up to the desk, slamming his blaster down and hardly meeting your eye. “Cartridge needs replacing,”

“Six hundred credits,” You said in return, not bothering with any niceties. “Upfront,” You added. Immediately he rolled his eyes, but nevertheless dug into his deep pockets.

“Seems a little pricy, don’t you think?” He perked his brow at you, finally meeting your eye, only to send you a playboy smirk.

“If you don’t like my prices, change the cartridge yourself,” You offered bluntly. He scoffed, going to place his credits on the desk, but he stopped abruptly. You sent him a questioning look, before he fully retracted his hand and put the credits back in his pocket.

“Four hundred,” He offered up. Your eyes widened immediately, as laughter burst from the back of your throat. You couldn’t stop the chuckles from escaping your mouth, all the while his face was dropping ever so slowly into a scowl.

“You’re really trying to haggle with me?” You let out, but your voice was already turning more poisonous. You got paid fucking pittance with the amount of work you actually got around here, and this fucking kid was really trying to undercharge you even more? No. Not fucking today. “Get out, kid,” You said, scowling at him warningly. “And good luck getting a cartridge change on this kriffing planet without me,”

He gulped worriedly, and you knew you’d got him. He started shuffling in his pockets again, getting out his credits once more.

“Okay—six hundred—,” He gave in.

“Eight hundred,” You interrupted. His face utterly dropped, revealing some of the wimpiest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen on Nevarro. This kid was lucky he hadn’t been beaten up in the bar already. He smelled like Daddy’s money and cockiness. “For that insulting attempt at a haggle, eight hundred. Upfront,”

You saw him struggle against the rising anger in his throat, just waiting for him to either explode, or hand over the credits like a good little boy. Either way, you were prepared for a fight. It’d been a while since a newcomer had challenged you; and you liked a challenge.

He pulled an empty hand out of his pockets slowly, as you watched him with an unbothered expression. He was seething, you could see the red winding its way up his neck—

And then his blaster was pointed at you, right between the eyes.

You let out a colossal sigh, but more than anything, you were sort of thankful. What a way to expel your frustrations this would be. The saddest part was, though, that this kid was just so stupid. He’d come in for a fucking cartridge replacement; that meant his gun was fucking caput. He wouldn’t have been able to shoot you even if he’d tried.

“You’re cute,” You let out finally, noticing the slight wobble of his arm the longer he kept up the act of being threatening. “Go on—shoot me,” You prompted, raising your arms in a fake surrender.

When he didn’t pull the trigger, you made it easier for him. You came out from behind the desk, walking round towards him. He began to falter, backing himself up into the corner of the shop. “Hey—just, wait—wait there!” He yelled, and you did as he said, rolling your eyes unenthusiastically.

“Come on, do it. I’m an unarmed, poor, alone woman in her little shop on such a horrible planet. Shoot me. You’d be doing me a favour,” You pouted at him sadly, taking a melodramatic approach before you knew what your plan would be—

Kicking his ass.

When you saw him falter, just for a second, you chose then to strike. You grabbed his blaster, pulling him towards you as you snapped your elbow down on his arm harshly—the crunch was enough to determine you’d just utterly broken his damn arm, but his screams were even more so in that favour—

He let out an excruciating groan, tearing up suddenly and dropping his blaster to the floor as his hand seized up. You pushed him away, hoisting a knee underneath his ribcage as he let out another yelp in pain. He stumbled back into the wall, next to the door, as tears slowly dragged down his cheeks. He was clutching his limp shooting arm close to his chest, taking in deep breaths and letting out wracking sobs.

Maybe I’m a sadist, but fuck this guy.

You couldn’t help but smile, going to pick up his blaster as he continued to whimper at his snapped arm. He lolled himself over to the door, slamming it open with his foot and backing out of your shop. You dangled his blaster in your hands, before fucking launching it at him—

He let out another yelp, ducking out of the way before it slammed right into his pretty boy face. You strode out of the shop, watching him flail about like a fish out of water to grab his gun, before booking it round the corner and probably off the planet as quickly as he could.

“Pleasure doing business with you!” You yelled after him, waving sweetly as the last of him disappeared round the corner of the street. “Prick,” You whispered under your breath, scoffing at the entire encounter with this kid.

Sure, you’d missed out on six hundred credits, but fuck it. Men were so quick to think they had the upper hand, especially the dumb ones. If a bounty hunter was experienced, they’d always have their guard up, no matter what you looked like at first glance, and they certainly wouldn’t have underpaid a Nevarro resident. That was a fucking death sentence. You just happened to be gentler.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” His modulated drawl came from behind. Within seconds, your heart was in your throat. You turned to him, trying to ignore the way your face was immediately gaining colour.

You smiled at his helmet, taking him in wholeheartedly. God, you’d missed his silence. It was oddly comforting—not like white noise, not like static, but just the subtlety of his breaths travelling through the modulator.

“He had it coming,” You replied, taking a few strides towards him. “Little shit tried to haggle me for a fucking cartridge replacement,”

“I know,” Mando said. “I saw him go in,” He revealed. Pins and needles spread all over your body with no warning.

“You—saw all that?” You questioned, but by the amused tilt of his helmet, he’d already answered your question. He saw all of it. His visor probably had heat signature capabilities, which meant he’d seen you breaking his arm, kneeing him in his ribs and heard all the rest.

“You can fight,” He said it in the same tone as when he’d talked about your shooting. Like he was impressed. Or proud.

