#And with their shared use of ✨violence✨

[betterthanbatman1]

Umm I love them???

[letssimptogether]

Slashers x Pregnant! Reader

✨ reader almost gets hurt by a victim/victim uses reader as leverage — requested by anon ✨

includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, and Poly! Ghostface

warnings: mentions or possible descriptions of (slight!) violence, cursing

a/n: i might use some manga as lil cover pictures when writing multiple slashers/idk what picture to use idk i think they’re cute teehee😅🤭 anyways, sorry for the wait—i hope you all enjoy! readers pronouns are gender neutral💜💜

💜Bo Sinclair

You just finished doing the dishes, when you heard a knock at the door. Unsure it was one of the boys, you scooted from your comfy couch spot and opened the door.

To your surprise, it was not one of the boys—and much to the unexpected visitor's surprise, someone opened the damned door.

“Please, you have to help me.” The man begged in front of you, big sloppy tears pouring from his eyes.

You paused and looked at the male in front of you before raising a brow. You knew what was up, but you never had to deal with the victims before, especially now that you’re over a month pregnant—Bo really doesn’t want you talking or handling them.

“They’re going to get me,” He choke and sobbed, “I need your help.”

Unsure of what to do, you stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking of what the safest option was, but also one that wouldn’t put the boys in danger.

Over the surprise visitor's shoulder, you could see Bo approaching, and he was just a few buildings away—while staring at Bo, and trying to decide your option, the visitor turned around to catch what you were looking at and met Bo’s now rage-filled demeanor.

Quickly, he shoved you to the floor, hopping over you; only stepping on your arm. The minute Bo reached you, he gently helped you up and cupped your cheek. He then pressed a small kiss to your nose and asked you to go to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You could hear each sloshing stabbing sound and the man’s blood-curdling screams almost all night before Bo accompanied you in bed.

🩷Vincent Sinclair

You happily made your way towards the Wax Museum, a plate of food in your hand for your beloved since you know Vincent most likely hasn’t eaten yet.

Once you got to the entrance of the museum, much to your startle, the door was already open. And to make matters worse, you hear two voices giggling.

You stood still beside the entrance, your free hand holding where your womb is, pausing to think of your best option for safety for you and the growing baby. Vincent must've known of their presence, so it's only a matter of time now. Once their whispering died down, you snuck inside the building, peeking around each corner and listening to make sure nobody could see or hear you. You turned a corner too quick in your need to get to Vincent, that you bumped your hip on a nearby table, almost causing you to drop your plate. "Shit," You silently muttered, panicking slightly from your slight bump. "What was that?" A man asked just faint enough for you to hear, causing your panic to rise more. "Maybe it's the dog from earlier?" A woman responded questioningly. As if on cue, Vincent sneaks around the corner and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, while also signaling you to shush before pointing in the direction of where the intruders. He quickly puts his hand over his mask's mouth, then presses it softly to where your baby bump's growing like a little kiss. And from there, he went to take care of the two.

💜Lester Sinclair

You were riding in the truck with Lester, as he went to run errands when a stranger waved you guys down alongside the road.

“Hey! Hi—sorry to bother you guys,” The stranger stumbled nervously, “Something happened and we really need to get to our friends, would one of us be able to catch a ride to the nearest town?”

You and Lester exchanged unsure glances, but Lester agreed nonetheless. You scooted to the middle seat closer Lester, giving him one last worried glance before patting the seat for the stranger.

The three of you rode in an uncomfortable silence, occasionally making some small talk about the small town of Ambrose, and how the two of you like it.

“Ain’t too bad,” Lester spoke up, “Pretty quiet. Everyone minds their own business for the most part.”

The strangers phone started to ring, and they quickly apologized and answered, stiffening in statue after what seemed 10 seconds. They nervously side eyed Lester and you a few times, while giving verbal acknowledgments over the phone.

“Excuse me—can you stop the car?” They asked, feigning a polite exterior, their jaw quivering and the right hand upon the door handle shook nervously.

“Mhm,” Lester slowed to a stop, but before the old beat up truck could even get to a halt, the stranger opened the door, and grabbed you, pulling the both of you out of the car, leaving only Lester in the drivers seat.

“Stay back, freak! Or—or else!” The stranger shoved you to the ground, then pointing a finger to Lester, to prove a point to him that they’re not above violence.

You tried to crawl away, but the stranger had other plans.

“Get back here, bitch,” The strangers focus was too engrossed into you, they didn’t notice Lester hop out of the truck, “I heard what you did to my friends!”

The stranger went to reach for you, but was stopped by Lester pulling them back and punching perpetrator in the throat.

“Hell is wrong with you hitting a pregnant person,” Lester’s punches did not ease up until the strangers face looked like a bloody pulp.

Once he finished, he walked over to where you stood yourself up, and pulled you in for a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead and knelt down to press a kiss to your tummy.

“Y’okay, sugar?” He grasped your hand, and walked you to the truck and helped you sit down comfortably.

🩷Thomas Hewitt

You and Luda sat in the kitchen knitting things for the baby that’s on the way.

“Y/N, would you be a dear and check on the pie?” Luda politely inquired.

“Of course!” You opened the oven to check, but the pie wasn’t fully done, so you reset the timer for about 5 minutes.

You took your seat back, and continued knitting your baby blanket. Luda stood up, and started cleaning the counters and washing the dishes used to make the cherry pie.

Faint scrambling and screaming could be heard coming from the basement, but you just turned on the small radio and continuing knitting zigzags into the blankets design.

Until someone managed to scramble their way to the first floor, scrambling through the living room, and then the kitchen.

“You two! Hey! You have to help me!” The man pleaded, “He’s trying to kill me down there!”

The man pointed down in the basement, and Luda looked at him unimpressed. She was sneaking her way to find something to hit the person with without being detected, but the man grabbed onto your hand and tried pulling you with him.

“Please! You have to listen to me; he’s going to kill me—then he’s going to kill you too!” He sobbed, ripping you from your chair at the small table.

“I—” You didn’t get a chance to respond or call for help before the man pulled you outside and down the wooden steps.

“Tommy!” You hear Luda Mae call out, “They’re trying to take Y/N!”

About two minutes later, Thomas ran through the door, his chainsaw rumbling with a seething rage. Within a minute, your captor was mowed down by Thomas, who then dropped the (now off) chainsaw, and spun you in the air with his embrace, pressing his forehead to yours.

That night, Thomas made you a warm bath and you enjoyed a cool cup of sweet tea while you got to munch on the pie you and Luda made from earlier.

💜Brahms Heelshire

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, and you were waiting for Malcolm to bring groceries to the house for you and Brahms—who was hiding upstairs, waiting for your okay to come out.

You sat in the living room, sipping on your favorite hot beverage while rereading a book you started, but haven’t finished.

Faint knocking could be heard from the front door, so you placed your book and drink down, and peeled through the door.

Malcom finally arrived; which means Brahms can come out soon!

“Afternoon, Malcolm!” You gave a small smile with your greeting, which dropped when you saw the man who delivers Brahms and your groceries arrived empty handed.

“Malcolm wh—” You were cut off by his quick ramblings.

“Y/N, you have to get out of here,” He quickly blurted out, “Brahms is alive; he-he’s been living in the walls!”

Mentally, you rolled your eyes. You knew this, obviously—he is your partner after all.

“What do you mean?” You faked concern, even though you had a feeling you knew how this would end.

The grocery boy would enter, prohibited to leave; his fate sealed past the front door.

“Brahms—I SAW him, Y/N.” He huffed, pacing in a nervous circle.

“I think you’re just seeing things, Malcolm. I live here, don’t you think I’d know if he’s here? Wouldn’t I have seen or heard him?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow, trying your best to gaslight him into leaving you and Brahms alone.

He grasped your hand, “If you refuse to believe it, I have no choice. We’re getting out of here and somewhere safe.”

Little did he know, Brahms was watching the whole interaction. And boy is he pissed.

He snuck out through one of the walls, and approached Malcolm from behind.

“Y/N,” He whined, walking towards where Malcom had a grip on your wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Get him Brahms!” You cried, ripping your arm away from Malcolm and backing away.

Brahms quickly gripped Malcolm’s neck, squeezing so hard his poor face turned a blueish purple from the lack of oxygen due to Brahms’ rage.

As soon as Malcom’s body felt limp, Brahms ran towards your slightly nervous form, nuzzling his masked face into your neck, whimpering softly while rubbing your belly.

🩷Poly! Ghostface

You laid sprawled out upon the bed that the three of you shared, watching nostalgic horror movies. Your phone wasn’t too far from your reach due to the boys needing a ride later.

As if on cue, said device started ringing with Stu’s ringtone.

“Hey, babe!” You perked up, “You need me to come scoop you guys up?”

“Mhm-ow!” The sound of slapping could be heard on your end, and Stu groaned over the phone.

“Hi cutie,” Billy snatched the phone from Stu, “Seems nobody’s here. Can you come get us now?”

“Absolutely!” You beamed before hanging up, running to your car, and starting it.

Once you got to the location they sent you, you pulled into the driveway, turned your lights off, and parked the car.

With few lights lit in the house, you could only make out one figure running around in the dark rather than two. Nonetheless, you brushed it off due to how dim the house was, and you turned your music back up, rubbing your hand over the slight bump.

The figure snuck out of the house, and knocked on the window of the car.

“Are you their ride, bitch?” She sneered, “I overheard those fuck-faces on the phone talking about a ride.”

You tried to lock the doors, which you left unlocked for the boys, but the assailant was faster to open the door. She tried to rip you out of the car as you covered yourself up for defense, both not realizing the seatbelt was on.

“Billy!” You screamed out, “Stu, help please!”

The stranger retracted their fist to hit you, but was pulled back by Billy’s grip, before he plunged a knife into her. She glared at you as she tried to hit Stu who blocked her path, gladly taking a turn stabbing her in the ribs.

They dropped her, and both huddled around you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheek while their hands hold your baby bump.

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[djarinterstellar]

Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

*

*

It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

[turtletaubwrites]

Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader (with a powerful/unique sword)

Thank you anon for this request! I'm still getting the hang of headcanons, so I hope you enjoy these! (Also ty to my partner because he loves Zoro and swords, and wanted to share a couple thoughts) 💚

Summary: Headcanons and drabble for Zoro with a partner that is a strong swordsman with a powerful and unique sword

Word Count: 544

Rating/Warnings: SFW, GN!Reader, Fluff, (Maybe some Angst if you squint), Swearing, Kissing, Mildly Suggestive, Implied/Brief Descriptions of Violence

A/N: Imagine Zoro nerding out with someone who shares his biggest only interest. And then they kiss 🥰 I need to see it

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

Headcanons

Sparring!! Oh hot damn, the sparring is so good! The playful competition between you both makes you push yourselves even further. 

That heat can lead straight to the bedroom. Or really wherever you happen to be sparring, if you’re comfortable. Hearts racing, adrenaline filling your veins. He loves the way you challenge him. He loves the way you taste after your blades have met.

There may need to be boundaries set, especially depending on your goal. If it’s also your goal to become the world’s greatest swordsman, it may lead to more exciting and playful banter, sparring, etc. But it may lead to issues when it comes to decisions, i.e. which one of you will challenge the most powerful swordsmen in battles. (Or the inevitable circumstance of one of you truly beating the other.) It could be a playful rivalry, it could go sour, or it could be a mix of both that you’ll have to work through together.

Since you happen to possess a very powerful sword with unique abilities, Zoro will never stop suggesting you let him give it a try. It’ll come up in so many conversations, and he’ll try to convince you to give it up in a bet. You never do. 

You might occasionally use the three sword/overcompensating jokes, but only if he was really being a little shit. He'd make you pay for it though.

Oh the cute sword care moments!! It’s like a mini vacation, you both hide from the rest of the crew and silently take care of your blades. Your deep breaths match up as you run your fingers along the cool metal. 

“Hey, babe. Want me to take care of that one for ya?” “You’re not touching my sword, Zoro.”

Endless competitions. Some are breathed against your ear in a husky tease as you’re about to fight a hard battle. Some are yelled over the heads of your crewmates as a slew of enemies come charging forward.

“Bet you can’t kill that guy, faster than I get those three over there.” “Oh, fuck you, babe. I’ll get these five before you shut your stupid mouth.” “Wanna bet your sword on it?”

Drabble

“So, how many did ya get,” Zoro teased, coming up behind you to wrap his sweaty arms around your waist.

The battle had barely ended, and your breathing was still ragged, but you managed to sigh.

“I didn’t agree to that bet, babe.”

“I got twelve. No way you got more than that.”

“Wow, you’re really bragging with that number,” you laughed, turning in his arms to see his eyes narrow. 

He sucked his teeth, touching his forehead to yours before his voice came out low and dangerous.

“How many?”

“You’re not getting my sword.”

He kissed you then, pressing his body against yours. You melted into him, the heat of the battle still flowing through you. Your fingers felt almost tingly as you wrapped them around his neck. 

Breaking apart just enough to catch your breath, you saw that little twitch at the corner of his lips.

“How–”

“You’re never touching it, asshole,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you walked away. You grinned at the sound of him huffing behind you. 

“FINE, no sword! Just tell me how many you got!”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I love this request so much! Zoro is such a fucking nerd. He'd have the best fucking time sparring with his partner 💚

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[djarins-cyare]

✭ Series Masterlist ✭

Languishing in a dull and lonely existence on the forest moon of Endor after travelling there to help salvage Death Star wreckage, a nearly fatal encounter with a mysterious bounty hunter out in the forest heralds an opportunity to utilise long-forgotten skills and develop something more profound than you ever thought possible.

Second person POV, present tense. Set post-season 2, diverges from Canon events before TBoBF and season 3. This is a novel-length, exceptionally slow burn with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully-developed characterisation. SWU concepts and lore are accurately researched.

WORDS: 404,920

PAIRING: Din Djarin x Female Reader/You

RATING: Explicit (18+)

CHARACTERS: Din Djarin, Reader/You/Female OC, Original Non-Human Character(s), Original Human Characters, Greef Karga, Cara Dune, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Peli Motto

TAGS: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Romance, Love, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Dark Past, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Smart Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, Ewok Species, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a Language, New Razor Crest, Thoroughly Researched, Worldbuilding, No use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This took me almost a year to write and four months to edit/proof. Each chapter is prefaced with specific tags and (where necessary) warnings, plus word counts. End notes contain translations and comments… this baby is thoroughly researched, so I’m sharing context where appropriate. I’ve also added definitions of in-universe terms so people less familiar with the franchise won’t be left wondering what the hell certain words or references mean. This is a slow burn (adult themes), and although the explicit content only occurs in the latter half, when it does, it warrants the ‘E’ rating. Basically, the first half is a love story, and the second half gets spicy. I hope you enjoy it!

READ THE COMPLETE STORY ON AO3:

(Chapters containing explicit content marked †)

Chapter 1: The Obstacle

Chapter 2: The Interrogation

Chapter 3: The Covenant

Chapter 4: The Snare

Chapter 5: The Strike

Chapter 6: The Groundwork

Chapter 7: The Genesis

Chapter 8: The Progression

Chapter 9: The Hide

Chapter 10: The Beast

Chapter 11: The Adjustment

Chapter 12: The Storm

Chapter 13: The Broadside

Chapter 14: The Intercourse

Chapter 15: The Village

Chapter 16: The Confession

Chapter 17: The Reprieve

Chapter 18: The Fortification

Chapter 19: The Ambush

Chapter 20: The Meridian

Chapter 21: The Homestretch

Chapter 22: The Union †

Chapter 23: The Overture

Chapter 24: The Crescendo

Chapter 25: The Harmony †

Chapter 26: The Cadence †

Chapter 27: The Ride †

Chapter 28: The Veneration †

Chapter 29: The Spree †

Chapter 30: The Tribute †

Chapter 31: The Courage

Chapter 32: The Feast

Chapter 33: The Exhibition †

Chapter 34: The Reward

Chapter 35: The Binding †

Chapter 36: The Synergy †

Chapter 37: The Match †

Chapter 38: The Flag †

Chapter 39: The Foundling †

Chapter 40: The Future †

✨Additional Media✨

@burntheedges has written a spectacular little drabble detailing what Din was up to during the paragraph break near the end of chapter 1 (*SPOILERS* you don’t find this out until chapter 27).

@djarin-desires has created some awesome AI images of a few scenes using Midjourney.

