#also for some reason mob looks like a girl?

[darthartplant]

This is fanart I drew when I read a scene in Chapter 3 of Needed by @sickvacuum that had my brain be like DRAW. THIS. NOW.

It may not be a sticky note, but it's a note pad paper nonetheless. I only cropped out the url of my local bank

So now I am only going to tell y'all to go READ. IT. NOW. (⌒▽⌒)☆

[that-wizard-oki]

I know im a baby and just want my game play to be Easy Peasy Lemon Squeazy, but when i see people asking to make w101 content harder i simply want to pass away

[joannechocolat]

Two Boxers Walk Into the Ring...

No-one can have missed the absolute scenes on social media, both before and after the boxing match between Imane Khelife and Angela Carini, from which Carini withdrew after just 46 seconds, having received a blow to the face.

Social media had already been abuzz with unfounded claims that Khelife was a man, largely based on her athletic (and to Westerners, “masculine”) body type. (The same rumours had also been spread about Taiwanese boxer Lin Yu-Ting; also a woman, assigned female at birth, who got into boxing to protect her mother from domestic violence.) From this explosion of misinformation came increasingly wild claims from all the usual suspects: that she was trans (in spite of coming from a Muslim country where transitioning isn’t allowed); that she had “self-identified” as a woman in order to win (again, not possible in Algeria) plus some quite ghoulish speculation about her sex organs, her medical history and the type of puberty she might have undergone.

But here’s the thing.

Khelife is not trans. There is one trans boxer at the Olympics, a trans man called Hergie Bacyadan, who for some reason has gone almost unnoticed in this desperate attempt to prove a conspiracy that just isn’t happening. Imane Khelife was assigned female at birth, has a passport confirming it, and has spent her life as a woman, fighting against her country’s patriarchal ideas of what women are supposed to do. Not only this, but she is an ambassador for women and girls, who originally took up boxing to protect herself from those who disapproved of her interest in sports.

She was disqualified from the 2023 women’s world championships because (according to a Russian source that becomes less and less trustworthy the more you look into it) tests apparently showed some kind of unspecified anomaly, which may have been either elevated testosterone (quite possible in a woman) or the presence of XY chromosomes, once more altogether possible for a cis woman.

Nor does her condition (if she even has one) mean she is automatically likely to win against her opponents. In 2020, she made it to the quarter-finals of the Olympics, where she was defeated by Kellie Harrington, and she has been boxing on the international circuit for years without any of her wins or defeats gaining much attention.

Until now.

But her fight against Angela Carini on Thursday made her a magnet for some truly disgusting hate, largely, it seems, from the kind of men who enjoy threatening women, whatever the reason or excuse. In fact, there were distinct parallels with this and the recent anti-Muslim riots in Southport after the murderer of three little girls was falsely rumoured by agents of the far-right to be a Muslim immigrant.

Let’s be clear. Even if the attacker had been a Muslim immigrant, this violence would have been completely unacceptable. But the mob just wanted the opportunity to scapegoat and attack a community, in exactly the same way that the people attacking, threatening and objectifying Imane Khelife wanted the chance to attack a woman for not conforming to their idea of what a woman should be like.

In this context, it’s hard to see the rage and violence levelled against her for this victory as anything other than misogynistic - and racist.

It’s also hard to understand why in a sport like boxing – where the whole point is to hit your opponent – a person should be criticized for following the rules of the sport. It’s almost as if excellence is allowed in men’s sports, but in women’s sports, it’s automatically viewed as suspicious. And Imane Khelife isn’t the only athlete of colour accused of “being a man” because she defeated a white woman. Serena Williams has spent her career fending off accusations that she “was born a man” both because of her muscular physique and her excellence in her field. Caster Semenya, who has naturally elevated levels of testosterone, has been likewise demonized. It’s almost as if the people driving this toxic narrative believe that only men can excel in sport.   

And as for the argument that claims that elevated natural testosterone levels in a woman is “an unfair advantage,” don’t all elite athletes have some kind of physical advantage? Do we dismiss basketball players for being unusually tall, or weight-lifters for being unusually muscular, or runners for being lean and light? Why do we celebrate Michael Phelps for his genetic advantage, but penalize Caster Semenya for hers? Women have fought so very hard for the chance to participate in sports that were once seen as the sole province of men. Now, when they dare to excel in them, they are accused of secretly being men, or of not being “proper women.”

This isn’t any kind of feminism I recognize. The feminism I believe in is about breaking down barriers, not setting them. I personally dislike boxing (both for men and for women), but I respect any individual’s choice to compete. And attacking a woman boxer for winning a boxing match is as misogynistic as claiming to “defend” her opponent by painting her as a victim. Both athletes chose to compete. Both accepted the risks. Both have had their Olympic moment ruined by people who don’t care about sports, or the facts, or even women. This isn’t feminism. This is the worst and most patronizing kind of prejudice, and it actively hurts women – all women, but especially women of colour and those who do not conform to traditional ideas of what a woman should look like, what sports she should enjoy, or how she should behave.

Women fought for years for the right to make their own choices, to have their own identities outside of the stereotypes set by the patriarchy. Questioning those choices - those identities - isn’t progress.

 Supporting women doesn’t mean protecting them from themselves.

It means not setting limits on who a woman wants to be.

[idkfitememate]

A Boar? In This Economy? Pt. 3

⋘ Previous Part » ♡︎

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Boar Reader x Mondstadt (Genshin World)

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 3.1k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff to angst to fluff again, crack

You thought that the interaction you had with the boys would be enough to satiate you for a long while.

Well you were wrong.

Because now all you wanted to do was go into Mondstadt and see everyone.

There was one thing holding you back, however…

…And that was wondering where the story was.

Now, you unironically had been getting “vIsIoNs Of ThE fUtUrE”, or rather the updates and current story as it continued in your world.

Your world…

Shaking off the slight homesickness, continued on your mission. Finding out where ever which ever sibling was in the story.

What you weren’t expecting however was to watch a Paimon being fished out by a hungry looking Aether.

Oh Gods.

Oh Fuck.

THE STORY HASN’T EVEN STARTED????

This is new, considering that in nearly every fic about the SAGAU the story was up to the current update or it had stopped all together.

… Did you mention that you were a vivid reader of fanfiction? And player of Genshin? Because you were.

Tiptoeing backwards, you suddenly hear the shrill voice of a certain fairy… as in fairly large pain in your ass-

“Oh! If you’re really hungry you should go hunt that boar right there! I’ve never seen a painted one though…”

OH SHIT OH FUCK-

You ran away before the blonde could even turn around, hearing Paimon’s voice call out for you to stand still. No you weren’t gonna stand still!

You continued to run, cursing yourself out in your head for being noticed.

You were happy where you were! With your family! You already interacted with Mondstadt in the form of Razor and Bennet, that was enough!

You rushed deeper and deeper into the forest, stopping when you noticed your family ahead. Trotting before them, you laid down in front of the fire.

Ever since finding you, they refused to eat boar meat, switching to fox and bird so you wouldn’t have to sit and watch them cook something that looked like you, which was nice.

Right now they were roasting a bird over the fire, spices filling your nose as you curled up around it. Another change was the increase of Mita and Lawa and samachurls at the camp. Two of each element for each type of churl to protect the camp, and you.

This was also true for other mobs. Slimes and Whopperflowers, anything else in the immediate area. The number was upped.

And with your heightened heart rate?

The number only went up.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍦🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

By now, Aether and the small girl he had come to find was named Paimon had already cleared out a Hilichurl camp with the Outrider of Mondstadt, Amber.

Wiping sweat off her forehead, she turned to the duo.

“For some reason, the number of Hilichurl camps has been growing rapidly in the past year, even more so than before. Your help is immensely appreciated!” She said, sighing.

Aether only stood by before speaking up.

“Have you seen a painted boar around here?” He questioned.

“Oh! Yeah! The Boar of the Wilds! Yeah, quite the trouble maker they are. They’re a weird boar too, sticking around Hilichurls and the such. But they help the kids so we don’t see them as too much of a threat. Why?” Amber smiled as she turned around to face the Traveler, who was glaring at a now heavily sweating Paimon.

“No reason…” He said through grit teeth, making Paimon shake and mutter something about ‘not knowing’ or something of the sort.

“Well anyway, let’s get you into the city Traveler!”

And with that, the trio continued on their walk, unaware of the slime watching them.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍮🧁୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

So you really are at the start of the story.

You paced around the fire as your family watched sitting cross legged.

You had two options:

1. Travel with Aether and see all 7 nations.

Or

2. Stay where you are and live with your family till the story ends.

Your first instinct was, of course, to stay with your family. You had built a life here, no matter how crude.

Your family cared for you and you them. These specific mobs were going to live on in your heart and you’d be damned if you’d leave them. Because if you did, the odds of travelers and others of that nature might find them and…

Well you didn’t want to think of what’d happen.

You shook you head and snorted, pacing faster. You ignored the worried cries of those around you as you continued to think.

Now that the story started, that meant that shit was about the hit the fan.

You had noticed a lack of Divalin, and more windstorms. With how happy things had been, you tired to ignore it.

Ignore the signs.

But a small voice in the background of your head had told you.

It told you that the story had started. That you’d have to do something.

But if you did you’d mess up the whole story, and then you wouldn’t be able to predict what happens next and you’d loose all sense of control you felt you’d had.

The abyss.

You glanced back at your family.

One thing you made sure of was that there were no Abyss Mages around. Without them, your family was more than docile around humans, not truly seeing a reason to hurt them without cause.

When they would try to reverse the curse… if you left your family…

…

…

… You rammed into a tree.

Small screams erupted from them as the tree tilted over and fell, the top splintered from the bottom where you rammed it. Letting out a loud squeal, you rammed into another.

Why was this so difficult??

On the one hand, with your knowledge you could probably make so many lives better and easier!

But on the other, after you help one, it could cause a ripple effect and make you loose your grasp on what was happening, leaving you unable to help.

And with cautious you were, you didn’t even know if you’d come back if you’d die!

Would you be willing to die for these people?

Another tree fell.

You’d die easier than a human, what happens if you die.

What happens if you’re forced to leave your family?!

You rammed another tree.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes started to water.

The wind began to pick up.

When your hooves made contact with the ground, the earth rumbled.

You could no longer hear the shouts and cries of those around you.

What would happen when you died?

Would your blood be gold?

More trees fell.

Your eyes were blurred with tears.

You were barreling through the Forrest at this point, mind of every type crying out to you.

Crying out for you to stop.

You didn’t want to die.

But others would die for you.

You could stop so much.

… You could’ve stopped so much.

When the thought hit that while you’ve been messing around for just over a year, people were getting hurt, you ran faster, and hit harder.

The wind whipped harder. When you looked up you noticed Stormterror and Aether fighting above the city.

Had you been so caught up in your own stupid emotions that you failed to notice the city closest to you was under attack?!

How fucking STUPID could you be?!?!

You rammed harshly into a large tree, being stopped by both the winds of Teyvat and the sheer thickness of the tree.

Shaking your head you looked up.

… The Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero.

You had ran all the way to Windrise.

Hiccups forced their way out of snout and tears poured out of your eyes.

You sobbed.

Everything was blurry and your ears were ringing. You were tired of thinking.

You barely registered the Pyro Samachurl laying a churl blanket around your back while warming it.

More and more mobs surrounded your sobbing form and slowly cuddled around you. Warming you.

And eventually, you fell asleep under the large and warm pile of Hilichurls, Mitachurls, Lawachurls, Samachurls, Slimes, Whopperflowers, other boars, foxes, and birds.

You were safe. You were loved.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍧🍮୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“You have to check it out! I understand that the main issue is The Stormterror, but Miss. Jean! It’s a large pile of monsters and animals! This could pose a great threat!”

The distressed traveler continued to rant at the Acting Grand Master, causing her to sigh.

Everything lately had been so stressful, even with the help of the Blonde Traveler. Currently they were with Lisa at The Temple of the Lion.

She genuinely, truly didn’t want to ask them to help with this.

So she decided to check it out on her own.

Standing from her desk, she walked around to shake the hand of the now silent traveler.

“Don’t worry. I’ll check it out and do what I can to help in the situation.”

She was met with many thanks from them as they shook her hand up and down with vigor.

Lord Barbatos she was tired…

Making sure she was all ready to go and had her trusty Aquila Favonia, and headed out.

Nodding at everyone she passed, she quickly made her way out of the city and towards the place of interest.

The place said to be the historical ground of her hero, Vanessa’s ascension to Celestia.

The Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero, Windrise.

Running her way over, it was very apparent that the Traveler was not kidding. She could see the large multicolored blob from where she was, though it wasn’t moving.

The thing had just recently appeared, but that didn’t change the fact that this was still dangerous.

Creeping towards the pile, she was met with the cacophonous sound of snores from monster and animal alike.

And she was now confused.

Never in Jean’s life had she ever seen a fox curled around a Sawachurl. Or a bird sleeping peacefully on a Lawachurl. Or boars cuddled up with Mita and Hilichurls.

Wait.

Boars cuddled up with… oh.

Sighing she readied her sword to attack and find where that boar was under all this, before a Frostarm Lawachurl shook itself awake. The sudden movement startled her and she was met with the blank carved eyes of its mask boring into hers.

The two stared for a bit, before it huffed and laid back down, cuddling into a Blazing Axe Mitachurl who was… well… cuddling it’s still-red-but-put-out axe.

Jean was bewildered at the interaction, standing from her attack position. Looking more, she took a risk.

She stepped forward.

She was met with whirrling of a Ruin Guard starting up.

If what she was thinking was true, then why was anything of Ruin here?! The boar hadn’t been known to wander into any of the shrines or otherwise where they may have been found!

She was met with a Guard turning to her. Again she readied for an attack.

Only to be met with small ‘beeps’ and ‘boops’.

It, like the Lawachurl only glanced at her, before lying back down.

Okay, what was going on?!

Now she just decided to walk through the large crowd, though through is a strong word. On was more like it.

And as she got closer to the large Oak tree, she noticed the dip right at its trunk. The pile only got larger, and when she got to the trunk, there was a large divet. Jumping down, she was met with the culprit she thought she’d meet.

The boar.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍬🍧🍦୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Being shaken awake was not what you wanted right now.

Groaning and huffing, you tired to push the hand off, only causing it or come back and push harder.

You continued to shove it off until it finally stopped. You sighed in relief and snuggled back into the warmth around you, falling back asleep.

At least, until you heard the scared cries of a Sawachurl.

Cracking your eyes open you immediately notice an angered(??) Jean standing over you and a Pyro Sawachurl. And she was directing that anger(???) towards the small churl.

Oh. Hell. No.

Jumping up you lightly but into her. Though your ‘light but’ sent her crashing into the large wall of bodies behind her.

Which started to wake up the large pile.

Animals and monsters grunted and groaned as Jean stood in shock at the ripple effect of your actions.

You were just watching a fox climb up the tree in interest.

The whole pile had woken up, standing confused at you and the only human. Jean was noticeable tense.

Shaking off the blanket, you snorted, grunted and oinked into the crowd. And after a moment, they began to disperse, much to Jean’s amazement.

