#to my knowledge there weren’t many pictures of me as a baby or kid to begin with but the ones I had have since been lost to time (moving a

[whimsyprinx]

I’m like honestly kinda jealous of people who have things from their childhood, like pictures, old toys, home videos, shit like that

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Mellow

(Shapeshifter!au, but Ramon this time. He doesn't have trauma yet, he's just a sweetheart.)

He held his hand out for the notepad he was supposed to use to communicate with the islanders, and for a moment it looked like Cucurucho was going to give it to him and move on like they had with everyone else, but then they did a quick double-take.

They looked at him for a long moment in silence, and he could only shift awkwardly under their stare.

Despite how many federation workers he had met over his, admittedly rather short, life, he had never managed to get fully used to the way they looked. They were entirely featureless by design, it was one of the first things people give up when they come to work for the federation – their individuality. They weren’t people, they were workers, and their appearances reflected that. Their faces were blank white slates, their outfits were a painfully generic uniform, only a small ‘nametag’ (could it truly be called a nametag when they had no names?) to distinguish them from each other… it was unnatural.

Perhaps that was a little hypocritical to say, though, seeing as Ramon was… what he was.

At least he could shift and make himself look more normal, though. Which is what he had done. Now, he looked like any other kid. Slightly tan skin; a shock of slightly messy, dark brown hair; wide brown eyes; a handlebar mustache; a little bit of baby fat still sticking to his features to make sure he looked young.

You know, average kid things.

Cucurucho disagreed, apparently.

They slid a hand into their pocket and pulled out their communicator. Like everyone else who was either part of or created by the federation, Cucurucho couldn’t ‘speak’, not really. However, as a high-ranking worker, they had a slight exception in the form of a tiny speaker nestled in the bow tied around their neck. Now, they clicked on one of their preset voice lines:

“WHY?” said Cucurucho.

He reached for the notepad and marker and, after a few seconds, Cucurucho handed them over.

“what did i do”

Cucurucho looked at them blankly. Admittedly, they had no other options, but regardless. There was something particularly judgmental about this particular stare. Their shoulders heaved in a silent sigh and they shook their head to themself.

“I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE ISLAND.”

They moved as if to continue on. After all, the islanders would be finishing their orientation video soon and god knows they would need guidance…

He caught them by the hand.

Cucurucho stopped, their head turning to look at him once again.

“CURIOUS,” they said.

Hastily, before they could get impatient, he wrote down his question:

“do you think my parents will like me”

Cucurucho hesitated.

“YES,” they said, patting his head.

He smiled, his shoulders sagging in relief. If Cucurucho was confident enough to say ‘yes’ instead of ‘maybe’, his parents must be good people. He had been briefed on who they were, yes, given a couple of files that listed things such as their general personalities and histories, had been given pictures of them so he could mimic their appearances, but that was all theoretical. Cucurucho, though, had actually met and ‘talked to’ the islanders, and if they thought that his parents would like him, then surely they would know best, right?

He looked at Cucurucho for a few moments more, and then tugged on their hand, trying to drag them down. They glanced at their communicator, ensuring that the islanders were distracted – apparently, they were all messing with their new app, which allowed them to speak in their native languages and still be understood – so they had some free time. Regardless of this knowledge, they were still hesitant when they knelt in front of him.

After a few seconds’ thought, he picked up his marker again and lifted it towards their face.

They flinched back in surprise, almost falling over.

He huffed lightly. He waited for them to get over their surprise and come back, but they never did.

They didn’t have eyes to track, but from the slight, barely there movements of their head, he guessed that they were probably looking between the marker and himself, wary. He pouted.

“WHY.”

He pouted harder, making his eyes slightly wider just to make sure the puppy eyes could have their maximum effect. Maybe he should actually make them into literal puppy dog eyes?

No, Cucurucho didn’t seem the type to like dogs.

They probably liked cats. Or maybe something weirder, like birds.

They sighed again, snapping him out of his thoughts. Hesitantly, they leaned forward, toward the marker. They must have realized they could wash it off, anyway, so they might as well let him have his fun. He beamed and quickly scrawled a smiley face onto Cucurucho’s head to match his own bright expression.

“now youre less scary”

Cucurucho lifted a hand to touch their face, and maybe it was just the poorly-drawn smile that had been added there, but he thought they looked kind of happy. Touched, even.

They ruffled his hair.

“YES.”

“I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE ISLAND.”

Ramon hoped so, too.

[dc-girlblogging]

First off thank you to AdamFrankenstein  for turning me onto my OTP. However as we must come to recognize at times good partners =/= good parents, as you’ll see shortly. 

As they graduated and got older Doris and Leslie stayed as close as ever, a civilians nightmare but each others dream partner in crime. Doris was all but forced to go to college as her parents placed a very high value on her education, she hated the idea at first but found that the athletic scholarship she earned meant she got to do what she loved most, physical activity! Her attendance was as minimal as required but it was still a big enough dent in their mischief time with Leslie that Les got...lonely. She'd never admit it in a trillion years but she signed up for classes too, considering she picked them less off her interests and more off of what classes she'd share with Doris she flunked out pretty quickly. When she wasn't doing classes, villainy, and posting on her usual gossip site, she was recording rock music in room and sometimes in the Zeul's garage. 

Doris graduated, she wasn't gonna make it anywhere big with her hostility and lack of a sense of teamwork but eventually she was hired as a training coach for a smaller gym, think crossfit drill sergeant type. She still lived at home with her parents but considering she had a job they were fine with it, not like they'd ever have the backbone to kick her out anyway. Leslie on the other hand got her big break when her music was picked up on a radio show for newbie night. Over the years she’d been slowly but surely growing in popularity and unfortunately had to leave Doris to go on tours but they both sent plenty of pictures of the damage they caused along the way. Doris actually introduced Leslie to her parents and they enjoyed that she was…slightly less rude than their daughter. Yet even under their hardened exteriors the Zeul’s saw how downtrodden their daughter would get when she was gone and started prodding her with questions about when they planned to get married. Doris severely lashed out at first but later brought up the subject to Les like it was a joke.

To which Leslie saw right through it and replied, “What are you? A pussy?” And a few weeks later they were legally married. Well, they kidnapped someone who could put it in writing while under  their villain identities. They didn’t want to pay the fee. Doris would quit her job and join Leslie on the road from then on as her favorite groupie.~ However, Beatrice and Francis Zeul, who desperately wanted grandchildren, surprised the ladies when they got back from their honeymoon. The Localhost Utility Mechanism 1 was a bit of a far cry from their usual love of Biochem but it felt more ethical to them than stealing dna from their daughter and her wife to make a test tube baby. The young android was programmed to already be a teenager (think frankie stein from monster high, 16 days old instead of years, etc.) and with the knowledge that Doris and Leslie were her parents.

As might be expected however, they weren’t thrilled and aren’t the best parents by any means. They both have a small sense of care for her deep down, most likely because of their connection to each other. They do visit and bring back gifts from their touring but they don’t really have a sense of what Lum1 actually likes and enjoys. Leslie doesn't seem to realize that teasing your kid and busting their chops should come with actual reassurance at some point. She doesn't want her to end up as the type of person that she would pick on in school yet this has clearly backfired. Lum1’s primarily raised by her grandparents, their permissive approach combined with her mothers neglect has implanted an insecure personality into her coding. 

She takes part in many things at school, like sports, because she’s seeking out her mothers attention and approval. Especially because Doris is definitely the most outwardly affectionate of the two, giving her pats on the head, calling her champ; despite having her own bullies an insecurity in her youth, asking Lum1 if she’s lived up to their standards yet…(not in those exact words but you get it.) She longs to be on the gymnastics or cheerleading team but convinced herself it was a ‘weak girl’ sport and instead gets herself bruised and short circuited every week on the basketball team. 

Deep down Lum1 feels like she’s only as valuable as what she can offer others which is how she ended up befriending another group of supervillains much like herself. She isn’t exactly a villain and she often finds herself feeling badly for their victims' plights, but she could never truly understand what they go through as a robot? Could she? Her pre-programmed destiny couldn’t possibly be wrong and she feels so much better using her powers to be part of a team than using them to help her grandparents with chores! At least she tells herself that. 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗹 || dark!alex kerner x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ◦ alex has been waiting so long for you to figure out he's the guy you should be with, but you just see him as your best friend. he's tired of being a virgin, and he's tired of hoping that someday you'll wake up and realise you're meant to be together— if he can't wake you up, at least he can put you to sleep.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ◦ 6.7k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ◦ smut (noncon, somnophilia, creampie), drugging, obsession, "nice guy"/incel vibes, a bit of possessiveness, very slight degradation, male virginity loss, overall just alex being super unsettling and awful lmao

“I’m gonna run to the washroom, watch my drink?” you requested casually. Alex nodded quickly, heart starting to beat a bit faster as he watched you weave your way through the crowded bar, leaning back a bit to make sure you were out of sight for good.

He took a few glances back and forth at the people around to make sure no eyes were on him, leaning in closer to the bar to try to conceal what he was doing— reaching into his inner jacket pocket and fishing for what he’d bought just a few days ago, waiting for this moment. He was absolutely terrified that someone would catch him— that you would catch him— but he was willing to risk it in exchange for such an incredible reward.

After struggling for a second due to his hands shaking slightly, he found the plastic baggie and discreetly slipped it out, not even looking at it as he opened it close to his chest; he figured if he stared straight ahead it would be less suspicious.

He managed to get the bag open and lean forward just enough to dump the contents into your drink as it rested on the bar, looking around absent-mindedly to remain nonchalant— except that when he leaned back to see if the powder had dissolved easily, he found that he’d missed the glass entirely and dumped the light blue substance right onto the bar.

“Scheiße!” he frantically cursed under his breath as he whipped his head around to make sure no one had seen, trying to decide how to recover from this. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the glass and held it up to the edge of the bar, brushing the powder with his hand across the smooth surface and right over the slope into your drink; it hit the alcohol and started to dissolve quickly as he used his finger to push in the excess on the wooden bar before brushing the rest away with his jacket sleeve. He held the glass up to his face to look at the liquid closely, still seeing some remnants of the powder and trying to swirl the drink a bit to encourage it to fade away: if you saw something by the time you got back, he’d have to start all over again.

“When I said ‘watch my drink,’ I didn’t mean it that literally,” you giggled, and he jumped, not having realized you had returned. Considering your casual attitude and your hands eagerly reaching for the glass, you must not have seen anything leading up to this moment— and thank heavens for that.

He watched a little too intently as you took the drink from his hand and took a sip, waiting to see if you had any reaction, but you set it down without saying anything. “Thanks,” you broke the silence after swallowing, “god knows this place is probably full of creeps.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he agreed awkwardly. There was one benefit to being so deep in the friendzone: you trusted him. Right now, that and some pharmaceutical support were all he had going for him.

He wrung his hands nervously as he hoped that the second would come through for him. The guy he bought this stuff from said it was guaranteed to work, but Alex didn’t necessarily trust the word of a drug dealer selling daterape drugs. Not that he thought the label of “daterape” was very fair— if he could get you on a date, he wouldn’t have to do stuff like this in the first place! But after years of being your best friend, your partner in crime, your confidante, and the constant shoulder to cry on while a carousel of abusive assholes treated you like shit and kicked you to the curb, you still didn’t get the fucking picture. So no, this wasn’t a date; it was just two friends getting drinks, and one friend finally getting what he deserved from the other.

He took a swig of his own drink to try to calm his nerves; nursing the neck of a bottle of beer made him realize he got lucky that you ordered something served in a glass, since getting powder down a bottle would’ve been a pain.

Quickly the conversation returned to the mundane: your latest break-up, his week at work, your favorite bands, his favorite movies. He really did enjoy being your friend, all things considered, he just needed more. And as the night continued without much sign of the pill kicking in— even as you finished your drink— he worried he wouldn't get it.

But then, finally, he noticed the subtle signs: you were blinking a bit more often, and for longer. You seemed to be breathing a bit slower, staring off into space. "Hey, you with me?" he prompted, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Sorry, my story was boring—"

"No, it's not that, I'm sorry," you shook your head.

"Then what's up?" he asked, adding faux concern to his tone.

“I just…" you sighed and started over again. "Let’s head out soon, I’m getting ready to turn in,” you decided.

“It’s only ten!” Alex pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck, really? I thought it was later,” you frowned.

“Who knew you were such a lightweight?” he teased, pushing you on the shoulder and getting a playful shove back— but he could feel that you were a little weak, and he saw you almost falter in your balance. “Hey, you don’t look so good, let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You nodded and took his hand, letting him guide you through the crowd and out the back door.

The overwhelming noise that had been present inside was muffled in the damp alleyway, just the distant roar of a thousand conversations and the heavy bass of the music left now. He watched you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. "You good?" he prompted.

"Yeah," you decided, but your voice sounded a little heavy. "Let's walk to the train station…"

He nodded and walked beside you, but you hardly made it a few steps before losing your balance. “Woah!” he laughed as you stumbled, thankfully catching you just in time, and tried not to get too caught up in how amazing it felt to hold you in his arms. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink…”

“Alex,” you mumbled as you started to go limp, clearly fighting to keep your eyes open (and losing).

“I’m gonna take you home, okay?” he offered as you started to fade out.

He kept that promise; he just took you to his home instead of your own.

It was a bit of a struggle to drag an unconscious body back to his apartment without arousing suspicion, but thankfully it was only a couple blocks and with his your arm slung over his shoulders it was pretty easy for any passersby (of which there were very few at this hour) to assume it was just a chivalrous boyfriend helping his date after one too many drinks.

The hardest part was actually getting his keys and unlocking his door without dropping you. Once you were both inside, though, he grunted slightly as he slung you over his shoulder and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed and looking down at you as he caught his breath.

He was embarrassingly eager; he was already rock hard just from seeing you like this, laying on his bed. It’s not that he got off on you being passed out, but from the feeling that he could do whatever he wanted to you— and the knowledge that he was going to.

Finally, after all this time of being just your friend, he would get what he’d been dreaming of from the beginning.

He was slow and patient, for once, as he sat down beside you on the bed, trailing his fingers over your face, brushing your hair out of the way tenderly. You looked so beautiful this way, peaceful in a way he was almost jealous of; he closed his eyes as he leaned down and kissed you softly, moving his lips even though yours were slack and still.

Past the taste of alcohol, there was something distinctly unique to you, and he took in a deep breath as he sought more of it, adjusting himself until he was on top of you... just having you beneath him was such a rush.

He licked over your lips, even nibbled on them before holding your jaw so he could open your mouth wider and taste inside of it. “Baby,” he whispered to you, heart swelling at the chance to finally call you something that friends don’t call each other— only lovers. “Baby,” he said again, mumbled into the kiss, “you’re so beautiful…”

He precariously balanced on one arm while using the other to feel all over your body through your clothes— and even under them, for a moment, as his hand awkwardly snaked up your shirt and squeezed your tits through your bra.