I spent a stupid amount of money on the Hot Toys official Din Djarin action figure, simply so I could photograph him in poses from my fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ This is just a taster of what’s to come, but here he is offering to help Reader climb onto the speeder in chapter 8.

🧡💚 Thank you for reading! 💚🧡

Dividers by @samspenandsword

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Helllooooo!!! I hope you're having a good day!! 💕💜✨

Can I submit a prompt where Lloyd calls in his normally mousey assistant on one of her off days and is blown back by her casual attire? Maybe she's on her way out of hang with the girls and she's got her hottie/freekum dress/attire on.

Bonus if she is as completely I bothered as she normally is and even teases him a bit for his audacity 😈😈

I appreciate you're brain and the time you spend sharing it with us!! ☺️💕💜

Hi nonny!! So sorry this took so long, but here it is! And just as a warning, this one is a doozy and I will not be earning bonus points based on your ask.

Is getting negative points a thing?? (Because this thing went off the rails...)

Title: Power Play: After Hours

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

Warnings: horrible boss Lloyd, pet name (Mouse), power imbalance, multiple threats of violence, non-con, forced oral sex (f receiving), slight dacryphilia, forced hand job (m receiving), dub-con p-in-v intercourse, vaginal creampie, forced oral sex (m receiving), oral creampie, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: I apologize to nonny who asked for something (I think) completely different. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You’re at home getting ready to go out with the girls. It has been ages since you had a free night to let your hair down. But tonight was the night. 

You made sure to ditch the wool sweaters, drab colors, and sensible shoes that you usually wear to work. Instead, you opt for a form-fitting pinstripe dress that ends just above your knee. Large hoop earrings push through your hair and demand attention. Your feet are covered in strappy heels that are cuter than they are comfortable.

But beauty is pain, no?

Just as you are exiting your apartment and entering your car, your phone buzzes. You pull your phone from your purse and growl at the text message from your boss.

Your boss, your reason for migraine medication, the bane of your existence. Lloyd Hansen. Getting an internship with Hansen Government Service was supposed to be a summer gig to help you pay for odds and ends during your last year at college. But no, you had to go ahead and impress the CEO with your problem-solving and the way you covered your former boss’ ass one too many times. 

And now here you are, the personal assistant to this deplorable caricature of a human being. Amazing vision and dental benefits aside, you were the glorified babysitter to a sociopath with an inferiority complex. But you keep your mouth shut and your head down because you know where your bread is buttered.

The text from Lloyd is still sitting in your inbox unread one minute later when your phone starts to ring. You were hoping he would think you were asleep or something, but you remember Lloyd doesn’t observe normal business hours. And he doesn’t give a shit if you have a day off either.

“Yes, Sir,” you answer with Lloyd’s preferred moniker.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?” he asks, his annoyed tone unmistakable.

“I apologize for not being available to you, Sir. What can I help you with?” you acknowledge, wanting him to get to his point of bothering you.

“Hmmm. I’m gonna ignore you being rudely polite. For now. Need you to get my dry cleaning, Mouse,” he advises, using that nickname that boils your blood.

“Sir. It’s almost 9 p.m. Are the dry cleaners still open?” you wonder aloud.

“I called them, and they agreed to re-open so that I could get my shirts. Wasn’t that nice of them? You don’t wanna keep that sweet old lady waiting this late at night, do you?” he persuades, a sinister chuckle sending a chill down your spine.

“I will pick up your shirts for you, Sir,” you question.

“Had to pull a late night at the office, but I’m leaving now. Meet me at my place, Mouse,” he replies.

“Yes, Sir,” you say, holding back the urge to scream in his ear and ending the call. 

By being at the office, he is within walking distance of the shop where his clothing is being held. 

Deep breaths. Don’t let him take your joy.

You pass your office building and veer into the small shopping center. Stepping into the shop, you realize you don’t have a ticket, but you also know that the place is staying open for only one reason.

“You here to pick up Hansen?” The old woman behind the counter smiles at you and you nod stepping over to her, “Very particular, that one. Don’t let him work you too hard, honey.” 

“Oh, thank you,” you greet, smiling when she handed over the hangers of shirts covered in plastic material, “May I just apologize for him keeping you open past your hours?”

Before you can apologize, the sweet woman comes around the counter and pats your hand.

“How long are you going to apologize for him? Just go home, honey. And good luck with that one,” she reasons, and she scoots you out of the store before you can tell her that you’re only his assistant, not his long-suffering wife.

You give up trying to explain yourself and turn around to get back in your car. With the shirts hung in the back seat, you speed until you get to Lloyd’s gated community. Pushing in the code to the outer gate, you squirm in your seat as the gate slowly opens.

Driving through streets with pretentious names, you end up at the cul-de-sac where his McMansion sits center-stage among the other Stepford homes. You park next to his vehicle in the spacious driveway, a BMW M8 Competition Convertible in Alpine White. Not a scratch on her sparkling surface.

You stuff down the urge to put a scratch on his car because he will notice it. He notices everything. And with the level of neat freak that he is, he probably would notice a single fingerprint on the car’s hood.

Walking up to the door, you see the Ring camera and press the doorbell. The porch light comes on and the door opens to reveal your boss talking on the phone with one earbud in his ear. He pauses and looks you up and down before letting you walk in around him.

“I’m gonna have to go, something just came up,” he purrs, adjusting himself in the two seconds you were looking away from him. He pulls out his earbud, ending the call and turning his attention to you, “Mouse, glad you could make it, but you didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“I didn’t. Here are your shirts. Can I help you with anything else, Sir?” you explain, holding his dry cleaning out so he can take them. 

Once he reaches out, he bypasses the shirts, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. “Maybe there is one thing you can do for me, Mouse. It is quite a big job though,” he dares, ghosting his thumb over your pulse point.

“Hmmm. Sir, I didn’t come all this way to do whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you warn, putting your hand on his chest to push him away as you feel his increased heart rate. 

His eyes are dark, with barely any blue left in the iris. You can almost feel how hungry he is for you.

“Well, I was gonna say I wouldn’t mind a blowjob from those perfect glossy lips. But I think I wanna hear your mouth moan for me while I eat that pretty pussy instead,” he admits, taking the shirts out of your hand before hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Sir! No! Put me down, you fucking psycho. What are you doing?” you demand, pounding your hands on his back and landing a harsh blow directly to his ass.

“Fuck, Mouse! Hands to yourself, or I won’t keep my hands to myself, ok?” he cautions, surprising you with a hard slap to your ass, “And you got that wrong anyway, I’m technically a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

You’re in a state of stunned silence as he walks up the grand staircase in the room and brings you into a bedroom down the hall. You don’t have time to wonder what all of the other rooms are used for as you are dumped on his bed. The silk sheets underneath you are comfortable, but they seem creepy once you think about being thrown down on top of them. Before you can scramble off of the bed, Lloyd grabs you by the hips and traps you under his weight. 

“Mouse, mouse, mouse. Why don’t you ever dress like this for me?” he breathes, his clothed erection nestled against your hip, “You wearing this for some asshole? Should call him up and tell him I got to you first.”

“Sir, please. I was just going to hang out with my girls. I promise I won’t say anything about this if you just let me go,” you whimper, your hands going to his chest again trying to push him away.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed. His nose takes in your RiRi perfume as it glides along your neck. Kicking your legs open, he nestles himself in between so he can rock his hips into you. Feeling his hardening dick against your panties as your dress rides up, he groans as he feels the heat coming off of you.

“Kinda funny you want me to let you go. But I bet if I dipped a finger into that cute snatch I know you have, I would find a little honey pot full of delicious sweetness waiting for me. Shall I test that out?” he counters. Holding both wrists in one giant hand as he trails a hand down your body until it disappears between you.

You feel his bruising fingers pushing your panties out of the way to find his prize. His touch turns almost delicate as the tips of his fingers find your wet pussy; your body’s betrayal is evident in the puddle forming on your netherlips. The look in his eyes when he finds what he’s looking for is bordering on sheer joy.

“There it is, Mouse. Just like I knew it would be,” he beams, pulling two fingers coated in your essence to his mouth and sucking them clean, “Fuck. I knew it would be delicious. You’re gonna sit on my face and give me all your sweet cream.”

He rolls your body over so that you are straddling him. You debate trying to scramble off of him, but he pinches your thigh and brings you back to the task at hand. You crawl up his body and hover over his face until he locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you down over his eager mouth.

Looking down at him, he looks serene with his eyes closed as he goes to work on your sensitive folds. For a while, you feel nothing when he licks up your slit. Circling your nub with his tongue, he moans when your clit twitches. When kitten licks against your clit turn to sucking it into his mouth, you can’t restrain the urge to grab a handful of his hair.

If he wants to hear you moan pretty for him, he’s gonna need to do better than this. You grind your pussy into his tongue and sigh when he sticks his tongue directly into your hole. Fucking into you with his tongue is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

You tighten your fingers in his auburn hair, unable to hold back your orgasm for much longer. Visions of all the times he looked at you like you were a piece of meat flash before your eyes. The way all of his other assistants quit the job after short stints. And you just about gift-wrapped yourself for him tonight.

You should have never answered the phone. But it’s kind of hard to think about that now with the way your resolve is slowly slipping away. You feel the metaphorical rubber band being stretched to within an inch of its life. Until pop!

The wave of your climax washes over you like a warm blanket. Your keening whine is music to Lloyd’s ears as he holds you tighter when you try and extricate yourself from his grasp. He laps up everything you have to give him and makes obscene sucking and licking noises. Once he lets up on your pussy, he lets your weak body roll to the side on its own. You don’t notice you are crying until he licks away one tear.

He looks down at you as he wipes his mustache clean of your juices. “Every part of you tastes amazing, Mouse. Even your tears. Fuck, that’s so hot I got you crying for me,” he hums, wiping away your tears with a thumb as he lays next to your limp body.

You’re quiet as you lay in your boss’ bed, him having just defiled your body with his tongue. Not knowing what to think, your brain just replays everything trying to find where you went so wrong. Because not only was that an Earth-shattering orgasm but it was given to you by your boss. That kind of thing is frowned upon in most companies. But Lloyd is the CEO, are the rules different? You don’t have the time to keep thinking when Lloyd chimes in.

“Now, Mouse, I’m sure your brain is going a mile a minute. But let me make one thing clear: I am going to need you to come into work dressed just like this from now on. You wear something tight, something that shows off this body, something that I can pull up or down and fuck you in while we’re in the office,” he chuckles as you look over to him with tears in your eyes at your new fate, “We’ll put that into your contract. What do you think? From Personal Assistant to Fuck Toy. That’s a step up, huh?”

You say nothing, content to shed tears and wish that the Earth would open up and swallow you.

“Don’t be so gloomy. At least you got to come, unlike some of us. You can help me with that, can’t you Mouse?” he pleads, as if he didn’t just change your job title to fit your new duties. He unzips his pants, pulling out his thick length and reaching for your hand to wrap around it, “I won’t need much help. I could’ve blown in my pants like a fucking teenager when you came in my mouth.”

You wish his mouth would just fucking stop. You don’t need the commentary. You unenthusiastically jerk him off until he spills rope after rope of jizz painting your hand and his pants. At least he was right, he didn’t need much help. 

“Good fucking job, Mouse,” he gushes, throwing an arm over his brow as he catches his breath, “Can’t wait to take that cunt for a test drive but I can wait until my balls are not so fucking empty. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom.”

You rise and walk into the attached bathroom all without a single thought in your head. You use the toilet, wash your hands, and splash water on your face. You avoid the mirror like the plague.

Coming back to the bedroom, you are greeted by Lloyd lying on his side and crooking a finger at you. You swallow your spit and take a deep breath, moving to join him on the bed. 

Once there, you let him manhandle you in every position he wants. You close your eyes, wishing you were somewhere else. Until he has you on your back. He makes you stare into his eyes as he fucks you like the little puppet you are. When he takes you over the edge again, he doesn’t stop his onslaught until you beg him to stop.

But begging only drives him to go harder. Flesh slapping against flesh painfully until he pushes himself deep within you and stills. Every twitch and spurt felt inside of you like a slap to the face. You’re not on birth control and you fear asking if he is snipped but he speaks up before you can ask.

“I pay you enough to afford the morning-after pill, right?” he asks, his dick softening and sliding out of you.

Fucking asshole. The thought of murder crosses your mind more than once, but you know people might come looking for him. And the thought of having to trade in your freedom for a life behind bars makes you rethink killing this nutcase.

So, instead, you just say, “Yes, Sir.”

“Right. Good. Alright, well it’s not too late for you to go out with your friends. Don’t stay out too late, you have work in the morning. Bright and early, Mouse. I expect you to be there tomorrow,” he remarks, acting like he didn’t just use your body for his sick pleasure, “That means you’re good to go home now, Mouse. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets off you, climbing off the bed and adjusting himself, pulling you up and escorting you to the front door. He all but pushes you out of the door into the night, as if you were trash. When you get back inside your car, your phone has tons of messages from your friends wondering where you are.

You send a mass text that you weren’t feeling well, and you needed rest. It wasn’t entirely untrue anyway. You make it back home, shedding your clothes as you walk to your bedroom. You pull back the covers and wrap yourself in warmth, willing the events of the night to just go away. But they don’t go away.

The next morning, you shower and dress like Lloyd wants. The looks of your coworkers cause heat to rise to your face. You don’t usually get this type of attention. Or any attention when you think about it. 

When you get to Lloyd’s office, he is sitting behind his desk on a call, and he waves you over. You walk around his desk and see his pants are already unbuttoned and his half-chub is sticking out. You spare yourself the embarrassment of being asked and go right to work on him with your hands. Unsurprised when he puts a hand on the back of your head, you just lower yourself and take him in your mouth.

Little does he know; your head game is strong. And within about three minutes, you have him spasming down your throat. His softening cock is sensitive as you tease him by swirling your tongue around the head. He ends his phone call and holds your face in his hands.

“What’s my soul taste like, Mouse? I’m sure you sucked it right out,” he praises, his dazed eyes focusing on you while he catches his breath.

“If you had a soul, I’m sure it would taste as bitter as your cum,” you snap, uncaring of whether or not he was offended.

“Good point. Watch that pretty mouth, though. My precious feelings might get hurt. And then you might get hurt. So, play nice, Mouse,” he cautions, lightly clapping his hand against your cheek, just hard enough to jerk you out of misbehaving.

“Yes, Sir,” you sass, putting on a fake smile and Lloyd rolls his eyes, shooing you away.

You can do what he says, doesn’t mean you have to make it easy for him in the slightest. And isn’t that the best way to get back at him? Give him everything he wants but with no enthusiasm. Of course, you know this little plan of yours won’t last long. But when you’re faced with a demon like Lloyd Hansen, you’ll take any little victory you can. As few and far between as they may be.

A/N: This got way out of hand. I don’t know what happened. Um, I’m not sorry though. Because I love this and if it ends up being just for me, then so be it.

**Tag List**

@peyton-warren @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @princessaxoxo @motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @sultry-rachael @itsthestutterforme

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[okmcintyre]

Masterlist #2 Bellarke Fanfiction Recs

It's been a couple more years & I'm very happy to report there's been ✨lots✨ more amazing fics shared in our corner of fandom. Y'all know the drill: linking older modern!au recs, the dropship/delinquent-only stories list, a few canonverse recs and of course the OG Masterlist from 2020.

Feel free to add your faves! 💛

Canonverse unless noted otherwise, + fics of of all ratings, so keep your eyes peeled!