“How did you… anyway. You can’t do… this anymore, alright? I don’t understand how you got these monsters and otherwise to not attack humans but I’ll have you know that you gave passing travelers quite the scare. You understand, right?” Jean asked.

You stood and gently nodded, still tired and slightly overwhelmed by past thoughts.

She sighed and made a decision.

Walking behind you - making you look at her with interest - she wrapped her hands around your midsection and picked you up, causing you to struggle.

Your distressed squeals filled the air as she began to explain. “I just - ngh - need to keep an eye on - hey watch it! - keep an eye on you - ow!” Her words were interrupted by your squirming and moving in her arms, but at her words you slowed.

… Right. The Stormterror situation.

She looked down with concern when she noticed you no longer struggling - she was expecting a fight the whole way - and was startled by the far off look in your eye.

Sucking it up, she began to carry you back to The Knights of Favonius Headquarters.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍬🍨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Seeing you in the office was not what Kaeya was expecting.

Having never met you personally but hearing stories around the city, seeing you in Jeans office sat beside her desk was a surreal experience.

The only reason he was here and not waiting for the Traveler was because he had been told the Jean had left, and with Lisa also not there, he was in charge for the moment.

Was he just a bit pissy that he was the only asked after they realized Lisa was gone?

… No comment.

But by the time he got back it didn’t matter because Jean and… you were already there.

He barely got a word in anyway because the door swung open with the Librarian and Traveler in tow.

“We’re back!~” Called Lisa. Aether stood behind her, red in the face. Kaeya wasn’t shocked with how… sultry she could be.

She was definitely an acquired taste, that was for sure.

But the moment of peace was broken by your loud squeals and oinks of distress, and the blue-coded man noticed you were looking at their new blonde friend.

And when you got up to start running, he made a split second decision.

He dove for you.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍯🍡🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

A sharp crack was heard when your hoof made contact with Kaeya’s face.

You stood startled for a moment, before making eye contact with Aether again and panicking all over again.

You hadn’t made your decision!

You thought you’d at least get until he finished the Main Story Quest to make your decision!

Your panicking and running form was confined to the room as Jean commanded the doors be shut and locked from the outside.

This choice was made clear after you made a b-line for the door and rammed into it. You stumbled a bit for a second before running around again.

Using any kind of Vision or otherwise was immediately out of the picture due to the confined space and bunches of important documents and books in the vicinity.

Jean also tried to make a grab out you, which worked for a second… until you infused your body with Electro, shocking the shit out of her.

Now they had no clue what to do.

Well wait… nevermind.

Trying to coral you was the best bet.

And that’s what they did. But that just made you more wild.

Didn’t they ever hear the saying “A cornered animal will fight twice as hard.”?

Because that’s exactly what happened.

You rammed into walls and windows, no longer squealing but screaming.

It sounded sickeningly human to them.

You rammed past them and into the desk, causing a sharp letter opener to fall onto you.

Slicing your skin and making you bleed.

Gold.

It shined as you collapsed to the floor. Shaking and crying. Tired and hungry.

Those who were awake - you knocked out Kaeya - stood in shock as you continued to cry.

Lisa silently traced the paint on your fur. It’s swirling patters that, now that she saw them and was analyzing them anyway, looked like the patterns that lined the statues of their Creator.

Jean finally thought about your odd relationship with the creatures of Teyvat. How they listened to you and became docile in your presence. How they payed attention to only you and never harmed humans when around you. You calmed them. Like the Creator.

Paimon - who watched the ordeal from a corner in fear - put together how the fauna blocked Aether from reaching you and how the wind seemed to boost you away from the duo. How Teyvat seemed to help you. Much like it would the creator.

Jean and Lisa turned to each other. They just thought you had a weird mutation or something of the sort! Maybe even a vision! Would be the first time an animal got given a vision but that’s what they chalked it up to!

But this… they thought of who they thought was the Creator who was sitting on their throne right now, enjoying the finer things in life.

They were… lying?

The person they had been worshipping for.. years now.. was FUCKING LYING?!?!

Jean dropped to her knees and Lisa shook.

A whispered murmur left Paimon’s lips which startled Aether.

“The Creator…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍩🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Waking up in the med bay of The Knights of Favonius Headquarters was not what you were expecting.

A bandage was wrapped around your midsection and a guard was stationed at your door.

The most shocking thing however, was that every Vision Holder in Mondstadt - including the Traveler - was in your room.

Even Albedo and Eula.

Shaking and coughing alerted them to your now awake status. Those who were seated now stood.

You noted the bandage on Kaeya’s chin and felt bad.

Though that quickly turned to confusion when everyone - again, including Aether - bowed.

Then that confusion turned to fear as they spoke in unison.

“Our humblest greetings, O’ great Creator.”

…Shit.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : And that is Pt. 3! The reason I’m gonna leave it like this is because I like open to interpretation stories, plus requests are still very open! So endings are entirely up to how you, my readers, want it to be! I have a hyperactive imagination, and love stories like this, and I want to see what you guys could come up with because I love you guys’s ideas! Thank you all who have joined me on this journey of Boar!Creator!

♡    ♡   ᕬ  ᕬ  ♡    ♡

+   ♡   （⌯'-'⌯)   ♡   +

┏━♡━ U U━♡━┓

♡  I love you guys! ♡

┗━♡━━━━♡━┛

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ Tag list: @genshin-impacts-me , @iacunaanonymoused, @resident-cryptid , @reemthetheme , @wichiwachi , @atsukawolfcat , @starlightdreaming, @time-shardz , @novarowan , @justyoureader , @undecidingfate , @neverending-animelove , @nishayuro o, @angstylittleb1tch , @soluzere , @mmeatt, @shirasakai, @kapitankarate, @leafanonsforest , @silverstarred , @lucienbarkbark

[grimm-writings]

HI IT'S EAVESDROP ANON YOU GAVE ME AN IDEA what if izutsumi and reader faced the succubi together, and izu sees that one of reader's succubi looks like chilchuck !! maybe she promises to keep it a secret, but also talks to reader about it? bonus points if izu and reader have a sort of unspoken mother/daughter relationship :')

to the grave

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader, izutsumi & reader

…tags! headcanon format, slight suggestive points, motherly reader

…wc! 623

…notes! give it up for One Whole Request Complete omfg. sorry for how short it is eavesdrop anon it’s been a rough few weeks for me 🫶 this is absolutely not my best work, but i did what i could!

“Come on… I know you always thought about how I’d look underneath you.”

Hearing the words come from his mouth renders you still.  It’s his face, his voice, yet completely wrong.

You had thought he had somehow recovered and came back to help you, but of course it isn’t as easy as it appeared.

You’re lucky to have Izutsumi with you.  If it weren’t for her pushing you out of the way to claw at the succubus, you probably would have dropped all pretence and leaned down to where you had Chilchuck – or the succubus, rather – pinned to the floor to kiss.

Still, you can’t miss the look of absolute disbelief she gives you.

Silence fills the air as the succubus is reduced to nothing more than slob on the floor.  You refuse to look at what, to you, is eerily similar to Chilchuck’s visage.  Disturbingly so.  For just a second, you consider reaching out to it (him?) again.  However, Izutsumi is quick to swat you away. “Hey, we have a mob incoming,” she tells you.  You are about to retort, interrogating if she even felt remorse for hurting someone that looks like your ally, but Izutsumi’s quick to interrupt.  “We’ll discuss this later.” She leaves your side.  Preparing your weapon with a deep breath, you prepare to fight off the waves of succubi ahead.

It’s only when you and Izutsumi assemble all the bodies of your allies does she finally speak up.

She really isn’t interested in the ‘hot gossip’ like Marcille would be.  In her own rough way, Izutsumi is more just expressing worry for you.

She doesn’t overall react to the fact it’s Chilchuck that you saw.  It was just sort of an “Oh!” before she remembered that this succubus will steal your life force.

“So, you just wanted to protect me?” At your conclusion, Izutsumi growls.  She faces away from you as she drags over a succubus to drain into Senshi’s pot. “When you put it like that,” she grumbles, “it makes it sound all virtuous and sappy.” You laugh, reaching over to pat Izutsumi’s head.  “I appreciate it very much, thank you Izutsumi.” Maybe it’s the fact she just had to confront this ‘mother’ the succubi took the form of, but the cat girl feels at ease when you show affection to her.  She sighs, giving up on the argument quicker than she normally would.

That is to say… she wouldn’t not tease you.

She’d hand you some of the milk, poured into a bowl.  “Here, for Chilchuck.”

Your face contorts in confusion.  “Why me?”

“So you can get all close and intimate and stuff.”

“Izutsumi.”

She wants to support you both!  She just… doesn’t really care.

The party has woken up, and by now Marcille has spoken up, “what were your succubi like?  Laios?  Oh, what about yours?” She turns to you, her green eyes glimmering with curiosity.  Cheeks and tip of her ears flushed, it’s hard to miss what exactly she’s on about. You sheepishly laugh anyway, your mind recalling the lowered eyelids, the words spoken to you by the succubus.  “I don’t know if I…” “Hey, don’t pressure her to say things like that.” Chilchuck’s voice cuts through the air, and makes you jump.  He’s at your side, shooing Marcille away.  “That stuff’s usually private for a reason.  If she wants to say, she will.” It doesn’t go unnoticed how Chilchuck doesn’t say a word when Marcille instead asks Laios for details on his succubus, though. Though you should be glad Izutsumi isn’t awake to see this.  If she was, she’d be rolling her eyes and bemoaning how nauseating the pining was to herself.  So, maybe taking things to the grave is for the better.

[skeletonpunching]

Buddy Daddies character bios

Kurusu Kazuki

28 years old, assassin

Lives with his colleague and buddy Rei, and looks after his daily needs. When working with Rei, his responsibilities are mostly arranging the contract, gathering intel in advance, and setting up the plan for execution. Excellent communication skills. Fond of women and gambling. Good at cooking and cleaning, and periodically chides Rei for his sloppy lifestyle. Was married in the past, and his wife was pregnant, but she died as a result of some shady business dealings.

Suwa Rei

25 years old, assassin

A man of few words. Usually doesn't even bat an eye when Kazuki comes staggering home. Outstanding physical ability; at the top of the field in hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship. There is a drastic contrast between his ON (professional) and OFF (private) modes - at home, he just shuts himself in and plays games. Born into a large mob family, he received special assassin training from his parents ever since his childhood. Unable to escape the conflicts in his family, he has no understanding of normal parent-child relationships.

Unasaka Miri

4 years old

A truly lively, innocent girl with absolutely no fear. Her father is a prominent human trafficker and a mafia boss. Her mother is the boss's lover. She showed up at a hotel in search of her father, and got caught up in a gunfight, but was rescued by Kazuki. An affectionate child, she calls Kazuki "Kazuki-papa", and Rei "Rei-papa".

Kugi Kyutaro

32 years old, cafe owner

A go-between who coordinates jobs for Kazuki and Rei. Usually puts on a friendly demeanour as the owner of the cafe “Mistletoe”. Keenly perceptive, and remarkably well-informed. Knows a lot about Kazuki and Rei's pasts, but for some reason, has never intervened, and keeps their relationship squarely within the limits of a business transaction. Generally acts like a kind older brother, but when a job goes wrong, will also readily discard all that to be completely businesslike. A reliable partner to Kazuki and Rei, but keeps them on their toes.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

His forever and ever

// Chapter One //

// Pairing //

-> (Ex-)Boyfriend!Mob!Bucky Barnes x (Ex-)Girlfriend!Reader

// Summary //

-> Moving on, living with your best friend and working in a part isn’t as easy as you thought but it’s not bad either. Some flirts here and there — you can be whoever you want, right?

// Wordcount //

-> 4.067 Words

// Warnings // Teen

-> angst, kind of stalking, comfort, best friend Steve, flirty John, mention of violence, jealousy,

// Authors Note //

-> The biggest thank you to the amazing @bucks-babe for proofreading and coming up with more details.

// Events //

-> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night | B1 | Cold as ice | @fandom-free-bingo

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

// Series Masterlist //

<- Prologue

It’s been a few weeks since you left the mansion, the day you left you went to your friend, Steve Rogers. You both know one another since you’re kids, you grew up together. He is like your older brother, he always takes care of you.

He is handsome too, short blond hair, mostly styled and he has a highly defined muscular body, but the best of him are his oversized hoodies. Or more like his fitting hoodies but for you they are way too big and you love wearing them, especially since you broke up with Bucky.

Steve’s hoodies give you some comfort, feeling like a big hug and sometimes you also sleep with them. It doesn’t feel so cold since Bucky isn’t there to cuddle you and Steve is working and cuddling with you on the couch — then his hoodies are the best solution.

Your best friend never judges you for the movies you watch, the ice cream and chocolate you eat or laughs about the amount of tissues you need during these movies or just when you feel like everything's coming up and you need to cry.

He would and has never judged you for that, mostly he is offering you more ice cream or chocolate or he pulls you close against him, caressing your back and telling you that it will be better in a bit, that everything is going to be fine at some point. And that a pretty girl like you will find someone who deserves your love, someone who will treat you like you deserve.

Sometimes you ask yourself why your best friend needs to be gay, it would be so much easier to marry him, you know him so well and even though you’re not even the slightest bit over Bucky the thought of marrying your gay best friend is a bit funny.

Bucky is on your mind whenever you’re not fully distracted, when you close your eyes you see him in front of you and when you go out and see a man with long brown hair you always feel like it’s him. He is following you everywhere and you try as best as you can to move on but your heart still aches.

Little do you know Bucky feels the exact same but he doesn’t show it like you do. The man you used to know is deep down under a surface of hate and power. He doesn’t want anyone — not even his friends — to call him Bucky any longer, he is James Barnes and people have to look up to him.

The main time of the day he is working, mostly from the early morning into the night, but when he walks back into his room, the man he tries to be the whole day breaks down, his heart shattered and he didn’t know that it’s even possible that he can break that much.

James Barnes is nothing but a broken man, missing the only woman he loves, he is nothing without you, he can’t even laugh without you being around to give him a reason to laugh. The light in his dark turned off, leaving a hole where he is still falling, he feels like there is no ground underneath him.

“James?” One of his men asks and he looks up, rolling his eyes annoyed. Bucky has dark shadows under his eyes, he doesn't get much sleep and he mostly cries himself to sleep — thinking he is pathetic, crying as a mobster but he can’t help when he thinks about you and especially not when he thinks about you moving on, maybe having another man who makes you happy.

“What? Can't you all just fuck off and do as you're told?” He asks, his voice dark but slightly shaking. Since the day you left the mansion to move on without him he isn't himself anymore. Or maybe he is but he is the darkest and coldest side of himself he can be, trying to forget everything, trying to move on but who would he be? Would he move on without you by his side?

How could he dare to love himself when he pushed the only person who means everything for him away like she doesn't mean anything for him. He looks at the man in front of you, his blue eyes a storm of emotion but only for the ones who have seen the real man behind that cold surface, who have seen the lovely and sweet man.