“There’s lots I can do,” You let out, allowing the cockiness of your voice to seep through. It was a joke, just an attempt at a laugh, but Mando took it in a different direction.

“I don’t doubt that,”

You tried not to utterly collapse as his tone turned into more of a growl. It hit you in your very core, causing that familiar feeling in your gut to start back up again, much against your efforts to push it down for the past week.

You headed back to the shop, Mando close on your tail. He shut the door behind him, and the sound of him twisting the lock hit your ears pleasantly.

He often did it, even before the subject of whatever this was between you had risen. Maybe he didn’t want people following him; didn’t want people catching on to his secrets of where the hell he was getting extra information.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be,” You said, trying to spark a conversation like normal, despite the 6ft mound of sexual tension that Mando had brought inside the shop with him.

“I got lucky,” He explained. “Caught up to a runner on a whim. It was an easy fight,” You grabbed your water tankard as you made your way to your usual stool, sat opposite the hunter. “Much like the fight you just won,”

You sent him an amused smile. “He was a puppy. I probably scared him away from Nevarro for the rest of his life,”

“If it wasn’t you who’d done it, he’d probably be dead by now,” Mando added. He was right; others wouldn’t have been so lenient on a fool who ran their mouth like him.

“That’s a nice way of easing my conscience about breaking his arm like a twig,” You scoffed out, taking a drink of water.

“Does your conscience need more easing?” He questioned, and you looked at him plainly. This was a double-edged sword— if you said yes, it only proved that at times you felt uncomfortable about the way people dealt with things here. If you said no— would he think you to be harsh?

No. He kills people for money. A broken arm is nothing to him.

You shook your head sternly. “He got what was coming to him,” You replied. “No one insults me in my own establishment and leaves unscathed,”

Mando settled in his seat, leaning back against the wall. “Good girl,”

Your gut coiled immediately. Fuck— this man. This fucking man. He knew exactly what he was doing with his words, and he knew it well by the way his helmet tilted towards you once again.

You were torn between punching him in the stomach or utterly jumping his bones, but you did neither. You only squirmed in your seat, praying that his thermal sensors weren’t picking up the rising heat between your legs.

The silence was broken by something you weren’t expecting— a groan— from his stomach.

You glanced at his Beskar covered belly then back to his visor, smiling subtly. “Hungry?” You questioned.

Mando visibly tensed. “It’s fine,”

You knew he couldn’t eat freely. That would require taking his helmet off. From the way he’d warningly told you to look away while he sipped at whiskey before, you knew the helmet was a part of who he was. If you were to hazard a guess, you’d say no one alive had ever seen his face—

No one had ever trickled their eyes across his features, his eyes, his nose. Even drinking in the same room as you had taken six months of built-up trust for him to perform.

You stood gently, heading to your work desk and opening up the cupboards beneath. You laid out some basics— bread, butter, some cheese, leaving it on the desktop before you grabbed your favourite blaster.

“I’ll be out back,” You told him. He stood abruptly as you turned to leave.

“You—,” He began, halting you. “You didn’t have to,”

“Just eat, Mando,” You scoffed out. “I don’t want you going hungry in my home,” Your cheeks flushed as soon as you’d finished talking. That was personal—it implied you wanted him to be comfortable, you wanted him to enjoy his time with you.

You nodded at him once, making your way outside to the courtyard and shutting the door behind you. You chose to shoot away your embarrassment; how many times did you have to check yourself? How many times did you have to think back on your words and realise you’d said something stupid?

You shot three times, only hitting one target dead centre. You cursed at yourself, repositioning your feet and forcing yourself to breath slower.

Would he leave if he knew you were starting to care for him?

You shot once, missing the target entirely. Fuck. Come on.

Would his guards go back up if he realised that you enjoyed his visits more than he’d ever fully know?

Twice more— you skimmed the edge of the target on both.

“Fucks sake,” You muttered, only getting more flustered as you failed with each blast, instead of getting rid of the frustration within you.

You breathed out slowly, allowing your body to fall into a stance naturally. If you overthought your shooting, you always failed. If you felt it—felt the trigger and the barrel and visualised the blast, you always got it spot on.

But, evidently, you were distracted.

You aimed at the target, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth, but your arm had started to shake subtly—

You felt him behind you before you could turn around. He positioned himself parallel to you, shoving his chest into your back and bringing his hand up to steady your shooting arm. He gripped his fingers around your forearm, twisting you slightly until he was happy with the way the shot lined up.

Your eyes widened when you felt his other hand come to sit snuggly upon your waist. His hand was large enough to squeeze you tightly, balancing you as you realised you’d been tilted to the left the whole time.

His helmet shone in your peripheral, coming to hover over your right shoulder and tilted toward your face. You didn’t waver—you kept your eyes forward and focused on the target before you, despite the fucking urge to look at him—

Stars, it was a strong urge.

“You know how to do this already,” Mando spoke coarsely. God, his voice sounded like butter. It wasn’t helping. “What’s got you this shaken?”

Bastard.

He knew it was because of him. And he was relishing in that fact. Without a second thought, you pulled the trigger—and it missed. Again. You were ready to explode, but instead, you gasped.

Mando moved his hand from your waist to wrap completely around your stomach. You could feel the strength in his muscles, in the way he was hugging you from behind. Your legs started to waver next, as if they’d completely forgot how the fuck to stand up.