Suddenly he pulled back with a new desperation, sitting up and breaking the kiss as he started to undress you. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he cooed at you quietly, starting to lift your shirt to expose a bit of your hips and stomach.

It was pretty difficult to push your shirt up, since your weight was holding the back of it down, and so he had to awkwardly lift your limp upper body to finally pull the fabric aside before he laid you back down and carefully— gently, with reverence— exposed your bra which itself he pulled down with much less care.

“Oh, god,” he groaned as he got an eyeful, and then a handful, of your tits. “Fuck, wanted to touch you for so long…”

You were so warm, in fact you were hot to the touch, and he hoped his hands weren’t too cold for you… but then again, you couldn’t feel any of it, could you? Did you even care?

For cold hands or not, your nipples started to get harder and he smiled to himself. “You’re sensitive here, just like I imagined. I’m gonna suck on them,” he promised as he started to lean down, pushing them together a bit to make them easier to reach. With a hum he wrapped his lips around one bud and closed his eyes, swirling his tongue and moaning at the taste of your skin. Already his hips were rocking forward into the air just a bit, his cock throbbing and eager to be inside you. But he couldn’t stop doing this to deal with that, couldn’t stop suckling on your perfect tits, going back and forth and massaging them both as he let his tongue explore you.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “you’ve got such perfect tits… you like being sucked here, don’t you? I bet your pussy’s getting so wet.”

As his cock flexed in his pants again, he found the strength to let go so he could move on to better things.

“Let’s find out,” he decided as he sat up and moved down your body to start opening your jeans.

If he thought your shirt was awkward to remove, your jeans were a whole other story; he had to fiddle with the button and fly for quite a while since his hands were starting to shake from the adrenaline rush of it all, and then it took several hard yanks to get the tight denim down your legs. He considered just getting them down enough to do his business and be on with it, but decided it would be better to see all of you— and so he stood up off the bed for a moment, though it felt a bit awkward physically with his cock doing its best try to bust right out of his trousers, and pulled the jeans off over your feet which he also relieved of their socks.

“Aw, you even have pretty feet,” he cooed as he cradled one in his hand briefly before climbing back up over you— after all he’d seen them before when you wore sandals and while he’d always found it a bit titillating when you wore them with your toenails painted in bright colours, they were absolutely nowhere near the main event tonight.

His hands ran over your legs, admiring the smoothness of your skin as he carefully held and lifted each one, moving them out further to spread your legs. Again, they were heavier than he expected as dead weight, and the softness of the bed meant that they sort of rolled back a bit so he had to move them more than he expected at first, but it was worth it to have you spread out beneath him like this with only your panties and rolled up shirt to cover you.

“I can just… pull these aside…” he mumbled as he hooked a finger into the fabric of your panties, revealing your cunt— and god, just the sight of it nearly pushed him over the edge right then and there. What a waste it would’ve been to come this far and just end up coming in his pants at the sight of you, so it was a good thing he held it off just barely. “Mein Gott, you have such a beautiful pussy,” he sighed. “It smells good… I wanna taste it. I’ve never tasted a pussy before…”

Carefully, he leaned in and gave an experimental lick to your folds, moaning softly at the taste. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he liked it more than he thought he would, going in again to get a more thorough taste. That said, as soon as he started to push his tongue into you, he knew he needed to feel inside you with something much more capable of appreciating every detail of you. He breathed heavily as he quickly brought his fingers up to your entrance, pushing in one but adding a second right away once he felt the warm perfection of your channel. This he’d done before— fingering, that is— and it had been rather lackluster so he hadn’t realised how much he would enjoy it when it was you; you were so much warmer, and wetter, and tighter… his fingers curled slightly to press against your walls, his attempt to feel every detail of your body, and he moaned as he sucked on your clit while he pumped his fingers.

One more flex of his cock against the confines of his trousers made one thing very clear: now, or never.

“Fuck,” he groaned beneath his breath as he sat up quickly, pulling his fingers out of you to use two hands to fumble over his belt and jeans, “need to be inside you— m’gonna fuck you baby, you want it? Yeah, you wanna be fucked, don’t you?”

You were, of course, still and silent… but your pussy was wet, you obviously wanted him.

He shouldn’t have rushed it quite so much but the moment he pulled his cock out, he found himself leaning forward and hovering over you again, swiping the head through your folds to coat himself in your wetness. As soon as he felt your entrance, he pushed all the way inside.

“Fuck!” he moaned loudly at the overwhelming feeling of you— so hot he thought he might burn up and he wouldn’t even mind it— already bucking his hips as he thrusted quickly. Lost in the feeling, he threw his head back for a moment and blindly searched with his hand until he found a breast to grab onto. “Oh my god, you feel so good, baby…”

He didn’t have much freedom to move his legs since he’d only pushed his pants down just enough to get inside you, but he found a way to make it work anyways, just from pure desperation. After a moment, he looked down at your sleeping face, tossing around slightly as his thrusts rocked your unconscious body, and you looked so angelic that he just had to lean down to kiss you again. So he did, and he did so hungrily, passionately, moans echoing into your mouth, as he already felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Taking me so good,” he praised roughly, “feels like you were made for me… you’re fucking tight, too, how am I supposed to pull out when you’re this tight? Oh fuck, I have to come inside you— I can’t pull out, you feel too good, and you’re not awake to yell at me anyways…”

Truth be told, he had no plan for when you woke up tomorrow, sore and leaking his come. He’d never thought that far ahead, not even when he was buying the sedative for your drink. All he could think about was this moment, this exact place that he knew he was meant to be: inside you.

“Gonna fill you with it,” he promised with a grunt as he kissed his way across your cheek to the crook of your neck where he buried his face as he thrusted faster. “O-oh god, I’m close, I’m so fucking close, just— just like that, baby— fuck!”

He may have caught a little glimpse of heaven as he came inside you, each pulse of his orgasm running straight down to the base of his cock and making his balls tighten so hard that it would’ve probably been painful were it not for the euphoria superseding everything. He gave you a few more weak thrusts, not pulling out very far since he couldn’t manage being anything but buried completely inside you, before the waves subsided and he collapsed on top of you.

“You’re so amazing, baby, Mein Gott,” he breathed as he kissed all over your face, “look how fast you made me come, you’re fucking perfect.”

He let himself rest for a little while, content to just stay inside you for as long as he could stand it, before sitting back up again and very carefully pulling himself out of you.

That first one only took the edge off; now that he was thinking somewhat clearly again, he could take the time to do this right— he carefully pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them aside along with your shirt and bra once he’d figured out how to get them off somehow.

He really savored you this time: kissed you all over, talked softly to you about everything he couldn’t wait to do to your pliant body, ran his hands over anywhere he could reach. He even played with your clit, watching the way it made your walls flex which pushed a bit of his come out every time. “I love the way your pussy looks, baby, it’s so fucking sexy,” he grinned. “And you know what? I think it looks even better with my come leaking out of it. You want more? I can give you more, baby, I have so much left to give— I’m gonna use you until my balls are empty and all my come is inside you. We’ve got all night, after all.”

He stripped himself as well, wanting to feel your skin against his this time, and stroked himself for a moment as he stared down at your body, laying there at his disposal. He couldn’t even count how many times he had jerked off imagining being with you, and now his dreams were coming true, if maybe not exactly the way he would’ve predicted.

On his knees between your spread legs, he lifted your hips up and propped you up just how he wanted you before pushing inside, groaning instantly not only from your warmth but also because of the way his own come eased his path and left you dripping wet. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, placing one hand beside your head so he could hover over you while the other squeezed your hips tightly.

But now that he’d already come before, he had some real stamina to work with and that gave him time to move you into a new position— just for fun, he turned you onto your stomach and fucked you from behind for a while. He was definitely a breast man all things considered, but he was absolutely not one to let a great ass go to waste; he loved watching yours ripple each time he slammed into you, pushing your back down to force it to arch a bit.

“You probably like taking it from behind, don’t you? Is this how you liked to get fucked?” he taunted with a groan. “Yeah, I think you like it— I think you’re a bit of a slut, hm?”

He took your absence of response as a yes, squeezing handfuls of your ass before spanking you a few times for good measure.

After that, he pushed your legs up to your shoulders, groaning in awe of such a lovely view of your pussy and face at the same time. This time when he pushed his cock into you, he felt himself hit the very end of your body— he moaned as he realized his cock was using all of you, really claiming you as his own. He needed to come this deep in you, he needed it like he had never needed anything before.

Soon enough it ended up with your legs draped over his shoulders and his hands roughly grabbing at your tits, and that transitioned naturally into him slipping his arms under your back and holding you tight as he fucked you fast, rough, needy— animalistic, near the end.

He let his mind run wild with some insane idea of what it might be like if you were awake: in his fantasy you were begging him for more, moaning about how he was the best you ever had, digging your nails into his back as he brought you to ecstasy with only his cock. You seemed like the type to cry with joy when you came really hard, at least that’s what he’d imagined before, and so he thought he might kiss your tears away while he spoke his little praises to you, hearing your sounds of pleasure right against his ear.

Suddenly he pressed his lips to yours again, almost wishing you could kiss him back properly but appreciating that this was the best he could do for now— and it still did plenty for him, making his cock start to flex inside you as his second orgasm drew closer.

“You’ll make me come, baby— you’re so good, I’m gonna come in you again,” he whispered against your lips. “Oh, Liebling, you’re going to be so full of my come, do you think you can take it all? Can you take everything, baby?”

It was different from the first one: in some ways more intense, kind of building on the last, and in some ways more subdued as he knew a bit more of what to expect by now. But it was no less incredible, and he moaned loudly into his unrequited kiss as he filled you once again.

Once the most intense pangs of sensation had faded, once the ringing in his ears had stopped, and once he’d (mostly) caught his breath, he sat up slowly and looked down at where your bodies were joined. It had, understandably, made a bit of a mess to come inside you twice in a row— he hopped up from the beg on slightly-wobbly legs to retrieve a damp cloth, cleaning his cock first before giving your pussy at least a cursory, exterior wipe down like any gentleman would.

He knew there was no real point in getting you fully cleaned up since he’d be back to use you again soon enough. But that was a ways out from now since he definitely needed a while to recover.

With a parting kiss to your forehead and a brief search for his boxers, Alex left the bedroom to forage the kitchen for something to restore some energy. He settled on a coffee (there was still plenty of night left that he would definitely prefer to be awake for), an apple, and some orange-chocolate biscuits, which he enjoyed while he turned on the TV and watched whatever was left before the end of broadcast.

Of course, with nothing interesting to watch, he found himself not really paying much attention as his mind wandered to other things. Most of all, for the first time he considered his plan for after the pill wore off and you had questions. The most thorough solution would be to give you a bath to get his fingerprints off of your skin and his come out of you, then to redress you in your clothes from the bar and simply say that you passed out and he gave you the bed while he slept on the couch.

Another option, though more dangerous, might be a bit more fun: he could leave at least some of his come inside you before he redressed you, just to know he’d left a bit of himself behind.

And, of course, there was always his last resort, perhaps the most obvious but highest risk solution. He could admit that something had happened, but try to convince you that it was of your doing, a drunken initiation that you simply couldn’t remember. But even then, it would all depend on what you remembered of the moments at the bar before blacking out; and considering the thorough beating your pussy had been receiving so far tonight and would continue to be receiving, the odds were probably pretty low that he could convince your hungover self in the morning that nothing had happened. Not that Alex would know, but he had a pretty good feeling that a sore vagina is not a common side effect of a hangover for women.

His cock started to stir as he imagined the absolute best case scenario when you woke up in the morning.

Alex, what happened last night? Did we have sex?

Yes, baby, and it was amazing, I just wish you could remember it.

Oh, Alex, I’ve been waiting so long for you to just man up and take me— you’re all I ever wanted.

I know, baby, but I’m sorry I had to go about it that way, giving you that pill in your drink. I just had to be sure you wouldn’t say no to me, I couldn’t take it if you did.

I’d never say no to you, Alex, and I never, ever will. I wouldn’t even know how, not after last night— I know that we’re meant to be together now. You shouldn’t apologize for drugging me either, I should be thanking you. We can finally be together, I can finally be all yours… come here and make love to me again, I promise I’m going to remember it this time— I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.

And to make up for such a one-sided night of passion before, he decided that this time you’d be loud and proud, even bordering on dominant by riding him with reckless abandon— bouncing happily on his cock and bringing yourself pleasure like you’ve never known before. But, of course, you’d both be well aware who was really in charge, who you really belonged to.

Alex, I’m yours— my body is yours, my heart is yours, everything, it’s all yours… I swear, nobody’s ever made me feel like you do, you can have me whenever you want me— use me, Alex, I love you, I love you!

Fuck, he was hard again. Way harder than he had any right to be considering how he’d spent the night so far. He could even just barely see a little stain of precum on his boxers by the tip of his cock, hard to make out with only the dim, blue-ish glow of the TV to see by.

But thankfully, while you were here, no boner would go to waste— he stood up and stretched away the soreness that had settled in from sitting on the couch for a while, before walking to his bedroom and cracking the door open. You were laying there, exactly as he’d left you, and even though it was no surprise at all he still smiled to himself proudly.

“Hey baby,” he grinned as he slipped off his boxers and hopped onto the bed beside your motionless body, “you’ve been waiting for me, huh?”

He ran his fingers down your stomach, over your thighs, then came back up to start to touch your pussy. He still couldn’t believe how soft and silky it was, you were just too good to be true— and here you were, spread out on his bed for him to use as much as he liked, his best friend turned into his own personal sex doll.

The only shame was that the drug would wear off eventually, and he couldn’t just use you this way forever. It was only one night, at least until he found a way to do it again, and he needed to make the most of it.

So, not looking to waste any more time, he climbed up on top of you and rubbed his cock over your pussy— wet and spread out on display for him, though even wetter after he took a moment to pull back and spit on it— while his mouth laved at your hardening nipples. Honestly, he could probably come just from this, just from rubbing himself on you and sucking on your tits, but why do that when he could fuck you again?

He held your legs apart for himself as he pushed inside, purring as he felt your swollen channel struggle slightly to accommodate him. “Aw, it’s not too big for you, is it baby?” he taunted you with a smirk. “You can take it all, right? Yeah you can, that’s my good girl…”

He fucked you a little faster right away, focusing his hands and mouth on your breasts for a while and wondering if he might find the self-discipline to pull out and come on your tits this time. Probably not, but it was fun to imagine. He always thought your tits just deserved to be covered in his come, though, ever since you wore that one dress that showed them off just a little too much and it made him too horny to even really be jealous that you were putting yourself on display like that.