“You wanted us to keep you updated,” the other man says, slightly shifting from one foot to the other. James doesn't care, he already knows, of course he told his men to keep him updated about you but as much as he tries to focus on his other work he just can. So he spends most of the day following every step you do, finding out about the place you live now, the place you work or where you spent your nights with.

“And do you have news or do you want to waste my time by standing around instead of doing your work?” James asks, rolling his eyes once again, sighing deeply. He leans forward, placing his forearms on the desk he is sitting at, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his muscular tattooed arms. “Dickhead.”

The man who is still standing in the door of James' office looks at his boss with a slight shock in his widened eyes. He plays with his fingers, trying to calm his nervousness before he clears his throat, looking away from James. “S—She is going to the bar today, probably working but we heard that Steve is going there with her.”

Steve? James knows about your best friend, your gay best friend. He nods, scratching his beard. “Steve, huh? Describe him.”

The man nods, trying to remember the man he means. He inhales deeply, still nervous around the mobster and James' anger doesn't make it better at all. “Light brown hair, uhm tall and muscles, he had a girl close to him.”

“Oke, fuck off now.” The man turns immediately around, making his way as fast as possible out of James' office. The brown-haired mobster leans back in his chair, inhaling deeply while he tries to blink the tears away. It’s not your best friend youre going out with so who the fuck is that guy?

What does that Steve guy that he doesn’t have? Bucky could have given you the town, the whole world, but also the flowers you love so much, so what do you see in Steve? James brings his hand to his hair, sliding his fingers through his soft brown hair and when he closes his eyes for a moment it feels like it's your soft, smaller hand that combs his hair back. Your scent still lingering everywhere he goes and he is sure that it's just in his mind because not even your shirt you forgot is smelling like you anymore.

Sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is crashing on top of him, showing him over and over again that he messed up and that he should have been a better boyfriend for you. Maybe you would still live with him, maybe you would love him the way you used to and just maybe you would have your own little family now.

So just as he does so often he plans to look after you, making sure you're fine even though he never talked to you. James often went out to the place you were, looking for you and looking at you from a distance, he didn't want you to know that he is following you everywhere like a lost puppy — like the lost and broken puppy he is without your warmth and love. James gets up from his chair, making his way through his office to get ready for the evening to finally get you back, to get back the woman he loves more than anything else.

“Stevie, can we go now?” You ask, laughing when your best friend still struggles with his outfit. He walks out of his room, holding up two different shirts, and looks at you with a questioning gaze. With a playful roll of your eyes you look at the shirts he is holding in his hands until you point at the light blue one with the silver star on his shoulder. He nods with a soft smile, turning around and changes his shirt before he stands for the next problem of the evening.

“How do I want to style my hair? Do you think there are some hot guys, then I should look good too, maybe I can take one home later,” he giggles, standing in front of his mirror, fingers running to his short blond hair while he tries to style them a bit.

You chuckle, getting off the couch and walking into his room, standing behind him and he immediately gets on his knees so you can help him with his hair. A groan leaves your lip when you realize how easy he is going on his knees for you. “You always look handsome, Stevie. But how about we comb them back? Maybe they are going on their knees for you just as fast as you did for me right now.”

Steve laughs, letting his head fall back against your leg and smiles at you. His ocean blue eyes glowing slightly and for a moment you see Bucky kneeling in front of you. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and letting your mind run wild, imagine Bucky there with you, the way he looked at you with such adoration and love in his eyes. Whenever he looked at you his smile grew and his eyes lit up in the most beautiful blue, you always compared it with the ocean, especially during the sunset when the sun was kissing the ocean.

“Princess, hey, look at me,” Steve says, lifting his hand to bring it to your cheek, he wipes away the tears you didn't even know were covering your cheeks. You open your eyes, looking at your best friend, who smiles sadly at you.

He would love to take that pain away from you, to help you forget Bucky but he also knows that you're just not ready to do that. Your heart belongs to the mobster and it will probably forever.

“How about we let my hair be a bit messy?” Steve suggests and gets up before you can say anything. You nod, taking a step backwards and letting him get up. He holds his arms out for you to let him hug you and you smirk a bit when you let him pull you close against his chest. You can feel his defined muscles and his heart beating in a steady pace against his ribcage.

After the needed hug you make your way to the bar you're working at. Steve and you were often there to get you distracted after the break-up with Bucky. And you really appreciate it because just a week after going there the first time the boss of the bar asked you to work there as bartender and you immediately agreed.

It's a small bar with a little dance floor, the people who work there with you are really nice and also the customers are always nice. When they aren’t you can tell the bodyguards that you feel uncomfortable and they would immediately throw them out of the bar. Your boss made it clear “You feel uncomfortable? Let the bodyguards know and they will throw them out. Want my people to have fun at work, so never hesitate to say something.”

You’re already working for around half an hour and Steve is sitting in front of you, talking to you. You both always gossip over the boys in the bar, especially the ones Steve likes to look at and the ones who look at him. “Do you see that small guy there? The one with the dark hair.”

Steve nods in a direction and you chuckle when you see the man he is talking about. The other man is definitely that type of guy Steve would date. You smirk, leaning over so you're closer to Steve. “Catch him, tiger.”

Your best friend turns around, laughing about that nickname. You don't know when you called him that the first time but you describe his way to get a boy is always like a tiger is looking for his food, quiet and careful before he jumps on top of it.

When the smaller man walks closer to the two of you, your grin widens. You notice that man, you have seen him a few times here already and he was often looking at Steve then. You know his name and you also know his favorite drink, so you tap Steve's shoulder to get his attention, leaning closer once again.

“Stevie, he is coming here. I know his name and his favorite drink, do you want to impress him?” You ask, laughing when Steve’s eyes widen in excitement before he nods slightly. “His name is Anthony Stark but he prefers to be called Tony, and his drink is whiskey, so do you want to order two whiskeys for the two of you?”

You already prepare the drinks when Steve nods and turns lightly to the side to find Tony standing just a bit away from him. Your best friend gets off the chair, holding his hand out for Tony to take it and the smaller man does, smirking at the blond-haired man.

“Hi, handsome, how about a drink? Maybe a whiskey?” Steve asks, catching the smaller man off guard until he hears you giggle and looks at you, shaking his head. Tony then nods, letting go of Steve's hand and walking closer to the bar you're standing at, he takes a seat, waiting for Steve to do the same.

“Here you are, boys,” you say, smirking when both of them are already deep in their own talks, only nodding their heads as a thank you for the drink. You continue to work, making drinks and snacks for every one who asks for something.

When you have a short break, you stare at the people dancing in the middle of the bar, laughing and then you see Steve and Tony jumping and dancing around, waving at you. You wave back, laughing softly about their cuteness. You don’t notice the man who is sitting close to where you’re standing at the bar, his eyes roaming over your face and he can't help but need to smirk when he sees your eyes light up and your lips curl into such a beautiful smile.

“They look happy, have seen you know them? Such a cute couple,” the man says and you yelp in surprise, turning your head and feeling your cheeks heat up. He smirks at you, changing his seat to be closer to you and you giggle softly, when he places his arms on the surface of the table, his smirk grows when you prepare a drink for him.

“With or without lemon?” You ask, already letting a bit of lemon fall down into the glass filled with whiskey. Before he can answer he sees you adding the sour fruit and nodding, tilting his head to the side when you place the glass in front of him. “For free, because I'm in a good mood after seeing my best friend being so happy like that.”

The man chuckles, he then takes a sip of the drink and growls satisfied about the taste. “It's perfect, I'm John by the way, and who is the pretty girl I have the honor to talk to?” John asks and you giggle lightly, you had a lot of flirts since you have been working in the bar but he is definitely one of your favorites.

“I'm Y/N,” you tell him, looking straight into his blue eyes. Sometimes you wonder if you have a kind of weakness for men with blue eyes. But whoever stands in front of you can have the most beautiful eyes but they are nothing compared to Bucky’s, especially not to his ones when he was laughing.

It annoys you that he is always in your mind, stopping you from being happy completely but on the other side you're scared that when you would stop thinking about him that often you could forget about him. He hurt you, he broke promises and broke a part of you with that but no matter what he did you love him more than you ever thought you could love someone.

“Such a beautiful name. Are you alright, you're not looking as happy as you best friend and his date,” the blond haired man asks and you try to smile it away, the pain that is glistening in your eyes. “Do you know, I'm a stranger but I'm a cool stranger and sometimes it's easier to tell someone you don't know about your problems instead of someone you do know very well.”

He takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes still piercing in yours and you sigh softly, shaking your head. Maybe he is right, maybe you should tell him about Bucky, about your break-up. But when you do you better not call Bucky by his name, people like to react really weird when they know that you were together with a mobster. You make yourself a drink too, just lemonade with some ice before you place your hands on the counter in front of you, nodding your head.

“You could be right. I mean I don't know but who cares right?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to make it easier for you to talk about Bucky. John nods, waiting patiently for you to continue talking.

You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him longer than just these five minutes. His patient and his soft smirk across his face causes you to relax, you weren't able to do that in a while but you're glad you can relax around another man than Steve — or Bucky — especially right now. And a part of you is glad that he isn't just one who wants to flirt with you but is really interested in you and your feelings.

“My bo- my ex-boyfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago. He used to be so sweet and caring but at some point it felt like his work was the most important thing in his life. He promised to go out but he never kept that promise, he made it up to me— yeah, with really good sex. But it's not all when you never get the affection and love you crave and when your boyfriend thinks you're self-evident and willing to forgive him everything no matter how bad he hurts you,” you tell John, his smirks fades away and his eyes narrow slightly. He places his hands underneath his chin, nodding when you finished talking, giving himself a moment to process what you just said.

After a moment he clears his throat, he interlocks his fingers and places his chin on top of them once again, then he smirks softly at you. “He didn't know what he had when he treated you like that. Heartbreaks always hurt but I'm sure you will find someone who will bring back your smile, who will love you and where you’re the priority in his life,” John says and makes you blush.

Even though you blush and appreciate his words, whenever you hear those words you think about Bucky. The way he used to touch you, his lips so soft and warm against your skin, he knows you better than you do and the way he just looked at you. He always found the best solution to comfort you even though it was just a hug or kisses, he always had a solution for every feeling that wasn't happiness. You felt like you were the most adorable woman, even the day you moved out he looked at you like that, you can still see his teary, red eyes when you told him that you need to move on when you close your eyes.

When you open your mouth to say something you see someone walking toward the bar. You swallow thickly, recognizing the man who makes his way toward you. Only now you notice the way the people close around the bar whisper something to one another and stare into two directions, the one is toward you where the broad man is walking toward the bar you're standing behind and the direction is to the lounge in a corner of the bar.

John turns a bit around to look at the man who causes your eyes to widen. Your body starts to tremble and you don't even have to look to the lounge to know who is sitting there. You inhale deeply, maybe they just want a drink and nothing more, he doesn't know that you're working in the bar, right? But he always told you he will find you and he can find everyone and anything if he wants.

“H—Hi, do you want to have a drink? Maybe with some snacks?” You ask nicely, hands shaking when you want to turn around to grab two glasses. He didn't even pay attention to you, Thor — Bucky's Bodyguard — looks down at John who narrows his eyebrows, looking confused between you and the broad man in front of him.

“You should leave now,” Thor growls, nodding his head toward the door but John doesn't move. You feel really uncomfortable right now but you’re frozen to the ground, not able to walk a step or ask some of the bodyguards of the bar. And you're not even sure if they would throw the mobster and his man out of the bar.

“I don't think you can tell me what to do, and I’m having a good talk with this beautiful girl here, so please leave us alone,” John says, calmly when he turns back toward you. His eyes widen when he sees the terror in your eyes, and your body trembles while you stare at Thor. “Are you oke?”

You move your head slightly to look at John, nodding your head before you shake it and swallow thickly once again. Thor's hand snaps forward, grasping John's chin and turning his face with force back toward you before he forces John to tilt his head back, grabbing tight around his jaw while Thor leans closer. There are only inches away between both men's faces. “I told you to leave and I won't say that again. My boss doesn't like it when someone who isn’t him flirts with his girl.”

“You can tell Bucky that I'm not his girl anymore. I broke up so leave John alone,” you say, feeling a smooth tingling in your lower belly that Bucky still says that you belong to him. But at the same time you are kind of mad that he wants to decide who you’re dating, especially when he just walks into the bar and doesn’t even let you talk to John.

John wiggles out of Thor's grip, getting off the chair and walking a few steps backwards. The broad man looks at him, grinning lightly but before he can react John lifts his hand and hits Thor across his face. The bodyguard's eyes widen and he walks a few steps back, looking with shock and confusion in his eyes at the smaller man.

“I’m sorry, John,” you mumble, earning just a soft smile and a shake of his head from the man. You don’t need to apologize for something you didn’t do. Thor just wants to step closer toward John when his phone buzzes. He reads whatever the other person wrote before he furrows, stares at John, then looks at you and smirks.

“He doesn’t like it when you make him jealous, you know that,” he mumbles, turning around and heading back to the lounge. You follow him with your eyes and then you see HIM.

Bucky Barnes, the man who still owns your heart, the one and only man for you. But also the one who hurt you and the one who scares other men away from you, making sure there is no one you can date when it’s not him.

-> Chapter Two

-> Asks, ideas, small Drabble ideas are appreciated! So feel free to reach out in case you have ideas or questions.

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @somnorvos @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99

Event Taglist: @amathslutsguidetofandom @buck-buck-buckaroo @mcira @queenashen @iloveshawnieboi @keylimebeag @sapphirebarnes @delicatebarness @vicmc624 @scott-loki-barnes @ordelixx @mostlymarvelgirl @differenttyphoonwerewolf @julvrs @esposadomd @rebeccapineapple @metanoiablxxm

[ihavethedreamies]

Oh, Baby-Girl | Bang Chan

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.5k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Tall!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Mafia AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Mentions of Guns (Mob/Mafia type stuff), Bodyguard! Chan, Mob Boss Daughter! Reader, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Daddy Kink (it is Bang Chan after all), Unprotected Sex (Not Recommended), Big Dick! Chan

Author's Note: Oh no, what is this? I couldn't have possibly wrote this since I am working so diligently on packing. Well, as long as it's here…

There is just something about the choreography for Chk Chk Boom that did something to me, I'm sure many of you agree.