“Try again,” He prompted, his voice deepening with arousal. He was enjoying himself. He was enjoying you like this, like a toy, like a game. You imagined his eyes trickling down you from this angle, feeling your pulse quicken as his grip on you didn’t falter. He could definitely feel the shake from your legs; they were positioned just below his groin.

You forced yourself to ignore these feelings, tensing all of your muscles to somewhat numb yourself from his touch, before you fired again.

It missed—unsurprisingly.

His arm immediately moved once more, snaking its way beneath the soft fabric of your shirt until you felt cold Beskar upon the bare skin of your tummy. Oh, fuck—stars. The breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it, as a moan trickled from your mouth involuntarily.

It only riled him up more, as he slammed his body closer to your back. You heard the unmistakable sound of his strained modulated breathing, feeling nothing but his body pushed up behind your own, his hand tightening its grip on your bare stomach and digging into your flesh slightly.

“Try. Again,” He spoke roughly, like it pained him to talk.

You gulped down the need to yell. You wanted to tell him he wasn’t helping. You wanted to tell him to wind his hand further up your shirt, but instead, you were hit with the want to frustrate him even more.

You kept your gaze plastered on the target, but you allowed yourself to don the smallest of smirks. “What happens if I miss again?” You whispered out.

Mando wasted no time with giving you a physical demonstration. He pushed himself further into you, shoving his arm further up your shirt until his palm laid in the space between your breasts. You shivered at the sensation of cold metal upon your soft, supple, skin—skin that was rarely touched by anyone else by yourself.

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, slamming your free arm back until you were gripped onto the undershirt beneath his Beskar. You already knew your knuckles were white from the sheer force your fingers had clasped onto him with—Stars, how you’d love to tug off his armour this way.

It was his turn to growl then, as his arm only tensed over your skin. His shooting arm was still and steady as ever, next to the wobbles of your own—you were jelly. And there was nothing you could fucking do about it.

“Hit the target and I’ll stop,” He offered. Your brain flooded with an idea, something to make him realise how fucking bad you wanted this. Abruptly, you swiped your arm upwards to the sky, firing the blaster without any hesitation. It soared up into the air before it disappeared into the approaching dusk of the Nevarro sun.

It was an obvious message; don’t fucking stop.

Before you had the chance to process anything, his shooting arm moved at light speed to grip your inner thigh. You squirmed uncontrollably, immediately trying to shove your legs together, but Mando’s knees intercepted you. He made it impossible to move your legs, boxing you into this stance like a doll.

He was covering you on all sides; your back, your front, your sides. You were effectively trapped in this man’s grasp, doomed to suffer a game of hit the target while your body fought against your attempts at any form of concentration.

“I—,” You began, stuttering through your words and fucking forgetting how to speak, as his fingers started to crawl further up the crevice between your thighs. “Don’t want you to stop,” You forced out, causing a moan to burst from Mando’s lips.

You had to release your grasp on his shirt from fear that your fingers were about to fall off, but that didn’t stop you from moving your hand closer to his waistband. As you struggled to reach around, your hand grazed over his bulge—

Without warning, Mando peeled himself off of you, letting out the most ragged groan that you’d ever heard him produce. He stumbled backwards as his arms swiped away from your skin, until you heard the slam of Beskar against the wall behind you. You swivelled round immediately, still shaking from the fucking pleasure you felt, but you were more concerned about his sudden collapse.

“Mando?” You questioned, rushing forward towards him as he slumped against the wall, but he stuck out a hand, halting you before you could properly approach him.

“Fine,” He breathed out. You saw the strenuous way his chest was inhaling and exhaling, hearing the utter strain of his breaths from beneath his helmet. You let him stay like that for a few minutes, allowing him to catch his breath as you also tried to regain your full composure. Stars—you could feel the warmth of yourself between your legs. You’d bet that you were dripping, and it wouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.  

Your limbs were still overcome with that jelloid sensation, refusing to move in ways that you were used to and instead forcing you to adopt a sort of groaned hobble. When Mando finally looked up at you, red faced, sweating, breathing calmer and still clutching the blaster by your side, he let out an amused scoff.

“You were right,” He finally spoke. “It’s overwhelming,” He groaned when he got himself up from the wall, straightening himself as his desires slowly faded away. You were coming back to yourself too, feeling the utter amusement of the entire situation.

How long would it take two touch-starved loners to actually have sex, without one of them collapsing before it?

You finally walked over to him, tentatively reaching out to grab his forearm. He let you drag him back to your former position, but without the burning sensation of the sexual tension from before. You gently placed his hand onto your waist, bringing his other to the forearm of your shooting arm.

It was the same position as before, the same stance, the same proximity—

Without hesitation, you fired the blaster, hitting the target dead centre. You relished in the achievement, despite knowing you’d had the ability to do it all along. You took comfort in the fact Mando hadn’t removed himself from you just yet, that he was settling into the nooks of your body, your waist, your lower back, feeling comfortable enough himself to stay placed next to you.

It was a sorely missed sensation, just being close to another human being. You could feel Mando realising this same exact feeling; feeling himself getting used to this level of intimacy once more, with it not necessarily being just sexual, despite both of you having those very strong urges.

“I wonder what had you so shaken before?” He cooed in your ear. You rolled your eyes instinctively, turning around to look at him face on. It prompted him to move both hands to sit on your waist—a new feeling, but one that you both seemed to like.

“Shut the fuck up,” You let out, smiling all the while.