You dressed a little too provocatively, all things considered; he never got his head around on how all these controlling douchebag boyfriends of yours let you leave the house like that. If you were his girlfriend, he’d treat you loads better than any of them did, but one thing he’d be sure of is to dress you up in baggy sweatshirts as much as he could get away with. No more of those tops with the straps as thin as a noodle and the jeans so tight that every guy who walked by was obviously staring at you. A body as lovely as yours would need to stay Alex’s-eyes-only, if you two were ever going to end up together. But obviously, tonight proved that Alex was more confident than ever that that could never really happen. It was nice to play pretend for the night, though.

“You’re taking it so good, baby, look at you,” he groaned as he sat up a bit to get a glimpse of your cunt stretched wide around his cock. “Can you believe it fits? I can, I know you were made to take it— ‘cause you’re my girl, huh? All mine…”

For all intents and purposes, he was talking to himself; but as stupid as it was, it worked.

“Yeah, you’re all mine,” he continued, fucking you faster, “this pussy belongs to me, all my come inside it makes that pretty fucking clear, don’t you think? Such a beautiful little pussy and it’s all mine.”

Overcome by it all, he leaned down to rest his head beside yours while he fucked you, feeling a thin layer of sweat gather around most of his body from the exertion of fucking you as hard as he was.

“You’re never gonna let anybody else touch you,” he demanded against your shoulder, “‘cause you’re mine, baby, and nobody else is ever gonna fuck you… just me, you’re gonna be mine, Liebling.”

He heard you let out a little sigh and at first it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced— the closest he’d ever gotten to hearing you moan for him— but then he pulled back and saw your eyes blinking open and staring straight up at him…

And suddenly it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced.

A rush of adrenaline— much less enjoyable than before— shot through him and left him petrified as he stared back at you.

“...A-Alex?” you croaked out weakly. “What’s happening?”

Even in his state of terror, he was moving on pure instinct: and his instinct was to keep fucking you. He couldn’t stop, not even staring you down like this, not even moments away from facing the very terrible consequences of his very terrible actions. “You’re dreaming,” he blurted out suddenly, suppressing a moan as he felt you squirm a bit beneath him— it made you even tighter when you struggled. “This is just a dream…”

You reached up, a pathetically weak attempt to push him away, and he quickly pinned your arms down beside your head.

“You’re just dreaming, baby,” he repeated in a groan, “a really, really amazing dream.”

You whimpered a bit but didn’t say anything else, eyes falling shut again; he carefully leaned down to press his face into your neck, kissing along your pulse and up to your ear.

“You’ve dreamed about this before, haven’t you?” he whispered to you softly. “You’ve dreamed about how good it would be if you let your best friend fuck you. And it feels good, doesn’t it? I dreamed about this too. For as long as I knew you.”

When he looked up at your eyes again, they were still shut, and your breathing started to slow down again. He couldn’t say for sure that you were asleep quite in the same way you had been before, but you weren’t awake the way you’d been before, either.

The safest option, of course, would be to stop now— but he was too close to coming a third time and he just couldn’t bring himself to stop moving when the slick friction was just so fucking good.

He tried not to be too rough so he wouldn’t jostle you awake, and even just that took all that was left of his willpower; it wasn’t all too much later that he came inside you one last time, whispering to you about how this might be the last time, but that he hopes you enjoyed your strange little dream about making love with your best friend.

Truth be told, he didn’t mean to fall asleep in the manner that he did— that being on top of you— but the coffee did little to keep him up compared to the sedative of three orgasms and your perfect pussy keeping him warm all night…

By the time he woke up, though, you two had migrated apart slightly, though you were still tangled up in his arms with your head on his chest.

Smiling down at you, he let himself run his fingers lightly over your back, over your arm draped on his chest, before he felt you start to stir with the sunlight in the window shining on your face.

You hummed a little, starting to move, but he thought he might’ve caught the moment you realised you were laying next to someone— and you looked up at him with those pretty eyes all confused. “Alex?” you groaned.

“Morning,” he greeted, trying to mimic the hungover exhaustion that tinted your voice.

“Oh Christ are we—” you choked, glancing down at his bare chest. “I think we’re naked.”

“That… seems to be the case, yes,” he agreed awkwardly.

“Did we…?” you prompted, looking up at him in a way that made it painfully ambiguous what answer you might prefer.

“I don’t know, we were both pretty wasted,” he offered, banking on you not remembering him being much more composed than you when you passed out. “What do you remember last?”

“Um, the bar…” you trailed off. “And we were walking outside…”

“Yeah, that’s kind of where my memory cuts off, too,” he bluffed with a nervous chuckle.

He saw your eyes get wide for a second before they darted away, and he raised an eyebrow. “Oh… oh shit,” you choked as you sat up suddenly, trying to cover yourself as you searched near the bed for your discarded clothes.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked quickly.

“I, uh, remember one other thing,” you explained pointedly, finally finding your panties and slipping them back on under the covers.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, but you ignored him as you searched for your bra. “Hey,” he barked, grabbing your shoulder as he sat up, and finally you faced him again, “what do you remember?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I, uh… I think I can say with complete confidence that we fucked last night.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” he pressed, sitting up a little straighter.

“I… remember,” you explained, “just a little bit.”

He just prayed that you didn’t remember that little bit where he drugged you. “Well, what happened?”

“I don’t know, okay? I just remember you on top of me and—”

“And?”

You swallowed thickly, and he had to hide a smirk when he realized what the rest of your sentence was. And it felt good.

“I should go…” you mumbled awkwardly, and he reached out to grab your arm.

“Wait, please,” he begged, and you looked back at him with watery eyes. “Look, I’m not sure what happened last night, but maybe it wasn’t a mistake— I mean, how can we be sure if we don’t give it a shot?”

You tilted your mouth a bit as you considered it.

“I mean, they say alcohol takes away your inhibitions, not that it gives you new ideas, right?” he added. “So we both got way too drunk and… if this is where we ended up, then maybe this is what we both really wanted all along.”

He scooted a bit closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. You sighed as you leaned into his chest, relaxing a bit. “I just don’t want to lose this,” you breathed. “You know: this.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “we’re always gonna be best friends, nothing can change that.”

He leaned in to kiss your temple… then your cheek… then just below your ear...

“Alex,” you breathed as he slowly laid you down and pressed you back into the mattress, but you jumped a little bit when he pressed his cock against your thigh. “Alex!”

“C’mon, baby, let’s remember together,” he encouraged with kisses all over your neck, grinning as your back arched.

“But… but we’re just friends,” you protested.

“Not anymore,” he purred. “I don’t remember much, but I remember you begging me for more. You loved my cock way too much for us to just be friends now, Liebling.”

For all the conflict on your face, your legs spreading open for him was pretty unambiguous. Your mind might have missed the memo, but your body was already used to him. With you conscious he could make you come around him, he could hear you moan his name, he could make you beg him to come inside you… the possibilities were really endless.

He should’ve known he’d never have the self-control to let it just be one night; he was a goner from the beginning, he’d do anything to have you— lie, steal, kill, spike your drink— and he wasn’t going to let you get away so easily, not when you were finally right here in his arms.

“You’re gonna be mine, baby,” he whispered in your ear as he slowly pushed his cock inside you once again, “all mine.”

[chaoticevilbean]

Another Star Wars AU, TBN*

*To-Be-Named

I love time travel. A lot. So here is a time-travel au, with the CW trio.

Somehow, perhaps by touching a Sith artifact, perhaps by the Force deciding they should, perhaps from some sort of weird ritual the locals were performing that the trio didn't know about, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Anakin, Rex, and Cody travel aback in time.

[Please keep in mind that Canon Timeline has died tragically in a fire, and I am but the weeping widow with an inheritance.]

Due to whatever happened, they all also end up (technically) deaging. They still have their memories and their knowledge and skills, just stuck in smaller bodies. They can think and act like adults, but they also have to struggle a bit more to implement Older Skills in Younger Bodies.

Ahsoka is 2. She's nubby. She's emotional. She's tired and sore from her deaging.

She wakes up in someone's office. She's in a spinny chair, a big one with leather padding. It's kind-of chilly in the room.

She's not thinking, because all her brain is putting together is that she's still tired. She grabs the jacket off the back of the chair and pulls it over herself. She goes back to sleep.

Rex and Cody wake up together.

They are their actual age, which is to say they're both about eleven.

They find themselves on Mandalore. In the more wild areas.

(let me believe that there are parts of the planet that aren't covered in city)

(also, this is the Mandalore in the cartoons)

They find a teen trying to wake them both up. Rex has absolutely no clue what's going on. Cody has a vague idea, because this girl looks very similar to a picture he once saw...

Obi-Wan does not fare as well. He is 3.

He wakes up in someone's arms. He's just as tired and sore as the other three. However, he's also got more awareness because he's in someone's arms.

He looks up to see who's carrying him.

He looks around at the people walking with them.

He starts crying. He cannot help this, as he is suddenly flooded with Emotions, and he is Smol. Smol = harder to handle Emotions.

Because Qui-Gon is walking right next to him, tapping away on a holopad as they go. Dooku is on his other side, on a comm call where both parties sound very tired.

And Obi-Wan is being held... by Obi-Wan.

So, yeah, not that great for a suddenly Smol Obi.

Now, Anakin is 8, so he's better off in that perspective.

But he wakes up on some remote planet without anyone around. He just was in the middle of a group, so he ends up kinda panicking.

Then he hears something coming towards him, and he panics more.

He's Tiny! He's Smol! He's massively at a disadvantage against attacks! He can't fight off whatever is on a planet like this!

It's Mace (and Depa).

Anakin, however, doesn't realize this. He has gone Feral.

Back to the beginning

Jango Fett has been very busy w/Important Mand'alor Paperwork all day. He finally has time to go and relax a little, and he makes it all the way down to the exit before he realizes:

It is really cold outside. He is not in armor bc he was planning to only do paperwork today (though he still has many weapons). When one plans to stay in the same room for almost the entire day, one does not wear normal garb.

That said, he has no protection from the cold. He forgot his jacket upstairs. He rushes back up to his office.

He distinctly remembers that he left the jacket on the back of his chair, not on the seat.

He also is wondering what that lump is.

He arms himself, grabs some of his "emergency" armor plating, and walks over to the chair.

He lifts his jacket up, expecting a bomb or some paperwork that fell off the desk, or something logical.

He does not expect to find a tiny Togruta child clinging onto the fabric, whining as they're woken up by his yanking of the jacket.

Jango's brain stutters for a moment, then he kicks into action.

First things first, he wraps the jacket around the Togruta. They thankfully stay asleep. Then he turns up the heat, because he knows the office has gotten colder in the twenty minutes or so he's been gone, and Togruta are from warm temperate zones.

He decides to call, in this order, a guard who can help him watch the Togruta (they did break in, after all), a medic to check the Togruta’s health, and the first person he can find in his contacts that might know an adult Togruta.

Next group

Rex and Cody manage to get the teen to stop fussing over them for long enough to ask for her name.

Her, clearly lying, but that’s understandable: My name is Ine.

Cody, who knows exactly who this is now: Oh, kriff. You’re Duchess Satine, aren’t you? Kriff.

Rex: Wait, Satine? As in the General’s Satine?

Satine, now very suspicious and reaching for her stunner: I think you need proper medical attention.

Cody, looking down at their eleven-year-old selves: Yeah, I think so, too.

They agree on one thing, at least.

Next

Obi-Wan is crying. Loudly, uncontrollably, w/too many Emotions to even care that he’s supposed to be an adult rn.

Other Obi-Wan is very uncomfortable, bc he doesn’t know how to handle children too well.

They found this kid unconscious in the middle of a ruined, abandoned town.

Obi-Wan was meant to hold this kid while Qui-Gon did research and Master Dooku tried to convince the Council that it was entirely necessary to bring the kid back to Coruscant. Granted, they can still give the child to the locals at any time before they make it back to their ship, but apparently the Force is Being Loud.

The Force was Being Loud when it told Master Dooku to come along.

The Force was Being Loud when it led them to that town.

Qui-Gon and Dooku have argued fifteen and a half times on this mission, and an additional six times on the flight here. Obi-Wan is trying to mediate but also doesn’t want to overstep. The Force is Being Loud, sure, but the kid is also Force-sensitive so it might be something off that.

He didn’t argue with holding the kid bc he thought that it was better than being caught between the Masters.

Holding a crying child and trying to get two adults to stop arguing bc they can’t decide how to comfort the kid is not better.

Obi-Wan keeps walking past them to the ship with this baby. He does what he’s seen some crechemasters do to the younglings. The kid eventually calms a little, and he belatedly realizes that both Masters are still behind him, not with him.

NEXT

Anakin is panakin.

He is currently in a state of Feralness. His instincts have kicked into overdrive, full-on Survival Mode.

Depa and Mace do not know this. All they know is that there was suddenly an extremely powerful Force presence that started fading quickly (bc Anakin started shielding).

They burst into sight of Anakin and are suddenly attacked by all four feet and some of Feral Force Child.

It’s all they can do for a good minute or so to avoid losing their fingers, eyes, or untorn clothes.

Mace puts a few things together very quickly.

This planet is uninhabited by any sapient life. Therefore, this child is utterly alone. This child also is clearly strong in the Force, and knows how to hide their presence, for whatever reasons. Mace is a Jedi, and therefore is bound by certain duties.

He decides it is his Duty to get this kid back to Coruscant safely.

Back to the beginning

Ahsoka wakes up to find a familiar face looking down at her. She’s still tired, but not as much. She’s very aware of her size, and does a few quick observations.

She does not fully know who Jango Fett is. She does know that some clones run off bc they hate war and weren’t given a choice an- no. Not going down that path yet.

Ahsoka assumes, semi-incorrectly, that she was shrunk or deaged and somehow found by a rogue clone.

She knows it’s a rogue clone bc they’ve got weird armor.

So she does the logical thing and tries to comfort this clone bc he looks really worried and kinda panicked. She stands up on the spinny chair and tries to balance and he practically lunges to help her and she can’t help but giggle, but it comes out in a bunch of chirps instead.

The clone picks her up and looks really awkward so she pats his face bc that’s the best she can do bc she doesn’t want to disprove the fact she’s two yet.

For all she knows, this rogue clone has no idea she’s actually a Commander in the GAR.

He doesn’t, but for different reasons than she thinks.

NEXT

Rex and Cody go with Satine to the city. They have introduced themselves and said that they were separated from their aliit. They don't know where said aliit is.

Satine is highly suspicious by this point, bc these two kids recognized her with only part of her name, and they were alone, and they speak Basic with Mando'a thrown in.

Basically, she thinks that they're children of people like Death Watch, but she's too young to know that Death Watch isn't really into children.