P.S. If you haven't read my stuff before, or much of it, you might not notice, but the rest of you have probably figured out I got a bit of a face-fucking fascination. Thanks for getting to know me.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Being a mob boss’s wife isn’t nearly as fun and glamorous as the movies and shows (and TikTok) make it out to be. However, being the mob boss's daughter? A bit of a different story. You were protected from the violence and crime, but still got to reap the rewards. Fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, a nice car, and a bodyguard as well. Despite never being able to see him, you knew you were well protected as you walked down the streets of New York, spending all of your papa's corrupt money. A few designer shopping bags hung in the crook of your elbow over your cropped jacket, fur lining the ends of the sleeves and lapels. Faux of course, you might be the daughter of a criminal, but you weren't a monster. The thin heels of your over-the-knee (also faux) leather boots clicked on the sidewalk as you tapped away on your phone with your thumb. People moved out of your way as you walked, you just had the aura of 'fuck around and find out'. The gum in your mouth smacked as you chewed, sneering at a child who didn't move out of the way fast enough. Your eye roll was hidden behind your Versace sunglasses, but your down-turned lip covered in dark red lipstick was still obvious. Your stiletto acrylic nails were the same dark red and clicked against your phone as you scrolled through your search results. Despite how you looked and dressed, you still preferred to shop sales. That gave you more bang for your buck, since your father did limit your money some. As you passed an overly full trash can, you plucked the gum from your mouth and onto the pile. It had lost all its flavor… Approaching the next store, you were about to enter when you suddenly felt something instinctual rise up in you. You halted, people scurrying around you still, and with your natural height paired with six-inch pumps, you still stood a head above a lot of the passersby. You felt vulnerable for some reason and huffed in frustration, shoving the door open to the boutique you had stopped in front of. It wasn't your original destination, but you instantly felt safer being inside. It wasn't anywhere close to the first time your ingrained sense of danger had kicked in, and it wouldn't be the last. You know there was at least one bodyguard tailing you even if you never saw him, but that didn't mean the shelter of a store wasn't welcome.

"Welcome." One of the employees calling out snapped you out of your trance, having been looking out the window at the street. You turned and gave her a forced smile and removed your sunglasses. Deciding to look around while you were in the shop, you admired some of the items, but none of them were up to your standard, but that lingering feeling…lingered. Picking up a pair of shoes to look over, you looked out the window more, trying to see if you could pick out anyone lurking outside. Nope. Pressing your lips together, you sighed and moved to leave. Stepping back onto the street, you looked around again, trying to be subtle, almost like you were looking for a cab. Still not seeing anything that stuck out, you moved on and toward your actual destination. You were hit with an even greater sense of doom as you heard the screech of car tires in the distance and you spun around to see a black SUV hurdling down the street, unusually empty for New York. Like it was in slow motion, as the vehicle approached, the window rolled down and a gloved hand stuck out, a Glock in his hand.

"Shit!" You moved to duck behind a parked sedan, and you yelped when your heel snapped as you dove for cover. Your ankle twisted and your tights ripped, but you got behind the vehicle as you heard the gunshots. People around you screamed, and you scrambled to hit the emergency button on your phone, but… It was shattered. It must have hit the sidewalk harder than you did.

"Fuck!" You shoved the device into your purse, and you watched as people ran and screamed. Getting up just enough to peer through the blown-out window of the car you hid behind, your ankle protested, and you fell back down, catching yourself with your hand.

"Did you get her?" You heard a gruff voice shout followed by, "No!" Then, through the running pedestrians, a huge man appeared, a gun in his hand. He was right down the sidewalk, and you were right in view. Before you even had the chance to pray, a figure stepped between you and the assailant. You couldn't see since he was in your way, but you heard his gun go off and watched the goon fall from between the legs of your savior. He had to have been the bodyguard that your father told you was constantly at your tail. The man groaned and cursed, the same SUV coming to help haul him away, clutching as his knee. Sirens grew closer and you tried to get up, pushing on your scraped hand. You winced again, at least three of your nails on that hand were broken, a fourth cracked, and your heel was ruined. It would have been way too awkward to try and stand with just one pump, so you took off your other one.

"Here." The man who saved you had an accent, you couldn't quite place it in the moment. His leather-gloved hands grabbed your forearms and he more or less yanked you up. When you stood before him, he was…short. About an inch or two shorter than you…with your heels off. He was also really fucking hot. It was clear he was a bit shocked at the height difference as well since he had never been so close to you. Was he the guy always guarding you? You guessed it didn't matter if he was shorter if he was protecting you from afar. He shoved his pistol in the back of his pants, and you watched his white t-shirt struggle across his muscular chest as he did so.

"You okay, love?" Australian, it was definitely an Australian accent. And it was also really fucking hot.

"Y-Yes." You finally answered and you jerked to grab your bags, but he was grabbing them along with your purse before you could get close.

"Can you walk?" He nodded at your bare feet, and you stood on one of them, rolling your twisted ankle to test it. Putting weight back on it, "I can manage." He then started to lead you into the nearest alley as the police cruisers grew closer. At least you had stockings on as you meandered through the not exactly clean back alleys, and he finally brought you to another big black SUV parked behind some bakery.

"Here." He opened the passenger door, and you climbed in as he threw your bags in the back. You sat, shaking still as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Sh-should I be up front?" Your voice was also shaking still, and he started the vehicle.

"The windows are tinted, but we'll be quick."

"Quick? Where are we going?" Your father's building was a good twenty minutes away, let alone the house on the outskirts of the city.

"Closest place is mine."

"Y-you are my bodyguard, right?" You just realized that even though he saved you, that didn't mean it was his job. The man huffed and wrangled his leather jacket off, tossing it in the back as well. The clean lines of your father's crest were tattooed into his bicep, and you slumped in the seat.

"What's your name?"

"Chan."

"Just Chan?"

"Yep." It seemed he had been waiting for you to buckle up, because he reached around you to grab the still unfastened belt, doing it for you. He smelled really fucking good too and your head swam. The spike of adrenaline seemed to get all parts of your body worked up, but you forced the wave of arousal down. It was not the time nor place for any of that. The ride to his place was quiet, thankfully, because if he talked more, you would be a goner. Trying not to be obvious, you would look to the side to stare at him. His side profile was immaculate, strong nose and jaw line, full lips.

"So…are you…?" You didn't know how to word your question without sounding rude.

"Korean." He knew where you were going, and you let out a small 'ah' of understanding. Your father didn't get along with the Yakuza nor the Chinese mafia, so Korean made sense. Korean-Australian at that…right?

"Australia?" You wanted to make sure, not great at picking out the different British-origin accents.

"Yep."

"Am I annoying you?" He sagged at your question and shook his head.

"No, love, just trying to keep an eye out." He pointedly looked in the rear-view mirror and you let out a quiet apology. The silence made since then.

"Put your sunglasses on." Chan nodded at the item in your hand, and you did so, pointedly looking out the window as he pulled up to the security gate of his building's parking garage. Getting in without any comments from the guard, he parked in what you assumed was his designated spot. The guard got out and opened your door for you, giving you his hand for assistance. You grunted when you landed wrong on your still upset angle and he caught you, making your chest press to his.

"S-sorry." You flinched back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he smiled gently.

"It's okay, Miss (Y/N)." Fuck, if you're already attracted to a guy with an accent, don't EVER let him say your name. As he was out of view to get your bags you mouthed an exaggerated 'oh my god' and quickly shut your mouth when he shut the back door. He led you toward the entrance door for the building, staying slow to accommodate your slight limp. Getting in the elevator, you still kept your sunglasses on just in case, though the building seemed pretty secure. That didn't mean the security watching the cameras were always completely trustworthy though. Enough money can convince most people of anything. You exhaled tiredly as you stopped by his door and Chan pressed the code into the number pad and it pinged. He held the front door open for you and you entered, hobbling down the entry hall. It was a nice place and you wondered how much your father paid him to watch you nearly 24/7. Or…

"So, are you my guard a lot?"

"During the day." So, yes.

"How long?"

"Hm…about three years."

"Ah." That was a pretty long time. So, he probably knew a lot about you, and you had never seen him before in your life.

"Oh! I need to call papa…" You rummaged through your purse that he had set on the coffee table. As you sat on the couch, you then remembered that your phone was broken.

"I'll handle it, love." Chan set your shopping bags and your shoes down as well and you had totally forgotten about your heels. When did he grab them too?

"I need to call a few others as well, if you want something to eat you can rummage through the kitchen." He nodded toward the other room behind where you sat and you nodded as he went down the other hallway, deeper into the apartment. You took the chance to look around and you wondered if he was ever there. Well, if he watched you all day for three years, he probably wasn't. The decoration was simple, almost like it was a hotel room rather than a living space, but it was nice. Maybe his bedroom was more personal? Hearing his muffled voice from further in, you stood and meandered to the kitchen like he suggested. Opening the fridge, there was more than you expected since the rest of the apartment was barren. Nothing stuck out though, but you noticed an object was in the oven despite it being off. You knew exactly what it was. Opening the oven, you grabbed the pizza box and opened it as your mouth watered. You weren't sure if the pizza was your favorite because you had it all the time (it was a front for your father's shenanigans) or if you genuinely liked it. Holding the day-old slice, you chewed absentmindedly, snooping through the rest of Chan's kitchen. He had a little wine display on the counter, and you pulled one of the bottles out to look at the label. You snorted, of course he had your family's vintage. Maybe he got a discount? At least you knew you liked it. Holding the slice in your mouth as you reached for a wine glass in the cupboard, you had to get on your tip toes to reach one. Could he normally reach them? There was dust on the glass, and you pondered if he ever used them.

"Sorry I don't use those glasses often." His voice startled you, but you kept a firm grip on the glass then set it down.

"That's fine… Do you just…drink from it?" You easily and expertly pulled the cork out with your bare hands since it was sticking out enough and he blinked at the ease with which you did so. Just because you were the daughter of a mob boss and didn't fight yourself, didn't mean you weren't strong. Your father made sure if it came to it, you could punch a guy's teeth out just as well as any bodyguard. That didn't help with guns, mind you.

"Uh, no," he huffed an airy laugh, it was actually kind of cute, "I just use a normal glass." He went to the cupboard next to the one you had been in and grabbed a square-shaped cup that looked like it was more for whiskey than wine.

"Are you doing okay, love?" He leaned against the counter as you poured yourself a glass after giving him some.

"I guess. My ankle kind of hurts still." You easily balanced on one leg, lifting the other foot to roll the joint around, testing its pain level.

"Just because I've never met you face to face doesn't mean I don't know you. Are you okay?" He pressed and you flinched to look at him. It wasn't…creepy perse, just, odd. You sighed, taking a sip, your hand still shaking a bit.

"Y-yeah. I mean, I've been around guns and stuff, but… I myself have never been shot at, you know?"

"I do, actually." He smiled cheekily and you sighed in mock annoyance.

"Well, it’s a little unfair that you seem to know me so well and I have no knowledge of you." You walked around the island and back toward the living room, sitting in relief on the couch. You crossed your leg over the other, injured ankle dangling in the air. Chan sat down next to you, leg up on the cushion so he could face you, toned arm resting on the back of the sofa. You felt his eyes linger on your tight-clad legs, your leather short-shorts showing most of your thighs. His gaze stopped at the tear in the supposedly tear-proof pantyhose, then snapped his head up like he just got startled awake. The man knew you knew he was ogling your legs and the tips of ears turned red as he cleared his throat. How was such a handsome man so cute?

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you get to be my bodyguard?"

"I had no mafia ties before. I guess that was a good thing. I was more or less scouted to be a bodyguard when I was a bouncer at some penthouse night club. It seems some of your dad's guys saw I was good, and I got offered way more money than any other job. They doubled it when I took the spot as your personal bodyguard."

"I see. Where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"I started at the shooting range when I was in college with my friends. I got better through work and your father made sure I was an expert before he put his baby girl's life in my hands."

"Hm, you obviously don't know me that well." You picked on a very small detail, wondering if he would know what it was.

"Hm, not his baby girl, his little kitten."

"Oh, maybe you do know me well then?"

"Quiz me, baby-girl." The way he said it was so different than two seconds prior. His tone deepened with it and a smug look settled casually on his face. You couldn't help but watch his throat move as he swallowed a sip of wine and you took a sip yourself, then set the glass down.

"What is my favorite color?"

"Red. Something else."

"Brand?"

"Prada. Something real (Y/N)." Chan leaned further into the cushion. You were right at eye level, and you wondered…

"Does it bother you I'm taller?" You changed the subject so fast he nearly got whiplash. You genuinely were curious. You were tall for a woman anyway, let alone when you did wear heels, and some guys didn't care for it.

"Height doesn't play into what matters, baby-girl." His slightly cryptic answer intrigued you, but you moved back to the previous topic.

"What's my favorite book and why?" He sighed, huffing a laugh at your shift back.

"You tell people it's 1984 because of the psychological implications behind it, but your favorite is actually Dragon Rider because it got you into fantasy. You read it eight times in elementary school, and you have a signed copy." Chan grinned at your bewildered expression. Once again, in any other situation that would be creepy as hell that he knew, but three years of observation would key him in.

"Okay, smart guy," you picked your glass back up, slinging your legs up under you on the couch, facing him.

"Why do I currently not have a boyfriend?" That was something you couldn't just say, it had to be observed.

"You hate romance. Flowers, chocolates, a fancy meal. You hate it, but because you like fancy clothes and jewelry, men think you lean that way. You'd prefer a movie date at home or going horseback riding." Shit, that was a little creepy. More so that he knew you so well, it was like he could see into your head, that kind of creepy. Not that he was a creep. Chan nearly cackled as he giggled at your bewildered expression, and you whined. Why was he that cute?

"Why are you that cute?" You accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud and you immediately froze, since he did too.

"I'm cute?" He managed to get out after you both sputtered for a few seconds.

"W-well, I mean-"

"I'm cute?" The simple inflection change completely shifted the meaning of his question.

"You think I'm cute?" You whispered and he set his own glass down, then took yours so he could do the same. He shifted down the cushion, so his knee touched yours. Chan leaned in and you clenched your jaw to remain strong. Don't kiss him, don't kiss him, don't kiss him.

"Baby-girl, if I didn't do you really think I would still be watching you ten hours a day, every day?" Oh. That was a good point. Chan crooked a brow, waiting for an answer or something, don't kiss him.

"You want to kiss me that bad?" he finally asked, and you jolted back, eyes leaving his mouth and shooting up to his eyes.

"What?! No?" Your voice cracked and he pressed his pretty lips together, so he didn't laugh at you.

"So, you don't want me to?"

"I never said that-" He caught you. Literally. You had tried to reel back so you could get off the couch, but his hand grabbed your wrist. It was gentle, but tight enough that he could yank you back to him, and he swallowed the squeak he pulled out of you. Your body melted, all the tension from the earlier attack as well as the sexual kind that had been quickly taking your body over, left. The kiss grew from a low heat to a full inferno rapidly. Your jacket was shed, then your necklaces and bracelets, and as his tongue crept into your mouth, you clawed at his shirt. Your fingers unevenly scratched at his skin through the fabric since about half of them were broken. You both panted when he pulled back. He slightly shoved you down so your back hit the cushion and he sat up more on his knees and you watched with glee as his shirt came off. Fucking hell, he was perfect.

"Oh my god." You gasped and his smug grin twitched briefly in bashfulness, but he composed himself.

"Let me see you, baby-girl." He easily held himself up over you as his body nestled above yours, his strong jean-clad thigh jammed between your mostly bare legs. He kissed you again as his fingers easily plucked the buttons of your shirt open and he pulled you up by the shirt. As you sat up, you yanked the shirt out of where it was tucked into your shorts and then tossed it away before falling back. The micro-fiber was a much nicer feeling than what could have been cold leather. You shivered when his calloused hands ran over the smooth and soft skin of your sides and tummy. His nose ran over your collar bone, and he nuzzled the swell of your breasts where they sat in your plain nude bra. If you knew you were going to get fucked that night, you would have worn something much sexier.