“That’s rude,” He hit back with. You could practically hear his smile beneath the helmet.

“Don’t ask such idiotic questions, then,” You gave him a single smack on chest, not expecting the Beskar to fucking hurt that much. You immediately doubled over, clutching your wrist, before you started jumping on the spot at the tingling pain your hand was throbbing with.

Mando was amused. The prick.

“I tapped you, what the hell is Beskar’s problem?” You stuttered out, waving your hand about and flexing your fingers to avoid numbness.

“It doesn’t like you,” Was all he said, before grabbing your arm and dragging you back inside the shop. He shut the door while you jumped up onto your desktop like normal, dropping your legs over the side, still holding your hand.

“Well, I don’t like it,” You retorted. You looked up at his visor, shooting him a smirk. “I’d much rather you weren’t wearing it,” You let out in a whisper, somehow hoping he wouldn’t entirely hear it, but of course he did.

Mando let out a modulated sigh, heading to sit on his usual seat in the shop. You tried not to giggle at his exasperation, but it was simply comedy gold. This stoic man, reduced to absolute pieces by the subtle graze of your fingers over his, very hard, cock.

“We have time,” He replied, before a tense silence flooded through the shop floor once more. You were exhausted after such a hard week, it was true, and this encounter had only sapped up your last remaining energy. You expected Mando felt equally as tired, slumping himself in the chair and continuing through the aftermath of earlier.

“We have time,” You repeated, feeling a welcoming sweetness to replace the ferocious fire in your gut from before. It was fluttering and warm; it made you feel giddy, instead of ravenous. Mando’s helmet tilted to you on the desk, and you smiled at him smally in recognition.

“I should go,” He let out, almost sadly. “I’m need to meet with Karga,”

You tried not to think about how elated you felt at that fact he’d come to see you before meeting with Karga. He’d landed on Nevarro, fresh from his bounties and ready for more work, and he’d come to you before all of that. Stars, it felt good.

“He’s bad news,” You said suddenly, copying his words from the week before. Mando only sighed once more, before forcing himself to stand and sling his satchel over his shoulder.

“I’d watch that smart mouth if I were you,” He threatened, but you only smirked at his response.

“Oh yeah?” You began. “What are you gonna do about it?” You let out playfully, not thinking anything serious about your choice of words.

Suddenly, Mando stormed towards you, getting in close—he shoved his body between your legs as you sat atop the desk, hands gripping the backs of your knees to keep them secure around his sides. You were taken aback, looking up at him like a fucking rabbit in headlights, while one of his hands came to rest on your chin.

His thumb swiped back and forth over your bottom lip gently, all while you stayed absolutely still. Frozen, pulsing, a bit terrified, but mostly turned the fuck on.

“I like your smart mouth,” He growled out. “But not when I have to leave,”

Stars, what the fuck. You were melting immediately once more, all too aware of the way his hips were pressing into you—you could feel him, you could feel the throb.

You had no control over the way your cheeks fucking blushed. If you got any redder, you would have looked to be dowsed in fresh blood. You ignored the hammering of your heart, the heat radiating from your very body, while you tentatively raised a hand to his helmet.

You placed your hand on the cold, hard metal of the mask he never took off, somehow still being surprised about the feeling of the surface—hard, cold, smooth, perfect. As far as you were concerned, this was Mando’s face, this was what he looked like always.

As much as you wanted to delve beneath the armour, you were also a realist. You didn’t expect to ever see his face, as much as you ached to. You didn’t expect to ever kiss his lips, as much as you craved to. You didn’t expect the Mandalorian to unwind fully with anyone, let alone you—

But beneath all of that, was hope.

“Stay then,” You said it before you could analyse the words in your brain. Mando didn’t remove himself from you, but you felt him tense up. “After Karga, stay here tonight,” You repeated.

You fully expected Mando to retract his grip from you, to leave without a word, but instead he got closer to you. He pulled your legs around his waist, leaning himself down to lean his arms on your work desk, until his helmet was all you saw. You wondered, if you squinted, would you see his eyes beneath?

“I can’t,” Mando said finally, before you felt him pulling away. You took your chance, though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing your lips to his helmet. You kissed him where you expected his cheek to be, navigating the indents and curves in the Besker, before pulling back and sending him a saddened look.

“Be safe, then,” You gave up, allowing him to leave the safety of your legs, wrapped around his hips snuggly. He looked incredibly reluctant to leave, but nevertheless, he grabbed his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder like you’d seen him do a thousand times—

And he left.

You sat in silence for a while, while the darkness set in outside. You turned no lights on, opting to roam around your shop in almost pitch-black, just for the fucking hell of it. Stars—you’d been fucking blue-balled, and so had he. Both times, you’d got close to getting there, but something always faltered before either of you had the chance.

Not that you thought that was a problem. If anything, it spurred you forward, increasing your fantasies surrounding the inevitable unwinding that you’d give him, or more excitedly, he’d give you. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about it all the fucking time—the prospect of Mando making you cum had plagued you for the better part of three months, but now that this had happened, you were getting incredibly impatient.

As much as you wanted to go full throttle, neither of you could fucking take that right now. Not after so long without being touched, not after reacquainting yourselves with the feeling of sexual intimacy; and, possibly, romance.

You were a hard-skinned woman. Making and repairing literal killing machines was your job. You’d hurt, maimed, injured too many people to remember the exact amount, and you knew Mando’s numbers most definitely topped yours. Yet this feeling went beyond the want to be railed by this man—

Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to care for him, too. You wanted to know his past, you wanted to know about Mandalore, you wanted to know what the Beskar and the helmet meant to him— Stars, you wanted to know his favourite colour.