Rex and Cody get checked over by a medic, but also start trying to get access to some working comms. They are refused on account of being suspicious children (which makes them a little upset bc they're not children)(Well, they are, but not those types of children)

They have not yet figured out that they are in the past, bc Cody and Rex only know that General Kenobi talks about Duchess Satine, and they know about Padme Amidala from General Skywalker, so clearly this Duchess is really young and the General simply viewed her as someone he wants to protect.

They are very very very wrong.

NEXT

Obi-Wan manages to calm himself somewhat now that it's just him and... him.

He is three, and he knows roughly what's happening, so he knows he should probably act like a 3yo.

Unfortunately, he has very little understanding of how child ages work. 3 is smart enough to go up the stairs and communicate with adults, but def. not old enough to speak sentences that are 15 words long with at least 2 5-syllable words.

Fortunately, his older (younger?) self doesn't know children either.

So when this 3yo starts telling him that he needs to leave the two Masters on the planet and head to Tatooine really fast, Obi-Wan is more concerned about the idea than the strangeness of "this is a 3yo suggesting this".

Obi-Wan is really good at convincing people. Including himself. He manages to get Padawan Kenobi to leave supplies where the ship is supposed to be and head towards Tatooine.

He says that the Masters will be fine, they know how to survive, and they need to be alone together in order to work through all the tension. Plus, it gives them plenty of time to talk to the Council.

Toddler Kenobi also tells himself that he'll take the blow and say he used a mind-trick.

Padawan Kenobi doesn't believe him yet, but Toddler Kenobi smiles like a very smug adult and says "you'll get there eventually". What he truly means is up in the air.

NEXT

Anakin, since waking up, knows much less than everyone else. Which is saying something.

He knows he's Smol. He knows he's Alone. He knows Someone has come and they are Strangers.

One thing about Anakin's instincts is that they are very much Survival Based. He was Feral when he joined the Jedi, only he had to hold those instincts back for most of his life bc of being a slave.

A slave cannot bite someone who approaches and Vibes Wrong.

By the time he felt okay with being Feral Out Loud, he also felt safe enough that he didn't need to activate his Survival Mode.

What I'm trying to say is that Anakin does not realize how strong his Feral Instincts are. He has absolutely no control over them rn.

When Mace decides to Help this child, this child is trying to Maul them.

Mace makes a small ruckus to draw Anakin's attention to him so Depa can move back. Depa pulls out her saber now that she won't hit the kid. The kid notices Purple and Bright and Lightsaber.

Lorge Jedi Mind says this is Good. Safe. Jedi.

Smol Feral Brain says this is Dangerous. Mean.

Anakin freezes on sight and just starts tracking Depa's saber. She does one of those things where a snake or something is focused and the person waves the fire or the food slowly to make sure the wolf is watching it and usually they toss the thing away so the snake follows it.

Mace instead takes this opportunity to wrap Anakin in his cloak. And Depa's cloak. And the spare ones in their bags.

Feral Child is not happy with this. Feral Child is also unable to scratch or Maul or do things other than bite and snarl.

Depa carries Feral Child while Mace comms the Temple and they walk back to their ship.

The Temple is having a field day.

First, one of their Shadows reports that a well-known bounty hunter got an emergency message from a pal of theirs that said Jango Fett needs help learning Togruta childcare.

Then they get a call from Dooku, which is not the mission report they wanted.

Yoda: Mission report, you have?

Dooku: Of a sort. We successfully spoke with the locals, then went to investigate a rather large disturbance.

Mundi: A disturbance?

Dooku: We found the source to be a Force-sensitive child.

Mundi: So you are here to ask for more time on the planet?

Dooku:...

Yoda: Bring the child back, you wish to?

Dooku, unapologetic: He is of an acceptable age to be admitted into the Temple, and no other beings were around at the time to entertain the idea of there being guardians.

The Council is sighing and muttering bc this is a Disaster Lineage (and they haven't even met the other two yet). Their call is interrupted by the sound of crying and Dooku saying the child's woken up.

Then there's another Shadow who sends a message saying a set of twins that seem like Death Watch were found by the heir of Clan Kryze.

Finally, to top everything off, they get a call from Mace Windu and Depa Billaba. Two very dignified, not-at-all chaotic Jedi from a perfectly respectable lineage.

Yeah, most of the Council and the Order itself forgets that Yoda had a hand in raising Windu. Yoda "Feral Grandpa" who throws children at every problem. Grandson isn't doing too well? Throw a child his way. Other grandchild is struggling to cope with grief? Throw another child their way. Oh, there's a war going on and newest grandchild is angry a lot? Here's a child!

The entire lineage has a soft spot for children.

Anyways...

Mace: Our mission was a success. We found the artifact and both specimens.

Koth: How long until your return?

Mace:...

Yoda: Found a child, you did?

Gallia: Master Yoda, that's a rather illogical guess. Once is unusual, twice is-

Mace: Oh, did Qui-Gon find a child as well?

Yoda, smugly: Bringing the child back, are you?

Depa, from the background, after a rather loud snarl is heard: We do not bite things, young one.

*more snarling*

Mace: We have no reason to believe he was not alone.

Tiin: *deep sighing*

Mundi: *mild confusion noises*

Koon, eagerly: Please send photos of this youngling. For the archives, of course.

Mace, nodding sagely: Of course.

*extremely loud yowl* *sounds of Mace turning*

Mace: DEPA!

Depa: He nearly bit off my finger!

Mace: That doesn’t mean you pinch him!

Depa: What else am I supposed to do?!

*sudden exclamation filled solely of Mando’a, Huttese and Twi’leki curses*

Mace: So, I don’t know if he speaks Basic, but Master Che should be able to talk him through a check-up.

Yeah, several Council members are experiencing headaches now. Normally, they would have some empathy for Mace and his own stress-induced migraines. They currently do not.

Right after that call, Dooku calls back to say that Obi-Wan has left without them.

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Dooku:

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Obi-Wan did not leave himself with the Masters. Obi-Wan has listened to Mini-Obi and is off on some wild space adventure to a criminal-run planet.

The toddler won’t stop staring at him. He asks for a name. The kid says to call him Ben.

OW: Is that your name?

“Ben”: It is a name I am called :)

OW: That isn’t what I meant.

“Ben”: I know :)

Ben also keeps staring at OW’s lightsaber. OW decides to make sure the kid doesn’t start playing with it when he isn’t looking.

MEANWHILE

Ahsoka has figured out that she was really very oh-so wrong. She’s on Mandalore. As in, the Mandalore that is under Jango Fett. Bc she’s with Jango Fett. He’s holding her hand bc she was nervous about the strange looking medic (who was just wearing armor, but not clone armor and civies don’t wear armor.)

Ahsoka knows very little about Jango Fett. Clone Buir, Mandalorian leader, tried to kill Master Kenobi. Also dead.

He asks how she got in. She shrugs. She is too small to fight back so she can’t let him know anything. Whatever everything is right now. But also, he doesn’t seem mean or evil or anything.

Oh yeah. Skyguy said that Mandos love children. That's why the clones were so protective of her, even with Skyguy on her side of the argument.

She decides to use this to her advantage. She can probably get herself a comm, and enough time to call the Temple. If she can convince them she at least knows a Jedi, then they can come get her and she'll work from there.

ELSEWHERE

Rex and Cody are getting really upset. This Duchess is really nice, but she's acting really weird and keeps insisting she's not actually called Duchess. No one will give them a comm, they keep getting weird looks for speaking Mando'a even though they're on Mandalore, and Satine's father keeps mentioning a Fett. Maybe Boba's set a bad example again.

Rex starts to fall asleep, to his chagrin. He's too bored, sitting and getting some abnormally extensive check-up. Cody is fine, but he's used to the calm that is General Kenobi. Rex usually has a Togruta teen in the vents and a Human that is never where he's supposed to be.

Rex does, in fact, fall asleep. His "twin" starts glaring when a doctor goes to wake him up. Cody makes it clear that his brother is like Cat: once asleep, you do not wake.

Satine is giggling, but trying not to let the others hear. Cody does. Cody looks at her. They have a stare-off.

Cody goes back to glaring at the doctors. He will not admit to any emotions besides Protect™.

BACK TO

Obi-Wan and Ben have made it to Tatooine.

[anxious2dsimp]

Haikyuu Dads celebrating Mother's Day | Osamu, Iwaizumi, & Kuroo

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Pairings: Osamu x Reader, Iwaizumi x reader, Kuroo x Reader.

Flavor: Fluffy af bby ☁️

Reader: Female Mother!Reader

Format: Drabbles (1.1k words total)

Warnings: None, just fluffy mom (y/n) enjoying her lovely family.

A/N: Mother's Day just really sent me into a Haikyuu dads brainrot and these scenarios have been stuck in my head all day. Enjoy!

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Osamu

You tried to stifle your giggles as you sat at your home’s dining room table, the sound of childish bickering and hushed laughter coming from behind the closed kitchen door. “I’ll take the plates, you take the flowers,” the voice of one of your little boys demanded. “Nuh, uh! S’ my turn to take the food, I pwomise I won’t dwop it,” the youngest of the two boys replied while you could hear your husband’s quiet snorts in the background. Your face of surprise was ready when the door swung open a few seconds later to reveal your two sons holding onto either side of a plate, your husband standing behind them keeping an eye on them and the food so it got soundly to where you sat. Osamu and you exchanged a soft smile at the sight of your two boys working together with a concentrated pout that reminded you of their father’s as they slowly brought the food over. Heart-shaped onigiris of your favorite flavor plated with sesame seeds forming a smiley face were placed in front of you, the oldest smiling proudly as he boasted about how they made them themselves. You ruffled their hair and congratulated both boys who beamed at your comment on how they were greater cooks than their father. The cook in question sharing a knowing grin with you, both aware that in reality, he had made all the bases while the kids ensembled the shapes. “Happy Mother’s Day!” The two kids hugged you tightly in your chair, climbing onto you as you hug them back, feeling your heart swell with pride at what your husband and you had created. “Happy Mother’s Day,” Osamu said as he walked over to you, his lazy smirk paired with eyes full of love as his rough hand lifted your chin to capture your lips in a kiss. “Eww get a woom!” the youngest one exclaimed, as the older one made gagging sounds, you and your husband breaking apart to share a surprised look as you both chuckled, trying to figure out where the little boy learned that, probably uncle Atsumu. That Sunday at home, as you shared lunch with your three favorite people in the world to celebrate, all you felt was warmth.

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Iwaizumi

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of your husband’s side of the bed being empty like it usually was early in the mornings, when he went for his run or cooked a healthy breakfast. He had kept this up even since the birth of your little girl, making it a bonding moment between them as he brought her energetic self along. Hajime knew how much effort it took to keep up with work and motherhood along with so many other things, so he loved sharing time with her daughter with the added bonus of it giving you a well-deserved rest. The sound of the bedroom door opening woke you from the gentle slumber you didn’t realize took over you to see your shirtless husband with your 8-month-old daughter babbling happily on one arm, both bathed in the warm sunlight of that beautiful Friday morning. Looking at where your daughter was reaching for before her familiar olive eyes landed on you, you were surprised to find a tray with a fruit smoothie and an omelet along with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. An amused smile appeared on your lips as you raised an eyebrow at Hajime as a form of a silent question. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he said, his voice still groggy and laced with sleep mindfully soft as to not to disturb the peace and quiet that enveloped the three of you like a spell, a love-sick smile on his face. “It’s today? Aww, thank you Haji,” you said wholeheartedly, the idea of this being the first of many years to come celebrating Mother’s Day making you teary-eyed as your husband put down the tray beside you. Giving you a peck, he hummed happily as he delicately took your daughter’s hands and waved them as he exclaimed in his baby talk voice; “happy first Mother’s Day mom, dad thought we should make it memorable.” You giggled at your husband’s antics, which nobody would guess considering his tough exterior. You and your daughter were and would always be his soft spot.

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Kuroo

A huff escaped your lips at the weight of two small bodies landing on top of you on the couch, they had managed to sneak up on you as you were immersed in your laptop propped up in the table in front of you. You and your husband had taken that Tuesday afternoon off to celebrate Mother’s Day, Tetsurou going to pick up your daughter and son from school as you headed home and wait for them there. Between huffs and breathy laughs, the two kids wished you a happy Mother’s Day for a second time that day, and you managed to thank them before you felt a much heavier body pile on top of you three. “Daaad!” The eldest son groaned playfully as he tried to push of your husband who was carefully putting down part of his body weight on all of you. “You’re heavy,” your little girl whined between giggles as she tried to shield herself in your grasp. “Am I heavy or are you three just weak?” You could hear Kuroo’s knowledgeable smirk in his voice, the same one you fell in love with, as you scoffed dramatically in response. “We’re stronger than you Mr. Know-it-all,” you said in a sing-song voice as you started pushing your husband off of you, him only allowing you to when his two kids joined him. Once you had all calmed down you hugged your children and thanked them for the colorful cards and macaroni frames they put all their efforts into making at school. “My turn,” your husband exclaimed with his mouth full as he placed down his slice of cake and plopped down next to you, pulling out a small bag from behind the couch. Inside was a necklace locket, that you opened to reveal a picture of the four of you. “Tetsu, it’s beautiful, thank you,” you said as you hugged him tightly, yet you both knew you weren’t just thanking him for the thoughtful gift, but also for the wonderful life that you had created together. “No, thank you,” he replied, his tone genuine and filled with love as your kids pouted. You spent the rest of the afternoon spending quality time as a family and reassuring your two kids that their gifts were better than their father’s, who cheered them up with his “infamous” science puns, as he liked to say.