Good Days and Bad Days by tiredwetdog 

where have you wandered, my only child? by carrieevew

Little steps by bellofthetolppl

With you in my arms (everything feels alright) by orphan_account 

so this is how rumors get started by ChronicTonsillitis

Bellamy Blake needs to touch some grass by b00mgh

Weathering the Storm by PenguinofProse

Hold on to me (I'm a little unsteady) by TheWordsInMyHead

take a running start by glowinghorizons

the whole world stops by whatspastisprologue

so this is how rumors get started by ChronicTonsillitis

Show Me What I'm Looking For by bitscrawford

What We Built by elle_stone

Can't Find Paradise On The Ground by icantloseyoutoo

It Doesn't End Here by immortalpramheda

You Make it Real by PnclSktch

i'm on my knees, your faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

the radio is playing your favourite song (open the door) by theinvisibledisaster

Hold me still by bellofthetolppl

a kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear by troubledpancakes

one less day to be alone by glowinghorizons 

A Short Story About Love by twosuns

must've been some kind of kiss (grounder!au) by carrieevew

Don't Look Back, You're Not Going That Way (viking!au) by andsowemeetagain

And Now You're Home (praimfaya!au) by asroarke

When the Sky Meets the Ground (grounder!au) by Peggysousfan

No Man is an Island, Entire of Itself (hanahaki!au) by MyHeartOfHearts

Walk the Line (doctor/criminal!au) by TheWordsInMyHead

The Other Half of my Soul (soulmate!au) by ZouWrites 

Lone Wolf (nightblood!au) by Peggysousfan

May the Waves Bring You Home (modern!au) by RogueTwelve

The Best Man (bellmillerbffs!au) by PenguinofProse

Mirror Mirror On the Wall (soulmates!au) by SPNOUAT

If My Wishes Came True (modern!au) by bookwormforalways

so I stayed in the darkness with you (soulmates!au) by burninghoneyatdusk

Pieces of Us (modern!au) by daenoora

i think i should go (you said maybe don't) (modern!au) by blaketrash

Only Fools Rush In (modern!au with a twist) by onlyherefor1

Black Out Days (apocalypsey!au) by TotalBellarkeTrash

(do you remember?) dancing in stilettoes in the snow (modern!au) by carrieevew

Share Your Address (modern!au) by useyourtelescope

Better Than Revenge (B/C/L!au) by Excuseyouclarke 

Your words on my skin (soulmate!au) by not_a_total_basket_case

Better with you. (artclass!au) by Luminouswriter 

I Thought The Worst Was Behind Us (modern!au) by onlyherefor1

proposal interruptus (modern!au) by carrieevew

One Way to Find Out (clurphybffs!au) by Silverloc

bet on it (bet on me) (modern!au) by griffenly

The House Guest (modern!au) by Shippershape

After Me Comes The Flood (modern!au) by theinvisibledisaster

I Found Peace in Your Violence (modern!dystopiaish!au) by eyessharpweaponshot

Take Care of Me (And My Heart) (modern!au) by QueenoftheWallflowers 

And in Other News... (news!au) by Jeanie205

love enough to fill me up (domestic!au) by jackiefreckles

Fading Out (soulmates!au) by PenguinofProse

[fated] happenstance (soulmates!au) by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold

The Dying of the Light (wartime!au) by starsonfire

Bellarke The 100 Instagram AU (socialmedia!au) by OhLenaLena

I Don't Want to Dream About You (modern!au) by Dayo488

Too Aware of Where Your Lips Have Been (modern!au) by MissMR

When Bellamy Met Clarke (whenharrymetsally!au) by onlyherefor1

Submarine Man (modern!au) by twosuns

[foxyyaoguai]

The antis have been all over my posts in the last few days, so I wanted to share my experiences and write a guide on how to deal with them. 

First off: Our ships and character preferences are valid, no matter how hard some people try to demonize them. We are part of fandom and allowed to post about the things we enjoy, just like everyone else. Our fanfics, fanart, video edits, photo edits, etc. are all works of love and they deserve to exist and be explored by others. 

✨ Strategies for dealing with antis ✨

Don’t engage. I have checked the bios of all the antis that left comments under my posts, and the majority of them are minors. You don’t want to talk to minors in fandom spaces!! And a conversation based on logic or reason won’t be possible either. 

Delete their comments. Tumblr, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube allow you to delete comments, DO IT!! You created something with love and hateful comments have no place underneath it. Even if the comment just makes you uncomfortable and isn’t outright hateful, it is perfectly reasonable to delete it for your own sanity.

Block generously. Not only the people who target you specifically but also anyone who engages in character- or ship-bashing. People who do that for one ship will do it for other ships too and it’s extremely bad fandom etiquette. When you see a character or ship-bashing post, block everyone who liked it and then the poster.

Report people for harassment. The rules vary by site, but especially threats of violence should be reported. Also, if someone follows you to another social media site after you’ve blocked them, that is called block evading and you should report that too. 

When you see other people getting hateful comments underneath their posts, leave a nice comment to offset some of the negativity. Your being supportive can make the difference between this person never posting again and them being motivated to keep going. People are always welcome to send me links to a post that is getting targeted by antis and I’ll like it and leave a nice comment. 🥰

Don’t let the bad comments outshine the positive ones! Every time my post gets enough traction for antis to find it, it also gets lots of lovely reactions. Many people have told me that my content and recommendations made them ship my OTP, and that is the single thing that makes me happier than anything else. Take a screenshot and look at these kinds of comments when you feel down. This is the real reason you should keep posting. 

Most hate comments are exceptionally uncreative. It helps to laugh about it, preferably with a friend. ✨ Remember, you used your energy to create something and you should be proud of it!

When you see a creator you like, but they also display obnoxious behavior towards people who like other ships, characters, or dynamics, at the very least don’t give them a platform by sharing their posts. 

Stay safe. Don’t post personal information online. 

It’s completely valid to step away from social media for some time. Private your accounts, turn off notifications, do a canon reread, read some fanfics in peace. Whatever it takes to remind you why you love the things you love. 

Bonus Tip: Watch videos of cute animals to destress. Bunnies nose-booping each other can (and will) cure anti-induced anxiety. :)

✨ Platforms sorted by least to most toxic and my advice for using them ✨

1. Discord 

Discord is great because you can join servers specifically for your favorite characters and ships. If a server doesn’t already exist, consider setting one up! Pro tip: only invite people that have positively interacted with you in the past. A small server consisting of nice people is a lot more fun than a large server consisting of members that can’t get along or are only marginally interested in the topic. 

Fandom Discord servers have clear guidelines on what you can post. As long as you follow the rules, people have no grounds for calling you out. In my experience, moderators are quick to respond to harassment.  

When you join a server and you see they heavily restrict certain types of content, it is a red flag. Proceed with caution, even if you plan to only talk about “safe” characters and ships. 

2. Tumblr

I have rarely gotten hateful comments on Tumblr, and the few times I did they were easy to delete.  

A lot of the older fandom generations use Tumblr and they are more mature and accepting of all kinds of content.

3. Twitter

Twitter makes it easy to curate your own fandom experience. You can mute words you don’t like to see on your timeline, mute and block users, and most people have their ship preferences in their bio.

4. Instagram

My Instagram posts about Jadecest get a lot of positive interaction, even more than on Twitter. There are unpleasant comments once in a while, but they are easy to delete. 

Blocking a user will delete all their comments from your posts. 

5. YouTube

People who don’t like your ship will downvote your videos and downvotes lead to the algorithm not recommending your videos. 

I have gotten a few negative comments, but they are easy to delete. 

6. Reddit 

When you post in a fandom subreddit, everyone will see the post, independent of their ship preferences. 

There are a lot of minors on Reddit. 

You can’t delete comments.

Most fandom subreddits are poorly moderated. 

7. TikTok

I have gotten the most hate comments on TikTok. They can be filtered or deleted, but antis interacting with your video by leaving hate comments will lead to the algorithm recommending your content to even more antis. It can get very ugly. 

If you post on TikTok consider turning off comments, stitches, and video replies. You can also mark your content as 18+, so it won’t get recommended to minors. (Again, antis tend to be underage.)