You wanted him to stay. Even if he couldn’t fathom sleeping in your bed, even if the Beskar stayed on completely. You spent most of your days waiting for him to return to Nevarro and, just this once, you wished you could wake up to him.

Kriffing hell. Get it together.

You were pulled from your thoughts when your foot slammed into a box of parts on the way to your bedroom. You fully deserved it, walking around in a pitch-black workshop like it was easy as pie. You grappled at air to find the doorway to your bedroom, almost catapulting yourself into your drawers, until you finally stumbled across your bed.

You got in, not bothering to strip, or wash your face, or brush your teeth—

You got in and hugged your damn pillow. All the while, listening for the familiar sound of your door being lockpicked, hoping that maybe it would be the Mandalorian.

[mikaze-discord]

Class S: Love letters

This is the Class S+ Cecil love letters!! 

Please enjoy under the cut

TOKIYA ICHINOSE 

From Riri:

Maybe it was his midnight-blue hair, or perhaps it was his ocean eyes, but the very moment I laid my eyes upon him my mind immediately thought, “Wow, he’s very good looking… charming... I really like his vibe.” That was the first reason why he piqued my interest, rather, the initial reason why I fancied him. My eyes were drawn to him and the fact that Kay bombarded me with a truckload of his pictures didn’t help at all, I just fell deeper into the hole. But as if that wasn’t enough, she started spamming me with utapri songs and I fell in love immediately. They are all such good singers but there’s one of them who sticks out to me the most, as expected, it’s Tokiya. His voice has this intricate and refined softness that seemed to caress my ears and touch my soul. He has such a sweet (and might I add a handsome) voice, kudos to Miyano Mamoru for that.

So I started watching the anime and through that, I got to know him better. At first, he seems cold with an air of loneliness and uneasiness dawning on him. But as the series progresses, I discovered that he’s a good-natured, warm, and dedicated person who loves singing and music with all his heart and all. He’s hardworking, dedicating everything to his craft. He has pride in it, so when he was told that his singing has no ‘heart’ it affected him a lot. That caused a lot of distress in his system, and the fact that his company is pushing him to pursue other things than being a singer added to that. His passion for his craft is burning, a fire that no one could put out. That’s one of the things that I love about him. He’s dedicated to everything he does. He’s a perfectionist but he’s also a caring person who cares a lot about the starish members. He’s genuinely a good person but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect. He strives for improvement and development all the time. He helps the members whenever they need. Most importantly, his attitude towards his passion is respectable and admirable.

I might’ve said a lot of things but I guess that only means I love a lot of things about him. He’s such a beautiful soul that inspires me to be more dedicated to my passion, to make my dreams come true no matter what it takes. His path towards his dream was rough, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows but that’s life, isn’t it? Despite that, he kept walking towards his dream. He’s admirable, respectable, and irresistibly loveable. That being said, I love all the things that made his character; that made Tokiya Ichinose be the kind of character that he is right now.

PS. Miyano Mamoru played a big part too. His insane talent gave life to Tokiya’s character.

From @poorlydrawnutapri:

When I first watched the Utapri anime like 6 years ago, having a best boy didn't cross my mind. At first, I was just most interested in Tokiya out of all the boys because I just thought he looked cool. I liked how mysterious he seemed and also, his hair, probably just because it was blue tbh. Either way, good design.

However, what really got me attached to him wasn't his looks. I then liked Tokiya's serious personality. I like how he starts off cold and stoic but how throughout the games and anime, he slowly softens up. I didn't just like his personality, I could also relate to his perfectionism and hard-working side, even when he exhausts himself, which is something I admit I also have. I continue to relate to him now after all this time, and that's why he's such a good character to me.

Besides that, his songs are nice to listen to and he has just a very pleasant voice. It's nice just to go listen to his voice after a long day. In a way, liking Tokiya also got me into the whole Utapri franchise: made some friends, made a couple of good memes, all that kinda stuff.

Also, I feel like it's a crime not to mention this so: he thicc. Like, dang, no wonder the guy only eats salads because all the fats he eats goes straight to that ass of his. (I am sorry that you had to read that.)

Overall, I just think he's neat. To me, he's relatable and has a nice character development. Tokiya is and will continue to be my best boy. :)

REN JINGUJI 

From @incorrect-jinguji-ren:

Ren Jinguji, the 5th member of Starish is without any shame my favorite character of the Uta no prince sama series. Though often disregarded Ren is and always will be my most favorite and I firmly believe that he has one of the most, if not the most depth in his character. I love Ren a lot however because of his surface charismatic attitude he is usually labeled as a “playboy” or a “lothario”. This is not correct and it should never define him, as he actually is one of the most gentle and compassionate characters of the series. Ren has a very deep surface characterization and personality that is never usually recognized unless you truly take the time to understand WHY Ren acts the way he does, and WHY he makes the choices that he makes. My favorite part about loving characters is being able to accept them for their demons and embrace what others would see as the “imperfections” in them. That Is the best way to truly love them. I love Ren because of his motives, choices, and most of all his passionate loving heart. Although the pain he hides and the personality of who he really is, is hidden under a mask of charisma, he never loses himself deep within.