"Don't worry, it's coming off anyway." It was like he could read your mind and you yiped in shock as he unfastened the front latch so quickly it was like he did it telepathically.

"You wear them with a front latch because you can't reach around your back from when you hurt your shoulder in middle school." He really did know you well. You just blinked but then Chan forced a mewl from you as his strong thigh pressed hard into your covered mound.

"Focus, baby-girl." His voice had lowered even further, and it made you shiver. Strong hands gripped your ass over your shorts, pulling your hips to grind on his leg as his mouth met yours again. You whimpered through the kiss, goosebumps raising on your skin as the button of your shorts easily slipped open, the zipper was pulled down, and then your pants were soaring through the air somewhere you cared not.

"These are already torn…" He justified as he grabbed the hem of your pantyhose and easily ripped them to literal shreds. Chan let the remnants fall to the floor and you felt your slick through your panties against your bare thighs. At least your panties were a cute lacey purple and not just plain nude.

"You're absolutely stunning." He praised, hand running up your thigh so he could hitch it against his hip. Chan rolled his hips, and you squealed at the large bulge in his pants pressing to your barely covered cunt. If he felt that big through jeans, what the hell was he hiding? He chuckled where your hips jumped to get another brush of friction, reaching into his back pocket. As he pulled the foil package from his pants you snatched it from him.

"Planning this?" You tried to tease him, but his gaze darkened.

"Oh, baby-girl, I've wanted to fuck you for two years now." The man declared. You turned the packet over to look at the label, making a mental note at the size, then you looked at him coyly.

"You clean?"

"Yes?"

"Good." You tossed it behind your shoulder, then grabbed his belt loop, pulling him to you as you sat up. You smirked up at him, head tipped back so you could look him in the eye.

"Can you really feel me like you want through a rubber?" He swallowed hard, all that confidence from before seemingly to leave, then rushed back.

"Not even fucking close." He admitted, pushing you back down and starting to lay open mouth kisses against your neck. He sucked hard, his teeth nibbling the flesh and you shuddered with a delighted whine.

"We can put my pill to the test." You teased and he groaned, kissing down your chest. His mouth sealed over your nipple as he wrestled his jeans off and you exhaled in bliss as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the fabric still covering them.

"You care about these?" He snapped the hem of the undergarment. You did, but you really wanted to watch him tear them up more.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and the lace ripped and joined your other items of clothing somewhere behind him. You yelped when his hands grabbed your waist and shoved you up the sectional, so he had room to lay on his stomach. Before you got the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows, his tongue ran up the folds of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit.

"Fuck!" You tossed your head back, body twitching as he decided to bury his tongue inside you. He groaned at your taste, hands roughly grabbing the backs of your thighs. He rolled you back, holding your legs apart and up as he mouthed at you like a man starved. Your little mewls and squeaks flew out between heaving breaths, and you felt his grip tighten, knowing he would leave bruises. When he let go of your left leg, he made sure you rested it on the back of the couch, and then his finger pressed into your twitching cunt.

"You’re drippin’." He chuckled, then added another finger and your whole body seized. Expertly, he crooked his fingers up, the ends pressing against your cervix and with a final lick to your clit, you came. He eagerly helped you ride out your high, then cleaned his fingers off with his tongue as you panted for air. Your forearm was slung over your eyes as you came back to earth, and you only moved your arm to watch as he removed his final garment. You hadn't even got a chance to look at him in just his boxers, but there he stood in absolute glory. His cock stood proud, arching up toward his toned stomach and you heaved yourself up so you could see him better.

"Oh~" You giggled, wrapping your fingers around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. You bit your lip, eyes meeting his giddily, then you swallowed the tip, whining at salt of his pre.

"(Y/N), baby-girl~" He tossed his head back as you took more of him into your mouth. He was thick, your jaw protesting a bit, and you still had a good few inches to go when the head hit the back of your throat. Your eyes flicked to his again, and you made sure to watch his face and you kept going, only gagging slightly as your nose pressed to his groin.

"Oh, fuck." He nearly whimpered, hands gripping your hair, then loosened his grip. He groaned as you bobbed your head, breath harshly moving through your nose as his cock filled and left your throat. His hips jumped and the sudden movement made you gag a bit harder, but it made your cunt clench as well.

"Shit, sorry!" He panicked, but you pulled off slowly, giving him your best boba eyes.

"Wanna keep going?" You hoped your intention was clear and he didn't even hesitate. The hands still in your hair pulled you back onto his cock and you sat like a good girl as the fat head of Chan's dick battered your throat. Your eyes rolled back, loving not just his rough movements, but the pretty noises leaving his mouth.

"Hm, you want me to cum down your throat, baby-girl?" Chan's hips jerked unevenly, and you could feel his dick pulse on your tongue. You hummed and nearly wiggled with glee as he pressed your nose hard against his lower stomach and painted your throat white. You eagerly swallowed each pump and drop, and he mumbled something about wondering why he waited so long to have you. Only half-softened, he pulled out of your mouth, and you licked the rest off his release of your lips. You didn't even get the chance to give him a smug grin before you were flipped over onto your stomach, and he heaved your hips up.

"Tell me if I do something wrong." His comment seemed odd, but it seemed he really did know you well. You gasped a moan as his hand smacked your ass, the skin stinging, and he could see your empty cunt clench around nothing.

"You want daddy's cock?" His thumb ran through the slick of your folds, and you trembled. There was a very specific reason you only called your father 'papa'. You only wished you had found Chan sooner to actually put it into practice.

"Fuck, yes, daddy!" You squealed in joy, hiccupping when his other hand slapped your other ass cheek.

"Get ready, then baby-girl." You were ready mentally, but your pussy wasn't. Your cunt burned as he buried his fat cock into you with one thrust. You reveled in the sting, craved it, and your already tight walls clenched around him hard. Even if he wasn't fucking you from behind, you were sure he was long enough to fill you completely, the tip nestled tight against your cervix.

"Fucking hell." You sighed, nails digging into the thick fabric of the couch. He let you get used to the stretch, but you just wanted him to move, you were even getting antsy.

"Move, please." Your wiggled were stopped with a hard spank. You yelped.

"Daddy, please." You corrected and he ran his thumb over the reddening skin.

"Sure thing, love." Your cunt tried desperately to keep his cock inside, and a few drops of your wet landed on the couch. Your breath left you when his hips snapped, fucking back into you hard and fast, his pace not letting you catch it back. He loved the little mewls and grunts he was literally fucking out of you. Your cheek was pressed to the cushion, drool already pooling from the corner of your mouth. He had waited too long to take you, he decided, and he was going to make up for the lost time.

"Ch-chan, fuck!" Your orgasm was cresting fast, a familiar burn rising with your orgasm. Spank!

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna-" Your breath shuddered as your orgasm hit and he slowed his pace some, grinding his cock into you as your pussy spasmed.

"Oh, baby-girl~!" He groaned as your cunt squirted even more slick onto his groin and balls, even both of your thighs. You slumped after what seemed like minutes and heaved for air, but he wasn't anywhere close to done. Your near scream as he started to pummel his hips against your ass again went straight to his head. He leaned over you, hands near your shoulders. Normally, he was used to leaning over a girl quite a bit, but his hands fell to the sides of your shoulders rather than your head, your body just as long as his, legs even longer. Despite the small height difference (in your favor), you felt small under him, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles, and an even thicker cock. The hard and deep thrusts turned shallow, his dick barely leaving your cunt but battering it at the same time, bringing you up to and over another orgasm fast.

"So deep, daddy~" You nearly cheered, and he found your weakness. He pressed his hips into yours, barely moving them and you gasped, a fourth orgasm already approaching. He felt your walls clench harder and you felt your pussy start to sting, but you needed to fall apart again. It was too much for him then, your raw heat and gummy walls begging him to pump you full.

"Gotta test that pill." He mumbled, then groaned as he finally fell over as well. The sticky heat of his cum filling you, so much it spurted out from around where your bodies met, pushed you over the edge as well. Your head swam from the force of your final orgasm, stars dotting your vision. As he panted for air over you, he watched your eyes flutter; you were wiped out.

"I'll let you sleep over, baby-girl. Gotta rest for when I fuck you stupid tomorrow morning."

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[theemporium]

💚14 with luke hughes for the 10k celly pls! (congrats!!)

btw i did put this in the mob au!! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

10. “I don’t like them all looking at you."

series masterlist

.

Luke Hughes didn’t consider you to be a particularly possessive person. 

Then again, he was also completely oblivious to his feelings for you being requited for months so maybe he wasn’t the best person to make judgements. 

But even so, he never considered you to be possessive in the way he had seen other people in his life. He had seen Jack’s hot streak of jealousy when it came to Doc, the way the boy got clingy and pouty and a bit of a brat when he didn’t have her full attention. He knew Rogue was not someone to mess with when it came to Nico, and he had seen her put people in their place many times because of it. He had even seen it in John, despite how quiet and reserved the boy seemed. 

He never once thought you would be like that, not really. 

Not in this way. 

Your relationship wasn’t exactly something either of you advertised, considering both of you were fairly private people, even to those close to you. Though, it would only take someone with a pair of eyes to see how the two of you looked at each other, it wasn’t something you shoved in people’s faces. 

Hence why Luke tried to keep his ‘googly heart eyes’ (as Jack refers to them) to a minimum as he made his way into the club. 

“Back again?” 

Luke gave the older woman behind the bar a polite smile. “Hi, Georgia.”

“Has Nico sent you again?” Georgia asked, a knowing look in her eyes as she threw the dishcloth over her shoulder. “Or have you come to distract my girls again?”

“Boss wanted some information from a client the other night,” Luke said, which was not a lie. He had actually been sent down to the club for a reason. It was just a perk he got to see you during your shift. “Not here to be a bother.” 

“Uh huh,” she hummed, nodding over his shoulder. “Tell that to them.”

Luke turned his head, finding a few of the dancers lingering by the stage. It was still an hour or so before the club opened, meaning the place was empty except for the workers. Though, Luke just gave the scantily clad girls an awkward wave before turning back to Georgia. 

“You’re like fresh meat to them,” Georgia snorted. “They smell your fear.” 

“I’m not scared of them,” Luke retorted, though his laugh was a little strained. “I just—” 

“I’ve got him from here, Georgia.” 

He barely got a chance to say goodbye to the woman when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, tugging him in the direction of the changing rooms at the back of the club. However, his instinct to pull away completely washed away when he saw you pulling him away from the main area of the club, your brows furrowed and lips turned downwards. 

Luke frowned. “Are you okay—woah!”

He stumbled into your room, looking back at you with wide eyes as you closed the door. He paused for a moment, just watching you as you locked the door before letting out a heavy sigh and turning to him. You wasted no time closing the distance between you, winding your arms around his middle as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Star, baby,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you. “Are you okay? What’s happened? Was it—” 

“I don’t like them all looking at you,” you mumbled against his shirt as your hold on him tightened. 

“Oh,” Luke paused for a moment before a small grin grew on his face. “You’re jealous?” 

You lifted your head to narrow your eyes at him. “They are vultures.” 

“Uh huh,” he grinned down at you, lifting his hands to cup your face. “Well, unlucky for them, I’m here to see my favourite dancer.”

You raised your brows. “Just your favourite dancer?” 

“She happens to be my girlfriend too,” he added with a casual shrug, something warming in his chest at your smile. He leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.” 

“No, really, it’s cute. You look murderous—”

“I’ll murder you.” 

“And you’ll look cute when you do it.”

.

[ramblebramblefun]

"Okay," Kacchan drawls. "And we care about what shitty extras have to say, because?"

Izuku laughs. That's such a- such a Kacchan thing to say, and so's the raised eyebrow and the whole look he's giving Izuku now, a real Kacchan sort of expression and fuck, Izuku might be a little in love with him.

Once Izuku's starts laughing, he can't stop. Kacchan gives him a poke in the arm, hard, when hysteria works its way into the sound.

"Oi." Kacchan says, like he's annoyed when he's actually not.

A lot of people, particularly the press, are very bad at telling the difference, which is how Izuku wound up on this roof in the first place, seething on Kacchan's behalf and plotting social media revenge.

Izuku's been getting good at that, lately. At least one particularly egregious reporter now lives in fear of Deku's enormous fanbase. As he should!

Izuku's kinda scared of them, too.

He refuses to feel bad about it though. Who the hell talks about girls like that, anyway?! Hopefully Momo feels better soon, now that that article and also that guy's entire career have been torn to shreds.

Mob mentality is a hell of a thing.

Izuku probably needs to work on his subtlety. He doesn't need to galvanise the entire internet every time, just enough of it to get the job done. He thinks he got the balance right this time, though. He hit post just as Kacchan came to check on him and also confiscate Izuku's phone, so he won't know for sure until Kacchan deigns to give it back.

"Oi." Kacchan says, again, and, oh, he's waving one of his very dangerous hands in front of Izuku's face.

Izuku grins sheepishly.

"Kacchan?"

Kacchan gives him a really good side-eye.

Izuku struggles to maintain his not-at-all suspicious facial expression. Kacchan looks resigned.

"Fuckin' nerd," he mumbles, mostly to himself.

Then he grabs Izuku's hand and starts dragging him back inside the building, where there will hopefully be witnesses to Izuku's impending demise, and also lunch, because now that he thinks about it he's really hungry and he doesn't want to die on an empty stomach and wow, Kacchan's hand is warm, and sweaty, but that's just how Kacchan's hands are, and Izuku is going to combust and-

"You're an idiot," Kacchan says, throwing Izuku's phone at Ochako, who is lying in wait for some reason.

"Check what he did and don't tell me about it." Kacchan calls back over his shoulder.

Ochako salutes at their retreating backs, already unlocking Izuku's phone.

Ah.

Izuku is going to get so much shit for that later.

And Kacchan is still holding Izuku's hand, pulling him down all the stairs instead of taking the elevator, past a great many curious eyes because everyone has decided to stand outside their doors and gawk today for some reason but Kacchan doesn't let go and Izuku is going to die.

After lunch!

Izuku will die after lunch, which is "leftovers" from Kacchan's lunch, which Kacchan stands and watches him eat, like he thinks Izuku is going to go somewhere and do something nefarious if he turns his back.

To be fair, Izuku has done that.

A lot.

Izuku is not nearly as much of an angel as his Deku persona is believed to be, which Kacchan knows, intimately, with prejudice.

That, Izuku does feel bad about. The whole vigilante thing, in hindsight, had been a terrible idea. He got a lot done, but he also hurt a lot of people, Kacchan extremely included.

Izuku's not going anywhere now, though.

He doesn't need to.

He just needs someone to lend him their phone...

[peapodsinspace]

sorry for not posting art for a minute, but I’ve been working on an au! here’s

Mob Sailor 100

aka mob psycho x sailor moon

[Image ID in alt text]

I just started watching sailor moon so I doubt this is very accurate, but it’s not really supposed to be!

In this au psychic powers still exist, but they just aren’t as strong on their own! But these gems basically can make them stronger and easier to use!