Platforms are more toxic the more they show your content to people outside your bubble. Discord, Tumblr, and Twitter keep your content relatively well contained to your circle of friends. Reddit, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram heavily promote your content outside your bubble, which is good, because more people are going to see it, but also bad, because it reaches more antis. 

~~~

Antis are loud and obnoxious, but it’s important to remember that they are a minority. Ship and let ship still exists, especially among the people who have been in fandom spaces for more than just a few years. Don’t be afraid to post your content and express your love for your favorite characters and ships! I, for one, would love to see your creations, and many other people would love to see them too. 

What are your experiences and strategies for dealing with antis?

[melis-writes]

Mafia Wife [Sonny Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 1 – La Famiglia Giordano.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.” / “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

“The underboss’s wife”; that’s who you are, and the whispers of enemies, family and colleagues alike know it too. You’re no stranger to the underworld of crime surrounding you including the one run by the Corleone family’s underboss; Santino Corleone. The streets run red with blood and brutality under Santino’s influence but it’s Santino who feels hit by the thunderbolt at the very sight of you—pushing away his womanizing and notorious unfaithfulness. You unexpectedly find yourself in a position of power balancing your marriage with the fate of the Corleone’s family’s future whether it be through Santino’s infamous brutality or the love he finds amidst the man he claims to be.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of violence & death / Alcohol use / Pregnancy / Childbirth.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The very first chapter of my Sonny Corleone x Reader fic is FINALLY here!! 🥰✨ Thank you guys SO much for all of the endless support and love this fic received when it was just an idea and barely typed out! I'm so glad to finally have it up. By far the most exhausting and longest part of the fic process is planning a brand new one for me, and I had definitely been much busier than usual when planning out/writing this fic which is why it took so long to write. I had to give something for the Santino girlies as I'm one myself!! 👀❤️ Please read ALL of the tags on this fic on AO3 before diving into the chapters as it'll give you a good understanding as to what the entire fic and chapters will be like. This goes for ALL fics I write! The tags are there for a reason. This fic is also 18+ only, just like all of my other works forever and always. This is meant for adults to read only. ✋🏻

Chapter 1: La Famiglia Giordano.

[ Barzini Family Estate, 1948 ]

“Nobody wants another war,” Don Barzini states, watching the ice soaking in his glass of whiskey. “Nobody wanted another war; isn’t that how it always goes?”

Don Tattaglia gives his head a shake, relaxing in the leather armchair he sits across from Barzini. “We have Sollozzo to thank for all of that.”

Having an otherwise civil discussion between two closely allied business partners and old friends, the bond Don Barzini and Don Tattaglia’s family share has been stronger than ever since Sollozzo. 

Despite successfully allying together against the Corleones throughout the Five Families War and coming together for talk over business, neither Barzini nor Tattaglia can ignore the air of tension that’s formed between them now. 

Barzini can easily tell Tattaglia is unnerved as he sips his whiskey again, savoring the smokey notes of the liquid over his tongue while noticing how Tattaglia is nearly chugging back his drink.

“You’re tense,” Barzini comments, somewhat surprised by Tattaglia’s behavior. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or not?”

“How can I not be?” Tattaglia swallows down his drink. 

“You’re looking at all of this the wrong way, my friend,” Barzini gives a reassuring smile. “You’re on the winning side. The Godfather has no leverage over either of our families or—”

“Vito Corleone isn’t my concern,” Tattaglia interrupts.

“Hmm,” Barzini pauses, taking a sip of his drink again. “Then that’s a first.”

“It’s his son,” Tattaglia adds.

“Which one?” Barzini rolls his eyes. “They’re all equally useless in their own ways.”

Tattalia opens his mouth to answer before pausing for a moment; a look of absolute defeat crosses his expression, forming into regret, then helplessness. “Does the name ‘Gabriella’ ring a bell to you?”

Barzini raises a curious brow. “Maybe. Should it? Does The Godfather have another daughter we don’t know about?”

“He has a daughter-in-law,” Tattaglia answers, “Gabriella Corleone. She’s the daughter of Francesco Giordano.”

Barzini tenses for a moment, no longer focusing on his whiskey. “I… I see.”

“You know Gabriella then?” Tattagia asks back.

“Not personally, but her name was spoken often in my household. Was,” Barzini emphasizes. 

Tattaglia sighs softly, giving his head a shake.

“Emilio wanted to marry her,” Barzini continues, mentioning his eldest son. “He spoke of Gabriella fondly and often, but she refused him and his advances. Now you’re telling me she’s part of the Corleone family?”

“Francesco did well hiding the news from us for the most part,” Tattaglia points out. “Everyone else must have known.”

“No, no,” Barzini shakes his head, refusing. “I don’t think of it in that way. Francesco is a dear friend. He doesn’t ‘hide’ things. He values the privacy he can give his family.”

“If you want to put it that way,” Tattaglia mumbles. “It’s none of our business, is it? She married Santino Corleone, the underboss.”

Barzini freezes in his seat, attempting to calm himself down internally as Tattaglia immediately picks up on Barzini’s shocked expression.

Tattaglia nods grimly, “do you know what you’ve done?”

“Don’t,” Barzini mutters softly, holding up his free hand. 

“She’s pregnant,” Tattaglia adds. “Do you even care? Do you know what’s going to happen now? To your investments? Your wealth? Your bank accounts with Giordano?”

Barzini suddenly lets go of his whiskey glass, watching as the glass shatters to pieces over the floor and the alcohol spills free onto the wood. 

Barzini covers his face with shame, feeling a knot of heavy emotions cause him to feel nauseous almost instantly with unimaginable guilt.

A heavy silence sits in the air between the two men for a minute as they ponder, having nothing else to say to each other. 

“I will apologize to Gabriella,” Barzini finally speaks, raising his head out of his hands.

“You can’t,” Tattaglia frowns. “You can’t do anything anymore.”

~

[ 1921 ]

“Gabriella… Little Gabriella.” You’re the first-born daughter in your family to four older brothers, and the eldest to your twin sister, born just forty minutes apart.

Although your mother went into labor knowing she’d welcome two children instead of one on June 19th, 1921, nothing could surpass the joy your mother and father felt when you were born.

Just as your four eldest brothers had been born, your mother gave birth to you and your twin sister Bella at home, surrounded by two Italian-American nurses from the community who had helped your mother through her previous deliveries.

Your parents weren’t sure what to expect when your mother realized she was pregnant with her fifth child since the last four children she gave birth to were all boys.

“Will it be another boy this time?” Your father chuckled and placed his hand over the top of your mother’s seven-month-old baby bump. “Perhaps two boys?”

“Oh, please,” your mother let out a laugh, “we have more than enough boys. I would love a daughter this time around. One boy and one girl, or twin girls even.”

“What a dream that would be,” your father grinned. “It seems like we’ve had all the luck in the world for having sons. No matter,” he leaned over, kissing your mother’s baby bump gently. “Boy or girl loved all the same. Spoiled like his or her other siblings. Only two this time…” He pulled away, looking up at your mother. “I can’t wait to meet them, darling.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” your mother blushed and laced both of her hands with your father’s. “Two more additions to the family. You know what I said when we first married? About baby names?”

“I do, mhmm,” your father nodded. “You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.”

“I do,” your mother smiled warmly. “I still do.”

“Of course. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I still remember,” he gave your mother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I hope this time we get to meet little Gabriella.”

“I hope so too, my love.”

Even before you were born, you were loved. The idea of you was loved, your name was loved, and everything and anything you could be from birth to adulthood to old age was loved. 

Nothing compared to how overwhelmed with joy your mother felt when she smiled up weakly at you, tears in her eyes from excruciating contractions hitting her again and again to see and hear one of the nurses declare, “it’s a girl!”

Before your mother went back into labor to give birth to your twin sister forty minutes later, she held you in her arms and cooed to you through her tears of happiness. “Gabriella… Gabriella...”

She kissed your cheeks wet with tears as your father let you hold his finger with your tiny hand, looking down upon you with so much love and happiness.

You were born into this world loved and welcomed just as your siblings were, and just as you would always be. 

Your twin sister and you were born to the Giordano family; a family that came from money which was no secret nor meant to be one.

Your father, Francesco Giordano, better known as “Frankie” by his friends and business partners, was born in Sicily, but your grandparents had already been living in and had immigrated to New York.

Your father came from a lengthy family history of educated individuals; spanning seven generations of university graduates and had graduated from Columbia University himself in 1912.

Your mother, Rosa nee De Luca, who was born in Long Island, New York to Sicilian parents, had met your father in that same year. 

Having many connections or even just one to a crime family served to be the best for anyone’s interests, even those who didn’t want to get “involved” indirectly or directly, and then there are always individuals who wouldn’t mind the close ties with the mafia so as long as they stray from direct intervention or get too close, could always reap the benefits of work connections by having powerful friends in powerful places.

Your father and his family practiced the same mantra as many others; don’t get too close to the mafia to avoid getting burned, by maintaining a healthy business relationship and community friendliness.

Since the days of your great-grandfather, your father inherited the ownership of several small banks that his family had started; serving the local community and operating for middle-class families with day-to-day funds, support for home ownership, and loans.

The success of your father’s family business in banking was steady and promising, working out very well to attract a clientele of all kinds from the Italian-American community in particular.

Your father built his business connections where your grandfather left off but also started new ones with the Italian community in the neighborhood and area as well as being involved with all of the crime families himself, but with some more than others.

Everyone, including the mafia, knows Frankie Giordano to be an honest businessman who makes a living to feed his family. Your father also happens to be smart and witty about it too.

Frankie Giordano built a name for himself without feeding off of his father’s legacy and thus deepened the trust and bond the Giordano family already had with the mafia when it came to loans and money laundering.

One could say your father always went to the bank laughing, and the mafia made sure of that for the excellent service rendered by the Giordano banks. 

Your father also knew that his future wife—your mother—would benefit greatly from that, and thus so would all of his and her children.

Your father had no intention of keeping the truth and ties of his business affairs from you, your twin sister Bella, or any of your brothers for that matter. He would only wait to tell you all in due time when you’d be mature enough to understand and process it.

Even if in the future and all grown up none of you were remotely interested in the booming world of business and finance, you’d at least benefit immensely from inheritance and the steady flow of wealth and investments.

Your father’s closest business partners were that of the Corleone and Tattaglia families, although the Barzini’s were getting close enough to join the list too.

Your family is protected from conflicting interests and possible hostilities between rival families because your father’s business is legal, public and there’s mutual respect and understanding of what your family’s banks provide with respect grandfathered in. 

Despite Frankie Giordano’s wealth and success, your father was never the type of man to flaunt or brag—just maintaining his work ethic with dedication like none other; traits you would indeed inherit from him.

In many ways, your father would see a lot of himself in you as you grew older, such as the fact you too could see light at the end of every tunnel and that you also valued family and morals over money and power.

Such traits and beliefs made your father a true family man under times of turmoil and stress, and it also helped you understand the world around you better.

Your father married your mother, Rosa, in 1914 after almost two years of courtship with no intention to push or rush their relationship for the sake of tying the knot quickly.

Your mother comes from a family of wealthy socialites who built upon their wealth by investing and simply being connected to the right people. 

Your parents met each other through a social outing when your mother’s family became all the more interested in investing in Giordano family banks.

“It’s one thing to believe in something such as love at first sight. Love can be so fickle, but when it happens to you, it changes you completely,” your mother had once told you.

The wit and cunning your mother showed growing up as a young woman were learned from family members around her and would no doubt pass on to you as well.

Through your mother, you also discovered your passion and love for art and botany, whereas your twin sister Bella felt the same and was more connected to architecture, nature, and the outdoors. 

When your parents settled down and planned to have a family of their own, your brothers, you, and your sister would come from and be born into a family of love and respect that could never be unbound.

You knew from a very young age early on that your parents loved each other very much, and although all couples disagree and have their fights, you still can’t recall a single moment where you heard your parents raise their voices at each other in front of you, let alone fight or argue in front of you and your siblings either.

Growing up, all you knew is you loved and wished for the same peace and calm love your parents shared.

You don’t want to be “madly” in love; you want a peaceful and understanding love—the kind your mother and father share with each other with the kind of expectations they lived through and passed onto you.

Everything you’ve learned about love was through your parents, and it set your heart’s wants and needs as a young woman.

Your mother, who is not easily impressed by just anything, had taught you to be the same and explore your options with all things when you were a teenager.

“What pleases the eye once may not do so the second time. The world is filled with options. Your heart will know what’s best for you.”

While your mother was eighteen years old when she married your father, she gave birth to your eldest brother—Luca—in 1915.

Right up until your mother’s maternity leave, she was a private art teacher in New York City who specialized in teaching about painting; classical, renaissance, religious, and abstract. 

Your mother would not return back to teaching part-time until 1936 when your sister Bella and you were about fifteen years old and the family could easily sustain and take care of itself throughout the day.

Your mother also preferred to teach part-time instead of full-time before she began to have children because she preferred to spend most of her time with the grandchildren she welcomed over the years.

Coming up to 1939, you and your sister were eligible bachelorettes in your family alongside one bachelor brother—Giani—but it would be you, the most eligible bachelorette considering your circumstances and your sister’s traveling abroad that would not only bring you upon him—Santino Corleone—but the Corleone family and their history with the Giordano’s in due time.

[ 1920, Hell’s Kitchen, New York ]

“There will never be come a day—” Francesco says, sketching out the outline of a small olive branch over a scrap piece of paper in front of him, “where they outlaw this, my friend. Never. The olive? They could not,” your father admires his sketch, darkening the two olives he drew hanging on the branch. “The olive provides too much—it does too much. You buy it from Vito Corleone—Genco Olive Oil—” he smiles up at Vito who returns the warm expression, popping a black olive in his mouth from the small platter in front of them.

“And you use it in your cooking,” your father continues, taking an olive and putting it in his mouth. “It’s too versatile, too much of a need for the average family to outlaw.”

“I can’t see any Italian family without a bottle in their home,” Vito chuckles quietly.

“Exactly,” your father points out, reaching into the drawer beneath him for a moment.

Vito glances over curiously, watching as Francesco pulls out a concealed bottle of unopened Jack Daniel’s whiskey before setting it on the front counter in front of him.

“You don’t have to worry about the repercussions of buying a bottle or whole barrel of olive oil. This though,” your father taps the back of his fingernails against the bottle of alcohol. “Is a crime. This bottle here.”

Vito raises a curious brow; amusement twinkling in his eyes as to how nonchalantly your father pulled out a bottle of unopened whiskey.

“My father’s favorite drink served on ice. Bought and sold everywhere, now it’s illegal,” Francesco chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, buying and selling alcohol is illegal. Just like that.”

“They could never expect to stop everyone from doing so,” Vito chimes in.

“Exactly, my friend,” your father begins to open up the bottle, grabbing two small glasses from the cupboard beneath the front counter at which he and Vito sit. “They never can, but they know they never could. I don’t know how much longer this silliness will last, but,” Francesco begins to pour Vito and himself a glass of whiskey, “there’s plenty more of where this came from. No questions asked, no eyebrows raised.”

A curious look crosses Vito’s eyes as he takes his glass of whiskey before glancing down at it. Naturally, he immediately begins to wonder how many bottles Francesco has, where he got them from, how he got them, and where they’ll go.

“You are the most resourceful friend I know,” Vito comments, “do I need to ask?”

“You can,” your father replies, knowing, of course, Vito’s curiosity is only normal and expected, “if we can come to an agreement first, my friend.”

Your father was the first man to lend Vito Corleone money; give him his first full loan just by knowing his full name and without any interest.

Your father gave Vito a chance—one of his first chances—without even knowing it, and through such a chance came one lucrative business opportunity after another.

If your father and Vito were involved in something, then it meant there was plenty of money to be made under the table without asking questions and with no risk of getting caught.

Whether your father and Vito formally acknowledged it or not, they were a duo of sorts.

Your father trusted Vito while knowing Vito was indeed settling the roots of his one crime family just as the other mafia families in New York were.

Your father didn’t care about Vito’s involvement in crime or anything of the sort; your father was and is a banker by trade and name, and money always talked.

With prohibition starting in 1920 with a surplus of alcohol to be smuggled from your father’s contacts in Canada, there was nothing but profit to be made from the business for however long prohibition would last.

Securing and solidifying a strong friendship already, the prohibition era would make both your family and Vito’s very wealthy from the moment Vito smiled and shook your father’s hand in agreement, knowing all the same.

That was hardly the beginning of the Giordano and Corleone family’s friendship and ties with one another.

That same year, Vito Corleone would kill Don Fanucci.

Despite the concept being thought of by everyone who had the misfortune to know Fanucci, many didn’t believe Fanucci would be outright killed.

It was merely something men fantasized about to set themselves free of the financial obligations Fanucci put forward and fears they would be killed, extorted, go missing, or worse.

Taking Fanucci out was a fantasy, nobody could do it except for Vito Corleone.

If it was anyone your father had faith in to stand up to a brutish man like Fanucci, it was Vito Corleone, but your father also didn’t expect Vito to murder Fanucci the way he did and so soon.

On that fateful day, your father was closing up his main bank’s branch for the day; having put up the “closed” sign on the front door and lowered the blinds more than halfway down.

He had not yet locked the front door since he was up at the front anyway, and your father would be able to see anyone coming to approach the bank’s entrance before they could even think of trying the door.

At that time, your father was counting some of the spare change in one of the last drawers quietly, noting that it was 5:30 PM and rush hour had fully kicked in.