He’s misunderstood, but he’s beautiful. He’s so deep, from the everlasting devotion to loving his passed on mother, to always cherishing memories and the past bond he had with his childhood best friend Masato, to going against what his brother wants of him because he wants to fight to have a choice and to be passionate about something that he wants to love, because HE wants to love it. Ren didn’t have the love that a lot of people had at such a young age, he made a path for himself and along the way succumbed to the human faults that we all falter from within the hardest times in our life or even dicult events. He almost gave up, just as I know many of us had almost done before, as I know and can relate to, and still do now.

But he dusted himself o and picked up where he left o, making himself happy from once the feeling of being a hollow shell with no reason why he even existed to realizing that the most important thing in the world to him was cherishing the people who made him see the world in colors and seeking the choices that had been stripped from him at such a young age. He broke free from the chains of his family, his past, and his regrets to spread a beautiful pair of rose wings, his own wings to fly. And I hope he always flies. I will always love him, and wish nothing but the best for him whatever that be.

From @chips-and-vodka:

Ren Jinguji- the sexy, charming and flirty member of the STARISH boys. The youngest of the Jinguji family, a troubled child who grew up without a mother. A person who possesses many charms and is blessed with the gift of beauty. A red rose he was, beautiful yet his thorns are to be avoided. Beneath his passionate and seductive mannerisms there is a boy that craves genuine affection, from the one he truly adores and cherishes.

Ren Jinguji to me initially was one with a beautiful, attractive deep baritone, who is voiced by none other than the legend- Suwabe Junichi himself. The voice is an accurate fit of how this stereotype of a charming bishie should be, youthful and sensitive, and at times warm and seductive. His portrayal brings out the appeal of the character, the emotions and thoughts a troubled young adult such as the ‘useless third son’ lived through. Many would see him as a romantic one, one who showers those around him with attention and passion. Within however lives a rebellious soul who distrusts many, but still somehow desires that ray of sunshine that brightens his lonely soul.

Ren Jinguji is one that deserves real love, someone who appreciates him for who he is.

SYO KURUSU

From Jules:

Why do I like Syo, huh? Well, there are a lot of reasons! Some of them are more personal ones. First of all, Syo has always been my best boy, since UtaPri (the anime) exists. So ten long years now.

His fashion style is the first thing I noticed and it immediately intrigued me. I remember that my first thought, after seeing him in season one, was “Woah, he looks really cool!” even though Syo was just in his school uniform! I think what also made me interested in him was his energetic persona. The way he looked up to Ryuya Hyuga and wanted to follow in his footsteps was really sweet to me as well. Syo’s enthusiasm and positive attitude actually encouraged me to become stronger in a way too, if I’m being honest. I, personally, have always found his songs motivating and they made me feel better. I really came to love Syo in his episode in season one. When he talked about his childhood and how weak he was, I really felt with him. From that moment on I cheered him on and Syo definitely became my favorite character. My interest never wavered over the next seasons either.

I also have personal reasons why I love him so much. I just feel very connected and relate to him a lot, y’know? We have quite a few things in common. Syo and I have the same eye color, we have both played the violin since we were little, and were born weak and with pretty much the same health and heart issues. I like to say that Syo “saved” me, which is true. There is also the fact that the blonde and I are both on the shorter side (and regularly get teased for it), too! Though, I’m even a little shorter than him.

But to be more positive again, there is just so much more to him than meets the eye at first! Syo is more than just the stereotypical short sporty character. He really cares for his friends and wants the best for them. Syo’s friendship with every STARISH member is different but still close. He’s also protective of the ones around him. Syo really cares about his little twin brother too, which can be seen in the games and the few times he talked about him in the anime. Syo’s big heart easily balances out his, sometimes, tsundere behavior and I love him for that. This blonde idol is just a great guy and deserves all the love he’s getting and more.

Seriously, stan Syo Kurusu, guys!

From Vic:

Syo Kurusu is my favourite idol within the utapri games and any other form of media pertaining to the franchise. He is my favourite idol because of several factors, one of which being that his voice actor is Hiro Shimono, who voices Zenitsu from Demon slayer and Lucifer from “Devil is a part timer”. Syo is a very outgoing character and is talented in many aspects athletically. Born with a heart disease, he continues to persevere throughout the myriads of life’s problems in front of him.

He’s extremely outgoing and is proficient in the martial art of Karate and desires to strengthen his body more than what it is currently. He is best friends with Natsuki and can communicate with each other proficiently. Syo is my favourite character within the franchise because of his resolve, perseverance and great chemistry with Natsuki and his teammates. Hiro Shimono did the character justice by making his voice one of young, adventurous and energetic. With that said, Syo is a character I truly enjoy within the franchise and wish to see more of him.

CECIL AIJIMA 

From Anon:

Greetings, princes and princesses, and welcome to a world of princes, questionably talking cats, and magic! I’m of course talking about Cecil Aijima, our foreign prince of UtaPri! So, why do I like Cecil Aijima? It’s borderline ridiculous, but it’s because of Cecil’s birthday. More specifically, Cecil’s Birthday Cruise card. But, I should start at the beginning.

Back when I first watched the anime, I thought Cecil was a little bit of a brat towards literally everyone, and one of my least favorites at the time. After watching through the rest of the anime though, I started to like him a lot more than I did before. To me, he had matured a lot after season 2, and never turned back to that bratty self. And so, when playing SL, he might not have been my favorite, but I didn’t hate him. Then, that one fateful day, I decided to pull in his birthday gacha. To my surprise, I had gotten the card in my first pull! Then the story dragged me into the Cecil Appreciation Group. I thought the story was incredibly cute. Then I got more Cecil cards so I could read more stories. Then the cycle repeated itself again. And now, well, if I’m writing this, I think you know what happened to me afterwards. I’ll be here, doing my best for him.