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Pls I'm too soft for this😭 hmu with your thoughts and requests! <3

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Epilogue ask time!! Okay, so I have been thinking about this non-stop ever since I read that line near the end, i dunno which chapter it was but it must've been before the Henry boss battle--Mike basically says something along the lines of "save that for the wedding" to Simon, and now I H A V E to ask. What would Simon and Mike's wedding REALLY be like? Would they invite everyone? What would their wedding cake look like? (gosh, I am SO pumped up for this couple, they are so goshdarn cute--)

.(I honestly can’t recall why I haven’t answered this ask when it was time :c I’m sorry Yeah, epilogue ask time! Even if you might never will see this answer, hah. Sorry for having been gone so long! But better late than never and all that. ALSO: TUMBLR DOESN'T PERMIT LONG ANSWERS ANYMORE? I'LL TRY TO EDIT IN THE WHOLE THING AFTER POSTING, BUT IF YOU CAN'T FIND IT, YOU’LL KNOW IT’S ON MY AO3)

It was a normal day in the renamed Afton household. Which means that the household was currently a dilapidated Freddy’s. Unlike most dilapidated Freddy’s, this just felt mildly depressing and empty. Any soul that would have haunted the immediate area was gone by now, as Dave and Old Sport were busy to pick the last few springlocks out of Dave’s skin. “How many children are we at now? This has at least been thirty! How did you even MANAGE to capture so many kids without anyone EVER noticing?” “Hey, Old Sport, it ain’t my fault that 460,000 children go missin’ every year! I’ve only ever gotten like- yeah, 30 a year, at best! With all the police swarmin’ and all that. That ain’t nothin’ compared to children goin’ missin’ every year!” “… we’ve only made it through ONE year’s worth of your murder?!” “Eh, we’re makin’ pretty good progress if you ask me-“ The door to the room was very abruptly slammed open. Circus Baby stood in there and after an appropriately dramatic pause, she came inside and slammed a few pictures onto the table. “IMPORTANT NEWS, DADS! MIKE AND SIMON ARE CURRENTLY ON THE MOVE. INTEL SAYS THIS IS THE LOCATION!” “You don’t need to scream, we hear you just fine!” Old Sport leaned back, relaxed. “Ooooh, pretty!” Dave picked up the images. “Yes… too pretty.” Baby scoffed. “Don’t you notice something about these pictures?” “Ya really got talkin’ like a crazy detective down. That Ethan guy really impressed you, didn’t he?” “No- no! Not at all!” She huffed and turned a bit. “But just- look! There’s a church there! And travelling all the way there… isn’t it clear what is going on?!” “Enlighten us, my body is ready.” Interested the Orange Guy leaned forward. “They. Are. Trying to…” A pause. Then abruptly she ripped one of her arms up, pointing a finger into nowhere. “MARRY!” “WHAT!?” “YES! AND THEY HAVEN’T INVITED US. AND FROM COMMUNICATION WITH BASE-“ “Oh, did you say hi to Jeremy for us?” “Yeah, I did- BUT NO THE POINT. COMMUNICATION WITH BASE REVEALED: THEY HAVE ALSO NO KNOWLEDGE OF THE OPERATION. MIKE AND SIMON HAVE GONE ROGUE AND PLAN TO GET MARRIED PATHETICALLY AND ALONE WITHOUT ANY OF THEIR FRIENDS. CAN WE STAND FOR THAT!?” Immediately, the both of them stood up. “NO SIR!” “THAT IS WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR: OPERATION ‘BIG WEDDING, IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT’ COMMENCES N O W!” The fact that maybe, POTENTIALLY these two were just going on a nice trip was carefully considered by Old Sport and then passionately discarded. As was the potential that they weren’t invited on purpose. Or that there were still children’s souls to save. They waited decades- surely, they could wait some more, eh? - - - Mike was the first to wake up. He was groggy and confused, but his hand immediately reached for his partner. “Ssss- simon…?” A cough beside him snapped him fully out of it. Simon was stirring besides him, groaning. Quickly Mike leaned over him, gently slapping his face. “Simon?! Please- wake the fuck up.” “… Mike…?” It came back, as groggy. Then, a soft, raspy laugh. “… you look… beautiful… am I dreaming…?” “Christ, Si. What’s with the sentimentalities? Wake up.” Shifting on the spot, the heavy fabric around his legs confused him for a moment- “WHAT THE FUCK.” Jumping back, he stared down at himself, inspecting baffled the completely white and glittering wedding dress he was wearing. Now that he thought of it- Simon was wearing an elegant dark suit with a light blue tint. “What the FUCK!?” “Aaah… were we kidnapped?” Simon got slowly up, looking around, not caring too much about his appearance. “… you’d think now that we’re away from Freddy’s, that would be over…” Flustered, Mike stood up straight and gritted his teeth. “… whoever the fuck did it, I’ll break their necks. You don’t fuck with a Freddy’s veteran, not if you want to live.” Simon just snorted in response, but allowed Mike to gentle help him up- laughing a little again, as Mike carefully checked him over. “Really- I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just a bit dizzy.” “Good. Their deaths will be quick instead of slow then.” They spotted a door. Their exit? Carefully they approached- and before Mike could try the handle, a hand wrapped itself around his. Looking back, Simon had furrowed his brow and nodded determinedly at him. We have been through worse. Together we will get out. They pushed open the door… … light flooded in. Immediate cheers from all sides and elegant organ music was playing. Glitter and white petals were falling from over them, as they tried to desperately to regain orientation. They were in a giant church, and the benches were filled with animatronics, fellow Phone Guys who looked rather confused, and at the very front was Jeremy, in a priestly outfit, smiling and waving at them. “CONGRATULATION!!!!” Marion was by his side like a shadow, looking skeptical- but also raising a hand in greeting. Old Sport was nowhere to be seen, however it turned out terrifyingly enough that it was Dave of all people on the organ, playing his heart out in the fanciest clothes he seemed to find. Actually, all these fancy suits seemed to have a similar style… “… did you rob a fucking wedding dress venue?!” Baby by the front gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. “ABSOLUTELY! ONLY THE BEST FOR YOU! Well- I wanted to give BOTH of you dresses, but Jeremy said that wasn’t traditional and that we didn’t know what you would want- so eh. I’m sorry, I gave my best to make BOTH of you beautiful.” Funtime Freddy didn’t even need to raise his voice to be audible over the cheers. “YYY---YYEAH! S-S-soo we G-GAVE it to the one who- one who- NEEDED IT THE MOST! HA-AHAHAha-A-A-A-AHAHAH!” Simon stood up straighter. “DO NOT TALK THIS WAY ABOUT MY MIKE! OR I’LL- I’LL UH- KICK YOU OUT OF MY WEDDING, RIGHT NOW!” “No—NOOOOO!” Funtime Freddy looked horrified. “I- I- AM SOooOO- S-SORRY! P-Pleas-eee-e! Don’t- don’t- kick m-e-e-e OUT!“ “Then watch yourself.” Simon dragged Mike a bit closer. “… are we actually fucking doing this?” Quietly Mike whispered to him as they walked up the rows. “… we should play along for now… and if we see a chance, we’ll get out. Take revenge, or- uh- whatever.” “If you say so. I’m with you to the end.” They arrived in front of Jeremy, who made a gesture to quiet the room, with Dave taking the que to play a quieter, marriage appropriate song on his instrument. “Hey, uh- Jeremy.” Casually Simon started, clearly having a plan. “I appreciate this, but uh- you’re not a priest, right? Aren’t only priests allowed to do stuff like this? Baptism, marriage, all that? We can wait for you guys to find a proper priest…” Sadly, Jeremy’s lovely smile broke that hope immediately. “Oh, actually, protestants are allowed to baptize themselves if no priest is there. I think as long as two witnesses are there…? But yes. Same for marriage! No worries- I gladly do it! I also made the cake!” The promised couple turned their head around to spot a giant cake. Beautiful multiple layers of delicious goodness. “It’s with strawberries!” Happily Jeremy said. “I picked the motive.” Cooly Marion pointed out. “Jeremy almost made a golden Fredbear and Springbonnie cake.” “It would have been cute.” Jerry pouted, but Marion’s eyes didn’t leave Phone Guy. “… I thought a cool fire motive would connect with you guys better.” And indeed, the huge red and orange cake was a piece of art with glass-like sugar tips that looked out and broke the light like a frozen fire. The rest of it looked mouth-watering filling, vanilla and chocolate pieces on top, to completement the fruity mass. Mike nudged Simon’s side. How about doing it for the free cake? Simon shrugged, not opposed. Jeremy rose his arms. “We have gathered today, to witness the wonderful and loving union of these two people. You will know them as your friends, your employers, to some even our heroes-“ “Can we speed it up?” Mike scoffed. Dave from above laughed. “TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WOULDN’T WANT THE WHOLE SPIEL.” Looking a tiny bit offended, Jeremy shook his head. “Fine, fine. Okay, so, in the name of god, pledging your lives, in sickness and in health, good times and bad times, through everything that could live throw at you- will you, Simon McCall, take Mike Schmidt as your husband?” What was that for a question even? Simon paused, looking into Mike’s storm-grey eyes. Those with the hint of blue, those that had looked at him so often in his life. The first time he hired him, the first time he stormed into his office complaining about the animatronics moving, the ones that had called him out relentlessly… the ones that had looked at him with untypical worry after he had fallen sick, the ones looking at him with apprehension, that slowly turned to trust… from then to now, this man had gone through all with him. Through all the disappointments, the terrors, the victories, the problems. “Yes, I do.” The words came out of him unintentionally seriously. But he meant them with his whole heart. “Good! Mike, through sickness and health, through the good and the bad-“ “Yes, I do.” Mike answered with an intensity untypical of him. A seriousness that could hardly be rivaled, only matched by Simon’s before him. They had been through sickness and health before, through pain and joy, through everything life could do to them. And for Simon? He would do it all again. Without hesitation. Jeremy sniffled a little, clearly moved. “Then- I shall declare you husband and husband. Put the rings onto each other’s fingers and kiss, a union for all to see.” A door to the side had opened among the cheers and cries of the audience and the glammed up Old Sport came out, holding a box. The noises of celebration became louder when he stepped beside Jeremy, between the couple and opened the box. Mike and Simon stayed quiet however. “… those are fucking grenades.” Cheerful Old Sport pointed at the golden rings with each two red and a blue stone at the top of the grenades. “No worries, the rings are at this part here. All you gotta do is pull them off!” “They will blow up if we do that.” “Love will protect you <3” “… how did you make that noise with your- you know what, never-fucking-mind.” The church had gone quiet again at this point, everyone watching breathlessly. Slowly Mike looked deep into Simon’s dial. They nodded slowly, at the same time. Their heartbeats were in totally synchroneity. It was time. Both of them picked up their respective grenade slowly. The entire church held their breath- Within one immediate movement they pulled their respective rings over and in the same movement, Phone Guy dropped it in Old Sport’s hands while Mike chucked it with ALL power to the place were Dave was sitting, who in response JUMPED, but not AWAY, no! TOWARDS it, reaching out to catch the bomb, while Marion had already grabbed Jeremy, pulling him upwards, out of the blast radius, while Mike and Simon at the same time rushed towards the door, past the confused attendants, who made gasps of confusion- Rolling over the ground, Dave held up his one, smiling like a maniac. “OLD SPORT! OLD SPORT LOOK! I CAUGHT IT! THAT MEANS WE GET MARRIED NEXT! OLD SPORT-“ B O O M ! Thankfully, the grenades had simply been smoke ones that were fitted to look and to some degree sound like real ones. However, the smoke was extensive and cough-inducing and when it cleared, Mike and Simon were gone. “These BASTARDS!” Old Sport called out, rubbing his soot-smeared face. “Ah, the eagerness of freshly married couples.” Dave put a hand on his chest. “Gotta say, I’m jealous.” “Not THAT!” Disgruntled Old Sport pointed at the table that had stood by the exit. “THEY TOOK OUR ENTIRE CAKE!” “What!?” Appalled Dave cried out. “Unbelievable! These fuckin’ sewer rats. Next time we ain’t gonna invite them to their weddin’, bet they’ll feel stupid then!” - - - Somewhere, far away, a camper stood, with two people sitting on top of it. Each of them held a place with a big piece of deliciously expensive and sweetly flavored cake. “You win some, you lose some.” Mike took a bit bite. “But I think we won more.” “Where do you think they got these rings from?” Carefully Simon inspected the admittedly beautiful ring on his finger. “You think they, uh- stole it?” “Probably.” A shrug. “But I mean- well. Do we want to be married to each other with stolen rings…?” For a moment they looked at each other. Then they both shrugged. “Yeah, fucking whatever.” “Totally fine by me.”

[rumblelibrary]

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend” 

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up. 

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it 

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[royalnugget42]

Ok so now that I’m officially in the Resident Evil fandom here’s something

In the aftermath of the explosion in that little village, Ethan’s body is recovered. He is completely molded though, and has no memory except that he has a daughter named Rose, and he is sent to a secret facility to be contained and researched. He spends years being experimented on, poked and prodded and his regenerative abilities grow to astonishing strength.

He can regrow whole limbs now. He found this out the hard way, when the scientists started cutting off bits and pieces of him. Whole bones have been regrown from nothing but mold, though he has to eat a lot of rotten food to make up for it. His captors never tell him who he was or what he did, not even telling him his name, and referring to him only by Subject F-001, or Series F.

Their guess as to how he got like this without showing any of the homicidal tendencies of his predecessors is a mystery to them. Perhaps it is the memory of his daughter, perhaps it is his isolation from the rest of the molded, perhaps he just has something in his DNA. Whatever the case, when he is not being hurt he is resentful and angry, but never violent, nor does he seem interested in spreading the mold further.

It’s 16 years after they took him that funding starts to run out for the project. They’ve devoted all the time to research that they can, and now they must look to utilize him in other ways.

They begin with that question, of why he is different from the rest of the molded, retaining some semblance of his humanity. They can’t take his memory of Rose, though they’ve tried, and instead start to introduce foreign samples of mold into his diet, to see if he gains any of their traits.

Did they know what was left catalogued in the E-series mold? Did they realize that every infected soul has left a mark in that strain? Did they predict...no they couldn’t have. But they should have.

Ethan Winters goes to sleep and dreams of his wife. He doesn’t remember having a wife, how could he? But he supposes this must be her, she is lying in bed with him and calling him baby. This is Rose’s mother, and she is beautiful. But she doesn’t say his name. He doesn’t know hers.

When he wakes up he sees a little girl with black hair at the foot of his bed. She giggles at him, but runs when he calls out, vanishing through the concrete walls. When he mentions this apparition, the scientists dutifully catalogue the apparent hallucinations in their notes on him, but they do nothing to help him when he begs them for knowledge.

“Where is she?” he shouts into the stark, empty air. “Where is my wife, where is my daughter? Where’s Rose?” There is no answer. Just the buzzing of fluorescent lights and the quiet beeps of machinery.

The second dream is of a kitchen. Sunlight pours through the window, and the wooden floor is grimy, but only because it hasn’t been washed since breakfast yesterday.

There’s an old man at the table. His wife brings a meal to the table, and whatever it is smells delicious. Their son, it must be their son, sits off to the side, scrolling nonchalantly through his phone. Their daughter is gathering silverware.

They are the picture of an idyllic, loving family. They smile at him and ask him if he’d like anything more to eat, gently chiding him. He’s so thin, shouldn’t he have just one more helping? So he dutifully finishes off another, before declaring he is done. The old man turns to him.

“You’ve got to go back soon. When you do you’ve got to remember.” Remember what? He only remembers Rose, he doesn’t even know who these people are. They aren’t his family, he knows that, but in a warped and twisted way they also are. The edges of his vision are black with mold as they all beg him to remember, to break free, to be himself again. Zoe is the last to speak.