Humming quietly to himself, Francesco put the spare change in his pocket before closing up the cash register and locking it with his key.

Only for a moment did your father look up to see the faint figure of a passerby without paying too much attention to it.

In a few moments from now, Francesco would lock up the bank and head home; your mother was expecting him with a hot meal on the table and she was pregnant with you and your twin sister Bella at the time.

In a good mood and having enjoyed his work day, your father slowly began to stop humming upon hearing footsteps from that same figure grow closer to the bank’s front door.

Your father knew it wasn’t someone out strolling or wandering, but rather approaching the bank directly and standing in front of the door.

Your father kept his hand over his pistol carefully concealed underneath an old polishing rag on the front counter while watching the figure’s movements by the door.

It was then that Francesco noticed who the figure was, seeing no cause for panic or alarm.

It was Peter Clemenza, and he was revealing himself to your father to avoid a bullet in between the eyes at this hour.

Clemenza lifted up the “closed” sign in front of the door and peeked his head in; urgency in his eyes and beckoning with his hands to be let in.

Your father moved his hand away from the pistol and gestured for Clemenza to enter since the door wasn’t locked.

Sighing in relief, Clemenza quickly entered and shut the door behind him instantly, wasting no time.

Your father could easily tell Clemenza was alarmed but didn’t have a look on his face that spelled it was his problem.

Before your father could barely blink or open his mouth to ask Clemenza what was going on, Clemenza immediately stated, “Fanucci is dead.”

Your father stared back at him in shock, pausing for a moment to take everything in. “What? Dead?”

“Dead,” Clemenza confirms, locking the bank door and taking off his fedora. “I came over here as fast as I could to tell you.”

“Who else knows?” Francesco asked quietly.

“Roth, Genco, and Tessio so far,” Clemenza answered, catching his breath. “This is gonna send fuckin’ shockwaves throughout the neighborhood.”

“My God,” your father muttered under his breath, smoothening out the sides of his slicked-back hair. “And Vito? Does Vito know yet?”

Clemenza chuckles, shaking his head. “Who do you think did it, Frankie? Vito killed Fanucci. Shot that son of a bitch right in his own apartment. Don’t worry—“ He holds up a hand, “Vito handled everything.”

“Does he need anything?” Your father offered, stepping out from behind the front counter.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling you already know what,” Clemenza shrugged his shoulders. “That bastard Fanucci took half of our dime each and every time. He still dealt with your bank, right?”

“He has an account here,” Francesco nodded.

“Good,” Clemenza put his fedora back on, adjusting it. “Because everything in Fanucci’s account needs to all go to Vito now.”

It was true that Fanucci’s death, it now meant his money and assets held at the Giordano banks had to go somewhere, and your father couldn’t agree more to it going straight to Vito.

Fanucci had been stingy and extra hard on Vito over anyone, despite Vito being understanding and gentle to counter each and every time.

Still, Fanucci took hundreds of dollars worth of cuts from Vito’s pay every single time and still threatened to have him killed at the same time.

Francesco had no pity whatsoever towards Fanucci or his family, and if Vito was going to be the one taking back the money Fanucci stole from him and everyone else, then your father would agree to let it happen.

After all, Francesco knew Vito Corleone wasn’t the kind of man to take all that money and spend it on himself.

Vito proved your father’s beliefs about the security of Fanucci’s money and assets being transferred to Vito’s accounts when he saw for himself how Vito spread the money back into the Italian-American community and only taking the exact fair share that he kept track of since Fanucci began taking it.

Afterward, Francesco closed down Fanucci’s account at his bank and erased all existence and history of it, so if the police came around to ask questions, there wouldn’t be a single answer available.

Having Fanucci killed wasn’t something your father expected to happen in 1920—not while prohibition was still ongoing—and by Vito Corleone’s hand, nonetheless.

At the time, the only exciting news for Francesco Giordano was that he was expecting his wife to give birth to twin babies in the upcoming year.

~

In 1921, you and your twin sister Gabriella were born.

Your family did not live in stress due to any direct involvement in mafia affairs or had any fears to worry about what the mafia and those associated with its lifestyle of crime were doing.

Nothing stopped your family from continuing to live out their lives as normal, peaceful, and lawful with the police and government as many see fit despite what your father had known, seen, and been involved with in the past year.

Your father promised himself that he would never do or say anything to jeopardize the safety and happiness of his family nor put his family in any situation where they would live in fear and become potential targets to anyone or anything.

After all, your father had been expecting the birth of you and your baby sister—experiencing fatherhood all over again and surprisingly to two daughters this time.

Nothing else needed to get in the way of Francesco Giordano when he was welcoming two little babies to his family. Nothing to stress out his wife either and Francesco made certain of this.

It was on June 19th, 1921 that your mother, Rosa, went into labor in the comfort of her own home for six hours to give birth to you and your twin sister.

The same nurses who helped your mother give birth to your brothers were at your mother’s side again as your father also sat with her and held your mother’s hand for comfort—wiping the sweat off of her forehead and making soft conversation.

Everyone involved kept Rosa as comfortable as they best could, remaining vigilant in observation and getting Rosa anything she may need.

“Ti amo,” (I love you) your father whispered in your mother’s ear. “Sei una donna forte e ce la farai.” (You’re a strong woman and you’re going to get through this.)

Your mother’s strength thick and thin always had your father in awe, and your father never left your mother’s side throughout the six hours of tedious and agonizing labor.

Neither of your parents will ever forget the overwhelming joy and excitement they felt hearing the nurse announce, “it’s a girl!” for the first time as your mother gave birth to you.

Your mother smiled throughout her tears as she reached out to hold you and your father teared up too, seeing that he now had a baby daughter.

Sobbing from nothing but happiness and relief, your mother held your tiny self in her arms for a few moments before her body would prepare again to give birth to your twin sister Bella in the next forty minutes.

“Gabriella, Gabriella…” Your father cooed softly, attempting to soothe you as you cried out in your mother’s arms. “Welcome to the world, my beautiful girl.”

If it was a shock to have a daughter after giving birth to so many little boys, the ultimate surprise was your parents realizing that they were having two daughters.

So many happy tears and laughter were shared in that room, relief washing over everyone and the exhaustion of labor beginning to kick in.

Your family welcomed you and your twin sister Bella to the world in 1921, and your mother and father held both you and Bella in their arms, whispering promises that they would love and protect you both no matter what; that they’d do anything to give you and your siblings a good life.

Your eldest brother, Luca, who was five years old at the time was ecstatic, as were four-year-old Romeo, Casio, and little Giani to welcome two baby sisters.

Truly, it was one of the happiest moments of your mother and father’s lives.

~

In 1922 as you and Bella were just little babies growing up, one thing had become all the more apparent to all men who lived in Long Island—particularly the Italian community and the one in Hell’s Kitchen too.

Crime families at this time had bonded and grown stronger with all the more influence now. They were too powerful to be considered Fanucci wannabees as they could no longer be reckoned with alone.

Such power and influence amidst crime families brought business and organization, but that also meant rampant crime and fear even if it was not always noticeable.

One had to be careful dealing with crime families for whatever reasons since rivalry, although relatively uncommon at the time did exist and caused enough trouble.

Your father was only allied with and close friends with Vito and the Corleone family at the time, so no rivalry concerned him.

“Let me know if you need anything else, my friend,” Francesco said, patting Vito’s shoulder. “I can find a way to get funds to you in Sicily in less than two days if needed.”

“I will be fine, Frankie. Thank you,” Vito chuckled and smiled at your father. “I’m very grateful and appreciative for all the help you’ve provided my family and me.”

“You know I can say the same to you,” Francesco nodded back. “I’m too used to seeing you down these neighborhoods. You’ll be missed, Vito Corleone, but this trip is just what you need, isn’t it? For family and for peace.”

“Exactly,” Vito reaffirmed, “I won’t put it off longer than I need to. Don Ciccio is a withered old man now but he doesn’t deserve to die from something so merciful such as old age.”

“I agree,” Francesco replied. “He is a vile and sick man obsessed with power. He always has been. Maybe once he’s finally out of the picture, the rest of us can peacefully return to Sicily for a family trip as we wish to.”

“Many have said the same to me before,” Vito frowned. “I doubt Ciccio will remember me, but that is exactly what I will use to my advantage. It didn’t have to be this way, but…” Vito stroked his chin, “I lost my entire family to that foul man.”

“You don’t need to justify it to me or anyone else, Vito,” Francesco shook his head. “His death is in your hands now. You know I would come to aid you if I could. Either way, I support you.”

“I know you would, my friend, which is why we must part ways for now,” warmth flickered in Vito’s eyes. I can’t do this to you; you just had your little girls and they need their father with them more than ever.”

“So as long as they get to see their godfather soon again,” your father grinned. “Rosa is expecting you and Carmela all ready for dinner. Mrs. Corleone is expecting now too, is she not?”

“Indeed,” Vito beamed. “And we are taking little Michael to Sicily for this time on this trip.”

At that time, Carmela Corleone was pregnant with her first and only daughter, Constanzia.

“Ah, little Michael,” your father’s eyes lit up. “No naughtiness from the little man, I hope?”

“He’s a good, quiet young man,” Vito let out a soft laugh. “This trip will give him more stories to listen to about Sicily since he won’t remember it when he’s older.”

“Of course,” your father smiled, “just keep that fiery Santino by your side.”

“Carmela says the same,” Vito pointed out. “Don’t worry, I will. He’s a good boy too, I promise, although he could benefit from learning more manners.”

“Can’t we all?” Laughing, the two men shared a farewell hug.

“Be careful and be well, Vito,” your father cautioned. “Enemies may still be lurking in Sicily, looking for you, especially if you seek revenge.”

“It’ll be as if I wasn’t even there.”

~

[ 1939, Present Day ]

The first to welcome their first children into the Corleone family with Carmela and Vito Corleone excited to welcome a grandchild are Tom and Theresa Hagen; expecting their first baby early next year.

It’s no surprise that at first all eyes were on Santino—the eldest son of the Corleone family—to settle down and start a family first instead of Tom or anyone else, despite Tom being the same age—twenty three.

The only difference between the two men in terms of settling down to have a family was that Tom is in love with an investing in his love life and marriage with Theresa, an American woman, whereas Sonny hardly knows what “settling down” means.

It’s only in Sonny’s best interest to switch from one woman to another, a one nightstand again and again with no care as to how others may see Sonny to be very promiscuous with no shame or intent to stop sleeping around to even think about marrying someone.

Celebrating the baby shower for Tom and Theresa planned today, the nature of the event to both Tom and Theresa is private and intimate, hence their invitations only being sent out to the closest friends of the Corleone family.

Only the Giordano’s, Barzini’s and Cuneo’s are invited today with the vast majority of the women helping with the cooking back inside and the men upstairs in Don Corleone’s office.

Despite the family history with the Giordano’s, this is the first time you’re attending a Corleone family event and the very first time you’ll be visiting the Corleone estate.

Your father and brothers have visited the Corleone’s numerous times previously and know them better than any other business partner or friend, but neither you nor Bella have had the opportunity to yourselves.

Bella is more than halfway through her first semester at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna however, leaving you to be the only woman of the family next to your mother.

With the baby shower celebrations ongoing this afternoon in the courtyard of the Corleone estate to enjoy the fresh spring air and sun, men seeing Vito Corleone inside present Don Corleone with gifts meant for the expecting couple out of respect first.

Connie carefully balances one gift box over another by a table reserved just for baby shower gifts, making sure the presents don’t topple over one another from solely the sheer number of how many there are.

Arriving just five minutes after your father and brother, your chauffer passes clearance at the main gates of the Corleone estate before slowly beginning to park inside.

Your father and brothers have joined Barzini and Cuneo’s sons upstairs in Vito’s office where Sonny, Tom and Fredo also remain, but Michael—the youngest son of the Corleone family—is away at Dartmouth College for study.

Once the topic at hand ends in Vito’s office, Tom will come back out to the courtyard to thank and meet all the guests at the baby shower himself.

The rest of the men are not expected to in order to keep a low profile and spend as much time discussing business with Don Corleone as possible.

The only Corleone family member you know personally is Carmella and you’ve enjoyed every bit of time you’ve gotten to spend with her in the past when Carmela came to visit and bake desserts with you and your mother from time to time.

You know you’ll be meeting Theresa—the one expecting—and Connie Corleone as well for the first time.

“Benvenuti, miei cari!” (Welcome, my darlings!) Carmela happily blurts as she rushes down to the gates to greet you and your mother the moment you two step out of the vehicle.

“Carmela!” Your mother beams, pulling her into a warm hug. “Come stai dolcezza? È da parecchio tempo!” (How are you, honey? It’s been so long!)

“Yes, it has!” Carmela lets out a soft laugh before she cups your cheeks gently. “È passato tanto tempo perché guarda Gabriella! Adesso è diventata una bellissima giovane donna!” (It has been so long because look at Gabriella! She's all grown up now into a beautiful young woman!)

“Hi, Mama Corleone,” you giggle back, giving her a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“And you as well, honey—mwah,” Carmela kisses both of your cheeks again, “she’s grown up to be such a beauty, hasn’t she?”

“Very much so,” your mother happily agrees. “And I’m excited for her to meet your girls!”

“As am I!” Carmela gestures excitedly, “come on in, ladies. All the men are already inside seeing Vito, I doubt they’ll even bother to come step out but in any case—that doesn’t matter. We’re all very excited for Theresa expecting her little one soon!”

“How far along is she?” You ask, walking into the Corleone estate grounds with your mother and Carmela.

“She’s about seven months pregnant now,” Carmela answers. “I can’t wait to introduce you to her. I know all you lovely ladies will get along just fine!”

Before you can say anything else, you step into the Corleone estate’s courtyard with Carmela and your mother to be hit with awe from the beauty of the estate surrounding you.

A gazebo stands in the further end of the courtyard with the manor itself built in a classic American style but with small details to Italian architecture.

The courtyard in which you stand in is surrounded by a blossoming garden, spotless and filled with ample enough space to host over four hundred people comfortably.

“So beautiful,” you murmur in surprise; momentarily turning back to see your chauffer placing the carefully wrapped giftboxes filled with the presents your mother and you chose for the baby shower by the table with the other gifts.

For your baby shower gift to Tom and Theresa, you picked out an abundance of cotton diapers, two bibs, three different pacifiers and a baby mat. 

As your mother and Mama Corleone are lost in conversation, you look up to see a heavily pregnant woman—Theresa—rise up from her seat at her table with  her hand over her baby bump.

Petite frame, blonde with bright eyes and American, Theresa’s eyes land on you as another woman approaches her by her side—a Sicilian—who looks like a striking combination of Carmela and Vito combined.

You assume this must be Connie—the only daughter of the Corleone family that your mother and Mama Corleone lead you up to now for introductions.

“Here is our lovely Theresa!” Carmela gestures to the pregnant young woman. “Seven months in with her little one already. Theresa, this is the daughter of my best friend, Gabriella. Her family is from Sicily too.”

“Hello,” Theresa shyly reaches out her hand to you. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriella.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Theresa,” you give her a polite smile, shaking her hand back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” Theresa’s eyes light up.

“And this is my daughter, Connie,” Carmela introduces Connie to you next, and you immediately notice Connie is much less shyer than her sister-in-law Theresa with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes from being introduced to you.

“Hi Gabriella,” Connie grins, “are you the only daughter in your family too?”

“Not exactly,” you let out a laugh, “I have a twin sister but she’s studying abroad.”

“Ah, lucky you! I’m the only sister,” Connie gives your hand a warm squeeze.

“I know what it’s like to grow up with many brothers around you, trust me,” you giggle back, knowing from what your mother told you that the Corleone’s are almost just as big of a family as yours and with many sons.

“Tell me about it,” Connie holds back her laughter and it immediately strikes you that Connie appears to be type of woman you can easily get along with and make the best of friends with her.

Just as warm, loving and trusting as Connie seems, you also can’t push past or ignore how you pick up an explainable kind of yearning sadness behind Connie’s eyes too.

Just as you’re thinking, Connie’s yearning to make a friend with someone like you and knowing she can easily be able to do so considering how close your families are; both of you around the same age and with familiar backgrounds.

Back inside Don Corleone’s office, greetings, congratulations and humble gift giving to Vito Corleone for Tom and Theresa’s baby shower has come to an end as Tom smiles to himself and keeps the stack of guests in the corner of Vito’s office and takes his seat again near his father.

A glass of richly aged bourbon is served for all of the men and Vito’s office door remains slightly ajar to help keep the air from getting stuffy from cigarette smoke.

“But the war,” Sonny begins, unamused, “it doesn’t mean too much for us, anyway.”

“Not at all,” your father says, shaking his head. “It’s a shame with all the bloodshed going on in Europe right now, but our interests remain the same and our assets here are protected.”

“We expect a prosperous new decade of us nonetheless,” Don Barzini adds.

“As do I,” Vito agrees. “One can only be concerned so much as to what strangers abroad are doing or how they risk their lives. We must work together so there’s no war between our families and only peace.”

“I have to say,” Tom speaks up, “to have no rivalry despite working with our families and their investments is impressive, Mr. Giordano.”

“I appreciate your praise, Tom,” Francesco gives Tom a polite smile. “In this line of work, I had to be a salesman and businessman. I hope our families can continue to be civil and work with one another. I know my wife enjoys the company of our family get-togethers and it would also be good for Gabriella as well, considering her sister is in Austria.”

“Ah, how is she?” Vito’s eyes light up in interest. “Enjoying her time abroad?”

“Indeed,” your father nods happily, “Bella is taking a varieties of courses on subjects in the arts, especially music and literature It’s good for her to broaden her horizons but I miss her, and I think Gabriella does too, of course.”

“Ah, very understandable,” Don Cuneo nods.

‘Gabriella?’ Sonny blinks, thinking to himself. ‘Who is she?’

“Michael is the same,” Vito gives his shoulders a shrug. “He is at Dartmouth now and I am proud of him for entering study in political science.”

“He doesn’t wish to follow in your footsteps, Vito?” Don Barzini smirks.

“He wants no involvement whatsoever,” Vito shakes his head. “Which is more than fine with me. Michael seeks a career in politics. I say sometimes American politics can be so foolish, but Michael can also be stubborn when he wants to. Nonetheless,” Vito places his hands down upon his desk, “I’m very proud of him.”

“Indecisive, perhaps?” Your father suggests.

“Nah,” Sonny interrupts, scoffing. “Michael wants to do everything and anything.”

“He is the youngest after all,” Tom chuckles quietly. “Then my sister Connie who is the youngest child of the family.”