From Eden: 

The boy with childish like demeanor but continues to have a heart of gold for his friends and wonderful composer.

I remember first watching Utapri in middle school and questioning. "Well shit- this is my life now..." and I didn't really have a favorite character at the time. I was always bouncing between characters like Syo, Otoya, even the teachers. However it was season 2 that made me realize who my true favorite was. Despite his at first cocky nature when he was first introduced, Cecil to me was amazing! His singing was magical, his origins even more fascinating. You wouldn't think Utapri would turn that down the magic route but it somehow did.

As the seasons went on, and as I got more into the series, he just became more of a love to me. His kindness and child-like nature and curiosity, he felt different than the other characters.

I love the other characters, yes but him?

Something about him just felt right! He not only seems to be a protector for those he cares about but also feels like he would be the best person to be around. Always wanting to do anything new and exciting just to peak his curiosity and to learn more. Ever since then, he has always been my favorite. The one and only Annapolis Prince, Aijima Cecil.

[musicallisto]

Hi, congrats on 800 followers! Can I please get a Six of Crows ship? I’m have short brown hair (I dyed red last week) and green eyes. I don't mind if im shipped with a girl or a boy. I like reading (no romantic novels), music and photography. I'm Aquarius. I’m very curious. I'm a little shy and even cold at first. I’m not good with feelings, I mostly keep them to myself if I can, but I care deeply for my loved ones and would do anything to help them, even if I'm not very good at giving advice. ☆

hi! here’s your vanilla milkshake, I hope you like it! I ship you with jesper fahey!

You don’t imagine the extent of my joy to be able to add a gif of an actual real person for Jesper... however shall I survive until Aprid 23rd?

For the longest time, you thought the world started and ended at your corner of Fjerda, in your frozen estate by the True Sea.

You were descented from minor Fjerdan nobility, and your father, jaded by Court Life and its political intrigues - and, unofficially, penniless after giving his all for the sempiternal wars on Ravka -, had decided to leave the capital and retire to his family’s estate by the sea a few years after you were born.

All you had ever known were the large, marbled corridors you’d spend entire afternoons wandering, daydreaming about adventures in the confines of the country - or living the lavish life of a true Fjerdan princess, in an outrageously enormous bed of satin sheets...

The house was spacious and beautiful, with a marvelous view over the sea, gently carrying its boats to and fro before you - and you’d stay there on the balcony in your flowy white dress, admiring the ocean until you couldn’t fight the chills of the night creeping up your spine anymore; but as tranquil and languid as your existence was, it was also terribly lonely.

All you longed for was a sibling, a friend, a partner in crime, someone you could explore the world and go on quests with...

... until a lighting bolt tore the silence, one night.

You couldn’t sleep, so you had gone on a walk by the shore as you often did - your father was never worried about it, since you knew the rocks and their cracks like the back of your hand, and would know the way back home even with your eyes closed.

But you were so absorbed by the distant twinkling of stars that you didn’t notice the shadows creeping up behind you until it was too late.

Screams in a language you can’t understand; an arm around your neck in a chokehold, another slipping under your knees; you thrash around, slice all you can, bite and claw at all you can grasp...

Your abductors know better than to let Fjerdan nobility get away from their grasp. They don’t know exactly who you are - but they’ve guessed from the distinguished aspect of your house that there’s a fine sum to gain from whoever will be willing to pay for you - your father for a ransom, or anyone else, in Kerch, who’ll make good use of your services.

Those brothels in Ketterdam pay good money for young girls, they hear - even more so for a Fjerdan pearl.

When they throw you on an overloaded carriage like a potato sack, you’re still yelling at the top of your lungs, pleading for your father, for one of your maids, for anyone to help you.

But no one hears.

You shed all the tears you have in the first night, tossed around in a dark chariot, off to somewhere unknown. Your father hasn’t prepared you for this - nothing, not even your books nor your fantastical imaginary adventures...

But you don’t intend on being sold off that easily. So you devise a plan to get away.

The first opportunity to break free presents itself when your kidnappers force you to board a ship; but they manage to catch you before you’ve run very far.

But second time’s the charm; with nothing better to do during the voyage than to bide your time and gnaw at your bonds, you’re able to slip from your captor’s watch, and blindly run through the harbor - just to get as far as possible from the stench of this floating carcass.

The first thing that strikes you is the odor. You’ve known the sea forever - it’s clear and bright as ice, and smells of fresh mornings and cold salt; never of this green rot that festers everywhere in these streets... and all those chimneys, all those people, who stare you down as you run down these grimy streets, barefoot in your off-white dress...

You understand that you’re farther from home than you’ve ever been, and it’s not a thrilling adventure, it’s terrifying and overwhelming, and you want nothing more than to burst into tears.

But you don’t, because a pair of strangers flag you down in a language you don’t understand.

A tall and lanky dark-skinned boy, wearing vibrant fabric and a self-assured grin; and possibly the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen in your life, all bright eyes and genuine frown.

Paralyzed, you open your mouth, once, twice, incapable of making the slightest sound; until the girl notices your visible discomfort, and, eyeing your pale eyes, asks in the slightest of Ravkan accents;

“Are you Fjerdan?”