“I know you remember us. We live on in you, everyone does. We’re all counting on you, kid.” He feels like he’s too old to be called a kid by this girl, but maybe this girl is older than she looks. Maybe he’s younger than he thought.

The little girl is back. She doesn’t run this time, just stares at him. It seems she is waiting for a question, and it’s only as he realizes this that he knows what to ask. “Who are you?” he asks. “Who am I?”

She laughs at this, bright and sharp as glass. “I’m your daughter, of course! And you’re my daddy.”

Rose? Is this little girl Rose? But no, she isn’t. He’s not sure how he knows but he does. This girl isn’t his daughter, except she is, isn’t she? They’re connected. A family in reverse. He didn’t make her, not like he made Rose, but she didn’t make him either. He’s too new for that. How can he be younger than his daughter?

“Evelyn.”

She smiles at the recognition in his eyes. There’s fear there, but also familiarity. This is at least someone he knows. If she is his daughter, then he must be her father. That’s how it works isn’t it? All at once he feels like a part of his identity is locked into place. If he is a father then he has to protect his daughters, both of them. He must find Rose, and his wife.

She fades away before he passes out again. He dreams of pain, in his hand, in his legs. He dreams of terror and aching phantom memories. There’s a woman, tall and beautiful, with hands like long knives, her daughters all over him, many-legged. There’s a doll, there are so many dolls, and there’s a woman in mourning. A creature of water and filth confronts him, spewing out acid that burns in his mind. He talks to a man that moves metal without touching it. The man tells him to remember, tells him not to give up.

“You were always so stubborn. Don’t lose that. You’ll get those bastards yet.”

There’s a woman, and she has Rose. He kills her, and as she crumbles she whispers that she is finally with her daughter. She whispers to him that they are family, that they are both related and the same. He takes Rose from where she cries amongst the stones, and feels his hands fall apart.

Evelyn is a good daughter. When he is awake, he tells stories, about his dreams, about her mother. Evelyn tells him things too.

“You and mom tried to kill me, but I never knew why. I had a long time to think though, and I think I might’ve been a bad girl.”

For what it’s worth, he is sorry, but Evelyn shakes her head. “It was for the best, after all. You weren’t really my dad then.”

He doesn’t know what he is. The scientists call him series F, but he doesn’t know what that means. Evelyn used to be called series E. She says maybe his name starts with an F, but he knows that it doesn’t.

He’s different from Evelyn, but not so different that he is distant from her. Evelyn says that she tried to give him a gift, something she gave to lots of people. She gave it to his wife too, but she never gave anything to him.

“You have a gift too,” she says, “but it didn’t come from me. You made it all on your own. I came from this place, from these scientists, but you made yourself. It’s like you grew from nothing.”

Evelyn always wants to have more family, always wants to give more of her gift. She asks if Ethan is the same, and he realizes that he has never tried to give his gift to someone else. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He already has all the family he could ask for.

He dreams of his wife. Her name is Mia. He knows that now. His name is Ethan, and her name is Mia and they are family.

Scientists have been recording his conversations, and they’re growing concerned. Ethan spends so much time talking to his “daughter” Evelyn. They have realized by now that the E strain mold in his diet must have contained some trace of Evelyn’s consciousness, possibly along with others. They’ve stopped exposing him to it but it seems the damage is done. He asks for Mia and Rose at every waking moment that he does not spend talking to Evelyn.

They took a risk. They took far too many risks. Something happens one day, when a woman comes in to monitor his physical state. He was supposed to be sleeping, but the drugs wore off sooner than expected. He saw the woman through the door, and he begged her, to let him out, to bring him to his family. She ignored him. He pounded against the glass and she just rolled her eyes and took more notes.

Something snapped. No, not snapped. It twisted and warped and grew. It blossomed.

If this woman wasn’t going to let him see his family, then he would make more family. He would make her see his side, and once they were family she would have to help him. That’s what family does. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes. With every ounce of longing and loneliness he reached—

Agony.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Biggest regret (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Quite a few of you guys wanted a part two to this one. Mixed angst and fluff kind of? So... I didn’t wanna rush this one and it kind of got away from me. I want to do a part three to it which will be where the main fluff begins if you guys are interested. 

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness, fluff kinda 

-----------

Nervous didn't even begin to cover how Billy felt now he was back stateside. He was on his way home after a successful mission and his thoughts were consumed with you and the baby. He hadn't been able to think of much else. He didn't regret sending the letter but he was vulnerable now. He'd put himself out there and he hated how out of control he was with the situation. 

There was every chance you wouldn't even get the letter. You could have easily moved since the last time he spoke to you and you'd never know he'd tried to reach out. And of course he had the resources available to track you down if needed but it felt wrong to do that. Although if he got desperate enough he knew he was selfish enough to do it. 

He wasn't sure what would be worse; you never getting the letter or you getting the letter and ripping his heart out. Hypocritical, he knew, after what he'd done to you. But he wasn't sure how he'd handle it. There were too many variables for this whole thing and it set him on edge. Even if you got the letter it didn't mean you'd respond. And if you responded it didn't mean it would be anything he'd like to hear. You could be telling him to go fuck himself, which he'd wholeheartedly understand, but it would hurt nonetheless. 

He didn't dare get his hopes up. He knew that the very best he'd probably get was the bare minimum information about his kid. Name and age, if that. And while it may not be a lot, it would mean the world to him but he wasn't holding his breath for even that.

He felt like a string pulled taut ready to snap as he made his way to his apartment. He made a beeline to the mail room and unlocked his mailbox and grabbed the stack of letters. He knew it was stupid as he held his breath and flicked through the envelopes. He tried so hard not to get his hopes up yet he hadn't been able to help it. There was a bunch of junk mail and more formal business-like things. But then a handwritten envelope had his heart stopping completely. He'd know your handwriting anywhere. He stared at it for a long moment and all he could hear was the blood rushing to his head. So much hung on what you'd say in this letter and it left him open to complete and utter heartbreak. He felt sick. 

Deciding to open it upstairs so he'd be able to have a mental breakdown in peace, he all but ran to the elevator and made his way up to the top floor. It felt like it took a year to get there and he made quick work of getting inside his apartment. The other mail got tossed on the counter, forgotten and not important and he walked over to his sofa before sitting on it. He placed the letter on the coffee table, glaring at it as he wrung his hands. He was genuinely terrified of what was inside. He'd faced so much in his life, fought literal wars. Yet this was the most scared he'd ever been. 

He jumped off the sofa, going in the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of whisky before he went and sat back down, his leg bobbing up and down without even noticing. He didn't need a glass and instead just took a large gulp before he set the bottle down. He needed to stop being such a little bitch and open the damn thing. With shaking hands, he grabbed the letter and opened it. He pulled out the paper, unfolding it as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. The first thing he noticed were the few splotches of now dried wetness on the page that had the ink bleed slightly. You'd cried when writing this and his heart seized up.

Billy,

I was surprised to hear from you, I won't lie. At one time I expected it. When I was pregnant I kept expecting you to call or turn up here or something, but as the months went on I realised it wouldn't happen. Better late than never though, right?

Ouch. You weren't wrong but it stung all the same. He imagined you, scared and pregnant and alone and hoping he'd turn up and be the man you needed and it hurt him more than he felt comfortable with.

It kind of hurts that you think I'd withhold information about our baby from you. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought a lot of things though and I was wrong so I'm not surprised. You were the one that walked away from us, I'd never be petty enough to keep you away just because of what happened with us.

He did know you well enough but he hadn't been able to stop his mind going there. Because he knew deep down he didn't deserve you bothering with a reply for how he abandoned you. He knew he was asking for too much. He shouldn't have been surprised you'd reply since you always went above and beyond for him. He never deserved it. Not then and certainly not now. 

I won't sit here and lie to you. It crushed me when you walked away. I was terrified to tell you when I found out I was pregnant. I wasn't sure how you'd react. A part of me thought it would end the way it did but… I really hoped it wouldn't. I held out too much hope and I see that now. 

You thought he was a better man than he was. Gave him too much credit. It stung like a bitch that he'd hurt you this much. He never wanted to hurt you. 

The pregnancy was tough. I was in and out of hospital and I was really sick. Then I had issues at the end with the placenta. I had to go through all of it alone and I stupidly wished you'd just magically turn up every time I ended up back at hospital.

His lower lip wobbled and he sneered at himself. He should have been there. He should have held your hand and told you it would be okay. You shouldn't have had to go through any of this alone. 

We have a little girl. I called her Delilah. I know you might not like the name but it was left down to me and I liked it. I think it suits her.

A girl. His chest ached and his hands trembled, eyes filling with tears and a sad smile spread on his face. He had a little girl. And he loved the name. You could have called her something ridiculous and it wouldn't have mattered to him. 

She came early. With all the issues with the pregnancy she ended up being a month premature. She was tiny. I was terrified she wouldn't be okay. I couldn't even hold her right away because she was in an incubator. I was so scared, Billy.

A choked noise left his lips and a few tears leaked down his cheeks. What had he done? He left you at your most vulnerable and his baby had been sick. And what had he been doing? Living his life like nothing had happened. He made himself sick. ‘I was so scared, Billy. I was so scared, Billy. I was so scared, Billy.’ He could practically hear your voice saying those words. Hear how it would waver like it did when you got upset. Hear the hurt and fear in your voice. He should have been there.

She's four months old now and she's doing amazing. She's such a happy baby. It's like all she does is smile. She has your eyes and my hair. She mostly looks like you though. 

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with one hand as he gave a watery smile. He tried to imagine what she looked like. A mix of you both. She'd be perfect. It eased him a little to know she was okay now, that she wasn't sick anymore. He hadn't expected you to give him so much information but it made his heart swell that you were. As always, it was way more than what he deserved.

When I got your letter, I think I didn't stop crying for hours. A mix of hurt and relief, I guess. I'd be a liar if I said there wasn't any bitterness. I went through everything alone and now you just turn up because you're ready. I didn't get that luxury, Billy. I didn't have a choice. It was either have my baby or not, there was no walking away until I felt ready for me. 

His chest felt even tighter and your disappointment only fueled his self hatred about the whole thing. You weren't exactly wrong and he'd been a coward. 

I won't hold it against you though. It might take time to fully forgive you but I won't make you suffer. You're still her dad and I'd never deny either you or her that right. The fact that you even want to be part of her life at all means alot to me. I never wanted to have that talk with her when she was older about why you walked away.

It was bittersweet. Knowing you were extending an olive branch and letting him in even after all this time. But the knowledge that you'd been worried about what to tell your daughter when she was older hurt him. It was exactly what he didn't want. He never wanted her to feel unloved by him. 

I sent you a few pictures and they're yours to keep. 

He set the letter down instantly and scooped up the envelope, he hadn't noticed anything else in there in his haste to read the letter. But he pulled out a few Polaroids and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. 

The first was of you. You were in the mirror standing sideways with the Polaroid camera in one hand. You only had on leggings and a bra and your bump was pretty big, cradled by your other hand. You looked so beautiful and he couldn't believe he'd missed out on this. Couldn't believe he'd walked away from you. The writing at the bottom had '7 months inside' written on it and his thumb stroked your bump as he wished he had been able to do in the flesh. With a heaving sigh and heavy heart, he set the picture down to look at the next.

The second was of a tiny baby in an incubator. She had on a knitted pink hat and she looked so tiny and small. A sob left his lips then as he gazed at her. She was beautiful but so fragile and he hadn't been there. His job was to protect her and he hadn't been there. He could only imagine the pain you'd been in going through that alone. In your writing at the bottom in black ink was the date and her name. His breathing hitched as he read 'Delilah Russo'. You gave her his last name. He hadn't expected that at all and he found a rush of joy and pride flooding his system as he openly cried at the picture. She was so fucking tiny and he remembered you saying you hadn't been able to hold her right away. He knew it must have killed you. 

His hand set it down shakily as he looked at the next. His little girl was still small but you were holding her now. You looked tired and like you'd lost a lot of weight. It hurt him deeply. Yet despite that you had a look of pure love and happiness on your face as you stared down at the little bundle in your arms and it made him cry all over again. He idly wondered if his own mother had ever looked at him that way when he was born but he highly doubted it. It stirred something deep inside of him to see how much you adored her.

The last picture seemed more recent and was of Delilah all on her own. She was propped up by pillows and had a cheeky smile on her face, her grubby little hands holding a stuffed blackbird. Oh... He thought the tears were done but apparently not and he hated himself so fucking much. All these little things in his honor were killing him because it was clear that no matter what he'd done to you, you still tried to have him in your daughters life somehow and that shit hurt. The writing at the bottom said '3 months outside' and he smiled through his tears. 

She was so fucking beautiful and you hadn't lied that she had your hair and his eyes. Dark pools of almost black were staring back at him through the picture and it was a foreign sensation to see a mini version of him. The one difference being she was happy and well loved and he wanted nothing more for her than that. 

He stared at the picture for what felt like forever as he took in every little detail in her chubby little face, committing it all to memory. All of these pictures were special to him and way more than anything he thought he'd get in response to his piece of shit letter but he was grateful. He slipped the last one into his wallet before picking the letter back up to finish it. 

I'm glad you reached out now and not later. She's still only a baby, too young to really remember any of this. It would have been harder to have you in her life later and have her be too confused at who you are. It's gonna take time and patience, she's not used to you, but if you'd like then I'd like you to meet her.

He felt like he stopped breathing altogether for a moment. You want him to meet her. You'd let him… he broke down, sobs mixed with pure pain and guilt with the sheer relief that he'd actually get to meet his little girl. He never thought in his wildest dreams you'd gift him that and he felt so overwhelmed he didn't think he'd be able to stop crying. He was a far cry in that moment from the man he knew himself to be. 

I won't put pressure on you to meet her if it's too much but I will say this. You're either in or out with this. You can't decide to come into her life and then leave again, Billy. I won't let it happen. You broke my heart and there's no way in hell I'm letting you break hers. Really think about this before you contact me because you need to be fully ready for it. I won't have you half ass this, okay? If you're really ready to be her dad then call me. If not, I'll understand and I'll leave you with the pictures. It's your call, but don't fuck it up.

Y/N

He laughed, the sound watery and pained but he couldn't help it. Something about you being so protective over your baby made his whole chest bloom with warmth. And while it hurt him that you had to warn him at all, he knew he deserved it. He'd walked away once before and you wouldn't let it happen again. It killed him to read that he broke your heart even though he already knew. But you were protecting your kid. His kid. And it only made him love you harder at you not taking any shit. 

Your number was scrawled at the bottom of the letter and he wanted to call right away. He didn't though. He would respect your wishes and think about it, at least mull it over for tonight. He knew without a doubt he wasn't planning on walking away, no matter how hard it may be down the line. He had no intention of hurting his girl. But you asked him to think hard about it and he'd give you that. Just the notion that you'd allow him to meet her had his head spinning. 