“Ah, the lovely Connie,” Francesco smiles warmly, “of course. Michael is a bachelor, then?”

“All my sons are, except Tom,” Vito answers, somewhat unhappy about his answer. “Perhaps that will change, won’t it, Fredo?” Vito gives Fredo a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Sure, Pop,” Fredo says back sheepishly.

“And Santino’s a different story,” Vito continues, gesturing to his eldest son.

“I dunno,” Sonny chuckles to himself, shrugging his shoulders. “Marriage isn’t really something on my mind just yet, you know.”

“Would you like to marry in the future, though?” Don Cuneo asks him.

“I do,” Sonny nods, “have some kids, a family—settle down, yeah. Why not? I just don’t think I got any opportunity to now but I’m not the kind of man who would push it all away.”

Vito nods, staring back down at his drink in hopes the conversation about Sonny being a bachelorette will change in the next few moments, for the sake of the Corleone family’s dignity.

Vito knows everyone else in the room is just as away of Sonny’s promiscuous behaviour and lifestyle as he is, after all.

~

Out in the courtyard with the ladies and you, most of the conversation continues with your mother, Theresa and Carmela, all giddy about Theresa’s pregnancy.

“Congratulations again, honey,” your mother tells Theresa, “how has it been for you so far? An easy pregnancy, I hope.”

“A little difficult, honestly,” Theresa admits, sheepishly. “It’s improving though.”

“It will for baby number two as well,” Carmela chimes in.

You turn back to Connie and smile, inviting a conversation of your own that she starts.

“Welcome, Gabriella,” Connie says to you, “it’s honestly nice to put a name to a face at last. Mama has told me a bit about you and your sister but we surprisingly never had the chance to meet.”

“I know,” you pout, “I wish we could have met one another much sooner. My twin sister is in Austria right now, actually, so she has no chance at all yet. You know, touring Western Europe when she feels up to an adventure. I’m not so lucky or adventurous though,” you laugh.

“Neither am I,” Connie admits, “it’s refreshing to meet someone like you. What’s Bella in Austria for?”

“Art school,” you reply, smoothening out your shirtwaist dress. “Art has always been a passion for Bella, mostly music, literature and art history.”

“Must run in the family then,” Connie beams at you, “mama told me both you and your mother are artists too.”

Flattered, you nod eagerly with a smile. “We’d like to say so! It runs within the ladies of the family. I adore fine art like sculpture and art history, but personally, it’s not my passion.”

“Applied arts then, maybe?” Connie offers, growing further interested in the conversation at hand.

“Something like that,” you ponder for a moment, “I prefer painting, like mama. I’ve always loved doing so.”

“Wow,” Connie murmurs to herself, “do you have any inspirations for making art?”

“Maybe not the answer you’re looking for—” you chuckle sheepishly, “but I’d honestly have to say emotions inspire me, and my environment. Even the weather—small things like that. Artists like Van Gogh and Monet also inspire me.”

“That’s amazing,” Connie brushes back a curtain of her dark hair behind her ear. “Mama had actually been telling me earlier about the private art school your mother teaches at and…I was honestly thinking about enrolling to get a feel for myself but I wasn’t entirely too sure.”

“Definitely go for it,” you can scarcely hide the enthusiasm in your tone. “Mama would be more than happy to guide you along the way too. I still attend when I have the time and you could too for passion or for credentials. There’s something for everyone.”

“Absolutely,” your mother chimes into the conversation. “I would love to show you around the school as well, Constanzia. Someday, Gabriella will have to show you her paintings.”

“I would like that very much,” Connie smiles back politely. “I can tell she’s very talented.”

“Thank you,” you blush.

“She’s a nurse by trade, did you know that?” Mama Corleone adds, causing both Theresa and Connie’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“I am,” you admit, noticing how proud your mother looks next to you. “Practice and passion versus hobbies and passion.”

“Wow,” Theresa breathes, “that’s wonderful. How do you like nursing, Gabriella?”

“So far, so good,” you giggle quietly. “I’m fairly new to the practice but I’ve been tending to some injured soldiers lately. It’s practical, and I’m excited to see where the career takes me.”

“A nurse at a baby shower, how nice!” Theresa gushes.

~

With business conversation endlessly continuing in Vito’s office, Sonny remains to be the only one itching to get out of his seat and at least take cigarette break from the stuffy talk he has no need to contribute too.

Then again, Sonny’s more obligated to listen and consider every word coming out of Vito’s mouth wisely due to being his father’s successor and having to expect the same business talks directed towards him someday.

“You can tell Luca,” Vito gestures to Sonny, grabbing his attention. “Give him a call and let him know, since he won’t listen to Tom anyway.”

Chuckles fill the room as Sonny gives a nod, sighing in relief under his breath and beginning to rise from his seat.

You’ve just stepped into the Corleone manor for a quick bathroom break after getting some much needed directions from Connie on how to navigate the estate; unable to stop yourself from gazing and admiring the furniture and fixtures of the stunning foyer.

Remembering Connie’s words on reaching the first bathroom, you begin to head down the hallway when you momentarily stop in your tracks to sneeze.

Covering your nose, you sneeze quietly and sniffle—instantly feeling a momentary sharp prickle in your nostrils.

Blinking, you continue walking forward—albeit slowly—due to being distracted by the small throbbing pain beginning to start in your nose.

“Ugh…” You rub your nose tenderly, eyes widening in surprise to see droplets of blood over your fingers.

A split second passes before you sneeze again, realizing the culprit is the stuffy and somewhat dust filled air in the hallway getting to you.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve experienced something similar, but it annoys you to no avail nonetheless.

You cover your nose and continue heading towards where you assume the nearest bathroom is, being careful so as not to spill any blood on the mahogany floorboards or onto your dress.

“Found it yet?!” You hear Connie’s voice echo down from the foyer as she peaks her head inside the estate.

“Yes, don’t worry!” You let out a half muffled call back, spotting the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back outside!” Connie shouts, shutting the front door behind her.

The “yes, don’t worry!” you proclaimed out catches Sonny’s interest instantly; the sound of an unfamiliar, yet sweet voice he’s never heard before.

Stunned, Sonny’s unable to focus on anything else and drowns out the chatter and noise from Vito’s office before he exits out into the hallway and shuts the door of Vito’s office behind him.

You sneeze again, whimpering out of annoyance as you feel blood beginning to trickle from your nose.

Following every sound you make, Sonny furrows his brows and walks downstairs and towards the hallway cautiously—both hands in the pockets of his dress trousers.

Only a split second later does Sonny spot you; an unfamiliar woman with your back facing him, wearing a burgundy swing dress with white kitten heels, your hair curled over your shoulders and more peculiarly, how you clutch your hand over your nose.

“Are you alright?” Sonny speaks out to you, coming closer to step into your line of view.

You blink, assuming one of the Corleone family’s bodyguards or security must have heard you sneezing and walking around the manor by now, but when you turn around you can tell just by the posture and amused expression over the stranger’s face that he’s neither.

Sonny and you don’t know one another nor have you seen each other before. You’re not even aware of what the Corleone men’s names are besides Tom and Vito, and you just learned Tom’s today through Theresa.

Blush instantly hits your cheeks as you feel your skin warm at the sight of Sonny. This man is tall with a slim but lean, fit build; sharp shoulders giving Sonny a firm build, his hair in brunette curls and his jawline chiselled with a smirk over his face.

There’s an air of confidence over Sonny and you can already tell with just a glance that he’s someone important.

You assume just by Sonny’s body language across from you that aggressiveness isn’t unheard of from him, but he seems intrigued and even friendly towards you.

“Oh, fine, thank you,” you answer back, still covering your nose. “I didn’t imagine it to be so stuffy down here.”

Sonny chuckles, stepping closer to you before taking one hand out of his pocket to gesture around to the walls. “The walls in this place are older than you and be combined. Don’t mind that.”

You gaze up at Sonny, unable to stop yourself from blushing as he gets closer to you.

You lower your hand away from your face without even realizing it, revealing your bloody nose to Sonny.

Sonny barely reacts to the sight of blood over your face but the look upon his face that he gives you doesn’t appear the way one would gaze at a stranger or someone they’ve met for the first time; the look in Sonny’s eyes may as well tell him he’s known you his whole life.

Sonny wants to ask you if he’s seen you somewhere or if the two of you know each other from some time ago, but something urges him to keep quiet, knowing the answer must be no.

Sonny’s muscles tense from a rush of arousal hitting him at the sight of you, already wildly attracted to you with no intention of denying it.

“Here,” Sonny reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a neatly folded, silk handkerchief before handing it to you. “Don’t let it bleed all over you now.”

You hesitate for a moment, not at Sonny’s kindness but the expensive cloth he’s just handed you to wipe your nose with.

A warm, playful smile crosses Sonny’s lips as he reads through your hesitancy. “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

Sonny knows better. An unfamiliar woman in his house with Mr. Giordano visiting? He’s already beginning to figure you out. Luckily, he didn’t assume you’re Bella.

“I am,” blushing, you answer a little out of breath and take the silk handkerchief from Sonny. “Thank you so much…” Your voice trails off as you realize you don’t know this man’s name.

“Santino Corleone,” Sonny introduces himself t you. “But everyone calls me Sonny.”

‘So he IS a Corleone…’

“Sonny,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks stinging with blush. “Thank you.”

Sonny grins, extending out a hand to shake yours as you wipe your nose with your free one. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Miss Giordano.”

As you shake Sonny’s hand back, you feel the same current of arousal rushing through him go through you.

“We haven’t met before, have we?” Sonny finally asks, unable to shake off the belief that he’s more than just familiar with you.

“This would be the first time,” you shake your head, “it’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve yet to meet your whole family yet, but,” you smile shyly, “thank you for having us to celebrate Tom and Theresa.”

“Thanks for coming,” Sonny smirks, “you’ve probably met Theresa already but Tom will be out in a moment and then you can see him too.”

You don’t notice Sonny’s eager eyes gazing up and down at your figure a split second after.

“Were you looking for someone or something?” Sonny asks you.

“Just the bathroom,” you admit, sheepishly. “I…” Your nose has fortunately stopped bleeding, but you look at the silk handkerchief in your hand to see the crimson mess staining through it.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Sonny scoffs; he couldn’t care less about the damn handkerchief.

“If you insist,” you begin to carefully fold the handkerchief in the palm of your hand. “It’s just about the whole reason why I came in.”

“Fair enough,” Sonny forces his eyes off of yours, gesturing further down the hallway. “Unless the whole baby shower is waiting for you to get back, I’ll help you out here. Give you a tour of the estate and every bathroom you can find in here.”

“Oh, Mr—” you correct yourself immediately, “Sonny—I would like that very much but I don’t want to interrupt what you’re doing for something like that—”

“Believe me, I insist,” Sonny interrupts, smiling at you. “Guests come first. It’s really no problem. Let me give you a proper tour around here.”

“Alright then,” you accept, smiling back at him. “If it’s no trouble with you, I’d love to.”

“Alright then, Miss Gabriella,” Sonny moves next to you, leading the way out of the hall. “Stay close to me, alright?”

Blushing furiously, you nod back at Sonny who looks over at you behind his shoulder. “I’m with you.”

There’s no doubt about it; had you refused to go along with Santino and returned back to the baby shower or simply didn’t choose to communicate or see Sonny again after today, of course your life would be different. Either way, it would have changed.

What would you know now in this fleeting moment that couldn’t possibly mean anything else to you, trusting in this influential man son to a powerful Don that you just met, feeling as if he’s suddenly wanted to treat you as someone else in his home other than a guest?

If anyone asked years from now, you would tell them the truth. Yes, you would follow Santino Corleone to the ends of the earth, to hell if you had to and beyond that to meet him in whatever life awaited you next.

This is just the beginning of what destiny has spelled out for you side to side with a man like Santino Corleone.

But for now, you follow Sonny in hopes you’ll get to know this kind stranger and the Corleone family better, because your heart is bound to give in sooner rather than later.

[8-dermestid]

Hello, I hope you are well! Recently I read a fanfic of yours on Ao3 about Ticci Toby and I fell in love with your writing!! I loved the way you develop the characters and their feelings!! 🤧💕✨

I would like to know if you write for Creepypasta X Virus, it is one of my favorites but there is almost no content online about it 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

Anyway, I saw your requests are open! If the idea pleases you, I would like to ask for headcanons of X Virus and Toby (or just Toby) with a reader who practices magic and has somewhat "dark" tastes (interest in poisonous animals/plants and the supernatural as a whole, in short, just a scary and adorable nerd at the same time!)

Thanks!! 💚

ahh! hello-hello!! i read x-virus' story and took notes for these, i really enjoyed writing Cody, so thank you very much for the request :-]

i rlly liked this request, and this is actually the first time i've ever done headcanon-ish things, i hope you enjoy these (bc i enjoyed writing them a lot)

x-virus & ticci toby: reader with macabre interests

relationships: ticci toby x reader, x-virus x reader

word count: 1.5k

links: available on ao3

x-virus warnings: animal death (off-screen, animal body shown) animal dissection, taxidermy, canon-typical violence

ticci toby warnings: canon-typical violence

☣︎ X-Virus | Cody _____ ☣︎

You let it slip one day that you wanted to try taxidermy, an embarrassing guilty pleasure you were confident you could keep under wraps, but Cody’s just been so nice about your eccentricities and you couldn’t help yourself.

“They use bugs in the process, lots of museums have them to clean the bones because they’re better than the best person with the best tools—” You pace back and forth as Cody watches you from your bed, “—Because that’s all they do, all they do is eat rotting flesh off the bone. The bones last much longer when cleaned by any Dermes—”

You stop yourself from mentioning the insects by their scientific name, embarrassed that you let your ramblings slip away like that.

Cody leaves the next day and you’re left alone with your thoughts. Maybe there’s another mansion full of serial killers so you can start fresh, your ears burn recalling how excited you got talking about flesh-eating bugs.

A few days later, Cody returns to the mansion with a limp raccoon and some things it stole from the local morgue.

You spend the entire night together trying to preserve this creature’s hide, you take it apart with precise motions, expertly moving the scalpel along the skin and parting flesh and sinew. You soak the skin in salts, rubbing it into the bloody underside until you smell like copper and the salt mines.

The whole room smells like formaldehyde, too.

✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

Cody is so excited to share its books with you, all of them. You spend long evenings together curled over a battery-powered lantern and ten-pound textbooks, occasionally mentioning an interesting tidbit when you come across one. Your books are filled with flattened foliage from the surrounding woods, poisonous plants and flowers, plastic baggies filled with poison ivy leaves, and hand-drawn diagrams of each plant’s internal structures in a ballpoint pen. It flips through each page carefully, examining each specimen, complimenting each note and observation.

“You should open a museum,” It says, running a finger over a pressed Conium maculatum. That snaps you out of your science headspace.

You should, but you can’t. “Besides, who would enjoy a museum like that?” You argue.

“Think about the Mütter Museum,” It quips back, “If people frequent a museum full of pickled people-guts and spines, I’m sure people would go to yours. People like flowers.”

In another universe where violence wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, maybe you’d be the curator of a weird little museum full of oddities.

​​✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

“Toby comes here all the time to burn CDs, don’t worry, the cameras stopped working years ago and they never bothered to fix them,” Cody pushes open a window and climbs into the air-conditioned computer lab of the local library, “Just don’t knock anything over, I guess.” It jokes.

You drop through the window and feel goosebumps form on your arms, you haven’t felt air conditioning in years.

Cody unlocks the door leading to the rest of the facility, you walk side-by-side, dragging your fingers over the spines of dozens of books.

“You know the Dewey Decimal System, right?” Cody asks, there’s a thrill with breaking in, especially for pleasure (rather than worrying about killing every occupant in a house, you both can focus on finding a specific edition of a book you were dying to read).

“By heart.” You joke, guiding it to the 500s: Natural Sciences.

You spend five hours squished up together reading from the same book. It points to a diagram and you explain every minute detail, Cody listens eagerly to your explanations, wanting to ingrain every word that comes out of your brilliant, perfect brain, and memorize the way you describe the venom sacs of the Hydrophis schistosus.

 The way it rolls off your tongue—Hydrophis schistosus—Cody wants that to be the last sound it ever hears, the sound echoing forever in its brain until the heat death of the universe.

You creep down to the 200s and find a few textbooks about niche religious practices. You tell Cody about the rarity of cannibalistic religious practices, and the prevalence of cannibalism in some movies ticks you off.

“Cannibalism isn’t that common,” You scoff, “It’s more than socially taboo, it’s biologically taboo. Ever heard of Kuru?”

“Tell me.” It begs.

✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

⦻ Ticci Toby | Tobias Erin Rogers ⦻

Every word that comes out of you flies over his head. Even though he doesn't know a thing about what you’re telling him about, he’s completely and utterly enamored. Toby never graduated high school, and—for the most part—he’s glad he didn’t have to spend any more time around high-school people. 

He misses learning. Sometimes Toby thinks he’s stupid, Tim and Brian went to university, and they have high school diplomas with their names on them somewhere, Toby has nothing except an honor roll card from the eighth grade. You’re so brilliant, maybe part of him thinks he’s weighing you down by stopping your ramblings to ask for clarification. He’s so deep in thought he hasn't been paying attention to your talks about the Ghent Altarpiece’s connection to ancient practices of animal sacrifice.

“Does it bother you when I do that—when I don’t know things a-and you gotta explain it to me?”

You’re sitting on the porch together looking out over the rolling fog, he sucks in a breath, the tip of a Marlboro lighting up orange-hot.

“I like it, actually.” You say matter-of-factly

Toby’s diaphragm sputters as smoke spills from his nose, and he coughs hard into his elbow. “...Doesn’t it—But I’m interrupting you because I’m too stupid to get it the first time—”

That word gives you pause, and Toby tosses away the cigarette butt and curls into himself, shame burning hot on his face.

“I don’t think—”

“E-Everyone does,” He cries, “I-I can’t help it, I couldn’t even finish high school. Tim and Brian made it to college, at least.”

You push yourself into his personal space, knocking your knee into his as you lean over to share a secret.

“I can teach you if you’d like.”

Toby’s red-hot shame melts into a giddy flush as your warm breath lands on his ear.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

The next victim that comes Toby’s way—a family of three with a prying-eyed teenager getting too close to discovering the mansion—grants you both access to the internet for a time.

You start with Wikipedia, it’s good practice to get bare-bones information that starts the deep dive. Marine Biology is the starting topic because the random article Wikipedia spat out at you was about the bigfin squid.

Toby mumbles aloud as he scrolls through the article, the picture on the right left the hairs on his arms standing on end. Little is known about it because it dwells so deep, and scientists aren’t entirely sure why its distinct long arms are there.

“Nobody knows how it feeds?”

“We know more about space than our oceans,” You say, “We have pictures of the Big Bang.”