And you get the gems from a spirit usually, but I imagine you may be able to just stumble across them if you’re lucky

Not all ESPers can use their powers without transforming, but some can! Either way the gems do strengthen powers

Now, I’m gonna do a lil explanation / extra thing/ for all of them under the cut! Just thoughts while designing + story bits (if there’s even a story)

First up: Mob!

I imagine that when mob was very young, he came across / was given one of those gem thingies so he has been able to transform for a very long time!

From what I understand, in sailor moon the girls are destined to be? Anyway, for this au there are people that are basically predisposed to becoming sailors, just like how ESPers are. You just need one of the gems to actually be able to transform.

The plot is basically the same as the normal mob psycho plot, so mob goes to Reigen looking for someone to talk to & becomes his student!

Ritsu

Now, since mob has been able to transform basically all of his life and only certain people can actually become sailors, it makes sense that Ritsu would be one, too! And he gets the gem from dimple. It’s just like when he awakened his powers in canon! Also, Dimple is basically like Luna in this au.

On a design note, I wanted to make him look similar to mob but still contrast him well. Partially because they’re brothers, but also cus they wear the same uniform, so their designs would be similar anyway.

Teru

Like mob, Teru also got a gem from a young age! His story is basically the same as his canon one too.

Fun fact: he likes his outfit much more than everyone else likes theirs! Most of them feel at least a little silly after doing a cutesy transformation, but Teru thinks it fits his energy

As far as design notes go, I don’t have much to say other than I just noticed a coloring error on his coat, and his pants are supposed to have pinstripes

Shou

Now, this is where it starts getting a little different from canon stories! Shou’s father found several gems, so he took one for himself and saved the others for later. He gave one to shou and some of the other ESPers under his control!

Shou is “sailor cinnamon”, because all of the villains are named sweet things instead of savory/ spicy things! It’s one of the reasons Shou calls himself “sailor hot cinnamon” instead! It’s to try and distance himself from his father / his father’s plot, and also because being called cinnamon makes him feel silly.

Design notes: the lace came to me in a vision so I just had to add it /joking

Serizawa

WAWA!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, so when serizawa was young his powers were very strong, like in canon. So when he met Shou’s dad he got the umbrella to help him feel safe outside of his room, but he was also given a gem!

He’s named “sailor allspice” to match with the sweet theme, but allspice isn’t sweet on its own, it’s just paired with sweet flavors! Sorta like how Shou is just “cinnamon” and not “cinnamon sugar”

Design note would be that there was a period in his designing process where he looked like a cowboy

Reigen

Last but not least, our favorite “sailor”! Like in canon, Reigen doesn’t have any powers. He fakes a transformation by wearing that outfit under his coat! He ties up the coattails under it to keep them hidden, and keeps his (non magical) gem in his coat pocket.

He does most of his jobs against fake villains! A lot of criminals will try and make it seem like they have powers just to intimidate people! So that’s what Reigen usually deals with!

Dimple

Here’s a bonus section for dimple! The only thing that I’ve changed about him is that one of his cheek blushes looks like a crescent moon, so he resembles Luna!

Alright!! If you got this far, then thanks so much!!

As always, feel free to send asks about this au! I don’t exactly have a plot going for it, especially since I don’t know much about the actual plot of sailor moon… but still!!

Enjoy!

[navybrat817]

Partners in Crime

Pairing: Mob!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: A night out with one of your father's most trusted associates puts you on a new and dangerous path. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Implied e/xplicit s/exual content, d/runk s/ex (con-sensual), d/rinking, talk of v/iolence, p/ossessive behavior, possible soft!dark vibes if you squint, engagement, not-so-great dad, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Nick edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: Welcome to my Wicked Arrangements AU! For @the-slumberparty 's April Writing Challenge (prompt in bold italics) and we'll see a few other characters down the road. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby and pre-read by @slyyywriting ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thought that entered your mind when you woke up was that you were never drinking whiskey again. You couldn't even remember how much you had, but you weren’t going to bounce back immediately from this hangover. You tried to avoid getting drunk whenever you could. At least it wasn't at your dad's party.

Not that you stuck around for most of it anyway.

Nick Fowler, one of the most powerful men in the city and your dad's most trusted associate, was waiting by your car when you left.

"Why don't we have a real party?

A man as ruthless and dangerous as he is beautiful, there was a reason why so many wanted him on their side. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or the kind of man to cross. Though he didn't say much to you with your dad around, it didn't stop him from eye fucking you every chance he had.

It was only natural that you wanted him.

"Sure. I could use a distraction."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll give you much more than that."

With a groan, you cracked one eye open and then the other. The pounding headache made it difficult to see as you tried to blink away the spots in your vision. If you had to choose an equivalent to what your throat felt like, sandpaper would be the closest. At least you didn't get sick. The bed you laid in was also comfortable and the sheets kept your naked body warm enough.

You forgot about the pain in your head as the ache between your legs grabbed your attention.

Oh, yeah. That happened.

Closing your eyes, a blurred vision of tangled limbs surfaced, the blue eyes of Nick piercing through the fog.

“Knew you’d take my cock like a good girl.”

And you did over and over.

Doing your best not to move too fast, you carefully turned your head and opened your eyes again. You expected to see him sleeping beside you, but he wasn’t there. Gently touching the spot, you noticed it still had a bit of warmth. Maybe he went to the bathroom or decided to get breakfast.

It took a moment to register that something sparkled on your left hand as sunlight peeked in through the curtain. “What the hell?” you mumbled as you stared at the diamond ring on the fourth digit.

A ring that looked suspiciously like an engagement ring.

No, no, no, we did not.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice gently pierced the air as you kept staring at your finger. "Surprised to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You tore your gaze away to look at Nick, who had an all too smug look on his eyes.

"I don't know yet," you said honestly, clearing the scratch from your throat.

Nick hummed as he walked across the room in just his underwear. A hint of a smirk formed on his handsome face as you admired him. The black suits he normally wore hid how broad his shoulders and chest were. They also hid most of his tattoos, which you vaguely recall tracing a few with your fingers and tongue. Your gaze trailed down his chiseled abs to the front of his boxers, the throbbing ache between your thighs intensifying.

No. Focus.

"You did say too much whiskey would give you a headache," he said, handing you some aspirin and water.

You quickly took the pills with a generous gulp, the cold liquid soothing the slight burn in your throat. "Did we…?" you trailed off.

"Did we what?" he asked, running a hand through his short hair. You were pretty sure you tried to pull it while you rode him. "We did a lot of things last night, so you'll need to be more specific."

Your cheeks flamed as you held up your hand, proud when it didn't shake. "This."

He slowly ducked down and you couldn't stop the hitch in your breath as his lips touched your forehead. "Get married? No," he said, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

You could breathe a bit easier. While your dad wouldn't lay a hand on you if you married without his permission, he could and would wreck the life you tried to have beyond the bubble he put you in. Piece by piece.

"But you also said I couldn't have you unless I put a ring on your finger, so I did."

"I was kidding!" you said. No way he actually believed that.

"I took it seriously," he murmured, moving his mouth to your ear. "And it's a perfect fit. Just like my cock inside you."

"Oh, my god," you whispered.

"You said that, too," he whispered, dragging his lips down the column of your neck. The scruff on his chin left a delicious burn in its path. "I reminded you to say my name instead."

The gravel of his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you moved to the other side of the bed and out of his reach. "I need a minute," you said, feeling his eyes on you as you stood up.

"I'll be waiting."

You didn't bother to cover yourself up as you went to the bathroom, your head not spinning as much as you expected it to. Nick saw everything last night and into the early morning, so you had no shame if you watched your hips sway. Splashing some water on your face, you had no idea where to go from here. While Nick was fun and a wonderful distraction, you couldn't help but wonder if last night was a calculated move.

It wasn't a secret that your dad wanted a son to take over his empire one day. He got you instead. He should have been a good father who loved and cared for you, but he treated you as an investment. You had a good education after you chose a college from the options he provided you. The same with your job as he limited the places you could apply to.

While he didn't keep you in a cage, he certainly kept you on a leash.

Maybe if mom was still around, things would be different.

You would only take over his businesses with a man of his choice by your side. He usually only had you around his inner circle of men long enough for them to flirt and leer at you. You were certain he was prepping you for the highest bidder.

Are you that bidder, Nick?

"Why were you waiting for me last night?" you asked once you went back into the bedroom where Nick was now on the bed. "Did my dad ask you to?"

"I was waiting for you because I wanted you. I thought that was obvious," he answered, unashamedly looking you over as you joined him. He reached for you, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he touched your cheek. "And I got tired of waiting."

Nick Fowler got whatever he wanted.

"But did he ask you to?" you repeated, showing him your hand again. "And how the hell did you just happen to have a ring on you my size?"

"Your dad had nothing to do with it. I've had that ring on me and my eye on you for some time," he said, kissing your hand and drawing a gasp from you as he put you on your back. "In case you forgot, I slipped it on after you drank the rest of my Jack Daniels and gave me a lap dance in my private booth. You didn't complain."

You recalled grinding to the beat as Nick sat back and watched. He looked like a modern king on a throne as the lights pulsed around him. No one would have bat an eye if he fucked you in his VIP section.

Which he did.

"We're not actually engaged, Nick. I said I was kidding about putting a ring on my finger."

His eyes darkened as he stretched over you, his muscles rippling before his weight settled. "You said you'd be mine."

Your heart raced, but it wasn't out of fear. "You don't even know me. Not really," you said, thankful that tears didn't fill your eyes.

How could he when no one was able to get close to you?

His knuckles caressed your cheek and you tried not to lean into his touch. "Told you I've had my eye on you for some time, dulceata. I know you better than you think."

You wanted to believe he did, but could you trust a man who worked with your dad? Did he want you simply to gain access to more resources? Gain more power?

"You're manipulative."

"I prefer calculating and there isn't anything wrong with that," he said before his lips touched yours.

His kiss brought back a reminder of the pleasure he gave you, your body humming with the promise of more. The man had layers to him, but something inside you said he wouldn't hurt you. He may be more inclined to hurt anyone who hurt you.

Maybe.

"I guess you have to be in your line of work," you said, a bitter laugh escaping. It was better than crying. "But if you're serious about whatever this is, do you really think my dad will let us be together? Well, he might if he thinks he can get something from you. He does value you. Pretty sure he even likes you more than he likes me."

It didn't hurt to say that as much as you thought it would.

"I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks," he said, his handsome face gazing down at yours. "I know he thinks he can control your life, but he's in for a rude awakening. And I can promise you I would never be that kind of father to our daughter."

"Please, don't talk about us having kids," you begged. You still had too much of a headache for that, but your womb clenched of its own accord.

"Why not?" he smirked. "You're going to be my wife."

I'm not even going to argue for the time being.

"Well, I need to rest, future husband," you said before he suddenly slid down your body and parted your legs. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just looking at the pretty pussy I ruined," he said, tracing a finger along your slit. Your body quickly responded to his touch and you weren't ashamed of the small moan you let out. "Which belongs to me now. If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly.”

"Is that right?" you asked, clenching around nothing.

Should I beg him to fuck me or play a little hard to get?

"You know it does. And if you want to go back to sleep, go right ahead. I'll fuck you until you're stuffed with me and wake you with my tongue," he said, making your back bow as his warm breath skimmed your folds. "You'll be begging me to fuck you all over again."

Your body went pliant against the sheets. "Nick?" you breathed out. "How do I know I can trust you?" You questioned before you would allow him to distract you.

"I guess I'll have to prove my loyalty to you," he replied, his eyes dark and calculating as he looked up at you. "I'll start by killing your father".

Surely Nick doesn't mean that. Right? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

3.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You listen to a sign from the universe and it leads you to Din.

Warnings: Some pining and then more fluff 💕 although Reader is a bit of menace as she straight up ogles Din like a piece of meat 😂, brief mention of female masturbation, reader is described as shorter than Din, first use of pet name “Pretty Bird”.

A/N: The series is slow but sometimes falling in love be like that. I pinned a series masterlist, so you can always jump to the smutty one shots that happen later in the timeline when these two are in an established relationship if you need a fix. The fact that Din boxes is 100% attributed to @djarinsbeskar's Boxer!Din AU which was the very first Din fic AU I ever read on Tumblr and remains one of my favourites and one I revisit often; making Din a former boxer/owner of a boxing gym is my small but humble homage to Rachel's genius. Also from that same AU is this piece of art from one of my favourite artists, @kate-komics that I think about often also. Thank you both for the inspiration!

“He bought you books?!?”

“Well, technically, he bought us all books.”

The whole table laughs; your friends were delighted when you handed out the books, but they’re entralled at the background story that comes with.

“And he didn’t leave you his number or anything?”

“No! Told the cashier he didn’t want to want me to feel ‘obligated’.”

“It’s okay, babe.  We’ll find him,” nods Katie, whipping out her phone. 

Bea starts typing on her phone as well, “Right.  He said his name is Din?  How do you spell that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it short for something?”

“I don’t know.”

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know.  40s?  He’s greying,” you picture Din’s soft curls and bury your face in your hands, “it looks so fucking good on him.” 

“Where does he work?”

“I don’t know.  Not downtown.”

“Well, what does he do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Babe. What do you know?”

“I know his coffee order is Ice Quad Expresso in a Venti cup with extra ice and six shots.”

“Ok, so we know he probably has a heart condition.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.  Your friends have good reason to be so enthusiastic – it’s been ages since someone has caught your eye.  You don’t date a lot, and that’s always been your preference.  You have a picky temperament to begin with, but the truth is, you’re happy and at peace with the way your life is now after years of hard work.  There simply hasn’t been room or a need for a partner, and your friends don’t push you to date (except Jen who always reminds you that there’s a guy at her firm she wants to set you up with, but even that’s more in good fun than anything).  But right now, you look flushed and besotted over this stranger; positively smitten.  They love it for you.

After a few minutes, no one has found anything on social media, any dating apps or Google – admittedly, there wasn’t much (anything?) to go on, but you’ve seen these girls work internet detective miracles before.

Oh well. 

You sigh, “I need to get drunk and forget him.  Or painfully obsess over every detail I can remember.”

And you all cheers to that.

---

Huh.

A week later on the Saturday, you’re out running errands, and you find yourself standing in front of your drycleaner which has unexpectedly closed.  A handwritten sign in the window reads: “Emergency Closure.  Reopening to be announced.”

The drycleaner’s is supposed to be your first stop of the day and you don’t really feel like carting your dirty clothes with you to run the rest of your errands.  Moreover, you’ll need a few of the items in the coming weeks.  You take out your phone to look up other drycleaners in the area when something in your mind clicks: Peli’s Drycleaning on 14th.  You search it and see it actually exists, and has a pretty good rating to boot.  But, it’s sort of out of your way, not really in the same area you’re in at all.

You shouldn’t go.

Should you go?

And what if you do?  Do you… ask about Din?  That’s weird. 

But you’ve been thinking about him non-stop all week: daydreaming about his soft smile during your work commute, remembering the flex of his strong hand covering yours as you answer emails, getting lost in thoughts of his big brown eyes while out walking the dog.  You flush at the memory of touching yourself in bed while recalling his deep and rich voice.  Every attempt to forget your handsome Quad Ice over the past week has utterly failed.