It wouldn't be perfect by any means. He'd hurt you beyond repair and he wasn't stupid enough to think that being in his daughters life meant getting you back the way he wanted. But it was better than he ever thought he'd get. 

He sniffled again, grabbing his phone and pressing speed dial one without hesitation. He didn't give the person on the line a chance to speak once they answered.

"Frankie... I got a little girl," Billy beamed through his sobs. Frank made a choked noise on the other end.

"Shit, Bill. Congratulations," he replied, his own voice thick with emotion and wavering. 

Billy would never forget how badly Frank reacted to the news you were pregnant and he'd just walked away. It stuck with him for a long time and he knew Frank was hurt by what he did. Billy was his family which meant his kid was family. 

Billy didn't care as he openly sobbed down the phone to his best friend and he knew Frank wouldn't rib him for it, not this time. Once he mentioned he had pictures, Frank didn't hesitate to tell him he was on his way over. 

Despite the pain he was feeling and the self loathing, he felt a sense of completeness that he'd never felt before. And he knew no matter what he'd do right by you and his baby girl. He'd be the man you both deserve. You were both his family and he wouldn't abandon you. Not again. He wouldn't perpetuate the cycle of his own harsh upbringing. It would be different this time. He'd be a good dad. A good man for his girls.

[closhelby]

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[magicpumpkin3]

Hello! I see that requests are open. So can I request a scenario with Ace bringing his s/o with him to his home on summer break. But he totally forgot to tell his family about her(fem reader or gender neutral if you want). So imagine the shock in their faces. The rest is up to you. Love your writing btw 💖

Note: I apologize it took so long. I'm bad at describing Ace's character and I know so little about his family. So I gave all of his family members appearance from my imagination. Hope It's okay!

Note№2: Sorry if it's bad, I tried my best. And thank yous for the compliment!

Ace x fem!reader

"Are you sure, you didn't forget anything?" Looking at Ace suspiciously, you hand him one of your bags. "I did not forget anything! How many times do I need to tell you this?" You look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Why are you looking at me like that?!" You sigh, turning away from him to shake your head.

Currently you and your boyfriend were waiting for your turn to face the mirror teleporter. It's been a long time since you were out of school. Last time was probably on one of your dates. Sighing to yourself, you can't help but feel worry. There's something you both forgot to do you most likely forgot to tell Ace what he forgot to do.

"Hey, I know you're worried about meeting my family but it's going to be fine, they'll love you." Ace say's with a small nudge on your shoulder. He continues with a wide grin "You'll bond and become really close to them. They'll probably even try to invite you to most family dinners. There's nothing to be worried about! We'll be fine!" Chuckling to yourself, you look at him with a small smile on your face "Whenever you say that, there is something to worry about." Ace looks at you, like you have just offended his whole family tree "HEY!"

Laughing at one another like that, you don't notice how time seems to pass by. It was your turn already to teleport when you were ready to hit Ace with one of your bags he dared to say that you don't actually help with overbolts. You reach out your hand to Ace. Grinning like an idiot, he takes your hand in his. Into the unknown you go, as they say it.

Time skip brought to you by me not knowing enough about Ace's family-

And here you were standing in front of a door. It's an absolutely regular door of a regular house but to you it looked like gates of hell themselves. Nervously smiling you look at Ace. "Are you sure they're going to like me?" He gave out an annoyed whine. "Yes, they will like! Now for the Great Seven, can we please come inside already? Or are you still scared?" Last part of his speech followed by a smug grin. Pouting, you turn away from him and ring the doorbell.

A few seconds of silence were followed by a some shouting on the inside and a few loud bangs. Gulping, you look at Ace, who looked at you back. Right at that moment,the door swings open. "Who the fu-! Oh...eh...hello." Standing before you was Ace's brother? There's no other explanation to their similarity. The only difference is a hair style and lack of a heart under his eye. "Who's there?!" Females voice rang trough the hall. "It's Ace and his... Friend!" The taller version of your boyfriend replied. This was getting awkward really fast.

"Actually that's my girlfriend!" Ace announces proudly, pulling your l by your waist closer to him. The face of his brother was priceless. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he was looking at you and back at him. Then he let out a whizz. "Yeah and I'm the Queen of hearts! Okay that's a good joke but oh my-" he starts to laugh uncomfortably. "Quit it dumbass, I'm dead serious! She is my girlfriend. I told you about her!" Tightening his grip on you, Ace continues arguing with his brother, which causes older Trappola to hold on too a doorframe and laugh even harder.

"Oi! What are you all barking about here?" Before you appeared a woman, probably Ace's mother, Mrs Trappola. She looks like she could take out a wild bear in a fight. A bit plumped, with short curly brown hair, chocolate like eyes, wooden spoon in her hand, she stands in front of you with her hands crossed over her chest. "Can you believe it? Our baby boy Ace trys to tell me this girl is his girlfriend!" While oldest of Trappola brothers continues to laugh his brains out, woman turns her head your direction and gazes at you with a look that could surely incinerate you, if she wanted. "Is that truth young lady?" She asks with a raised eyebrow. You nod with your head aggressively, holding onto Ace's arm. This woman is so intimidating and you just met her!

Bright smile appears on her face. "Welcome to the Trappola family my dear!" And your enveloped in a warm hug. Blinking a few times you hug Mrs Trappola back. Ace's brother immediately stoped laughing. "Wait, you weren't joking?! Holy Seven- Dad!!!" A loud thud is heard from the inside of a house. Next thing you know, there's a man standing before you in a fighting pose, like there's some kind of a danger. Looking around confused, Mr Trappola straights up, fixing his clothes a bit, he pretends like nothing happened. "What's all this yelling about?" Mr. Trappola is a tall, linky man, with a short bright red hair, crimson eyes and a big mustache. He looks like he haven't slept in a while.

"Our son brought a girl home!" Finally letting go of you, Mrs Trappola turns to her husband with a bright smile and sparkles in her eyes. Immediately father of the family throws his hands up in air and yells a loud 'YOOHOO'. They high five each other. Ace's older brother starts laughing again. "Everyone stop!!!" Your boyfriend, as red as Riddle's hair, trys to stop this mockery by pushing his parents apart. "Why? Our son finally has a significant other that he thinks is worthy to be shown to us!" Before Ace could object that statement, he was sucked into a big family hug.

"Don't just stand there! You're in for a hug too!" Mrs Trappola says, while her husband stretches his arm out, welcoming you in. And you're in for another hug, sandwiched between Trappola brothers. After what gelt like eternity, you were finally free. "Oh! Now, why are you standing outside like some homeless cats? Let's go inside!" With that, you and Ace's brother follow Mrs Trappola inside, while her husband and and your boyfriend are getting your bags.

Time skip brought you by my lack of knowledge about Ace's character-

"…And that's Ace on his first day of school! Isn't he adorable?" Mrs Trappola is showing yet another picture of little Ace. Little boy was standing with a giant backpack on his back and banquet of flowers in his hands, tired but still bright smile shinning on his face. "He is! I can't believe he was so cute, whom am I kidding he still is!" You and your boyfriend's mother are getting along very well. Sitting on their couch, you look at Trappola's family album. "MUM!!! Stop!" Ace is hopeless trys to steel album from his mother. "Young man, as your mother, it is my duty to show whole you, past and present, to your significant other and embarrass the living hell out of you. So, no." Pushing Ace away, with her free hand, she continues. "And this is him with his new classmates!"

Trappola family are such a nice people. They took you in, like you were and old friend of theirs. Even though they were mocking each other, you could see with how much love they did it. Ace's older brother, telling you about Ace's 1 girlfriend and how he cried when she broke up with him. Mrs Trappola telling you some really embarrassing stories about both brothers. Mr Trappola sharing some inside family jokes. You had dinner with them. Ace's mother's cooking skills are beyond limits. Fried chicken tastes so good, especially with the 'family-secret' sauce and salad. And don't get me started on the pies she made, my lord-

At the end, you and Ace got to his old room to sleep. Particularly facepalming onto his bed, your boyfriend let's out a loud groan. "Tired?" You sit near him on his bed. Nodding , Ace turns on his back to look at you. "You know, I finally realized what you forgot to do." Quirking and eyebrow he sits up a bit. "And what is it, that great me forgot to do?" A small smug smile appears on his face.

"You forgot to tell your family, you have a girlfriend."

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

Until it becomes a Memory - Daisuke Kambe

Author Note: This is a pile of Word Vomit, I watched Balance Unlimited and man I adored it. Especially this Salty Winter Adult. None of the below makes coherent sense but hey, life's too short to leave things unread by others.

Everyone who had ever visited the Kambe residence to speak to the heir knew about the painting. Often enough they found themselves stood beside the young man whose eyes focused only on the putrid baby blues that encircles a deep red misshapen figure. Many, in hushed whispers, had commented on how out of place the canvas seemed amongst the elegant wooden décor of the home.

It hung just outside his bedroom in a hallway trodden by very few. He, himself, had placed a chair opposite it for when he found himself unable to sleep. He’d sit there staring at the figure until he succumbed to sleep. Suzue would find him the next morning, curled against the chair, his head leaning on the crook of his arm. She’d suggested once that he move the canvas to his bedroom, only to be thrown a grim look and a sarcastic comment. It kept the nightmares at bay.

Kambe couldn’t blame her; it’s what any normal person would do. He couldn’t. He despised the painting. Everyone did, including his grandmother. The woman refused to enter the hallway, not until the painting disappeared. She’d even so much as asked their faithful servant to dispose of it whilst Kambe was busy – his attempt had failed thanks to Suzue. Perhaps one of the only people within Daisuke’s household that understood the importance hidden within the canvas.

His grandmother held no harmful intent; she just wanted to purge that period from Daisuke’s life. The man had suffered so much at a young age. There had been times where she would plead at the dinner table with the young detective. Her words reaching deaf ears as he chewed on his noodles. When her words hit too close to home, he quips a witty retort paired with a sarcastic growl. In those moments she could see his mother.

The painting held no real value. It was common knowledge. Suzue and his grandmother would have said something about it had it not been for the glint in Kambe’s usually dull eyes. A spark of fight and something none of them have ever seen before as he runs his gaze over every streak of paint. That very spark prevents them to speaking and instead they leave the man be.

A sigh relieves itself from Daisuke as he stands from his seat; he took a few strides forward his eyes never once leaving the soft brush strokes that had dried against the material. Kambe rubbed the sleep from his vision as he reminisced. He could still feel the fingers that wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him through the corridors of his home. The sound of overexcited laughter echoed in the aged wood wrapped around his heart squeezing at vary degrees of strength.

‘These cases just get more complicated, I thought it would be easier than this but every time I think I’m making progress something stops me’ Daisuke’s voice contrasted with the oozing silence surrounding him. ‘You’d know exactly what to do if you were here. I can picture it now-‘

‘Kambe’ Haru barked; the sudden appearance of his partner startled Daisuke. This had been expected, at some point Haru would turn up back here. An unjust anger in tow as he marched down the corridor. The embassy case had been closed, but Haru had come under fire for the death of a suspect, Daisuke had done nothing to help the older man. It hadn’t just been due to the fact he was off duty; he’d chosen to remain quiet.

Kambe’s eye twitched, his focus returning to the painting. If he remained quiet, let Haru vent, perhaps the detective inspector would leave. He’d be able to return to the serenity that had been his thoughts. If his friend had been here, they’d have persuaded Haru to calm down, they’d have laughed and shared some food at the expense of Kambe. They always handled people better than he did.

‘Hey, are you listening?’ Haru practically screamed as he stepped closer to Kambe; Daisuke remained firm. There was nothing he needed to speak to Kato about. He was handling this – whatever the bigger picture is. He’d handle it alone; it was safer that way. The fewer people around, the easier it would be. ‘Damn Rich kid, pay attention to people when they speak to you’

He didn’t need to see what was happening, he felt it. Haru’s balling around the material of his shirt in an aggressive attempt to grab Daisuke’s attention. Briefly – very briefly – Daisuke’s eyes flicked to look at Haru. In that second the world froze, Daisuke’s emotionless eyes, often filled with amusement, turned to Haru. As if Haru’s arms moved on their own he dropped Daisuke, his hands falling at his side.

‘I have nothing I wish to discuss, you should leave’ Daisuke commanded. The very sound of his voice knocked the older man from his shock, a guttural growl resonating in the air as he flung his arm back.

Everything slowed in that minute; Kato’s limbs swam leisurely through the air as Daisuke’s gaze flicked back to his partner. It hadn’t fully registered in Kambe’s mind as he watched helplessly. They both knew it hadn’t been Kato’s intention; he hadn’t registered how close he was to the wall.

It was an accident. It was an accident. A voice in Daisuke’s subconscious spoke the same four words like a mantra as he seethed. In an apoplectic haze he grabbed his senior. Kato’s body unbalanced fell against the air, unable to steady himself to fight back he let himself be thrown into the opposite wall. His head colliding with the wooden windowsill.

‘You weren’t invited here Detective Inspector Kato. You’re trespassing, I suggest you leave’ Daisuke growled; both heard the sharp inhale of Suzue as she rushed through the door at the end of the corridor. Her gaze observing the two men, her family who stood towering over Haru with fists balled at his side – his attention solely on the man and Haru who lifted himself against the wall, it was clear as he staggered slightly that the impact had made him dizzy.

‘Daisuke’ She uttered, Kambe clenched his jaw inhaling deeply as he turned around. The canvas hung at an angle; the material had been punctured. For the smallest second, he chastised his friend’s choice in canvas material.

‘It’s just a painting. Buy a new one. A rich kid like you always flaunting your wealth. Surely you can buy another one.’ Haru whistled. Kambe didn’t need to look to picture the Suzue’s reaction. A pleading expression plastered across her face as she moved closer to help Haru.

A rich kid like you. Daisuke finds himself repeating the short phrase. It had been said to Kambe before – plenty of times before and yet this time it struck him worse. For once he couldn’t throw money at the canvas. The damage had been done; money couldn’t solve his problem the way it could on a case. A soft chuckle rang through the air. Daisuke placed his head in his hands as he fell to his knees.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ He admits, ‘I didn’t buy that canvas, it was a gift. One given to me by someone very dear to me. I guess you say it had no monetary value. It held some precious memories’ He continued.

‘You asked me how much I care about you, well…tah dah’ her voice bounced off the walls and rang through his ears. He relished in the happy tones as she released his arm. A quizzical look filled the man’s expression as he took in her appearance. Paint plastered across her skin, hair dishevelled and caked in the same colours that covered most of her clothing.

Once he’d had his fill, he followed her gaze, eyes widening as he took in the newest decoration. In place of his landscape portrait hung a horrendous mixture of colours and in the centre stood a deep burgundy figure and for a second, he hoped she hadn’t drawn a reflection of himself

‘Well?’ She questioned.