Toby rolls back on the wheeled chair and pushes the keyboard to you.

You open a new tab and open the search bar.

COSMIC MICROWAVE BACKGROUND.

He pulls back in, opening the third link that pops up. You sit quietly as he devours an entire article explaining the picture’s existence, he’s vibrating in his chair. Toby continues the search without your input, googling words and finding plenty of pictures of smattered space dust orbiting tiny, dense stars.

The pictures of the black hole shake him to his core, nebulae give him chills, beautiful planets and star systems and moons and—

Alpha Centauri grabs a hold of Toby’s body and keeps him there. He pushes the monitor towards you and you read along with him, he’s shaking with excitement, free hand flapping excitedly as he scrolls through the academic journal.

He prints out a few pictures before the police show up, the cosmic microwave background bathing the room in greens and blues and smatterings of yellows and reds.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

He starts stealing books from the library, as do you. You take turns showing and telling. He shows you astronomy books and you show him textbooks about the history of taxonomy; you spend hours sitting across from each other on the floor exchanging knowledge.

“I’m—I’m glad we did this. Thanks for doing all of—of that.” 

You peek over an academic journal you’ve read at least seven times, smiling softly as Toby puts his new collection of literature into a box and pushes it into the closet. He piles a few flannels and shirts over the box to camouflage it amongst his dirt laundry.

“Why’re you doing that?”

Toby turns to you and turns away meekly, “...It’s our special thing, you get it? I don’t want anyone getting into our business. This is our thing. Our special thing.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as Toby holds your gaze. You close your journals.

“Babies have more bones than adults.” You whisper, your hand splayed over his shoulder blades, “About three hundred.”

Toby’s breath hitches as your hands warm the spot where his cervical vertebrae end and the thoracic meet.

“H-How many are—” He covers his mouth to cover a shaky breath, “—i-in the spine?”

“There are thirty-three vertebrae. Seven cervical,” You and trails down his back, “Twelve thoracic,” you creep further, “Five lumbar,” Lower and lower you go, “Five sacral,” You’re getting bold now, “...And four coccygeals.”

You hold your hands there, Toby enjoys the warmth radiating from your fingers, he wants to melt into you like watered-down clay (you would call it slip since you know everything). He wants to read books with you for the rest of his life and not do anything else.

He wants you to count every rib, every tooth in his mouth, every bone in his hands and feet—counting and counting and counting until he's dizzy.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

[lavandaea]

*inhales deeply*

There's spoilers ahead so, yeah, be careful.

This weekend episodes have actually broken my soul.

He didn't even need his feelings to be reciprocate, HE JUST WANTED TO BE WITH HER.

Dear writers, some things to ask, why so much screen time to second male lead? Why create such chemistry? Such backstory? (Spoiler alert: that will make us sympathize with the supposed villain) To just fuck*ing rip his heart out and pulverize it like Grandma with the cow bones, yes, just like that.

Let me get this straight, after having been raised in an environment of violence, pain and God knows what else for God knows how long, he falls in love. He experiences ✨feelings✨ ,he puts all his trust in her like never before, he shares his past and then he gets betrayed.

I swear I never seen someone cry so with so much meaning, feeling, with so much back there.

We made progress for the last (at least) five episodes TO JUST END IT IN A SINGLE ONE.

This could have been handled a lot better in a lot of ways and about a lot of topics that I could actually write an essay.

Let's begin the the main leads.

So, in order to have some sort of feeling about ML and FL loving eachother you need to put screen time ON them. Yeah, they support eachother, they have known far before Si Oh, they are funny and a lot of things more. They even kissed and very passionately, wow. Just one thing, Why didn't I even blink during that scene but found myself hitting the pillow and blushing when Si Oh did such mundane things as taking her home, opening doors for her, fixing her purse, hair, looking at her with those "I love you" eyes,👏feeling👏guilty👏about👏making👏her👏uncomfortable👏 with👏his👏feelings👏for👏her HELLO??, WAVING HER BACK WHILE HE WATCHED HER GO, SMILE EVERY DAMN TIME HE SAW HER?

I´ll tell you why. Because I know, thanks to you, that Si Oh was experiencing for the very first time what it's like to have human interaction that doesn't involve violence or having to be wary of everything and everyone all the time. He wanted to connect, to share his whole self, to be happy, to make her happy, to love and be loved. Moreover, I can't help just to feel happy for him, sad, angry, fucking rageous (not more than him, obviously).

Meanwhile, I barely know Hee Sik aka the male lead.

I remember seeing his mother once and I think that's what I understood about his private life. Sorry, I forgot about his deceased brother, that could have been a good topic to develop if it wasn't just mentioned once somewhere in the sixth chapter and left there to rot. Other than that, I know he is a cop, loves his cops friends and loves Nam Soon, also he is really loyal and good person.

Nice👍, very nice. But what else?? Or does the man just exist for his job and girlfriend? Even Shi Oh had some time to box being a drug dealer and full time whipped for her.

I'm just saying that you want me to suddenly dislike someone you took a considerable amount of time explaining but I have to like this good guy because you just pointed at him 👉🧍, and said, "here's the good guy, love him".

Sorry, I cant do that.

If you haven't noticed, you just made a character I fell obliged to sympathize.

If you wanted to make him evil and hot you should have just made him evil and hot.

It worked just as well with Jang Han Seok from Vincenzo.

Not have him have "REDEMPTION" written all over his face just to go with "Actually, no. He has no chance. 😃". It's, for lack of a better term, frustrating. (Absurd)

Instead, maybe you should have dedicated that screen time for the construction of the main leads relationship.

Oh, yes. Another thing since we are talking about the matter.

ML and FL relationship progress got weaker and weaker since she had started to spy on Si Oh. And then one episode was like "Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you, they are actually dating by now" Bom, a kiss. If I need a kiss to know they are in love, there's something going on back there. Something lacking.

Scenes of them in love: well acted, nice, cute, cool, okay. But it is like picking a random romance book and start reading it ten chapters ahead, they are in love, but how this did happen??? Last time I saw them, they were in a friends-and-some-more zone.

Where's the progress?

I know where is it. In the fake relationship, that it was being used just to turn Si Oh into a complete monster with probably not chance of going back.

"You have suffered a lot, yeah, I see. Anyway here's more pain. Suffer more and go cause some trouble because if not, there's, apparently, no plot"

Nice job.

I have been saying this and I will say it again, kdrama writers/directors are not ready for traumatized villains. They are afraid of them.

[unbroken-martell14]

Introducing my @infamous-if MC: ✨Amara Rose✨ or otherwise known as Amara Rosalia Valadez (she/her)

She is the lead singer of the band Velvet Night that was started in high school by her and her ex, Seven Lawless.

Amara is outgoing, friendly, and confident. She is likely the most responsible of her band mates (not by much), and is known to be softhearted. She is ambitious when it comes to her art and is unafraid to chase her dream and she won’t apologize for it even if she feels like an endless disappointment to her parents.

She has a big fat obvious crush on Orion Quinn, her band manager. She’s loves how he’s so stead fast and unflappable under pressure (and her constant teasing). Amara looks to him to help steady herself especially because she is easily ruled by her emotions, even when she notices that he keeps her at a distance. In her mind, she’s willing to wait and play the long game for a man like Orion.

Despite the hatred that her ex, Seven, shows for her, she holds none for him (anymore). In fact, she is a big supporter of his new band, Soft Violence, and is so happy to see him happy and in a good place. …That does not mean she does not hold some unresolved trauma and lots of lingering hurt. She tried to cover her tattoo with a butterfly to help with her healing, but how much it’s helped now that they are face to face again is to be determined.

Amara views her music as part of her soul and is very protective of her writing due to that. Her music falls under the pop genre and her music is very Taylor Swift/Olivia Rodrigo/Dove Cameron Coded. She gets a rush from being on stage and sharing her art with the audience. When she is on stage she loves to put on a SHOW and put her dance background to good use. She’s into all the glitz and glam. Amara loves her revenge dresses, body suits, and fashion statements.

[lxdyred]

New people in town

Joel Miller x Ex-lover!Reader (She/her), OC!May Miller x Mom!Reader, Tommy Miller x Reader (Platonic af)

Chapter II

Summary: In which a girl discovers how the new man in town — who was accompanied by another teenage girl — and her mother were closely and intimately related once, and how almost two decades after they last saw each other, their reunion could possibly turn their worlds upside down.

New people in town playlist! ✨

Warning: swear words, mentions of death, violence and sex, possible smut in the future, ANGST, etc. Possible spoilers!

A/N: English is not my maternal language, Spanish is, so I will take advantage of that in the future lmao. Also if you see any grammatical error, please let me know!

Tag list: Open! If you wanna be tag let me know, also if by any chance you wanna get removed, also let me know! Ty :)

Feedback is really appreciated! ❤️

2005

She wasn't the least bit used to sleeping next to someone, sharing a bed and such a small space. Even before the outbreak, she was not. Yes, she had occasionally shared a bed with one of her girl or guy friends, but it came always from the most platonic place possible. Whenever she had had sex, it had always been sporadic, with no possibility of sleeping in the same bed with such people.

This time it was different, he was different. And that was a problem. She didn't know if allowing herself to let her guard down in that way was going to benefit her in any way, or the opposite.

For every time you let someone into your life in a cruel world like the one she lived in, it only meant one more loss at some point.

The man she had lying next to her, naked, was not her boyfriend — in fact, he wasn't even her friend — they were partners, strictly. And roommates, occasionally. Still, she let her guard down for once, and so she ended up clinging to the warm, broad back of her partner, who was sleeping on his right side. She rested her forehead against the back of his neck, and as she closed her eyes, she listened to the rain falling outside.

It wasn't until her breathing matched his and she was about to fall asleep that he shifted his position and turned onto his left side, coming face to face with her, who still had her eyes closed, even though she was still pretty much awake.

"Shit." He mumbled in the darkness of the room, seeing her body so close to his. Naked and vulnerable, just like him. He did no more, admiring her briefly and pondering the situation he found himself in, despite the heaviness of his eyelids, he shook and dropped his head back onto the pillow, hiding his face in her hair, after that, he hugged her waist over the old blanket that covered them both.

When their breaths came in rhythm again, she opened her eyes and looked up, noticed his relaxed expression and ventured to stealthily bring her hand to the scar on the right side of his forehead, stroked it gently, lovingly, then moved on to caress the curls at the back of his head.

The rain was now falling harder outside, which caused her to look up to the window of the room, still not moving her head in the slightest. The water was falling heavily and was accompanied by the occasional silver streak of a lightning.

It was as if, in some way, the storm that was raging outside was a reflection of the internal struggle she was having.

Was letting her guard down with him a wise choice? Would it hurt in any way? Was he an exception, perhaps, even though they were still strangers?

Before she could even have an answer to all those questions in her head, she fell into the arms of Morpheus. And for the first time since it all began, she slept with an unfamiliar, warm sense of security, which allowed her to feel some sort peace.

2023

"Be very, very careful, okay, my love?" Said the progenitor whom still continued to see the teen as her baby. "Listen always to-"

"-Your aunt Maria. All the time, yeah, okay? I'll be fine. We won't go far." Said the young woman, named May, as she pulled on her gloves before heading to the horse she was about to ride.

"I will have my eyes on her, all the time. Nothing will happen to her, also I will make sure she learns a thing or two." Maria said as she approached the duo, she was accompanied by her husband, Tommy, and the horse she was gonna rode in. "She is a very sharp and clever girl, I assure you she will be a great addition to the expedition and patrol group."

"Maybe one day I can take charge of leading them, you'll see." Half-joked the curly-haired young woman, giving a glance at all the members of her little family.

"It's only a matter of time, sweetheart." Her uncle said, giving his niece a smile as he patted her shoulder playfully. "While you're gone I'll take care of your dearest mother here."

"Thanks, Uncle Tommy." May said before hugging her uncle tightly.

"You're getting stronger and stronger." The man commented with a tone of surprise as he felt the strong grip the young girl had exercised in that brief embrace.

"That's what happens when you lift more weights than your uncle." The brown-eyed girl scoffed, before glancing at her mother, who was looking at the pair in amusement.

"See you in the afternoon, mama." Said the young girl before hugging her mother. Unlike the hug she had with her uncle, this one lasted a little longer and was gentler.

Before they broke the embrace, Red took her daughter's face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Enjoy the experience, and you better let me know how it went later." She said, squeezing her daughter's hands affectionately, before letting her go.

"Shall I walk you to the clinic?" Tommy asked, after watching his wife and niece ride off on their respective horses.

"Yeah, let's go, Texas."

Tommy ran a hand through his mustache and looked at his friend, who was walking silently beside him. She wore a small smile on her face, one that reflected melancholy, even regret in a way. The younger Miller put his hand on her shoulder, which caused her to stop and give him a curious look.

"What's on your mind, my friend?"

"It's nothing."

"Red?" the man asked, folding his arms. "Spill it, come on."

"Tommy." She said resting her hands on her hips.

"Reddie." He mimicked her, trying to goad her into talking. "I'm your best friend, you know you can tell me anything. You'll never be judged."

"I'm late for work."

The dark curly-haired man looked at his watch, then at his friend. "It's still 20 minutes before you start your shift at the clinic."

"She looks more like him every day." She said at last. "She’ll be 18 in a few weeks and in a way... I can't stop thinking about him lately. And everything he's missed out on with her, because of me."

"Oh, honey." Tommy sighed before pulling her into his body, and resting one of his hands on her head.

"Because of my fucking selfishness and fear of telling him the truth, May has grown up without her father and Joel doesn't even know he has a daughter."

"Listen to me, okay?" his best friend demanded as he grabbed her face with both hands, causing her to fix her gaze on his. "You made the right decision by leaving Boston and not looking back. Don't get me wrong, I love my big brother dearly, but back then, Joel was a fucking mess and didn't care if he blew up everything in his path after Sarah's death. Joel was only a shell of what he once was."

"Don't you think at least I should-"

"Don't torment yourself with the 'what ifs'. They won't help you at all." Tommy wiped the tears away from his friend's face and gave her a small smile. "Besides, you should be proud of the tremendous good job you've done raising your daughter on your own, on your fucking own, and in this fucking post-apocalyptic world.

"Thanks, Miller." Said the woman, smiling at her daughter's uncle. "You know what I love about May? She smiles when she sleeps, whenever I think about it, I feel so much better. Thinking about making sure she keeps smiling… motivates me to keep going."

"Sarah used to do that too."

"Yeah?" the Nurse asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought of the two sisters sharing one more small gesture. "I wish they'd met."

"Sarah would have adored May. Believe me when I tell you she wouldn't have left your daughter's side no matter what."

2005

"Are you all right?" asked the comforting voice from behind her, soon after she felt a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

She brought her hand to his and closed her eyes briefly, trying to hold back the tears. She knew Joel wasn't a man who showed his feelings, he wasn't usually physically close to her, except for when they slept together.

She didn't know much about him, or his life before the apocalypse. She for sure knew very basic and trivial things, which you might find out about someone on a first date. But at the same time, even when she didn't know anything about his past, she felt an intimate connection and familiarity with him. She felt safe, secure. He was the only person who conveyed that to her.

"Yes, don't worry." She said, nodding slightly, as she brushed her tears away with her free hand.

He knelt down in front of her and cupped her face with both hands. From where she sat on his couch, she could only stand silently watching him intently. He was covered in grime and dust, probably from all the hard work he had done throughout the day. "Something happened at work."

"That sounds like a statement you're making."

"I know it is." He said with his characteristic tone, rough, but soft somehow. "Has anyone given you trouble?" the man questioned with a frown. She didn't answer. "Should I break someone’s jaw to-"

"-No!"

"Do... you want to talk about it?"

She sniffled and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that again threatened to spill from her eyes. She shook her head vigorously, and gently rested her forehead against his. "Joel... I- You'll see..."

"What's wrong?"

"I know it's just sex between us, and other than that, we're partners and occasionally roommates, but... can I ask you a favour?" the young adult woman asked, showing her weakness.

"I guess, yes."

"Can we — just for tonight, just for once — sleep together, just sleep?" With trepidation she asked. "I know that because of everything you've been through, you keep your distance from people, but I'm asking you… please. Just for one night, can we be friends? You're the closest thing I have to one here."

Joel seemed to think about it, but a few seconds later he nodded slightly, and without a word, rose from the floor and offered a hand to her, who took it. He pulled her to his body, and she collapsed into tears on his chest.

"Shh... easy. I've got you." He planted a kiss on her hairline and with one hand stroked her back. Her breath hitched briefly, but for a few moments she allowed herself to enjoy and savour this unusual little moment with him.

She was so fucked. She was toasted, no doubt about it.

Despite the fact that they were practically, as many would say, perfect strangers, she had fallen in love with him, and she knew that wasn't the fucked up part of the whole situation. The doubly fucked up part was making a decision as to how she was going to let him go.

It shouldn't be that hard, she used to think from time to time. He doesn't feel anything for me, she used to think too.

It should be relatively easy, shouldn't it? To let go of a person who you know doesn't love you back. Who you know doesn't see you as anything more than a partner, who would help him from time to time with some smuggling business or help him to patch up the wounds he got, either from a fight or from the work he did to earn ration cards. Well, that and a person with whom she occasionally fucked — lately much more frequently than before — to relieve his stress, anger, or whatever.

She didn't mind, when she felt the same way she would go to him for exactly the same thing. Only unlike him, at some point along the way, she ended up catching feelings for the guy from Texas.

Holy fuck.

2023

"Hey, mama!" The young woman with curly brown hair said coming through the door. She was almost 18 years old, tall and with slightly tanned skin. She had a beautiful, radiant smile, which made her nose, identical to her mother's, scrunch slightly. But undoubtedly her most distinctive features were her huge chocolate eyes and the freckles that adorned her cheeks and nose — a trait her own mother did not know from whom she had inherited them.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Her mother, no more than 43 years old, replied as she looked at her daughter curiously. "How did your first expedition out of Jackson go? Did you do what we agreed, May?" she asked, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms, waiting for an answer.