Eff it. What are the chances that you unexpectedly need a new drycleaner, and it happens to be the only thing tangentially related to Din that you know? Maybe the universe is trying to help you out.

Before you can characteristically overthink it, you flag down a cab and give the driver the address you looked up; your heart pounds the entire ride over.

When you step into drycleaner’s, a little bell above the door jingles to signal your arrival, and a short woman with a huge amount of curly dark hair appears from the back.  You think she might be Peli, but you can’t be sure; she gives you a huge smile and gestures to take in your clothes.  Finding her to be super friendly and chatty, the two of you make easy small talk as she neatly lists out your items by hand on her notepad.  When she gets to the coffee stained skirt, she lets out a low whistle, “Oof.  Been there, done that!” she quips.  You decide this is probably the best opening you’ll get, “Actually, that coffee stain is probably why I’m here.  Someone saw it and recommended your place.”  Peli raises her eyebrow as you press on, “His name is Din, he said he’s a friend of the owner?”

This gets her attention; the woman stops what she’s doing and studies you with great interest.  Her face breaks out into an impossibly wide smile and she exclaims loudly, “Din sent you, eh?  And he said we were friends?”  she lets out a deep belly laugh, “Babysat him when he was a kid, but yep we’re friends. Ha!  Hi, I’m Peli!”  She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “He said to mention his name and you would try harder not to lose my clothes,” you joke. 

“That scamp!” chortles Peli, “Don’t worry!  We’ll take good care of you!  You know… because of Din.” She rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“Of course.  Because of Din,” you grin back, “So…does he send a lot of… people who need drycleaning, your way?”

“Nope!  You’re the first!  And honestly, now that I think about it, why hasn’t he been sending me more business?”

You figure it’s now or never, “Do you know where I could find him?”

If possible, Peli brightens even more at your question, “Oh yeah, for sure!  At this time of day, he’ll be at his gym.  It’s about 2 blocks that way,” she points in the direction for you, “can’t miss it!  Big sign that says ‘Mando’s Gym’.”

Peli finishes taking down your information for the clothes and lets you know when everything can be ready.  You give her an enthusiastic thanks; when opening the door to leave, you have a moment of hesitation, but looking back, you find Peli already pointing in the direction of the gym.  You give her a smiling nod and head that way.

---

Peli was right.  You can’t miss the sign; it sits atop of a standalone three story building that’s set further back on its lot.  The front area of the lot looks like it might have once been a driveway of sorts, but is now used as a parking lot; a handful of parked cars lets you know the gym is fairly busy today.  The front of the building has giant windows that look like garage doors and makes you think that the building might have once been a mechanic repair shop; from the little of what you can see inside, you think the gym occupies the first floor of the building and possibly the second.  The big set of garage door windows are separated in the middle by an entry way that you walk through, slightly nervous.  Once inside, you see a reception but currently no one behind the small desk; instead, you peek around the partition wall behind the desk and see that the space opens up to a clean, spacious room that has about 8-10 people working out on various machines and punching bags lining the walls, all leading to a larger group of people clustering near the boxing ring centered at the back of the room.

You’re making your way towards the back, scanning over the group looking for Din when you spot him, right in the middle of the ring.  He’s got his gloved hands up, blocking part of his head, but you can still tell it’s him; when you hear him shouting encouraging words to his sparring partner, his familiar voice sends a shiver up your spine.  He’s wearing a sweat drenched grey t-shirt and his hair is messy and wet from his work out, but he looks even better than you remember.

Actually, he looks fucking delicious.  From this angle you can see the cut of his jawline and how it tightens as his grunts and pants.  His arms are flexed from his forearms up to his biceps, and are so muscular they’re straining hard against his shirt sleeves.  You must be straight up ogling him because you don’t even realize when Din notices you; you’re too busy looking at his legs and admiring how his thighs fill out his navy blue shorts so snugly.  You only look up when those same legs start walking in your direction and come to a stop at the edge of the ring.  Din is leaning towards you against the rope with a heart-stopping smile, “It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me,” you grin, repeating back his words to you from the bookstore.

Din thinks he must be dreaming, or maybe he’s been knocked in the head one too many times today.  He had just paused the fight to show Jimmy the new combination again, when he looked over to see the prettiest sight.  You, standing in his gym, soft and dainty, with a wide eye expression on your face.  You’re looking in his direction, but when you don’t make eye contact with him immediately, Din allows himself the smug thought that you might be liking what you see and puffs his chest out a little before making his way over to you.

Now you’re looking at him with that same pretty smile that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the last week, and he can’t wait to talk to you again, “Are you okay to wait for 5 minutes?  We’re just finishing up this training session.”

You nod agreeably, “Sure, I can wait.”  There’s a bench running along the right side of the ring where you take a seat to better enjoy the show.  You’ve never seen boxing up close before, so you don’t know what to expect, but you find yourself mesmerized by everything Din is doing in the ring.  All his movements are intentional and graceful; he’s in total control of every motion he makes: ducking, blocking, punching.  His muscles are all flexed and his shirt stretches tight, barely containing them as if Din himself is an extension of the explosive power harnessed in his fists.  The legs that you were drooling over earlier are quick and agile; it’s true you don’t know his age but his sparring partner looks to be in his mid-20s and Din is having no problem out maneuvering him.

As he circles the other fighter, you think you spy some ink on a flash of some exposed skin and the idea of exploring what’s underneath Din’s shirt has you swallowing hard.  In short, you can’t take your eyes off of him. 

The 5 minutes is action packed and over before you know it.  In one continuous smooth motion, Din ducks under the rope, jumps down and grabs a fresh towel from a stack on the other end of the bench you’re sitting on before sliding over to sit next to you.  He looks at you almost bashfully as he towels off his hair and wipes the sweat from his brow and neck.  You think you could get used to seeing him like this: cheeks pink from exercise, bright eyes glued to yours and a grin so wide it reveals a deep dimple in his right cheek that you’re discovering for the first time.  He’s taking your breath away and you haven’t even been back in his presence for more than 10 minutes.

“What brings you to this part of town today, pretty bird?”

If anyone else had bestowed a pet name on you so soon after having met, you would have immediately gotten the ick, but the endearment rolling off Din’s tongue sounds so natural and sweet, it has you melting, “Some handsome guy bought me a thick stack of books and then made it nearly impossible for me to thank him.  Tracked him down to this gym.”

“Handsome guy, eh?”

“Yep.  Real handsome.  And sweet.  You know anyone around here like that?” you tease.

Handsome.  You think he’s handsome. Din thinks his heart is in danger of no longer fitting in his chest.  He holds his hand up to his brow, as if to shield his eyes from the light, and mines looking around gym in an exaggerated manner, “Nope.  Just a bunch of smelly, sweaty ruffians.  Owner’s a handsome guy though, maybe you’re looking for him,” he says, eyes twinkling.

“You own this gym?”

“Sure do.  Used to be my dad’s.”

“Well, he would be proud of you and what you’ve done here, Din.  It looks great.”  You mean it, and you look around the gym with a renewed sense of awe now that you know Din is the one responsible for its operations.

Din’s not sure how you knew the exact thing to say to make his heart swell, but he knows without a doubt that you’re being genuine and he is reminded again of your kind nature. 

You look back to see Din looking at you with a soft expression and before you let yourself get lost in his eyes, you force yourself to pull it together, “Oh Din!  I can’t believe I didn’t say this right away: Thank you!! Thank you for the books.  It was so incredibly unexpected and sweet!  My friends also say thank you – a few of the books you bought were for them.”

“You’re very welcome.  Have you enjoyed the books?”

You’re warmed by how thoughtful Din is, and you let him know the books are turning out to be great and you and your friends can’t believe how long you’ll have to wait for the next instalment to come out.

“Do you have plans to read tonight, or would you happen to be free?”

Even though you had been hoping that Din would ask you out, your heart leaps into your throat now that it’s happening.  “I think I should be!  If I finish up this list of errands I’m supposed to get to today, that is.  Giving Peli my drycleaning was only the first item,” you lament. 

“Peli!  Is that how you found me?  Clever girl.”

You beam at Din’s praise.  You realize you haven’t explained how you knew where he was, “As luck would have it, my regular drycleaner was unexpectedly closed.  Nearly derailed my whole errand day until I remembered you mentioning you had a friend who ran a drycleaning business.  Something else I need to thank you for.”

“I’m glad I could help.  Well, if you have a bunch of errands you have to finish before you can go out with me tonight, I’m going to scoot you out of here right now so you don’t cancel. Scoot!”  Din adds a silly shooing motion with his hands as he says this, so you know he’s not seriously trying to get rid of you.  You giggle, but nod, eager to get on with your tasks so that your date with Din might come sooner.

Din asks you if you need a ride, but you tell him you’ll be fine and jokingly scoff, “Hey!  I don’t want you putting off your work and then backing out either, mister.”

“Not a chance,” grins Din.

As you walk together towards the front of the gym, Din lets you know how much he’s been thinking about you,  “I’m really glad you came to here today.  I was about to camp out everyday at the coffeeshop in the morning and then that bookstore in the afternoon until I found you again.”

“Who would have looked after the gym if you did that?”

Din looks around at the gym; some of the boxers and staff that had been watching the two of you look away quickly and pretend to busy themselves to avoid being caught staring.  “Shoot.  This place probably would have burned down.  Looks like you just saved the gym.”

You can’t help but giggle again and Din feels a growing sense of pride in being able to make you laugh.  “How about tonight I take you out to dinner as a thank you?”

Giving him an incredulous look, you answer, “I should be taking you out to dinner to thank you.”

“I don’t think so, pretty bird.”

The pet name shoots straight to your core again. 

Din stretches himself up to his full height and looks down at you with mock stern expression, cocking his eyebrow.

You can’t say you’re at all intimidated even though he towers over you; you’ve long since felt that Din’s company spelled safety.  But to play along, you counter by looking up at him with your biggest pleading eyes.  Din is instantly disarmed and knows in this moment that he will never be able to refuse you anything.

He suggests a compromise, “How about we go for dinner and fight about the check there?”

“Ok.  But just so you know, I’m not used to losing,” you challenge playfully.

“Me neither.” Din tilts his head slightly to draw your attention to the wall you’re standing next to.  It’s the other side of the divider wall you rounded when you came in, and you see that it’s covered with awards, certificates, and articles lauding Din’s boxing accomplishments.

Amazed, you skim over the honours and achievements, “This is you?  Wow – you’re incredible Din!  …9 times weight division champion? Oh man, now I don’t know if I can take you.”

“I bet you could,” from the look on Din’s face, you’re sure that the double meaning is meant as a tease, but you can’t help squirming a little.

Blushing, you relent, “Ok, you can pay for dinner.  But I still have to thank you for the books.”

Din is finding your persistence on this point to be adorable, “Your ‘thanks’ is enough.  No need to feel like you owe me; it was a gift.”

“I know.  I just have an outrageous sense of reciprocity.  I really do want to find a way to thank you somehow.”  You reach up and put your hand on Din’s shoulder to hold yourself steady as you lift up onto your toes and kiss him on the cheek.  Despite having just gone who knows how many rounds in the ring, he smells incredible and you can’t help but linger your lips on his cheek.  You exhale softly and hold Din’s gaze as you slowly lower down to your normal height.

Din looks as affected as you feel, “Remind me to buy you some more books.”

Both of you laugh, now giddy about the prospect of seeing each other again in a few hours.  You exchange numbers and Din promises to text you later with the address of the restaurant he’ll meet you at tonight.

Heading down the street, heart aflutter and fingers trembling with excitement, you take out your phone and text the group chat: I found him.

[adventuringblind]

I HEARD MAXOSCAR THOUGHTS HOLD PLS

SO ghoulverse - i feel like that clip would've been oscar explaining to max why he didn't want to eat, and what was his reasoning and all that and THEN max just gives him a look and then oscar goes: ........ but maybe i can reconsider..... and then awkward crabwalk away

NOW LET'S MOVE OUT OF THE GHOULVERSE AND INTO ONE OF MY FAVORITES... dark?mob? idk what to call it but it's in one of those themes

max, our dear head of the... mob/mafia/whatever it is... would be fiercely protective of oscar. nobody knew why the big boss was taking such an interest in a new recruit, but then said new recruit showed his skills (if this were a 3some situation he'd protect max's gf and they both go 👀 i want him now and we'll see some struggle about 'but they're my bosses???') in like... well... have you seen oscar isn't that the kid who could do pretty much everything and still mantain a straight face and bonus he can hold his liquor pretty well??

and then cue tipsy confessions from either the big boss or the not-yet-missus?? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

but also alpha osc and omega max - a combo no one saw

and then of course there's black cat osc and orange cat max - let's be real max won't be a golden retriever that's lando

signed, 🥘 (aka a moot (i think?) that wants to go on anon for a bit)

OHMYGOOOOOOOD YOUR AMAZING

Okay first off ghoulverse Max and Oscar are so beloved to me because in md(abmtoumm) on ao3 I love the platonic brotherly relationship!! Just Max dragging Oscar everywhere when they first meet cause he's got a playmate now and then dragging him to political shit he doesn't want to do. They have a special place in my heart T_T

Okay, but mafia boss Max being like "this is my new favorite" and pointing to Oscar and everyone giving Oscar so much shit for it until they realize WHY. Just imagine Oscar is sitting somewhere, probably eating with Max's girl, who he's been charged to protect and he pulls a gone on someone while taking bites of his waffles.

"Don't ruin my breakfast, mate." But guess what?! Breakfast gets ruined and Oscar looks so grumpy and now there is some guy with a bullet in his head while the two of them finish eating.

Hence! Being Max's favorite and Oscar just shrugging when people ask how it happened.

Alpha Osc and omega Max?!?! Max screams independent omega who doesn't want to be independent? Idk if that makes sense BUT HEAR ME OUT-

Oscar is just so easy going and laid back that I feel like when Max gets annoyed and lashes out he'd just take it on the chin and let Max vent his frustrations with active listening skills.

The last one I'm gonna be honest that idk what the orange cat thing is... CANT GET MAD BECAUSE IM NOT GOOD WITH THOSE THINGS

(I love these two your honor)

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter six

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: Slowing down a little in this chapter and giving a fun bit of insight into their relationship! With angst, of course. This fic is so much fun to write, I'm glad to see that others are enjoying it too! Also not to beg but I'm begging you to comment, reblog with comments/ comments in the tags, or message/ send an ask if you like this fic. I literally live off of feedback and have been getting mostly likes and maybe 5-6 people commenting. Anyways, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.7k

She might be able to expose a mob conspiracy and the Batman’s identity in one fell swoop. 

It was all she could think of as Gordon drove her home.

Y/n was fourteen years old when she realized that she wanted to kiss Bruce Wayne. She had only recently realized that she wanted to kiss anyone at all, and for some reason, her mind kept going back to Bruce. 

She still remembered the exact moment. 

It was in that moment, too, that she realized she loved Bruce as a bit more than her best friend. 