‘It’s awful, breathtakingly awful. I’d go as far as to say gut-wrenching,’ Daisuke commented. He listened to her as she roared with laughter, her hands holding her sides as she doubled over.

‘That’s exactly it. I care about you so much that its gut wrenching. Every moment I spend with you takes my breathe away in the most horrendously beautiful way.’ She announced, as she calmed her laughter she reached for his arm, her head falling against his shoulder as they both observed the horrendous decoration. ‘Plus, every home needs at least one ugly piece of furniture, something that just absorbs the good memories and no matter how long you look at it, no matter how much you hate it, it’ll remind you of the good things, it’ll remind you how much I love you, Daisuke Kambe’

Daisuke’s fingers wrapped around hers as he remained silent. Just the two of them watching the painting as though it were some priceless portraits in a museum.

‘You never know how important something is until it becomes a memory’ Kambe uttered.

‘Kambe,’ Haru’s voice shook Daisuke from his memories. His hands falling to his lap as he listened.

[ginanosakka]

I Hate it Here

Masterlist

We Were Kids | Next

Moving you into Katsuki’s apartment across town took mere minutes, but everyday you spent there felt like years that you’d never get back. Everything felt too big and nostalgic, and the only thing grounding you to keep you from a panic attack, was Ryu being himself despite being pulled from school and transitioning to home school. He was just happy to be around his father all the time, immediately bombarding him with questions about his day the moment that he stepped through the door.

It wasn’t news that Katsuki wasn’t fond of comforting people, and the thought of him begging for forgiveness was laughable — but that brick wall you put up the moment you stepped through his threshold for the second time was driving him insane. When he was around, you were somewhere else in the house on the phone, or on the laptop you purchased and had shipped to his home as soon as possible. On the rare occasion he did see you for more than a few seconds, you looked drained of life. . and scared.

You were tough even when you two were young — the constant picking at you being quirkless might have made you think he thought otherwise, and he wondered if that contributed to your hardened shell now — but there was the rare occasion when something would break through your tough skin.

And it was always your father that did it.

Katsuki practiced his jabs that he tried out in training with Kirishima on the air, trying to make sure every moment was precise to recreate the amount of damage he dealt everytime. You had tagged along after phoning him and asking what he was doing, receiving the usual ‘I’m training and don’t give a shit if you come or not’ that you always took as a very hostile ‘yes’.

Usually, you’d make small noises of approval as he trained, and after yelling about you messing up his concentration but only getting a tongue stuck out at him in response, he had grown use to your annoying presence. Which is why he stole glances at you today when you were completely silent, and he found himself curious about why you didn’t even look at him as he trained. Bakugou was more aware of your every moment than you’d ever know, and he wanted it to stay that way, so he continued to only steal glances instead of confronting you.

“My dad didn’t tell me happy birthday.” There it was. The moment you’d break the silence and spill your guts to him with no coaxing needed from him.

That’s what drove him crazy about you; how you adapted to his pride and made being there for you so easy.

“He had Jun give me my necklace and money when I woke up, and I asked her if he made any plans to see me today. . She said he’s a busy man and I need to grow up. . Am I asking for too much?”

You looked up at him with every ounce of insecurity on full display, the kind of look he hated seeing on your face more than he hated seeing you in those stupid get-ups your mom bought you. Even he had said happy birthday to you, granted it was though text and there was no gift with it, but at least he had the decency to listen when you said that all you wanted was to hear two simple words from the people you cared about. It pissed Katsuki off even more that he knew you told your dad that’s all you wanted, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he didn’t do it on purpose. Now Katsuki had to be the one to pick up your broken pieces.

“Idiot, it’s not your fault that your old man is trash.” He grunted, turning away from you to stare at nothing so he didn’t have to see that stupid sparkle in your eyes when he said something nice.

That damn sparkle made his heart squeeze.

He was relieved to hear your soft laughter, “I guess you’re right. He’s better at bribing people than caring for them.”

If only he could tell you how true those words were.

“Shit.” Katsuki mumbled under his breathe, the realization of what was happening hitting him like a brick.

That day he went to your office, he hadn’t been there just to get a look at what you had accomplished, and the reason he got so riled up by your secretary was more than just being told he couldn’t see you. He had gotten a tip from Tokoyami that morning about a yakuza organization that was deeply involved in many missing people cases, and also suspects for the assasination of small business companies that were expected to outgrow large corporations.

That organization had your picture on the wall, along with pictures of those who were missing, and ones who had not gone missing but were on police watch due to the likelihood of them being taken next. Katsuki chalked it up to you being seen with him when he was a target for many villains due to his success in taking down and capturing villains with ease, and he let the most obvious point go over his head. He had just immediately wen to go see you to calm his nerves, not even second guessing his own answer that tied this back to the one man he had his own hit on.

The organization that had you targeted, acted under powerful businessmen in Japan. .

Your father was one of those powerful businessmen.

‘It all comes full fucking circle,’ Katsuki thought angrily as he picked up his office phone, knowing that he had to get his least favorite heroes on the case.

“I’m not asking you to take sides, I’m asking you to tell me the truth!” You hissed into the phone, and you could feel every ounce of your patience draining from your body and your tone.

It had been three days. Three days since you moved in with the father of your child, three days of feeling anxious and livid, and three days of trying to get in contact with your mother. For once, you could say that the least of your worries was Katsuki, and now it happened to be the life of your child again. You weren’t stupid — the moment Katsuki mentioned your safety specifically being threatened you knew who had put the hit out on you, and he wanted you to know.

It was your father’s way of warning you that if you even thought of exposing that you were his daughter that ‘went missing’,or tell them what he had done, you and Ryu will never know peace again. The knowledge that you were in his sights again and he still was just as ruthless as ever couldn’t even fully register in your brain, but you knew you had to do something. This was your baby’s life that was in danger again, and this time he isn’t living inside of you so you could have him with you at all times. You didn’t even know how to have this conversation with Katsuki when he didn’t even have the decency to tell you there was someone after your son while he sat in school. In fact, you were doing your best to avoid his presence so you didn’t cause a scene and scare Ryu half to death.

And your mother had the fucking ability to help you, and she decided this was the time to wave the white flag to involving herself in you and your father’s war.

“This isn’t something that I can tell you and your father not disown me too for, Y/N! Do you really expect me to risk my life too?” Your mother responded, and your grip on the phone tightened so much that you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have before it shattered.

“Yes! I expect you to risk your life for me, mom! I expect you to be a mother for just one damn moment in your life to save your grandson! If you can’t tell me what he knows and what you’ve told him, this will not only get ugly for him, but for you too!” You threatened with full intention of making it a reality.

“I can-“ as she spoke you heard a male voice in the background that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach before the phone went dead.

You paced the floor with a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming with Ryu napping in the other room, but this situation could only be fully resolved with risks being taken. The company you put blood sweat and tears into — you had long since realized you never wanted to start an entire company, but it was the best thing you knew how to do to make money to give your son the life he deserved — was going to have to be put in jeopardy. Your life, and more importantly your son’s life, would be in immediate danger once you decide to wage this war.

It’s father against daughter, and loser loses everything.

“You were really going to go through this again alone? You really piss me off sometimes.”

You whirled around to the door of the guest bedroom you were in to see not only Katsuki, but Eiji also standing there. It didn’t shock you in the slightest how pissed Katsuki looked, but Kirishima’s deathly stare had you frozen in place. Even though you knew in the back of your mind that their anger was towards your father, you couldn’t help but feel weak when two very famous pro heroes had their murderous gazes on full display for you.

“You don’t have to worry,” Kirishima said and flashed you a hardened arm. “No one is going to touch you or Ryu on my watch.”

Katsuki grunted, “I’ll kill anyone that tries.”

(A\N: So who’s ready to see full on angst, romance, and a badass reader? Cause I am ^_^! Also the amount of love and insight you guys give me on this story is insane and I still can’t than you enough 🥺 I hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki i @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet as Dad's

Haven't been able to un-see this idea since it showed up on my dash and uggggh. I couldn't get over how cute all of this was.

For this imagine, I'm sort of picturing them with younger children, anywhere from 3-5 years old as they are all still crazy young hehe. Also. All of these imagines work with any gender of child. It's all sorta just what I imagine them having and being like in general 🖤

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart

JOSH

Josh is such an interesting guy. He is both so deeply smart... but also at the same time he is the equivalent of a conversation between my last two brain cells.

The sheer amount of energy this man has means he'll not only keep up with a kid but also tire them tf out.

There would always be so much screaming and laughing in the house.

Lots of games of tag and the floor is lava

No matter what he has, son or daughter --- there will be so much dancing. Josh would be the kind of dad who loves to hold his kid and just dance around the house with them.

Not to mention all of the goofy songs they would be singing together.

I can see Josh conversing with his kids like adults even when they are little. Meaning there will be some very serious conversations about very silly things. Potato chips can make you a fly? On it. The floor is both lava and also the arctic? Josh is ready to hear all about how that's possible. There aren't mermaids but there are human sharks? Josh needs to know where he can find them asap.

I can very easily imagine him dressed up and sitting at a table that is far too small for him with his legs crossed.

His daughter would have started by putting one necklace on him and it soon escalated to a crown, sunglasses that didn't fit, and a set of fairy wings. Surrounded by many stuffed animals and dolls.

"Mmm, this is great tea! What kind is it?"

"Grape."

He'd look at his tiny tea cup filled with apple juice. "Huh I could have sworn it was Apple. Did you change it on me?"

She would shake her head, "No daddy! We already drank the apple tea!" She'd laugh.

"What?? You drank all the apple tea without me?!" He'd exclaim, "why did you drink all the apple tea with out me?"

Josh would inch over and begin to tickle her, just loving to hear her laugh really.

"Daddy! Daddy no! You can't tickle me, I'm the princess!!"

Jake

Jake immediately strikes me as such a chill laid back dad. The kind of cool dad you'd definitely want during your teenage years.

He'd be the kind of dad to sit and watch cartoons religiously with his kid, there's no way he'd be missing them. Doesn't matter if it's cool or comedy gold, if his little one loves it they're gonna watch it together.

I think Jake would really want to teach his kid how to play guitar. It's something he's so passionate about that I think it would bring him a lot of joy if his kid had at least the knowledge of techniques and things, even if they weren't a huge fan of playing themselves.

Jake as well strikes me as someone who would be psyched about making dad jokes, of course with a straight face.

That is just a long winded way of saying that as a very young child this kid would know more about music than I do now after 20 years of living on this planet.

"What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school?"

"Bison!"

For a gender of a kid I'm split right in the middle when it comes to Jake. I think either would be equally as adorable but for this imagine I'm going with a girl to keep things even.

With a little girl I can imagine him sitting quietly as he watches her tiny hands try their best to paint his nails cleanly.

There is pink nail polish everywhere. Everything is a mess. Everything smells of chemicals. But it's fine.

"After I do your nails can I braid your hair too?" She'd eagerly ask, not looking at his hands anymore but she is still trying to paint.

"But your show is going to be on soon...! I thought we were gonna cuddle?"

"....can I braid your hair and watch my show?"

Jake would look at her seriously before smiling, moving quickly to give her a small kiss on the cheek, "of course you can, only if you give me lots of cuddles after."

"Okay daddy!"

*insert a child who is only half heartedly braiding hair while fully enthralled in their show. Head tilted on a 45° angle to see the TV with half of Jake's hair in a frizzy mangled braid.*

Sam

I really think Sam would want his kids to listen to really good music from a young age.

I mean don't get me wrong I think all of the boys would be like this... but I see him being the kind of parent that buys into the "smarter babies listened to music in important development periods"

The ultimate "my kid is so smart" kind of parent that then shows you 20 drawings that don't look like anything, but clearly they look like something to him.

All those drawings get tucked away somewhere safe so he can go back and look at them proudly as his little one grows up.

"Maybe they'll be an artist?!"

He also strikes me as a parent who wants to be really involved in teaching his kid things. ABC's? Sam's baby has them locked and loaded. Numbers 1-20? Still has trouble remembering anything with a nine but we are working on it.

Ultimate joy is achieved when Sam gets to teach his little one how to ride a bike. He feeling like its a right of passage for every kid to have with their dad.

I pictured Sam sitting with his little boy at the kitchen table, puzzle pieces sprawled all over.

"Dad, I have a joke for you." He'd say as he fiddled with a piece.

"Oh yeah? Go for it buddy." Sam would reply as he connects another edge piece.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who?"

"The Banana man!" Snickering coming from across the table, hands banging on the table and nearly knocking several pieces off the table.

Sam would laugh a long, "Y'know I've never heard that version of that joke---"

"Dad I'm not done"

"Oh I'm sorry, continue." He'd say beginning to look for a few more pieces to go together.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who...?" Sam would respond slowly, prepared for the same poorly created joke.

"TWO BANANA MEN!"

Sam would have to lay on the table. It was such a freaking terrible joke but so funny to see the amount of joy it brought the little boys features. "You have to tell that one to mom, okay?"

Danny

Danny is such a loving guy in general, I feel like parenting for him would just be so easy. Not saying that there wouldn't be troubled times--- just that he's just one of those people that were born to parent.

The very dependable parent. Always going to make time for any small thing his little one needs.

Danny is going to encourage his kid to do whatever they love with all of his being.

"You like rocks? We should get a rock polisher."

"You're right these cookies are pretty good, maybe we should get the stuff we need to bake them together."

He is going to have a series or specific book he reads to his little one until they fall asleep. Its something he would refuse to miss, they have to do their chapter! Even if he's on tour somewhere he's going to call home to make sure they can read together.

Danny is over the moon to have a little golfing buddy. As soon as this kid could walk he bought them their own set of clubs so they could play along with him. He just couldn't wait to start teaching them.

Golf time is bonding time. They'd get to walk together and talk about anything and everything.

I've been crazy torn about whether to write about him with a son or a daughter, both are equally as cute. For the sake of evenness though I decided on a boy.

"Okay so for your driver buddy you need to hold your arms waaay out." Danny would tell his son holding his arms out.

"Like this?"

"A little more."

Little eyes look to Danny curiously as his arms become fully extended from his body.

"Perfect! Make sure you stand straight, and keep your eyes on the ball." He says with his hand on the middle of the boys back, "And then you just---"

"SWING!"

Danny nearly getting clocked in the head with a golf club but leans back just in time. The satisfying ting of the little one's club hitting the ball sounds,

"DID YOU SEE HOW FAR IT WENT DAD?!"

*Insert the face Danny made when he pretended Sam's margarita's were good*

~ If anyone wants a full fic written for one of these please let me know because I will 100% write out fluffy family fics without hesitation!! ~