"Always do what Aunt Maria says. Yes, maaaama." The young woman said as she leaned against the kitchen counter, and watched intently as her mother prepared the evening's dinner. "It was quite unexpected what happened today. You see, a man and his daughter, came in asking for Uncle Tommy."

"Maybe an old friend of his. You know, from when he was with the Fireflies." The mother said to her daughter as she opened the oven door, then picked up the big tray she was going to put in the oven.

"No, not exactly, madre. That man was looking for his brother, Uncle Tommy."

CLANK!

Once the tray made contact with the floor, silence reigned in the kitchen for a few seconds. The young girl approached her mother, concern and nervousness flooding her face.

"Mama, are you okay?" the chocolate-eyed girl asked. "Mom, do you know that man? Do you know who he is?" May asked in a whisper, as she stroked her mother's back.

She could only nod awkwardly and slowly, as she was unable to look her daughter in the eyes. She swallowed and went to one of the kitchen stools, where she sat down and hid her face in her hands.

She sighed regretfully, before opening her eyes and pushing her hair behind her ears. "Yes, I know him — knew him. That was a lifetime ago, my love. But that was before you were even born."

"Did he know... my father? Or perhaps he knows what has become of him?"

The woman looked at her daughter, and brought a hand to the stool beside her, inviting her beloved daughter, the thing she loved most in this broken world, to take her place beside her. "May. You should sit down, I think it's time I told you about him. It's time I told you about your real father — Joel Miller."

"Joel Miller? As if Miller like- Uncle Tommy?"

"Yes." Red admitted with a sense of defeat.

"I don't get it, Mom." With confusion reflected on her face the little girl said. "I'm supposed to have adopted my last name from Tommy because I needed one for school?"

"May. You see-"

"You're telling me that Uncle Tommy is, in fact, my uncle not only because of your good relationship, but also because of what he is biologically?" May gripped the kitchen counter tightly, while frowning and still confused, she tried to process the information she was receiving. "When were you going to tell me all this? Or didn't you plan to?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." She answered honestly as she stood up and tried to take her daughter's hand, to try to comfort her.

The teenager pulled her hand away before she could even touch it. She felt betrayed by her own mother. "Please- Don't!" She exclaimed raising her hands in the air in frustration. "Is that the reason he's here looking for Tommy!? Because he knows his brother has practically raised his daughter?"

Red was silent for a few seconds. "No... no that's- No. Besides, that's not possible."

"Ah, so Joel Miller has no interest in meeting own daughter?" the young woman asked sharply, as tears formed in her eyes.

"No, May, that's not it, alright?" sighed the mother as she looked away from her daughter and tried to find a way to tell her the truth.

"Then why?"

"Because he doesn't know he has a daughter."

"I mean, he- He's come all this way and he doesn't even know about me?" May asked, trying to stifle a sob. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

"Because I wanted to protect you!"

"From what? Holy shit, mom!" May exploded. She could no longer contain herself.

"From the fucking truth!" Her mother exclaimed in the same way. "That I was a fucking coward. And that because of my fucking decisions Joel hasn't even had a chance to... know about you."

"One thing we agree on then, mother. You're a fucking coward!"

A lump formed in Red's throat. Her breath hitched, her heart skipped a beat and her body began to tremble. Tears blurred her vision and she was unable to watch as her daughter angrily left the scene, which she let her know due to the tremendous slamming of the front door of the house, giving her to understand that she had left the house and left her alone, by herself with her regrets.

2005

“Joel.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm writing you this letter. I don't know if you care enough about me to at least write you an explanation, I guess I'm doing it rather for me. By the time you read this I will be gone. I'll probably be far away, maybe I'll never come back, or maybe I will.

I don't know what will become of me and that terrifies me, but at the same time it motivates me to keep going, to keep fighting. Just like you. Even though I haven't known you for very long, you've made a big impact on me. I know that we are very different, I know that many times we have disagreed on many things and that we have clashed, but even so, when I was not up to the task and I have probably been a hindrance to you, you have protected me and taken care of me — always from a distance, except when we both sought comfort in each other's arms —.

I know the last thing you want is to leave another person in your life. It's understandable, especially in a world like this where that means loss. This is one of the reasons why I'm leaving. To avoid jumping over the walls you have built, so that I can respect your boundaries and prevent you from ending up like me. I don't know at what point it happened, but you managed to jump over all my walls. You've been the only person capable of doing it until now and that terrifies me. I'm terrified of losing you. I'm also terrified of staying in Boston and seeing you letting your guard down with someone else, not being that person. I know it's selfish, but I didn't want to risk living in this broken world with an even more broken heart. It's probably already like that.

It already breaks my heart to leave you behind, without saying goodbye, but I know I will heal. I will find something that gives meaning to my life and I will fight on. I hope, too, that when you're ready, you'll find that reason too.

Try to be happy.

I love you.”

2023

"May! May!" Red exclaimed as she pounded on the door of Tommy and Maria's house. "Anybody home? Maria?" She asked as she took a few steps back and peered into the windows of the house, trying to see if there was movement inside.

She looked around the house and tried to see if there was any sign of the young girl with the curly hair anywhere, but there didn't seem to be any luck. She put her hands to her mouth and tried to warm them. She watched as the snow began to fall again, which caused her to go briefly into a small trance.

She remembered May's first snowfall, in the winter of 2005. She was only a few weeks old and they were both alone on the road, trying to find a safe place to spend the night. May had not stopped crying all day, hungry because she was not producing enough milk, as she had barely found food and water the last few days. The little girl's cries kept her mother alert all the time, waiting for an infected to appear and attack them. She could still remember the terror and paranoia in her bones. It wasn't until the snow began to fall that the newborn girl calmed down, watching the snowflakes fall, so that soon after she fell asleep.

"That May you are looking for is not here.”Said a voice that brought her out of her trance.

She walked back to the front door and there she saw a person she didn't recognise, poking her head out from inside. "You are not Maria.” Said the woman with obviousness.

"No. I'm Ellie." Said the young teenager, looking her up and down.

"You are the kid who was with Joel." Red muttered, looking at her intently. She didn't look like him.

Maybe she looked like her mother?

"Do you know him?" Ellie asked as she opened the door all the way and showed her body.

She nodded. "I used to, a long time ago." She replied rubbing her hands together from the cold. "I imagine you and your father came all the way from Boston. I hope the trip wasn't too hard," Red said sincerely, as she gave the teenager a small smile.

"That old man isn't my dad." Ellie laughed at the witticism of the woman standing a few feet away from her. "But- uhm... thanks?" She replied at what the woman had said to her about the trip there.

Reddie nodded her head and gave Ellie another small smile before setting off to find her daughter.

"Wait!" Ellie said to her from the doorway, causing her to turn and look at her curiously. "Why don't you go inside and wait for Maria? She'll be able to help you."

"Thanks, but I can't." She thanked the girl. "Please, when you see Maria or Tommy, can you tell them that if they see May to tell her that her mother is looking for her and to come home?"

The teen nodded her head. "I will." She whispered, in response.

"Thank you so much, Ellie." May's mother told her before turning back on her heels and heading off to find her daughter. "By the way, welcome to Jackson!" Ellie heard her saying from a little further away.

The young girl smiled to herself and watched as the woman disappeared into the distance, closing the door as she felt a cold breeze, but not before wondering how she knew Joel.

[…]

It had been three, almost four hours since May had left home and her mother had not been able to find her. It was as if she had disappeared from town. She had looked everywhere; at her friends' house, at Tommy and Maria's house twice, in the main hall of the village, in the stables... nothing!

She walked silently down the empty main street, not a soul was there. Everyone was gathered around the main hall watching that film of which she couldn't remember the name. Now it was colder than before, the sun had set a while ago and the snow was still falling, although now with less force.

She stopped to look at the Christmas tree and thought of her family, of all those she had lost. She smiled sadly as she wished things were different and that she could be held by her loved ones once more. She wished that the Outbreak had never happened, that nothing was the way it was.

No! Not that!

She shook her head, trying to shake off the thought. Yes, there were things she missed from her life 20 years ago, and there were certainly things she wished she hadn't lived since then. But May? May was a blessing and the best thing that had ever happened to her in her entire earthly existence. She was grateful to have her, and therefore thanked any deity or cosmic force for having put the Miller brothers in her path.

She resumed her walk once again, leaving the Christmas tree behind her. Hopefully her daughter would be there by now and they could talk about everything at length. At the thought, her stomach sank with nerves. But she ignored it.

May deserved to know the truth, she deserved to know everything.

As she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't see that silhouette appear from the side and practically jump out at her, causing her to fall to the snowy ground surprised. But when she heard her daughter's laughter, a huge sense of relief washed over her.

She clung in a hug to her daughter's body, which was lying on top of hers, and then, she too burst out laughing. She looked to her side once her daughter lay on the floor beside her. She sighed and watched intently as the young woman, who was undoubtedly the spitting image of her one-time lover, gazed raptly at the night sky and lights around her.

"I'm so sorry, Mama. For how I behaved with you before." Said the young woman, a mist adorned the words that left her lips.

"I'm sorry too, baby girl. For not telling you the truth before." She apologised too, as she sat down on the floor.

Her daughter mimicked her and sat down as well, took her mother's cold hand in hers and rubbed it gently. "I want to know everything. No more half-truths, okay?"

"Okay." Reddie said as she brushed an unruly curl away from her daughter's face, tucking it behind her ear. She stroked her cheek with her free hand and gave her a small smile. "Fancy a hot chocolate in front of the fireplace... while I tell you all?"

"Sounds great!" May said as she stood up from the floor and offered a hand to her to make it easier for her to get up. "Now get up, you're freezing. You'll catch a cold."

The mother flinched at the almost adult woman's comment. "Since when do you behave as if you were my mother?"

"Since I'm the one who has to pick you up off the floor like you are a little girl?" the young Miller laughed.

"Ha! I love you, too, you nightmare child." Red said carelessly, shaking off the snow on her legs. She looked at her daughter who was suddenly silent. "May?" she asked, noticing that the girl was staring at a spot behind her.

"Mama..." the young girl whispered, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite make out, only to turn her attention back to what she had previously been staring at, causing her mother to turn and look in that direction as well.

And there he was.

The man she had loved for all those years and had to leave behind. This time he was different from the last time she saw him, obviously, time had passed for him too. His gorgeous curly hair had gone grayer, and so did his beard. But without a doubt he still had almost the same physical constitution as he had had almost 20 years ago.

He was still just as undeniably handsome, though.

"Joel..." she let out in a whisper, which she doubted he would ever hear.

The man looked at her with surprise, as if he had seen a ghost, in a way. He certainly hadn't expected that after all those years he would see her again, let alone there.

Not after convincing himself that he would never see her again.

He looked at her carefully, hoping to somehow rule out that what he was seeing, not far from him, wasn't some kind of trick his mind was playing on him. Then his gaze shifted to the young teenager, who, stunned by the scene before her, shifted her gaze from her mother to the man she had discovered a few hours ago to be her father, repeatedly.

Red took May's hand and the young girl squeezed it, looked down at their hands and then back up at Joel, who was still looking at them. The adult woman bit her lower lip and tried to articulate a word, but was unable to.

Then it was when she saw it in his gaze, which changed from surprise to realization, that something had clicked in his head. It was as if he had found the last missing piece in the puzzle he had been unable to solve all that time.

And what to say. No words were needed. It was in the soft sound of the winter night, in the gentle, cold breeze, that the truth came out.

That truth he had been unaware of, until that precious moment.

[ssplague]

Benighted Beloved

Chapter two

Masterlist

Warnings: Some Katsuki-esque violence this chapter, that’s all.

Honorable mentions 💌

@lalachanya  @mrsmelaninhood 

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero  @alishii @rv19 

@maggiecc 

✨ 🌙 ✨

“There sat a Crescent Moon on her forehead”

“Here you go, it’s rosehip tea, make sure you drink it while it’s hot, that way you won’t end up with a cold” the man you now know as Midoryia Izuku hands over a steaming mug.

“Thank you so much for your help, I’m new around here…I…well I wasn’t sure where to go…I hope I’m not causing you too much trouble” your voice is quiet compared to the storm beating against the walls outside. The change of clothes he’d given you were soft on your skin, the well worn fabric held a fading lilac scent, as did the quilt set beside you. The hot tea goes down easily, a soothing warmth spreads from your fingers to the tips of your toes. “You aren’t causing me any trouble at all I promise, I had planned on returning to the capital city for the celebration, but I’m sure it was postponed due to this sudden change of weather” the green haired man replied as he adds a couple more logs to the fire burning in the grate.

“Celebration?” You ask, intrigued despite the sleepiness washing over you. Izuku nods as he prods the newly added logs with a poker, “One of my most treasured friends has finally found the one he wants to share his life with, to be honest with you a majority of people never thought he’d marry someone because of his harsh personality but…the few of us that know him well knew that was a lie” he’s smiling again as firelight danced in reflection of his emerald eyes. You had set your now empty cup off to the side, silently stretching out across the couch and snuggling up beneath the warm blanket. Content to sit in silence as your host got caught up in cherished memories, you were sleeping soundly in minutes. Eventually when Midoryia did resurface from memory lane, his face burned red with embarrassment as he realized he’d forgotten you were here with him! “I’m sorry y/n! I spaced out, how rude of me! I was going to tell you that you could rest in the bedroom if you like, I’m fine with the couch-“ Izuku abruptly shuts up when he notices you were asleep.

“She must have been exhausted…poor thing”

Quietly, he tip toes over to grab your empty mug, deciding to fill it with water incase you woke up thirsty. While kneeling down to pick it up, the firelight sparkles across something that draws his eye immediately. 

A crescent moon.

A golden crescent moon, on your forehead…a shaky finger briefly runs across it, that was real, no make up to smudge away.

With wide eyes, the now startled man bolts from his den and into the kitchen.

You! But how?!

Why?!

Oh goddess!

How could you have found your way here?! Weren’t you supposed to be with Kaachan?! Oh no what if you had run away?!

Scarred hands tangled themselves in green curls as he tired to wrap his now frazzled mind around this discovery; Kaachan’s runaway bride being found here in that damn Deku’s study!

I’m a dead man walking!

“It’s gotta be a mistake, it can’t really be her…yeah of course it isn’t her…she’s miles away from here, back in the capital where she’s supposed to be” a chuckle escapes  between his manic muttering as the deflating man lowers himself to the floor. Izuku’s shoulders sag with relief after convincing himself it was a simple case of mistaken identity. Leaning back against the cabinets, his eyes momentarily close and a relieved sigh blows across his chapped lips. Only for them to fly open once more as a loud knock suddenly echoed from the front door of the cabin, making the alchemist yelp in response.

Getting to his now shaking legs, he peeks down the hall and listens for any sign you had woken up.

Silence follows, only to be disturbed by the now continuous knocking.

Forcing one foot infront of the other until he stands at the door, the terrified man forces himself to open it. The happy face of Kirishima greets him, “Hey there Midoryia! Sorry to just drop in on ya like this, thank goodness you weren’t back at the capital already”.

“Are you gonna let us in? It’s fucking pouring out here dammit!”

Bakugou’s snarling voice puts the fear of god into Izuku as he jumps aside to let the two soaked men in.

“Oh uh hey there Kaachan, Kirishima…what brings you two out here? Thought you’d be back at the castle, you know…to celebrate-“

“Ain’t nothing to fucking celebrate”

Yep, he’s most definitely a dead man.

Katsuki wrings out his cape on the doorstep before slamming the door shut, just as he does so, Izuku returns with a couple towels he’d grabbed from the linen closet.

“Thanks man” says Ejiro, flashing fangs with a smile “That storm hit outta nowhere as we were flying back, his majesty over here insisted we keep flying through it, until he almost got his wing zapped that is”.

The aforementioned male didn’t reply to the jab taken at him as he dried his hair off. The other two men looked at each other, the green haired male looking at the red head with evident confusion on his face. “He’s pretty upset”mouthed Kirishima and Midoryia gulps silently before nodding.

“I wanna hang my cape up in front of the fire” the blonde mumbles, noticing the lack there of in the front room’s grate.

“Sure! Let me just grab some of the wood I have in my den!” Izuku exclaims a little too excitedly as he spins on his heel.

“Nah man you don’t gotta do all that, we can just use the one you have going already, right Bakugou?”.

“Oh no it’s okay, I don’t m-“

Deku’s panicked response is drowned out by a gruff “Sure, what the fuck ever, I just want to warm up”. 

The angry Royal starts moving towards the short hallway, and immediately finds his way blocked by the much smaller man, “Really Kaachan, it’s no trouble! We can make a much bigger fire out here, the one in the den can only be small because of all my flammable materials-“.

“Oh shut it would you!” Growls the already frustrated monarch, “Otherwise there will be a far greater threat to your stupid materials than a goddamn fireplace”. After the threat had been made, Katsuki makes to move past the annoying bastard blocking his path. Only for said bastard to side step, effectively blocking his way again. Izuku internally cringes at the sudden ire that lights up in the hellfire eyes glaring daggers at him. Even Kirishima fights off the urge to shudder as the energy inside the cabin shifts drastically.

“Get.out.of.my.way.Deku” the bigger man’s intimidating voice starts off quietly.

“Listen Kaachan-“ the smaller man at least tries to reason with the other, but is cut off.

“You’re acting real fucking brazen nerd, too bad that today really was the wrong day for you to grow a pair” taking a step closer Bakugou puffs out his chest as he sneers down at Deku.

“Look it was an accident really, I didn’t know! I-“ a startled cry escapes the green haired man as a sparking fist takes hold of his shirt collar.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t know shit! Oh I get it…You think its funny don’t you? Funny that she ran away afraid of me?! Go ahead and laugh! GO AHEAD AND LAUGH I FUCKING DARE YOU!” Snarls shifted into screams as the dragon shifter lifts his prey off it’s feet. The tight fisted grip singed the fabric of the shirt it held. Just as Kirishima springs into action to separate his friends, fast footsteps come racing from down the hall. They were immediately followed by a frightened, but still demanding, feminine sounding shriek, “STOP!!!”.  

All three men froze, each set of their respective eyes moving to locate the source of the shout. It didn’t take long for them to all locate you, half your body still hidden in shadow of the dark hallway.

A/N: I know this was short, but I still have two full chapters already finished (& much longer) and one partially completed 🥰 All the praise I received over the story this far is incredible & always deeply appreciated ❤️‍🔥