They were doing homework in the study under Alfred’s watchful eye. It had only been a few years since the death of his parents and Bruce was slowly but surely shifting into the anger stage of grief. He’d gone from shy and scared and emotional to angry and sullen and withdrawn. 

As they worked, Bruce nudged her knee with his and nodded to where Alfred had dozed off. They shared a secret smile and immediately quit working–they’d start again once Alfred woke. They hadn’t needed to say a word to communicate. Almost ten years of being friends had given them a silent language. 

And as the buttery golden afternoon light poured through the window and lit Bruce’s face, she felt it. 

Bruce was just going through puberty, his voice cracking and deepening, his body growing to that gangly, awkward height of teenage boys. She knew he was becoming a man. The thought always made a little swoop go through her stomach.

As he smiled that secret smile, she studied him. His lips looked chapped but, at fourteen, she’d never seen anything more alluring. 

She realized that he never smiled at anyone, even Alfred. Especially Alfred. And not her sweet, patient grandmother either, who easily coaxed smiles from y/n even when she was in the worst of teenage moods. 

Bruce only smiled for her. 

It was that realization that made her heart want to lay a claim to him. Quietly yet suddenly, her love for Bruce shifted into something more. And she wanted to kiss the smile from his lips like the bold women in the romantic comedies she liked. 

But it wasn’t until she was sixteen that she had her first kiss with a boy. And he hadn’t been Bruce Wayne. 

Two weeks after that, she had her first kiss with a girl to see if she liked that better. 

But the girl hadn’t been Bruce Wayne either. 

And every kiss after that, boy or girl or otherwise, was not Bruce Wayne, and it never measured up. She’d never kissed him, ever, in their entire lives together, but her heart knew that it would never want anything or anyone else. 

Kissing Bruce wasn’t what y/n dreamt that night, though, after she got home from her secret meeting with a cop and a vigilante. 

No, it was the last time she had slept in Bruce’s bed. 

As children, they had been almost like security blankets to each other. She had been only five years old when her mother had abandoned her for good and she had come to live at Wayne Tower with her grandmother. Her first nightmare woke her to a tiny face with bright blue eyes surrounded by wild, dark hair. 

“I have scary dreams too,” he’d whispered and then scooched up on her bed. They played with the dinosaur toys he’d brought with him until they fell asleep, side by side. It was as easy as that. She and Bruce became inseparable. Often they would sneak into each others’ rooms and play with various toys until falling asleep. 

And after the murder of the Waynes…most nights they spent together, two children seeking safety and comfort with each other in the way only children knew how. For three years, Bruce couldn’t sleep without her. 

But, as they grew older, Alfred and Dory forbade it, saying it wasn’t proper. They’d each, separately, gotten the birds and the bees talk. 

They were eighteen, a week from graduation, the last time it happened. By that age, y/n had harbored her secret crush for four years. She struggled to maintain that fine line between remaining his best friend and acting normal, and soaking up all of the attention he would give her like a plant left in the dark for too long searching for sunlight. 

That was back in his street racing days, where he invented new ways to make cars go faster then took to the streets to test them out. Alfred had caught him sneaking out that night and Bruce was angry. Too angry. She listened to them argue until she heard Bruce’s bedroom door slam and then slam again. 

So she’d ordered one of every kind of pizza (with his card of course, nice and new for his eighteenth birthday) and dug out all of the soda and snacks both salty and sweet she could find. They were going to have a movie night, and all of Bruce’s favorites would be featured. She had found over the years that Bruce could be cheered by unhealthy snacks and quiet company. Her other option was to create a distraction so he could actually sneak out, but she was selfish and wanted to spend time with him before college changed their lives. 

It took him a while to settle down and stop pacing and cursing, but finally, finally, he got sucked into the movie. Within an hour, he had given in and relaxed. 

It was one of those moments, frequent throughout her life, where he smiled just for her, and she fell a little bit more in love. 

The dream she was having at that moment wasn’t exactly right with the details. In the way of dreams, everything was slightly off, the proportions wrong, the specifics muddled. The food was blurry, incorporeal, the TV too close to the ceiling. The bed took up most of the room when in reality the room itself was huge.

But the feeling? The feeling was the same. 

She was in Bruce’s arms. He was a clinger when he slept, like she was a teddy bear that soothed him. In a way, she was, simply because of the habit formed in childhood. 

In the dream, she was safe once more in the haven of his arms. His breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck and he was so, so warm. In life, she had rolled away because being too close to him had been almost painful in how right it felt. 

In the dream, she curled closer. 

She had missed their easy closeness. Even after they stopped sharing a bed, they had hugged or spoken in nudges or touches like the best friends they were. It was another of those things like his smiles that he reserved only for her. 

All that had stopped three years ago. 

Now, safe in the dream, y/n burrowed into Bruce’s comforting warmth. 

She felt whole. 

The grief, the pain, all of it was gone as his arms tightened around her. 

When she woke, her cheeks were wet. 

She and Bruce would never share that closeness again. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she could see that that final night was the beginning of the end. College had further separated them, though the years after had made them close again. 

So close that she had felt confident in spilling her biggest secret. 

Only to have her heart broken. 

She was struck with the sudden need to see Bruce, to tell him she was sorry, to tell him she missed him, to tell him she forgave him for those awful words spoken between them. She wanted to be friends again. Even if it hurt. Even if he never loved her like she loved him. 

I don’t love you, and I never will. 

But he had loved her as a friend, once, and maybe still did. Maybe things weren’t ruined–maybe, with enough time, enough effort, they could be patched. 

Any alternative was better than her current reality. She couldn’t live next to him like strangers, ignoring their shared past. She couldn’t stop loving him, even if she only ever got to do so as a friend. 

She shoved her blankets away and rose unsteadily to her feet. She was still half-asleep, her brain sluggish, her eyes heavy. 

She couldn’t stop crying. 

She wanted, for a moment, to not feel so alone. 

She wandered to Bruce’s room first, but it was dark and empty. She couldn’t bring herself to enter completely the site of her heartbreak, so she searched the study next, where he could sometimes be found curled up with a book or tuning his guitar. Then she looked in the kitchen and all of the guest rooms. 

His parents’ room was still padlocked, as it had been for two decades, and she knew he wasn’t in there. 

Nothing in the library or gym, either, or the room with a desk he had named his office but never used. 

Nothing but dust and ghosts in the entire place. 

She just needed to see him. Just needed to tell him that she forgave him. Just needed him to tell her they could be friends again. Just needed him to tell her that he didn’t hate her. 

There was only one place left to search. 

She hadn’t been in Bruce’s private elevator in a long time. His elevator was for his use only, more private than even the private residential elevator. There were three destinations–the residence, a private exit to the parking garage, and the basement. 

In their late teens and early twenties, when Bruce was into modifying cars and racing them illegally, he had converted the abandoned Wayne Terminus station into a garage of sorts. Last she had seen it–maybe eight or ten years before–he had three cars all in varying stages of disarray. 

She pressed the button to take her down into the very depths of Wayne Tower. 

Nothing happened. 

She pressed it again. And again. 

She frowned. 

As far as she knew, this was the only way into that garage except for a secret tunnel that had been part of the old subway line. It opened miles away, though, and she had never been out that way. She wouldn’t even know where to start looking if she decided to try to find the end of it. 

She thumped a closed fist beside the panel and cursed colorfully. 

Could nothing go her way? It was thing after thing after thing the past few days and it all caught up with her when that stupid elevator button didn’t work. 

She didn’t fight the tears. 

It was all too much. Too much pain, too much loss, too much fear, too much everything. It had been the worst fucking week of her life and even the potential of her article wasn’t enough to temper it. She had survived, but at what cost? To have no one, nothing? To be murdered at some future date? To have a fucking mob hit out on her? 

The worst part was that she didn’t want to die, even though it would have been so much easier. 

Y/n sobbed and slid to the cold metal floor of the elevator. 

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she tapped the floor with her knuckles. She remembered the pain of the night Bruce broke her heart, as if it had been carved out, how she’d had to wrap her arms around her middle so as not to fall apart. That pain was back, but worse this time, because her grandmother wasn’t there to put her back together. 

She just wanted–she didn’t know what she wanted. She wanted things the way they used to be, before that night three years ago. She wanted her grandmother alive and her whole life ahead of her and Bruce to still be her friend. 

But she knew it was naive. Everything had changed and there was no way out except through. 

Yet how could she get through this? She drew up her knees and tucked her head down. How could she get through this without her best friend? Without her grandmother? Her life was at risk and she had nothing but the flimsiest bit of protection that Wayne Tower provided. She had no one to talk to, no one to make her feel better. 

The only thing she could do was investigate things herself. She could only get herself out of this mess. She only had herself to rely on now. 

The thought hurt. She cried on the floor of that small, dingy elevator for a long time. She cried for the girl she used to be. She cried for her grandmother. For her mother. For the loss of Bruce as a friend. For the fear that haunted her now. 

Her eyes fluttered open later as she felt herself moving through the air. 

It must have been a dream, because she was in Bruce Wayne’s arms. He glanced down at her with tired blue eyes. His dark hair was lank with sweat and plastered to his forehead, halfway in his eyes. Her eyes slid closed before she could focus on the darkness around the blue. 

It was a nice dream, especially after the overwhelming grief that had crippled her in the elevator. Her subconscious needed the comfort. 

She nuzzled her head into Bruce’s warm neck and hummed. He smelled like sweat and motor oil and Bruce. His heart thumped steadily in her ear where she rested her head. 

“I miss you,” she murmured, content in the fact that it wasn’t real. She could tell dream Bruce anything she wanted. 

But he was so warm, and she was so tired. 

She drifted off again.  

–

When y/n woke again, she was in her own bed. 

She stretched languidly. She could immediately tell she’d slept deep and well for once. 

Then she sat bolt upright. 

She had fallen asleep in the elevator, not her bed. 

Hadn’t she? 

She frowned. Maybe getting up and searching for Bruce had been the dream. The entire night had edges fuzzy with grief and exhaustion. Maybe she had searched for Bruce and fallen asleep in the elevator, only to walk back to bed half asleep. 

The only thing she knew for sure was that Bruce Wayne hadn’t carried her to bed. There was no way that had been real. Because only someone who still cared for her would carry her back to bed, tuck her in gently. And Bruce didn’t care for her anymore. 

Her heart ached all over again. 

She missed him. 

To keep her mind off of it, she decided to go ahead and get together an update and outline for her new editor Jansen. She didn’t have much, but she included the new knowledge of one suspect’s supposed suicide. After a quick search, she saw that the news hadn’t been released to the press yet. Score one for Gordon as an informant. 

The word informant rang a bell in her mind and she quickly searched her personal email for a response from Officer Martinez. 

Dear y/n, 

Thank you for reaching out. I’m real sorry you haven’t been doing well. I can promise that Lieutenant Gordon is the best there is for this case and he’ll do everything he can to catch the guy. 

One suspect committed suicide rather than tell us anything about the one who got away. But another one seemed scared by that and told us that the Gallo family had sent them. Maybe you’ve heard of them–New York mobsters. 

If you feel scared at all or see anything suspicious, here’s my cell number. I’ll also include Lieutenant Gordon’s in case you can’t reach me. 

We’ll keep you safe.

Best, 

Officer Martinez

It was a professional but sweet response. 

And it scared her.

Confirmed ties to the Gallo family didn’t bode well for her. For Gotham, either. That meant they were reaching into the city, trying to fill the holes that Falcone left behind. 

She cursed quietly and added that to her list of clues. 

She rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t even had coffee yet. 

First, she needed caffeine. 

Then she needed to make a plan to figure out what the hell was going on. 

If only it were that simple. She had no contacts or sources in Gotham–at least none that would be able to tell her about the Gallo family. 

All she had was an eager cop, a detective, and the detective’s vigilante best friend. 

She hoped it would be enough.

Next Chapter

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[dontbesoweirdkira]

How many children would each of the Salieri men have? -Anon

A/N: Okay this is a response to a inbox request. For some reason I cannot find it anymore?? Sometimes my inbox eats up y’all’s messages. I’m so sorry!! ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS!! I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam

I know I’ve written before that he wants kids with his wife but that’s delusional ¡Yandere! Sam who’s only doing that to baby trap you.

I think he truly doesn’t wants kids and would be perfectly fine if you couldn’t bear any. I think the true reason why he goes through with it is because of the time that he’s in.

Hotshot mob-boss Sam would need to have children because he’d eventually need to have a successor for the family.

Needs come before wants😪

Plus it’d look so weird if he willingly chose not to have any when he can. During that time if you were married with absolutely no kids by like the second year…*side eyed* (exaggeration but y’know)

Please no more than 2 tho. Only wants a son but would be okay with having daughter if he also had a son.

Would be an okay father tho so don’t worry too much. He’s like a dad that swears he hates dogs and if his family gets one he won’t take care of it but once the dog is around he switches up.

Yeah that’s him, he loves his kids a lot. He doesn’t always know how to show it and he’s kind of both physically and emotionally absent.

He does provide them with everything and if they are giving you a hard time he will defend you.

Paulie

You cannot change my mind on this. He wants the most kids and has the strongest desire for them.

This man is a hopeless romantic and he reeeeallly wants to have a perfect large family. I read a headcannon once that said Paulie had a very abusive father and the Mob was his ticket out of that. I believe that too and he wants to become the father he never had.

He fantasizes about being the best dad ever and having the whole family work together in his pizza joint. How beautiful his wife would look carrying his kids.

He wants 6-12 kids…3 boys and 3 girls if it’s 6 or 7boys and 5 girls if it’s 12.

Have you seen that scene in shameless where the guy goes “I HAVE A MAGICAL DICK” after finding out his wife is having twins…yeah that’s Paulie

Seriously this is his dream and if he ever becomes a father he’d never shut up about it. #1 PTA dad. He’s extremely involved with his children’s life. He’ll go through insane lengths to protect his children from a horrible childhood.

Tommy

The original “whatever my wife wants, I’m happy with” man.

I think he’s indifferent about the whole concept of having kids..? Like having kids would be nice….so is not having kids. Doesn’t really care about the societal pressure to have them at all.

He cares about his wife more than any of that junk. If having children would be too much of a strain on your life then don’t worry about it.

To be honest he’s kind of worried to have children because any day he could be gone and now his partner would be left as a single mother. :/

So I’m going to say while he’s actively in the mob he’d be leaning towards a no. But if this is after he’s escaped and you’ve settled down, Tommy is down for it.

Maybe 1-4 kids. Keeping it rather light and traditional. I don’t think this man would handle more than that tbh. Hes certified tired™️ and the more kids the less sleep.

I have a feeling though that he’d have all girls. He’s actually okay with that though. Mobster in a tutu to make his girls smile🤣

I’d say he’d be a normal suburban dad but I think he’s slightly too reserved and dangerous for that.

The family dynamic is super normal. He goes out to work to provide for y’all and when he gets home he’ll help the kids with homework.

We all know Tom is extremely loyal and loving so his kids are his world. They mean absolutely everything to him and he’ll do whatever it takes to help guide them through life.