You nod with all your soul. You’re ready to cling onto them both for dear life.

“What happened to you?”

Your voice fails you - you can’t explain it - you haven’t even comprehended it all. You were curled up in front of the fireplace just the night before...

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

You shake your head with despair, trying to blink back the tears.

“Come with us. We know someone who’ll help you.”

You don’t mull it over very long. Maybe it’s your sheltered uprbinging that has made you naive; maybe it’s the curiously comforting warmth you see in the Ravkan girl’s eyes; but you simply have no better option, and you can’t understand a word of Kerch, or wherever it is that this barbarian folk speak.

Although your two saviors start arguing, probably about whether or not they can reasonably take you in, your tear-stained cheeks and desperate vulnerability are enough to convince them - so you follow them.

Into the lair of the Dregs, of whom you’ve never heard - and of Kaz Brekker, who you know very well.

After all, he’s the infamous gangster who invaded your homeland, broke into the Ice Court, and stole the Shu boy - or so you saw your father read in the papers. To know that you are under the same roof as that lowlife would be enough to give your father a heart attack...

You’re half convinced that he’ll throw you back to the streets, but Nina and, surprisingly, Jesper as well, plead in your favor with a greatly convincing fervor. You learn that it’s probably because Kaz has much greater worries on his mind - the criminal group is planning on retrieving one of their own from the clutches of a treacherous business partner, or so you’ve gathered.

Either way, you’re more than happy that the terrifying and redoubtable Kaz Brekker is leaving you alone, and that you can enjoy Jesper’s company.

You two become unexpectedly good friends overtime. He comes to visit you at the Crow Club, where you’re staying, almost every day. Yet communication is not your strong suit, especially in a language you don’t understand at all, and you don’t fancy yourself a particularly enthralling girl to be around.

Not when one has lived the life of a criminal, a sharpshooter, a wanderer, a playboy... well, all those things that Jesper prises himself on being, and all those words he’s taught you in Kerch.

(That and the curse words, of course, that you’re a bit intimidated to use at first, until they slip out of your mouth one evening when you drop your plate at dinner with the Dregs, and the entire canteen falls dead silent.)

“Did she just say ‘fuck’?”

“I think she just said fuck.”

“See, Matthias, she wasn’t immediately struck by lighting by Djel’s hand. You won’t die if you say it.”

Speaking of Matthias, he’s also a good friend of yours - it’s comforting and refreshing to have a familiar face around, one of Fjerdan roots and mores.

Although the rest of the group says you’re not that Fjerdan.

“You’re one of the feisty ones, at least.”

“I’m not ‘feisty’. Shut up, Jesper.”

“Ah, I see you’ve been working on the vocabulary I taught you!”

Matthias and you both have a lot of soul-searching and unlearning to do about the outside world - you were raised in particularly bigoted environments, you somewhat less than him. The hatred for the Grisha he’s been taught by the Drüskelle is fear in your case; you’ve been brought up on bedtime stories of bloodthirsty Grisha who devour unruly kids, and war and devastation caused by their unstability and blasphemous magic.

It’s even more of a shock to you when you learn Jesper is a Grisha.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve started to fall a little for him - how could you not? He’s funny, charming, sarcastic and witty; always has the best stories to tell, and despite it all, sincerely cares for you amidst the chaos of their heist and revenge plans.

But to learn he was the kind of monster - no, the kind of creature - no, the kind of person, you force yourself to correct mentally - that you had been taught to fear for your entire life...

“I’m so sorry. You should never have been there.”

He’s pacing back and forth in your room after a shootout has gone awry and you were caught in the crossifre; it’s the first time he’s ever had to use his Durast powers to get you of the mess - and normally he wouldn’t have, because it’s a secret he wishes he could carry to the grave, but the fear of losing you was too strong...

“Thank god that I was there, though. What would you do without me?”

He’s fidgety and restless, nervously playing with his pistols, and his nervous laugh is all but genuine; and you’re huddled up on your bed, staring him down with wide eyes.

“Jesper, you...”

“Yeah, maybe not the best moment.”

“Jesper...”

“It’s like they have a knack for knowing exactly where we’re gonna be and when...”

“Jesper!”

He abruptly turns to look at you, and his eyes widen. He’s starting to understand, almost, but refuses to believe it. Your voice is a murmur, and you can hardly hold his gaze.

“Jesper, are you... going to hurt me?”

His words die in his throat. He remembers where you’re from... the garbage that they must have filled your ears and head with from the day you were born... how feverish Matthias was with Nina... he looks at his hands, and his Materialki magic rumbles like a dark curse.

“Y/N, you’re scared of me?”

The sheer hurt in his voice breaks your heart. Even though you’re trembling, you let him step closer to you, slowly. It’s Jesper in front of you, not some ungodly monster from legends... Jesper, your Jesper...

“I’m... I’m sorry...”

He cups your face in his hands, warm and just a bit moist, and stares into your eyes with a vulnerability you have never seen in him.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Y/N, I swear on my life. All I want is you to be safe...”

Safe from me, if that’s what you wish, he thinks for a split second, but you don’t give him time to doubt; you’ve captured his lips in a frenzied kiss, and hold on for dear life onto his lean shoulders.

Fjerda and its blind hatred is very far from you, now. You're locked in Jesper's embrace, and you won't have to hear their lies anymore.

You know you have nothing to fear from him; not now, and not ever.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!